Kumari made a noise. It might have been a growl. McGregor hung up.
She threw her phone to the end of the bed and screamed.
There was the sound of pounding footsteps and Ben practically skidded into the room. He was wearing a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a sweaty T-shirt. He must have been in the gym (of course, the apartment had a gym!) doing his morning workout. He looked flushed and hot and amazing. If she took a photo now it would probably be worth a fortune.
‘Kumari.’ He looked around wildly, as though expecting to see assassins in the room. He relaxed a fraction when it was clear there weren’t any. ‘What happened?’
‘The hospital just called. They’ve taken me off the rota for the next two weeks. Because of the press. And he dared to suggest—’ her jaw clenched so hard it made her teeth grate.
Ben put his hands up in front of him and walked towards her, as though approaching a fierce beast. ‘OK. That sounds . . . difficult.’ He sat down on the side of the bed. ‘Start from the beginning.’
She explained what had happened. He listened carefully, but to her surprise didn’t seem as indignant as she was.
‘Hopefully, the press interest will die down in a week or so,’ he said.
Kumari crossed her arms. ‘You’re not being very supportive.’
‘What can I say, Kumari? I can see the man’s point. He has to think of the hospital first.’
‘There must be something you can do. Your grandmother is queen, for heaven’s sake. Order them to leave the hospital alone.’
Ben looked offended. ‘I can’t ask her to intervene in something like this.’
Kumari glared at him for a few seconds, before the small voice of common sense piped up that he had a point. ‘But it’s not fair,’ she said.
He took her hands in his. ‘I know it’s not. There are a lot of things that won’t seem fair, Kumari. What we’re doing, you and me . . . When I told you it wasn’t going to be easy, this is what I meant. We’re asking a lot. From my family. From yours. From you.’
Anger and frustration made her eyes water. ‘What are we asking of your family? They’re not giving up anything.’
‘Aren’t they?’ he said. ‘It may not be a big deal to you, but tradition is a huge part of the institution. Our job, if you like. There are rules older than living memory that we have to adhere to. To break them was once unthinkable. My grandmother is a pragmatic monarch. She is relaxing the rules slowly. But people need the institution to symbolise certain things and we have to be careful how much we take away from them each time we change the rules. My immediate family like you and I’m not likely to ever take the throne, but even so . . . The institution is bigger than any of us.’ He looked at her sadly.
The sadness in his expression leached the anger out of her. ‘I’m sorry. I should have thought.’
‘I don’t mind,’ he said. ‘Because I want to be with you.’ He kissed the back of her hand. ‘But I guess I didn’t understand the magnitude of what I was asking you to do. Are you sure you want to be with me?’
She loved her job. Oh sure, there were times when she wanted to jack it all in and open a cake shop, but honestly, she chose this profession. Even when she took a sabbatical, it was to go and do the same sort of thing in a different place. She studied Ben’s worried face. This man needed her to give it up. If she wanted to be with him, she would have to let go and be absorbed into his world. Could she do that? Did she love him enough?
The alternative was that she got to keep everything in her life as it had been and lose him. Her heart squeezed extra hard in her chest. That was unthinkable.
She let go of his hand to stroke his cheek. ‘I love you. And I want to be with you.’
He made a face. ‘You had to think about it a bit.’
‘You’re asking me to stop being a doctor. I had to give it due consideration.’
He stared at her for a few seconds and then laughed. ‘I guess I can be sure you’re not just saying things to please me.’
‘When have I ever done that?’
He cupped her face in his big, warm hands. ‘Kumari, when you said you wanted to be with me . . . would you marry me, if I asked you to?’
She frowned. ‘Are you actually asking me to?’
‘Since we’re giving due consideration before replying to questions today . . . I should point out that Prince Benedict has some things he has to do before he can ask you to marry him. So no. I’m not asking you right now.’
‘What about Ben the guy. Y’ know. My boyfriend.’
