“What’s your phone number?” Catherine asked. She wrote it on the back of her hand.
“Miss,” said the police officer in a loud voice.
Catherine got back in the car and shut the door. Then, it pulled off and stopped after just six feet. Catherine jumped out and ran up to Jason. She gave him a kiss on his cheek and turned away to go. Jason caught her hand and pulled her toward him.
“That’s twice you have done that,” Jason said, smiling. He leaned forward and kissed her slowly back on her soft red lips, ignoring the hundreds of eyes that were watching.
“Steed, I believe her driver’s waiting,” Mr. Griffiths huffed from behind. They parted, and her car sped off, leaving a cloud of exhaust fumes.
In a daze, Jason climbed onto the bus and found Scott, who had saved him a seat. As he sat down, an older boy sitting behind them teased Jason. “Did you use your tongue?” he asked.
Scott scowled and turned around. “Grow up, David. Is this the first time you have seen someone kiss a girl? You need to get out more.”
Jason pulled him back down in the seat.
“Watch your mouth, Turner. You want to say that to me again,” the boy shouted.
Scott jumped up again. Once more, Jason pulled Scott back down in the seat. He glared at Scott and shook his head to say no.
“Why? Is he your boyfriend?” David said, now standing.
The boy sitting next to David grabbed him and whispered, “That’s Jason Steed. He’s the fifth grader that split Wayne Parker’s head open. I don’t think you want to mess with him. He’s a black belt in karate.”
David stayed sitting after that.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Jason said quietly to Scott. “I only use karate in self-defense. Don’t ever think just because you are with me you can run your mouth off.”
“Sorry, mate. I was trying to stick up for you.”
“I know—thanks—but we will get into less trouble if we don’t say anything.”
Already Scott’s mind was racing elsewhere with the excitement of the evening. “Jase, Susan was great. We kissed outside! I can’t believe I just did that and that you knew Catherine? And she’s a bloody princess—wow. You have to be careful, mate. You will get sent to the tower if you fool around with her.”
***
The minute Scott’s father dropped Jason off at home, he ran straight past Mrs. Betton to the phone.
“I’ve got to call Grandfather,” Jason told her.
“Jason, it’s just past midnight. You can’t call him now. Wait until the morning,” Mrs. Betton said.
“It’s urgent, Mrs. Betton,” he replied, already dialing. It rang and took a while before it was answered.
“Hello,” came a familiar-sounding Scottish voice.
“Gran, I have been invited to a Boxing Day ball at Balmoral. Can Granddad take me?” Jason asked.
“Jason? Is that you? Do you know what time it is? We were asleep in bed.”
“Sorry, Gran. I just got home. Can I go?”
“Jason, it’s going on midnight. Where have you been? Why are you not in bed?”
“I was at a school Christmas dance, and I met a girl. Please, can I go?”
“Your grandfather’s asleep. If you want a favor, maybe it would be better to ask him in the morning.”
“Okay. Sorry if I woke you. I’ll call in the morning. Goodnight, Gran. Love you,” Jason replied.
“Did I hear right? Balmoral?” Mrs. Betton asked.
Jason nodded, and a huge grin stretched across his face. He ran up the stairs two at a time to his bedroom.
Half an hour had passed, and Jason was still not asleep when the phone rang. Jason jumped out of bed and ran down the dark stairway in his pajamas and picked up the phone.
“Hello, Steed residence,” Jason spoke quietly. No reply came from the phone.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” he asked again.
“Is that Jason?” a soft voice said.
“Catherine? Hi, I didn’t think you would call tonight.”
“Oh, sorry if it’s too late,” Catherine responded.
“No, no, it’s never too late for you to call. Thank you.”
“Can you come to the Boxing Day ball?” she asked.
“Yes, I already phoned my grandparents. It’s 95 percent certain I can go.”
“Your grandfather will take you?”
“Well, put it this way. I am his only grandchild, and he won’t want me miserable over Christmas.”
