Christmas at the Palace

by Jeevani Charika

  ‘I can’t believe you live here,’ said Lucy. It had been a few days since Ben’s announcement to the press and Kumari was finally having Lucy round to her rooms. They had ordered a takeaway, which was delivered to the gatehouse, and were sitting in her living room sharing a tub of ice cream for pudding.

  ‘I don’t, really. I’m just staying here for a few weeks.’

  Lucy gave her a knowing look. ‘You keep telling yourself that.’

  Kumari lowered her spoon. The mouthful of ice cream meant she couldn’t speak for a few seconds.

  ‘What’s happening with work?’ Lucy asked. ‘People are asking about you.’

  Kumari sighed. ‘I spoke to McGregor. I . . . I resigned.’

  It had felt awful, but it was inevitable. She would have had to resign as soon as she was formally engaged to Benedict. She and Rita were still writing the proposal for the Boost Her! project. If it got funded, she wouldn’t be able to publicly support that, either. She couldn’t tell Lucy any of this, because it was meant to be a secret until the formal announcement.

  ‘McGregor offered to give me unpaid leave for longer, but I couldn’t really carry on like that,’ she said.

  ‘I’m going to have to look for a new housemate, aren’t I?’ said Lucy. ‘I mean, the man made a statement to the press, effectively declaring that he loves you. You guys will be getting married fairly soon.’

  Kumari made a non-committal noise. She felt bad about not telling Lucy, the only people she had told were her parents. They had been delighted for her, and their fears that Ben would abandon her with a broken heart somewhat alleviated.

  Lucy took the sound to mean scepticism. ‘The royals don’t talk about their relationships in any official way until they announce an engagement. All the other girlfriends, even the fairly long-term ones, have been known in the press, but never formally acknowledged like you have.’ She grinned. ‘Besides, anyone can see that he’s completely in love with you.’

  Kumari would have scoffed, but she didn’t really disagree.

  ‘If he asked you, would you say yes?’ said Lucy. It was a mark of their friendship that she even asked. Lucy had seen the aftermath of Kumari’s marriage breaking down. She knew that getting married again was not something Kumari would take lightly.

  Kumari smiled. This she could answer without giving any secrets away. Finding Ben had been like finding a missing part of her soul. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I would definitely say yes.’

  Lucy gave one of her high-frequency squeaks. ‘Awesome!’ She bounced around in her seat. ‘I get to be the woman who used to share a flat with the princess. I’m going to dine out on that one for years.’ She paused. ‘I get to come to the wedding, right?’

  ‘There isn’t a wedding yet!’

  ‘Good point.’ Lucy picked up another spoonful of ice cream. ‘It’s only a matter of time, though. I’ll have to buy a hat.’

  ‘You do that.’ Kumari looked at her watch. ‘Ben said he would pop by on his way back to his place. He’s at some formal dinner for one of his charities this evening.’

  Lucy looked up. ‘It’s a different world, I tell you. I mean, even this place. You call it your room – there are two rooms and a bathroom. It’s not a room, it’s a flat.’

  Kumari laughed. ‘You should see Ben’s place. It’s a three-bedroom apartment, but there’s a sitting room, an office, a dining room that he never uses and another sitting room he uses as a gym.’ She looked around. ‘And everything is bigger than this.’

  ‘Different world,’ said Lucy. There was a knock on the door.

  ‘That’ll be Ben,’ Kumari stood up.

  ‘What do I do?’ asked Lucy, suddenly looking panicked. ‘Do I curtsy? What do I call him?’

  ‘Relax. You’ve met him before. Just call him Ben.’ Kumari checked through the spyhole and let Ben in.

  He grinned at her and gave her a sound kiss. He looked amazing in a full dinner suit. He turned to Lucy.

  ‘Hello, Lucy, it’s good to see you again.’ He shook hands with her and kissed her politely on the cheek. Lucy’s cheeks flushed a little.

  ‘I see you’ve got stuck into dessert. I’ve brought wine,’ he said. Kumari handed him a glass from her small cupboard.

  Ben pushed a chair next to Kumari’s, but didn’t sit down.

  ‘So, how are you, Lucy? I hope you’ve not been hassled by the press. We had some security posted nearby, but there didn’t seem to be too much activity.’

