‘I’ve made you roast chicken,’ Ben said weakly. ‘I was going to make Yorkshire pudding. The sort that’s from frozen.’
That was what did it. He’d remembered.
She stood up and pushed one of her boots off her foot. She glanced over at Ben. He gave her a hopeful smile. She kicked the other boot off and turned just in time to face him when he scooped her up in a hug.
She buried her face in the side of his neck and breathed in the woodland and summer smell of him. How did she think she could ever live without him when his arms felt so much like home?
He caught her face in his hands and kissed her.
‘I think we have a lot we need to discuss,’ he said.
‘We do.’ She bit her lip. ‘For what it’s worth, I don’t see this as a short-term thing. But I’m scared and overwhelmed and I can’t see how this can possibly survive the real world.’
He gathered her close again, squeezing her against his hard body. ‘It will,’ he said. He laid little butterfly kisses on her eyelids. ‘We’ll make sure of it.’
Chapter 9
The Aurora Post
Horsing around at Badminton
The evening events at the Badminton Horse Trials are always a great place for youthful antics and gossip. Here are a few people we ran into at the gala dinner.
Prince Benedict was seen laughing and joking with millionaire heiress Gwyneth Ellesmere-Jones. The prince and Ellesmere-Jones have been linked before, hardly surprising as her big brother Rhodri Ellesmere-Jones is the prince’s best friend. Has the prince fallen for his best friend’s sister? These pictures would certainly suggest that romance is on the cards.
Picture caption: Prince Benedict and Gwyneth Ellesmere-Jones laughing at a private joke.
The first thing to do, they decided, was to tell their families. Once the royal household was told, things would be set in motion that would take up most of Kumari’s time when she wasn’t at work, so the first chance she got, she drove home.
It was late afternoon by the time she got there and the sunshine cast long shadows across the cul-de-sac.
Parking her car, she remembered to put it into gear and give the handbrake an extra heft to stop it from rolling down the hill. She got her bag out of the back and waved at the net-curtained windows of number one. Old Mrs Webb would have heard the car and come to check who it was. No one ever came in or out without her knowing. She was a one-woman Neighbourhood Watch.
Kumari walked down the street that she’d grown up on. Her mother kept her up to date with what was happening with everyone. Kumari had been a pre-schooler when they’d moved here and though they’d lived there for nearly thirty years, they were still ‘that new family’. Everyone else knew each other from old because either they or their parents had lived here since the houses were built.
Her parents’ neighbours, Albert and Betty, were in their tiny front garden, taking in the last of the day’s sunshine with their cups of tea.
‘Hello, love. You back home for a holiday?’ asked Betty.
‘Just a flying visit,’ said Kumari. ‘How’re you? Keeping OK?’
Betty proceeded to tell her about her various aches and pains. Kumari listened and suggested that she see her GP about the recurring cough. It was a good few minutes before she could carry on to her house.
It was the sort of neighbourhood where people knew everything about each other. Her father used to say that you could blow your nose in your own house and by the next morning everyone in the street would be asking about your cold.
She let herself into the house and shouted, ‘Hello.’ The place smelt of spices and air freshener. Her mother, always self-conscious that the house shouldn’t smell of curry, tended to cook in the daytime, with the back door open, despite the cold, so that the worst of the smell of frying spices escaped into the hillside. Kumari had always known when it was batch-cooking day because she came home from school to a house where the gas fire in the living room had still not managed to take the chill off the room.
Tonight, though, the house was warm.
‘Kumari!’ Her mother bustled out. She was still in her nursing uniform and cardigan. Unlike Kumari, her mother was petite, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in presence. She worked as a nurse and had the uncanny knack of making cranky children do as they were told.
Kumari turned from hanging up her coat to give her mother a hug and then bowed quickly, palms together, for a blessing. Her mother leant forward and kissed the top of her bent head.
‘Come, come. Let me get you some tea. You must have driven straight up without stopping.’
‘Actually, I did stop, but tea would be lovely. Hello, Thatha.’ Her father was sitting at the kitchen table, doing his marking. He beamed at her. She noticed that he looked older now, there were more lines on his face and more white at his temples and in his moustache. She bowed in front of him and received a blessing and a kiss on the head from him too.
There were a few minutes of bustling around and generally catching up before Kumari was sitting at the table, opposite her parents, clutching a mug of tea.
Her parents exchanged a glance. She knew that look. It was her parents gearing up to act as a team. After thirty-odd years of marriage, they drew up the rules in a single glance. Kumari realised that in her time with Shane, she’d never reached that level of understanding. She liked to think that with Ben, she might actually get there.
‘So,’ her mother said, ‘what was so important that you had to rush up here?’
There was no point beating around the bush. ‘As you know, I’ve met someone,’ she said. ‘His name is Ben . . . he’s, well, I think he’s wonderful.’
‘Darling, that’s fantastic,’ her mother said. ‘Oh, I’m very pleased to hear that – aren’t we, Sena?’
She still called him ‘Sena’, short for Senavaka, which was his nickname at university. He called her Ruki, short for Rukmali. Kumari loved that.