“I’ve got to go. Someone’s coming. Bye.” The phone went silent, and Jason put down the receiver. He skipped back up the stairs to bed almost flying.
***
The following day did not go as well as Jason had hoped. His grandfather told him it was a two-hour drive to Balmoral and the ball started at 7:00 p.m. and didn’t finish until midnight. What was he to do?
The answer came in the form of a phone call from Catherine in the afternoon.
“Jason, Mummy has agreed to let a friend stay the night. Your grandfather can pick you up the next day.”
Chapter Nine
At the end of a restless nine-hour train ride from London to Glasgow, Jason’s grandparents picked him up from the station. He asked if his dinner jacket could be hung as soon as they got home so that it would be ready for the ball.
His grandmother roasted a turkey for lunch, and they ate it with steamed carrots, roasted potatoes, and spring greens, probably frozen but brightly colored. She made a Christmas pudding and served it with Cornish clotted cream. Jason discovered a fifty-pence piece coin in his meal. He was embarrassed and did not want to hurt his grandmother’s feelings, so he took it out of his mouth when he thought they were not watching.
His grandfather laughed. “Och, you found it. That’s going to bring you good luck, laddie.” Jason had no idea what he meant. He had never before eaten a traditional British Christmas meal.
The cottage was old and full of old furniture. An upright piano stood along the back wall of the living room. A faded shawl of burgundy velvet had been tossed over the top, which was now covered with Christmas cards. They also had an old cat called Nibbles. That first night, the cat crawled onto his bed and stayed, purring and kneading his top cover with its front paws.
He slept in his mother’s old bedroom, arrayed with her trophies and medals as well as framed newspaper cuttings of her Olympic Games medal and other competitions she had won. In the dresser, he also found some old school yearbooks of hers and fell asleep dreaming of what she must have been like as a child.
***
The day after Christmas, Jason Macintosh drove his grandson to Balmoral. They approached the magnificent valley of the River Dee, rising high in the Cairngorm Mountains that ran east to its mouth at Aberdeen. Jason looked in awe at the spectacular scenery. Balmoral Castle was surrounded by over sixty thousand acres of the world’s most rugged scenery.
“Just think. My grandson going to a royal ball and staying overnight as a guest,” he announced proudly.
Jason squirmed in his dinner jacket because he was nervous and because he hated getting dressed up. In his clammy palms, he clutched a small bunch of flowers his grandma had given him for Catherine. His knuckles were white by the time they pulled up to the gate.
“Hello, sir, may I have your name?” a policeman asked.
“I’m just dropping my grandson off. Jason Steed. He is a guest of Princess Catherine,” Mr. Macintosh announced proudly.
“We have Princess Catherine’s guest listed as a Miss J. Steed?” the policeman asked.
Jason frowned. “Do I look like a miss?”
The policeman cracked a smile and then quickly regained his professional demeanor. “No, sir, it’s probably just a mistake. Please go in. They will direct you where to drop him off.”
They drove slowly up to the castle. Jason’s eyes widened as he grabbed his bags and climbed out of the car. He doubted he could count all the turrets and windows and chimneys if he tried. “Thanks, Gran
ddad,” he murmured. “See you tomorrow afternoon about 5:00 p.m.” He was barely aware of the car speeding off.
A doorman in a military uniform asked his name.
“Jason Steed. You probably have me down as Miss J. Steed.” His face flushed slightly.
“Yes, sir, we do. Our apologies. Please go in.”
Jason entered and paused in a long hall. An elderly woman wearing an elegant business suit and pearls approached with a list.
“I am Mrs. Crammer, Her Majesty’s secretary. Are you here with your parents, sir?” she asked.
“No, ma’am, I am a guest of Princess Catherine. You probably have me down as Miss J. Steed. But as you can see, I am not a miss,” Jason said, struggling not to blush.
“Oh, that was me.” She twisted her lips in a thin smile. “I am sorry. I just assumed you were a friend of hers from school.”