  ‘No. It’s been fine. I guess they knew you and Kumari weren’t there.’

  Ben fetched a bowl and a spoon and dug a serving of ice cream out of the tub.

  ‘Hey,’ said Kumari. ‘Didn’t they feed you at this do?’

  ‘That’s coming out of your share,’ said Lucy. Apparently, seeing Ben steal ice cream was enough to get her over any sense of awe.

  Ben grinned at them both and tucked in.

  It didn’t take long for the atmosphere to settle into one of relaxed friendship. Kumari realised that she had missed these cosy evenings with Lucy. The realisation that she might still be able to hang out with her, albeit on slightly different terms, made her ridiculously happy. The fact that she could share them with Ben too, made her happier still.

  It was late by the time Lucy stood up to leave. Kumari and Ben walked her back to within a few yards of the gatehouse and Kumari hugged her friend. ‘We’ll have to do this again, it’s been really nice. I’ve missed you so much.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Lucy. She shook Ben’s hand. ‘It was really nice to get to know you, Ben. I can see my friend is in safe hands.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ben. ‘I’ll take that as a huge compliment.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘It’s been nice getting to know you too, Lucy.’

  ‘Although, one question. Now that you guys are “official”, why don’t you get engaged? I mean, you’ve done the difficult part and got her past the queen, so what’s the hold-up?’

  Kumari looked at Ben, willing him to let her tell Lucy. Ben laughed and said, ‘Have you been talking to Ophelia?’

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘I guess that means both of us have a bossy person in our lives,’ Ben said to Kumari. ‘Ah look, here’s your car, Lucy.’

  Lucy looked like she was going to insist on an answer, but thankfully, she didn’t.

  After she’d gone, Ben and Kumari walked back to her rooms. Ben seemed to be preoccupied. Kumari gathered up the bowls and Ben opened a window to let the smell of food dissipate.

  ‘It was really nice to see Lucy again,’ said Kumari. ‘I’ve missed her.’

  ‘Yes, I could tell.’

  ‘I hate not being able to tell Lucy,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Ben said. ‘We can’t tell anyone until it’s official. Apart from your parents, obviously.’

  ‘But getting engaged is a big deal. It’s so odd not telling my friends.’ She stopped talking. Ben was looking at her with a goofy smile on his face. ‘What?’

  ‘Since it was done in rather a hurry last time . . .’ he said. He reached into the pocket of his dinner jacket and pulled out a small box.

  ‘Ooh. The ring arrived,’ she said. She looked up at him. ‘A handsome prince in a tuxedo, carrying an engagement ring . . . it’s like my very own fairy tale.’

  He opened the box and held it out to her, ‘Be my princess?’

  She laughed. ‘Of course I will.’

  He slipped it onto her finger. The ring had a large diamond set in a cluster of pale sapphires. It had been sized perfectly to fit her.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Kumari said, admiring it. ‘Oh, Ben. It’s gorgeous.’

  ‘The sapphires are from Sri Lanka. Ceylon sapphires. The diamond . . .’ He cleared his throat. ‘The diamond was my mother’s.’

  The catch in his voice made her look up. He was gazing at the ring with a faraway expression. ‘She had this diamond bracelet,’ he said. ‘It was her favourite piece of jewellery. I remember she used to stir the tea and the li
ght would catch the bracelet and scatter into dancing points all over the room. We used to love that as kids.’ He turned her hand so that the diamond caught the light. ‘When she died, none of us could bear to look at the bracelet so our dad had it broken up and made into smaller pieces so that we could each carry something of her with us. The two girls have earrings, Dad and I have cufflinks.’ He looked up, his eyes dim. ‘I wanted you to have something of hers too. I . . . she would have liked you.’

  Without a word, Kumari pulled him into her arms and hugged him. She held him close, listening to his heartbeat. Ben held her tightly. ‘She would have liked you,’ he whispered again into her hair.

  Kumari held him tighter. She didn’t say anything, because there was nothing more to say. He had given her the highest compliment he could bestow.