‘Oh him? He’d marry you this afternoon if you said yes.’
Laughter bubbled up in her chest. ‘I think I prefer that Ben guy,’ she said. ‘And I’d definitely say yes, if he asked. Which he hasn’t.’
Ben laughed. ‘You have no idea how much I love you.’
He kissed her, gently at first, then with more intensity, until she forgot about everything apart from how it felt when his skin slid against hers.
*
Ben had to go to a charity event, so Kumari was left rattling around in the apartment by herself. She checked the time and called Lucy, hoping to catch her before she went to work for the afternoon shift.
‘It’s me,’ she said, when Lucy answered.
‘Who? I’ve forgotten what you look like,’ said Lucy.
‘Don’t be like that. Are you OK?’
‘I am. Are you? Rumour has it that you had to be rescued by your prince in an incognito car.’
‘Something like that. It wasn’t as glamorous as that.’
‘So, what’s going on, Kumari? It’s madness outside the hospital. McGregor got the police to come in and threaten to arrest the press people for . . . something. The place was really busy and it was a nightmare getting in.’
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry.’
‘Ah, it’ll blow over. On the plus side, I’m suddenly really popular. Even dishy Dr Rohit came to talk to me today.’
‘Cool. Did you ask him out?’
‘No. Of course not. He’s, like, amazing and I’m just me. He’s way out of my league.’
Kumari started to laugh.
‘Oh, yeah. I forgot who I was talking to,’ said Lucy. ‘How are things going with His Royal Hotness?’
The laughter fizzled out.
‘Kumari?’
‘McGregor’s taken me off the rota for two weeks. He says my being there is disrupting the hospital’s normal function. If the fuss doesn’t die down, he wants me to resign.’
‘Can he do that? He can’t force you to resign.’
‘Well, OK. What he actually said was that if I chose to resign, he’d let me off the notice period because it would be better for the hospital that way.’
Lucy listened to it all and said, ‘I hate to say it, but he’s right.’
‘I know he is. Doesn’t mean I have to like it,’ Kumari wailed. ‘I’m stuck in this apartment and it’s really boring. I don’t want it to be like this for the rest of my life. I’ll hate it and I’ll end up hating him. It’s not a sound basis for a marriage.’
There was a gasp from the other end of the line. ‘Has he asked you to marry him?’
‘No. God, no. I just . . .’ He hadn’t actually proposed. He had checked what her answer would be so that he could do what protocol demanded of him. Ben was negotiating difficult waters with their relationship going at such speed. His grandmother’s powers might be ‘complicated’, but she had ultimate say in whom her grandchildren could marry. Besides, Kumari had to be careful what she said. Idle gossip was now newsworthy. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘He hasn’t asked me to marry him. I’m just being hysterical and over the top. I’m staying here until the furore dies down. I can’t come back to the flat because they’ll find out where I live and then they won’t leave you alone. I don’t want to put you through that. So Ben’s got me some accommodation at the other side of Kensington Palace. I’m going to get keys to it this evening.’
There was a pause
as Lucy absorbed this. ‘OK, so how long are you going to be away?’
‘About a week, all being well.’
‘I’m not much enjoying being the only one in the flat,’ said Lucy.
‘I know. I’m so sorry.’ She seemed to be apologising to everyone at the moment. There was nothing going right. Except Ben. Ben was a beacon in the confused mess that was her life at the moment. A lighthouse in a storm. She had to keep him in sight.
‘I miss you,’ she told Lucy.
‘I miss you too, honey.’
After hanging up, Kumari decided that she needed to know what was going on in the outside world. The Internet was a no–no. She had uninstalled Twitter from her phone the night before when the first death threats appeared. Ben had suggested she do the same for Facebook. She had just removed it from her home screen for now. She didn’t dare look at that either. There was something about nameless, faceless people sending her hate mail that was . . . terrifying.