There was a pause for general congratulations before her father picked up the conversational baton. ‘So, tell us about this man. This Ben. Who is he? What does he do?’
Kumari took in a deep breath. She had practised so many different ways of telling them, but none of them seemed adequate.
‘Kumari?’ said her mother. ‘What is it, darling? Is something wrong?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Nothing’s wrong. Um . . .’ There was no other way to tackle it. ‘Who he is and what he does . . . are pretty much the same thing. His name’s Ben, but you know him as Benedict. Prince Benedict.’
There was a silence. Her parents looked at each other again. For once, it seemed that neither of them knew what to say.
‘He’s the . . . grandson of the queen,’ Kumari supplied.
‘Yes.’ Amma frowned at her tea. ‘So that’s why you didn’t tell Lucy or me where you were going when you went away with him. Security reasons?’
‘Yes.’
‘And that’s why you’ve not been home when I called. You were out with him?’
‘Yes.’
They looked at each other. ‘The prince,’ Amma said, her voice bordering on awe.
Thatha gave a little laugh. ‘At least we don’t need to ask where his family’s from.’
Amma giggled. ‘Or where they live.’ She turned back to Kumari. ‘That’s . . . incredible. How did this happen? How did my girl end up meeting a prince? Is it when you fell into his arms? Did he fall instantly in love with you?’
‘Come on now, Ruki. Don’t be silly.’ He said it with a groan, but Kumari could see he was burning to know too.
Kumari grinned. ‘It started there,’ she said. She told them what had happened. When she recounted it, it dawned on her how fast things had moved. It was a whirlwind romance. She stopped smiling. She had grown up not trusting whirlwind things. She was a measured, sensible sort of person. But then, her first relationship had been all about measured and sensible and that hadn’t turned out well. Besides, being with Ben fel
t right in a way that being with Shane hadn’t.
‘Oh, well that’s wonderful,’ said her mother. ‘It’ll be nice for you to go out and have some fun! And you could meet some amazing people.’
Her father cleared his throat, serious once more. ‘Are you sure about this, Kumari? You are clearly worried about something. What exactly is bothering you about him?’
‘It’s not him. He’s lovely. I genuinely like him. It’s just . . . everything else.’
‘Genuinely like him?’ her mother said. ‘Is that all you feel for him? Are you not sure? Are you being pressured?’ She reached across and put a hand on her daughter’s. ‘Darling, just because he is a prince, doesn’t mean he can tell you what to do.’
‘Oh no. It’s not that.’ Kumari smiled. ‘I love him. I adore him. But it’s complicated.’
The words ‘love him’ had a strange effect on her parents. Two concerned faces looked back at her. She realised that they had assumed that seeing Benedict was a temporary thing. But now that they realised she was serious about it, they were less relaxed. The worry lines made her want to cry. She waited for the all-too familiar questions, but they didn’t come. Her parents looked at each other and looked sad.
‘Aren’t you going to give me a lecture about us being from two different backgrounds? Or about being sure? Like you did when I told you about Shane?’
‘Come now, Kumari. You’re not stupid. Even you can see how different your worlds are. Even if you were a standard white, middle-class girl, you wouldn’t have anything in common with this man. He’s a prince. And one who likes his wine, women and parties, at that. Are you sure you’re not just a novelty to him? A PR stunt?’
‘Definitely not a PR stunt,’ she said. ‘We’ve been very careful to keep it secret. As for the other things, I don’t think much of that is true. Not unless he’s a really convincing actor.’
Another worried glance between them.
‘A lot of the stuff in the newspapers about him – it’s made up. Not all of it, obviously. He’s told me about what he went through in the army and I’m not surprised he drank a lot when he came back, but the girlfriends . . . most of those were just women he happened to speak to and if someone got a picture of them standing together, they reported it as though he had a new girlfriend.’
Her parents didn’t look convinced.
‘I’ve spent a lot of time with him over the last few months,’ she said. ‘He drinks less than I do and clearly doesn’t spend a lot of time partying either.’
‘You are an adult now,’ her father said. ‘And we have to let you make your own choices . . . but, darling, think about this. This man’s lifestyle – it’s very public. If things go wrong, everyone will know about it.’
He didn’t need to say ‘and we think it will go wrong’, it was obvious in his tone. Anyway, hadn’t she herself assumed that a few days ago?
‘You were so upset when things went wrong with Shane,’ said her mother. ‘We’d hate to see that happen to you again. Prince Benedict . . . he’s not a reliable sort of person, is he?’ She threw a glance at her husband. ‘And some members of the royal family are a bit’ – her voice dropped to a whisper, as though she was afraid of being overheard – ‘much.’
‘But you love the royals!’ Kumari said. ‘You and Lucy talk about them for hours.’
‘Their public personalities, yes,’ said her mother. ‘In real life, I don’t think anyone would want that life. Nothing is sacred. When their mother died, there were cameras everywhere those poor children went. It’s not a life you’d want to lead.’