  Chapter 18

  The Northern Paragon

  Northern village rallies against harassment of royal girlfriend’s parents

  The residents of a quiet cul-de-sac near Leeds have formed a neighbourhood watch to keep an eye out for intrusive members of the press who try to sneak in to catch a glimpse of Harsha and Rukmali Senavaka. The Senavakas have lived in the street for nearly thirty years, ever since they moved there with their baby daughter. That baby daughter grew up to become the girlfriend of national heartthrob Prince Benedict. Ever since the identity of the prince’s girlfriend became public, there has been a media frenzy with reporters and ‘citizen journalists’ trying to find out every last piece of information about the thirty-year-old doctor.

  ‘They’re nice people,’ said Mrs Gloria Webb, of number 1 The Close. ‘Never had any trouble from them. Always had a good word for everyone. Mr S taught my grandson English. Half this street has been treated by Mrs S at some point. They may be foreign folk, but they’re our folk.’ Mrs Webb was the first person to call the police and report suspicious behaviour outside the Senavakas’ house.

  ‘They didn’t take me seriously at first,’ she said. ‘The Senavakas were out and this man came and put summat through the letterbox. Turned out it was hate mail and something disgusting. Then all these people with cameras and microphones turned up. We had people jumping over fences into gardens. This is a nice neighbourhood. We’ve never had nowt like this before. We’re not standing for it.’

  The neighbourhood has arranged a round-the-clock watch. Anyone not already known to people on the street is approached by one of the residents. If they don’t have legitimate business in the street, they are asked to leave.

  The local police have declined to comment.

  Ben proposing to her suddenly kicked everything into a whole new level of activity. She couldn’t wear the ring until the engagement was formally announced, but now that Ben had made her presence official, something had changed. The palace machinery swung into action – she was now a part of it. The first thing that happened was that Ophelia informed her that she was coming round with ‘some people’ and minutes later the room was full.

  ‘OK, introductions,’ said Ophelia. ‘Kumari – this is my dresser, Mrs Pilding. This is her assistant, Sinead. This is my personal assistant, Julia. I’ve suggested that Julia and I help you with your arrangements in the short-term. We need to get you a PA to help with all of this. I would ask Anton but . . . I can just imagine his face.’ Ophelia rattled off names, conducting the room like it was an orchestra. Kumari tried to smile and keep up.

  Eventually, everyone sat on the sofas. They all seemed to be looking at her. Kumari tried hard not to fidget.

  Ben’s housekeeper, Louise, arrived hot on the heels of the guests, with a trolley of tea and cakes. She gave Kumari a friendly smile. Ever since she became ‘official’, people like Louise and Mr Forrest had become a little friendlier towards her. Stepping out of their discreet shadows to make themselves visible. Kumari smiled back and mouthed ‘help’, which made Louise smile as she hurried away.

  ‘I think we’ll start with making a list of everyone whose help we’re going to need,’ said Ophelia. ‘Kumari, would you mind standing up, please? Walk up to the top of the room and back, if you don’t mind.’

  Warily, Kumari did as she was asked.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Mrs Pilding. ‘Posture, decorum.’ Next to her, Sinead tapped furiously on an iPad.

  Kumari gave Ophelia a quizzical look. She knew she would have to have some training in order to fit into this world, but how much?

  Ophelia gave her a sparkling smile. ‘Effortless grace like this isn’t achieved without actual serious effort,’ she said, gesturing to herself. She was wearing jeans and a button-down shirt. She looked cool and casual at the same time. It was only if you looked closely, as Kumari was now doing, that you saw the careful, barely there makeup, the precisely tailored shirt that hung on her shape just so, the hair that was pinned carefully to achieve the feeling of a careless updo.

  ‘I’ve had years to learn all this,’ said Ophelia. ‘You’ll have to get it down in a few months.’

  ‘Etiquette,’ said Mrs Pilding. ‘Although, we have most of what’s necessary already in place, from what you say, ma’am.’

  Ophelia nodded. ‘Just the finer points, I should think.’

  Kumari silently thanked Amma’s pernickety lectures on table manners.

  ‘Hair, passable,’ Mrs Pilding continued. Sinead’s eyes flicked to Kumari’s hair. Kumari tucked it behind her ear, nervously.

  ‘Wardrobe, we’ll leave for later.’