Nope. No Internet. It would have to be the newspapers. She pulled on her coat, grabbed her keys and made her way downstairs. The butler of the floor met her at the bottom of the stairs. She still wasn’t used to staff.
‘Can I help you, ma’am?’
‘You don’t happen to have a newspaper, do you?’
‘Why, certainly. I’ll bring a selection up for you.’
‘I can come with—’ She was going to suggest she go to get them herself, but the look on his face warned her not to even suggest it. ‘I’ll just wait upstairs in my rooms, then.’
She trailed back upstairs, reflecting that the place was beautiful and comfortable, but very much a gilded cage.
The butler showed up a few minutes later with a tray of newspapers. He looked mildly concerned. ‘Ma’am, are you sure you want to read these? They may be a little upsetting.’
‘All the more reason to read them then, don’t you think?’ She took the tray from him. ‘Thank you so much Mr . . . ?’
‘Lewis, ma’am.’
‘Thank you, Mr Lewis.’
He hesitated a moment before bowing and moving back so that she could shut the door. She threw herself down on the sofa and looked at the pile of papers. The Sentinel, her paper of choice, was on the top of the pile. The tabloids were at the bottom. Thoughtfully, she put her arm underneath the pile and flipped it over. She picked up the first tabloid and turned it over. It was immediately obvious why Lewis had been worried.
Nearly all the papers had the same two photos. The first was the one she’d seen before, of her and Ben as they got into the car. The other one was new. It was of her, climbing the steps to the club. She could tell from her clothes it had been taken on the same evening as the blurry photo of them leaving, but this had been taken at the start of the evening. It was a good photo, with her face clearly visible in the light from above the door. Since she hadn’t noticed a photographer when she went into the club, this must have been taken with a long-range lens, or they must have been hiding close by. The photographer had either taken photos of everyone who went in that night, or had known she was going to see Ben.
Remembering Greg’s name under the photo of her shaking hands with Ben months ago, she looked for the photo credit. None of the papers had printed one. But they all had the same photo. Whoever it was, was getting a decent amount of money. She frowned. If both photos had been taken by the same person, why would they release them at different times?
Money, she decided. They’d teased people with a shot that didn’t show her, but showed clearly that Prince Benedict was in love with the woman he was with. Then, when the papers were all desperate to find out who it was, they’d sold them the answer. Sneaky, but clever. Kumari sighed. Since she couldn’t avoid it any longer, she picked up a tabloid and looked at the headlines. Oh, good heavens.
The Daily Watch
Is this what the royal family will look like in 100 years?
According to a prominent commentator, the decision to relax rules about who can marry into the British royal family could lead to a family of increasingly mixed lineage. We asked an anthropological modeller to predict what the family might look like three generations from now. As you can see, the ethnicity of future royals would be ambiguous. Are we ready for a black queen?
The Paragon Record
Concerns over the fate of the royal lineage
The latest link between royal grandson, Prince Benedict, and an immigrant doctor from the north of England has caused outrage among aristocratic circles. ‘We know that the royal family are keen to be seen as more in touch with the average populace, but this is taking things too far. They’ve sacrificed poor Prince Benedict at the altar of political correctness, probably because he is far enough away in the line of succession that there is no real chance of his children ever succeeding to the throne. We expected better.’
The outburst of concern was caused by pictures of Prince Benedict seen arm in arm with Sri Lankan immigrant Kumari Senavaka. Senavaka, whose parents fled war-torn Sri Lanka in the 1970s, has taken advantage of the British education system and is now a qualified doctor working in the NHS.
* * *
‘Well most of that’s plain wrong,’ Amma said down the phone. ‘We’re not refugees from the civil war. That didn’t even start until after we left.’
‘I know, Amma, I know.’ It was late afternoon now. Ben had phoned to check Kumari was OK. She had told him she was watching Netflix. She had, in fact, turned on the TV, but seeing pictures of herself on the rolling newsfeed had been enough to make her turn it off.
‘And you’re not Sri Lankan, you’re British. You were born here,’ her mother continued.