“Can I put my bag somewhere please?”
“Yes, I will take it to Catherine’s room.” She also snatched the flowers from his hand.
“Where do I go now?” Jason asked, looking around the great hall.
“You will see the ballroom on your left. Just follow the music.” With a stiff wave, she vanished up the staircase.
Jason took a deep breath and strode toward a massive archway where the sound of a string quartet and voices trickled out. To his horror, the queen herself stood to his right as he entered, holding her hand out to him. She was dressed in a white evening gown with a sparkling tiara.
“Hello,” she said and shook his hand, and Jason bowed his head.
“Hello.” He had forgotten what to say, but his bow seemed to work. Then, the duke held out his hand.
“Hello, sir. It’s nice to meet you again,” Jason said.
“Likewise, young man,” the duke said, although Jason doubted very much the kindly old officer remembered.
At last, Jason had passed that official welcome, and at that very moment, he spotted Catherine across the room. His breath caught in his throat, and he almost didn’t recognize her. She wore a tight-fitting black dress with her blond hair tucked into a small silver and diamond tiara, and she also donned a pearl necklace and some delicate makeup. Their eyes met. She smiled at him. At least now he knew it was the same girl as she swept across the dance floor to greet him.
“Jason, you made it. We are going to have such great fun,” she whispered, clasping his hand.
“Hello…You look—” he paused. “Nice…but different.”
“Different?” she asked.
“You look grown up but beautiful. I had some flowers for you. A lady took them off me,” he muttered.
“Are you all right, Jason?” she asked.
“I’m okay. Why?”
“What happened to the confident Jason Steed I was expecting?” she teased, walking toward the corner.
He managed a smile. “This is a lot different than a school dance. It’s huge and scary.”
Catherine kissed his cheek. From that moment on, he could barely remember a thing about the evening.
***
At well past ten o’clock, as the guests were leaving, Catherine took Jason through the very many corridors and stairways for a tour of the castle.
“This is our wing. That’s Cuthbert’s room, Henry’s, Louise’s…and this is my room.”
She took Jason’s hand and led him across the threshold. Like the rest of the house, it had cherry-wood-paneled walls with high hung oil paintings and deep-red velvet curtains. There was one difference, namely two large posters—one of Jimmy Osmond and one of all the Osmond brothers. Both were hung above her bed at slightly crooked angles.
“Look, those flowers in the vase. That’s what I brought you,” Jason said. His face turned red again. The red carnations suddenly looked cheap and garish compared to everything else in the room—except the boy band posters. Still, she walked over and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes.
“They smell wonderful,” she said.
He blinked, smiling. “So…Jimmy Osmond?”
“Yes, he’s great. Do you like him?”
“His song was good, but his voice is a bit squeaky.”
The truth was that Jason hated the Osmonds, but if Catherine was nice enough to lie about the flowers, the least he could do was lie in return. And that set the tone for the rest of the night. They sat on Catherine’s bed with their shoes kicked off, smiling and laughing and telling pleasant little lies on each other’s behalf, until they both nodded off to sleep.
***
Catherine and Jason awoke late the next morning, and after they awkwardly took turns washing up in the bathroom, they joined the royal family for breakfast. When they entered the room, it went quiet. The table was full of everything Jason could possibly wish for: smoked haddock, kippers, bacon, eggs, sausages, tomatoes, toast, marmalade, jams, cereals, grapefruit, fruit juice, tea, and coffee. They sat down next to each other among some empty seats at the far end away from the others. Jason was still a little nervous of the queen, especially because his clothes were rumpled and they were all dressed formally again.
“Where did you two meet?” Louise asked from the other end.
“You don’t recognize him?” Catherine said, grinning.
“Should we?” Cuthbert asked.
“Yes, you all should. This is Jason Steed. Without him, I would have drowned.”
“You’re the little boy who pulled Cath out of the fish pond,” Henry said with a large smile.
“How did you meet up again?” Louise asked.