Slowly and carefully, Kumari explained what she and Ben had discussed the night before.
When she’d finished, her father said, ‘I see. And what are you asking us today?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she said, which she knew was a perfectly acceptable answer. ‘Permission. Advice.’
They looked at each other. Then her mother said, ‘Darling, permission – you don’t need our permission. You’re an adult now. If this man will make you happy then you have our permission implicitly.’
‘Advice then. I love him. I want to be with him, but it’s so complicated. I don’t even know where to start.’ That feeling of thoughts whirling round her head was back. There were so many things to think about, it was hard to work out which thought to follow first.
‘Start with the basics,’ her father said. ‘Does he love you back?’
‘Yes.’ She was surprised at how certain she felt.
‘How do you know this?’
‘He wants me to meet his family.’ Which was a big deal for him, she knew.
There was a moment of silence before her mother said, ‘The . . . the queen?’
‘Eventually, but his sisters – Princess Helena and Princess Ophelia – to start with. And the Prince of Wales, his dad.’ She grinned. ‘That sounds so weird saying it out loud.’
Her mother tried not to smile and failed. ‘Yes, well.’
‘Nevertheless,’ said her father sternly. ‘Coming back to the conversation. This man, he is a military man, yes?’
‘Former military, yes.’
‘And how does that sit with you? You are trained to save lives. He has, essentially, been trained to shoot people.’
She was shocked by this. ‘Thatha, he doesn’t shoot people! The army is about much more than that.’
‘But that’s what he was trained to do. He was in active service. I’m not saying he’s not a good man in civilian life, darling, but he has been trained to kill. What will happen when you have to listen to phrases like “collateral damage” and not react? Can you cope with that?’
‘We share the same ideology about making the world a better place for people . . .’
‘Do you share the same view of acceptable ways of going about that?’
‘Yes.’ They hadn’t discussed that. All their conversations were about the good causes that they supported. If they supported the same causes . . . surely that meant they agreed. ‘I think.’
‘And what about diplomacy?’ said her mother. ‘What happens when you have to sit down to dinner with some crazed despot in the name of diplomacy? We brought you up to stand up for what you believe, how will you deal with that?’
Kumari sighed. That was going to be a problem. She did tend to shoot her mouth off without thinking. ‘Ben says there will be training. If we get engaged.’
‘Training?’
She nodded. ‘Actually, there will be quite a lot of people involved in getting me up to standard with the royal stuff.’
She listed the things Ben had mentioned. ‘Etiquette, protocol, style, diplomacy, security and there were some others I’ve forgotten . . . not to mention all the actual engagements and visits and stuff.’
‘That sounds like a lot of work,’ her mother said doubtfully. ‘I have no doubt you’ll learn everything, you’ve always been good at that, but . . . what about your job?’
‘That’s the other thing. I would have to give up my job.’ Her parents were so horrified, they both physically moved back a little. She knew that feeling. She had spent her entire life working towards being a doctor. Her parents had poured everything into getting her there – her mother working extra weekend shifts and over the Christmas holidays, her father plugging away at the same school, despite being passed over for promotion because the headmaster still pretended that Mr Senavaka’s practically non-existent accent was too strong for the students to understand. Everything had been focused towards getting Kumari through university and into a successful career as a doctor. Even taking a year out to go to work in Lesotho and her putting together the Boost Her! project proposal had been partly couched as a way of improving her CV, as well as being a chance to do good at the sharp end of a humanitarian crisis. To give all that up for a man, even if that man was a prince, was a bitter pill to swallow.
‘That’s . . . that’s a big thing to ask,’ said her father.
‘I know.’
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‘How do you feel about that?’ Her mother leant forward again.
‘I . . . honestly, I don’t want to stop work. My job makes a difference, you know. I don’t want to give that up . . . But Ben’s right. I couldn’t carry on working. It’s . . . well, I wouldn’t be able to do normal shifts and I wouldn’t be able to be a member of a team. Then there’s the security aspect of it all.’ She lifted her hands, a small defeated gesture. ‘I can’t see how I can do it. I would have to choose between working and being with him.’
Everyone was silent for a few minutes, each lost in thought.
‘Perhaps . . .’ her father said. ‘Perhaps this man isn’t the right man for you.’
She stared at him. ‘But I love him.’ The minute the words came out of her mouth, she realised how true they were. ‘I really love him.’
‘You thought you loved Shane,’ her mother reminded her.
‘I was so young when I met Shane. I didn’t know what love was. I thought it was hearts and flowers and grand gestures. I forgot that when that phase has passed, you need to be able to live together and do dull things. With Ben . . . it feels comfortable. Like finding the perfect chair or the jumper that fits. When I’m with him everything seems like it was meant to be.’
They exchanged glances again. ‘We’re just worried about you getting hurt. Even if you and he were fine . . . and I’m sure you are,’ said Amma. ‘Even if all that was fine, the press intrusion would make your life miserable.’
She had rehearsed the response to this one. ‘Prince Benedict is fairly popular. He thinks the press would largely be on his side.’
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