Kumari sighed. She was sitting in the apartment’s kitchen, trying to eat her sandwich and talk to Amma on her mobile at the same time. The newspapers were stacked in a pile on the same tray that Lewis had brought them on. She had read every article. All wild speculation and half-truths, none of them had made her happy, even those that had put a more positive spin on her story.
‘Why are they telling such ridiculous lies?’ her mother demanded.
‘I don’t know. Everyone loves Prince Benedict. I suppose I’m not who they’d choose for him.’
There was a thoughtful silence at the other end of the line. ‘Kumari,’ Amma said. ‘Are you sure about this? Going out with this man could have some very serious consequences for you. Are you sure this is a good thing?’
Amma didn’t even know about what had happened at work. Kumari thought about Ben. ‘I’m sure,’ she said. ‘I love him.’
‘Does he feel the same way? Because if you break up, he will carry on with his life, but yours could be very difficult to rebuild.’
Despite the fact that she’d said exactly the same thing to Ben herself, Kumari felt herself bristle. ‘I really think he does feel the same,’ she said. ‘And besides, I’m an adult. I can make my own mistakes. I recovered from breaking up with Shane, didn’t I?’
‘It’s not the same, Kumari, and you know that. Don’t be facetious.’
She deserved that. She didn’t say anything.
‘Have you spoken to him about all this?’
‘Yes. Not about today’s papers, but about the press intrusion in general.’
‘And . . . ?’
‘He warned me about it before. When we first started going out.’ She sighed. ‘Amma, it’s going to be hard. I know. But I really do love him. And I think he’s worth it.’
‘In that case,’ said Amma, ‘you’ll work something out. You’ve always been a very determined person, Kumari, and what you want, you will strive for. In all honesty though, I didn’t expect you to want to marry a prince. You weren’t exactly a princessy girl.’
‘But you called me Kumari. My name literally means “princess”.’
‘That was your father’s idea. You were a princess to us, always.’
Suddenly, there was a lump in her throat.
‘If anything goes wrong,’ Amma said, ‘you know that you can always co
me home. To us. This will always be your home.’
‘Thank you.’ She remembered what he had said about their security. ‘Amma, you and Thatha need to be careful. It’s possible that people might figure out that you’re my parents and come and hassle you. If that happens, can you tell me? Ben said he’d pay for security to be placed at the house.’
‘Don’t worry about us, darling, we’ll be OK. Why would they want to bother us? We don’t have anything exciting or photogenic about us.’
‘I don’t think that’s how it works. It may not come to it, but please, don’t answer the door to people unless you know who it is. Don’t confirm anything if they manage to catch you to talk to.’
‘Don’t worry. We’ll be careful.’
There was a moment of silence, where unspoken words hung in the air.
‘Anyway,’ said Amma. ‘How is Ben?’
This was her way of trying to make everything sound normal again. Kumari relaxed a little. Eventually they circled round to talking about his family and how they were reacting to her.
‘They’ve been really great,’ she said, even though she’d barely seen any of them. Cautiously, she told her mother a bit of what Ben had told her that morning.
Surprisingly, Amma understood. ‘It’s not surprising,’ she said. ‘They have all those generations of tradition weighing down on them. Saving face and maintaining proper status is important.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I imagine he’s having the same sort of conversations I had with my parents before I eloped with your father.’
Kumari was startled. She’d known about how her mother, the rich Colombo girl, had fallen in love with her brother’s friend, the poor scholarship student at the university. Her parents had been furious and done everything they could to keep them apart. Her father had got a job in England and they had married in secret and literally run away to be together. Reconciliation had taken years. In fact, her mother often said that it was Kumari’s birth that had mended bridges. She was the first grandchild and it was the threat of not seeing her that had mended the rift between Amma and her parents. It had never occurred to Kumari to draw parallels between the two situations, but Amma was right. It was the same emotions, just with much bigger stakes.
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