  ‘Wardrobe?’ Kumari said. She looked down at her own faded jeans and T-shirt. ‘Fair enough. I think I’ll be needing that.’

  ‘I was thinking traditional outfits, elegant and simple dresses. In colours that would suit the darker complexion, of course,’ Mrs Pilding said. ‘The alternative is to use saris for all formal occasions, but really, I don’t think that would convey the right message.’

  Kumari narrowed her eyes. ‘What message would that be, Mrs Pilding?’

  ‘That you have been welcomed to the royal family, of course. Besides, you couldn’t have all that midriff showing. It’s not modest.’

  Sinead looked like she was about to say something, but shrank back again after a warning glare from Mrs P.

  Interesting. Kumari wondered if the young assistant had less traditional ideas than her boss. ‘Sinead. What do you think?’

  Ophelia’s lips twitched and she gave Kumari the smallest of nods. There was a brief expression of triumph on her face before she hid it. Kumari felt like she’d passed some sort of test.

  Sinead studied her, concentrating hard, her freckled face serious. She was a neat young woman, with straight, black hair and porcelain-white skin. Her face was a mixture of Chinese and Caucasian features. Kumari guessed that, given her name, she was part Irish, part Chinese.

  ‘I think you could wear strong colours, ma’am, which is wonderful. We could do so much with that.’ She glanced at Mrs Pilding before continuing. ‘And with your South-East Asian background and height, we could easily incorporate some traditional prints, perhaps, into a very modern wardrobe. Something vibrant.’ She smiled at the vision that only she could see. She made a balancing motion with her hands. ‘We could go for an East-meets-West, old-meets-new vibe.’

  Mrs Pilding was glaring at Sinead, who noticed and subsided into an awkward silence. Apparently, she had overstepped her mark. Kumari’s eyes narrowed again. She raised her hand. ‘I have a question.’

  All four women looked up at her.

  ‘What does “East meets West” entail, Sinead? Saris with modern tops? The top from a salwar kameez set over jeans?’ She’d never worn a salwar kameez in her life. Or a kurta, for that matter. She’d worn a Kandyan sari to her first wedding and an Indian sari for parties, but really, she’d spent more time in jeans than any other item of clothing.

  Sinead looked at Mrs Pilding again, as though asking for permission. When given the nod, albeit reluctantly, she fiddled with the iPad then turned it round to show Kumari. ‘I did a bit of research,’ she said, her eyes shining. ‘I w
as thinking traditional-style, high street dresses paired with tailored jackets with subtle embroidery reminiscent of more traditional Asian styling.’

  She passed the iPad to Kumari. There were a series of beautiful dresses, mostly with the clean, unfussy lines that she liked, but with detailing at the edges, like a sari. She flicked through and came to a set of slides where someone, Sinead presumably, had taken some suit dresses and coats and hand drawn detailing that turned something plain into something ever so slightly different. A splash of colour here. A bit of embroidery there. Nothing over the top, but just a trace of difference. She nodded. ‘I like it,’ she said.

  Sinead glowed. ‘I was thinking we could incorporate the diversity element without losing the traditional standard mentioned in the brief,’ she said.

  Kumari didn’t miss the warning look Mrs Pilding shot her assistant.

  ‘The brief?’ Kumari said. ‘What brief?’

  The other women looked at Ophelia, who sighed. ‘Even princesses have to answer to someone,’ Ophelia said. ‘On the one hand, I have a lot of leeway in which designers I use. On the other hand, everything has to be in keeping with the general standards. Have you ever seen any of us make a massive fashion faux pas?’

  Kumari shook her head. She might not have noticed, but Lucy would have.

  Ophelia nodded. ‘That’s because we have people like Mrs Pilding to make sure we don’t step too far from the guidelines. The institution, you see, is bigger than any one of us.’

  Ben had said that too. Kumari opened her mouth to protest, but Ophelia’s eyebrow went up a fraction. It was enough to tell her that now was not the time. She closed her mouth again. She would have to talk to Ophelia about it when these other people weren’t around.

  She muttered, ‘All right.’

  There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. ‘Moving on,’ said Ophelia. ‘I believe we’ve already started working on security.’ She looked at Kumari. ‘Dave is training up a CPS officer. You’ll meet her soon enough.’