“Jason attends St. Joseph’s. We met at the Christmas dance,” Catherine answered.
“Oh, how sweet,” Louise said.
“I thought you lived in Hong Kong?” Cuthbert asked.
“I moved here this summer,” Jason replied.
“Do you like being back home, Jason?” the duke asked.
“I don’t consider England home yet, sir. I was born in Hong Kong. That’s home to me, but I do like living here now.”
“Do you have an older brother, Jason?” Louise asked, smiling at Catherine.
“No, he is an only child, and he’s too young for you,” Catherine laughed back.
Nobody said a word after that, but Jason couldn’t help noticing how the queen kept eyeing the two of them. She didn’t look terribly pleased either. But maybe royalty never did.
***
After breakfast, Catherine took Jason to a massive book-lined room with a huge fire burning in a limestone fireplace. They sat down on the sheepskin rug and watched the flaming wood crack and spit. Catherine retrieved Great Expectations, a new book she had received for Christmas.
“I just got this. Have you read it?” she asked.
“No, I have heard of it. I think they made a film about it, right?”
“What time is your grandfather coming?”
He smirked. “Not until five o’clock. Why? Do you to want get rid of me already?”
“No, if it was up to me, you could stay here forever. Do you think we could read this by five? We can take turns on chapters. I’ll go first.”
They both lay on the rug in front of the fire, reading the chapters out loud to each other. Every so often, they would stop for drinks and chocolate. Jason wondered if he were imagining the entire visit. How had he winded up here when only yesterday it seemed as if all he did was train at Wong Tong’s? If it had been up to him, he might have stayed here forever too.
***
When his grandfather drove into the courtyard that afternoon, Jason’s heart sank. He did, however, allow himself a little smile at how nervous his grandfather was around Catherine.
“Hello, you…you’re Royal Highness Princess Catherine,” the old man stuttered, holding out his hand. “I am honored—”
“I will only shake your hand if you promise to call me just Catherine,” she teased.
“Yes, hello, Catherine. It’s nice to meet you. Jason has spoken a lot about you.”
She sighed. “I guess you have to go now. Let’s g
o up and get your bag.”
They walked into the castle, and Jason’s bag had already been packed for him.
He chuckled. “Wow. Just like magic. I could get used to this.” Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the queen through the doorway. She was talking to the stable hand, surrounded by three corgis.
“Catherine, can you do me a big favor?” Jason asked.
“Anything.”
“My grandfather—”
“Of course,” Catherine interrupted, squeezing his hand. “I will.” She knew exactly what Jason was going to ask. She quickly ran down the stone steps toward her mother.
“Mummy, Jason is leaving now,” she said. “This is his grandfather.”
The queen looked up. She was dressed in a long green skirt, black walking boots, and a dark green hunting jacket. A brown head scarf covered her hair. She approached a stunned Jason Macintosh.
“Hello, Mr. Steed,” she said, holding out her hand.
As he bowed his head, Jason’s grandfather took her hand and said, “I am honored, Your Majesty. It’s Mr. Macintosh. I am Jason’s mother’s father. Has he been…good?”
“Yes, you have a wonderful grandson. One enjoyed his company. I have been listening to him read this afternoon. You have to excuse me. I have to talk to the vet about one of my horses.” With that, she marched off across the courtyard.
Mr. Macintosh beamed.
“Thank you. He’ll never forget that,” Jason whispered in Catherine’s ear.
Jason and Catherine hugged. As they slowly parted, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. The cold wind blew Jason’s blond hair to the side. His deep-blue eyes lit up.
“Call me when you get back to London,” he said.
“I will,” she said. “I will.”
As the car pulled away, Jason once again spotted the queen in the mirror, her face drawn in a tight frown, staring at her daughter, who was waving good-bye.
***
A week passed—then two. Jason returned to his old life: school, Sea Cadets, and karate. But there was still no word from Catherine. He sent her a letter and waited. A week passed before a reply came.
Fledgling: Jason Steed Page 8