Christmas at the Palace

by Jeevani Charika

  Kumari giggled, despite her nerves. ‘I love you too, you goofball.’

  Ben grinned at her. ‘That’s better.’

  The White Drawing Room was . . . well, mainly white. White walls, white ceiling, white furniture with white upholstery. There was an enormous Christmas tree which appeared to have only lights on it. The heavy gold drapes had been drawn against the gathering darkness outside. Along one wall was a line of white-draped tables, with presents stacked in neat piles. As they walked past, Kumari noticed that each pile had a name label. Everyone had a pile.

  She released Ben’s hand so that she could accept a drink. She chose the non-alcoholic version.

  Ophelia and Helena were sitting on a low chaise longue near the tree, with the two little princesses kneeling on the floor in front of them, looking through a box of decorations. Kumari went over to them. She pulled up a footstool and sat down, careful to keep her dress from being squashed.

  ‘What have you got?’ she asked Francesca.

  The little girl looked up. She looked utterly adorable in her smock dress. ‘I’m looking for my favourite one.’

  Her younger sister, still barely out of toddlerhood, pulled something out, and threw it on the ground before diving in for another.

  Kumari caught the next one as it came out. ‘Maria,’ she said gently. ‘Be careful, please. Put each one on the ground like this.’ She demonstrated, putting the bauble gently onto the carpet. ‘It would be very sad if one of those broke because it was thrown on the floor.’

  Maria looked thoughtfully at her.

  Francesca rolled her eyes. ‘She’s always throwing things. She’s such a baby.’

  Seeing Maria’s furious pout, Kumari said, ‘No, she’s not. She just forgot for a minute about being gentle. Right, Maria?’

  Maria yanked another bauble out.

  ‘Ooh. What’s painted on that one?’ said Kumari, leaning forwards.

  Distracted, Maria peered at it too. ‘Snowman,’ she said.

  Kumari glanced up at her sisters-in-law. They were chatting. Helena, who always had one eye on the kids, gave her an approving smile. Kumari had come to learn that from Helena, this was practically a hug and kiss.

  She turned her attention back to the girls.

  Francesca eventually found the teddy ornament that she was looking for and Kumari helped Maria find a new favourite for herself.

  ‘Well then,’ said a voice behind her. ‘We can start decorating the tree.’

  Kumari jumped. Ben’s grandmother was standing next to her. She scrambled to get to her feet. The queen put a gentle hand on her shoulder to stop her.

  ‘Now,’ said the monarch. ‘What shall we hang on the tree first.’

  Kumari joined her sisters-in-law on the chaise longue and together they watched as the queen of England helped two tiny girls hang the first decorations on the Christmas tree.

  At the other end of the room, the Duke of Hereford said, ‘What, too old for decorating a tree now? Go on with you.’ And soon the two teenaged boys ambled over and started to help.

  Within minutes, boxes of decorations were being unpacked and handed out as various members of the family helped decorate the tree. The tree was gradually festooned with garlands and a random assortment of ornaments and a collection of gingerbread men that someone produced. There was no tinsel. When it was done, it looked like any other tree decorated with enthusiasm and love. A perfectly imperfect tree. The lower branches were festooned with clusters of baubles, while the higher branches, where the adults and teenagers could reach, were more balanced. A family tree, rather than a royal one.

  Finally, Maria was asked to put the star on the top of the tree. She was hoisted onto Ben’s shoulders and helped, with plenty of useless advice, to place the star in the ‘right’ place.

  There was a smattering of applause from everyone else as Ben lowered his niece onto the floor. He took a bow.

  A buffet was served at the further end of the room. Kumari brushed off her dress and got herself a couple of sandwiches and a tiny round Victoria sponge. She was delighted to see some squares of milk toffee, each with a cashew nut embedded in the top. She grabbed a few of those too.

  She had learnt now that grazing was the way forward at these events. You ate just enough to take the edge off your hunger. Otherwise there would be no room for dinner.

  Normally, if the queen was present, no one ate unless she ate, but tonight that rule didn’t seem to apply. Kumari bit into her salmon sandwich and looked around as the family members wandered around, chatting. Ben, who had been talking to Georgie at the other side of the room, caught her eye and raised a questioning eyebrow. She smiled to let him know she was OK.

  A movement to the side caught her eye and she turned to find the queen standing next to her, picking up a mini lemon tart. The old lady had so much presence that Kumari was always surprised at how small she was when you saw her close up.

  ‘One shouldn’t,’ said the monarch. ‘But we do love these.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re allowed at Christmas,’ said Kumari.

  The queen gave her an assessing look. ‘Are doctors meant to encourage excess?’

  ‘No, ma’am,’ said Kumari. ‘But sometimes we’re pragmatic about things.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the queen, drawing the word out. ‘To be pragmatic is a good thing . . . when appropriate.’ She smiled. ‘And how are you, dear? Is married life agreeing with you?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, ma’am.’

  ‘Oh, please. No need to be so formal here,’ said the queen. ‘Come. Talk to me.’ She made her way to an armchair. Kumari held her plate for her while she sank slowly into it. ‘Thank you.’ The old lady took her plate and indicated that Kumari should take a seat.

  Kumari indicated the milk toffees. ‘Thank you for including these. They’re my favourite.’

  ‘Ah. We asked if Chef knew any suitable Sri Lankan delights and he obliged.’ The queen smiled. ‘One of the benefits of the Commonwealth, you see. Recipes for everything.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Kumari. ‘I genuinely appreciate it.’

  ‘It was our pleasure.’ She popped a tiny lemon tart in her mouth and savoured it. After a few moments, she said, ‘And how are you finding undertaking the royal visits?’

  Kumari chose a straight-backed chair to sit in. ‘They are . . . harder work than I was expecting,’ she confessed. ‘But very rewarding. I’m enjoying them. I think I’m getting the hang of it.’

  The queen gave her a shrewd look. ‘Apart from that minor miscommunication the other week.’

  Of course she knew about that. The queen, Kumari had come to realise, knew everything. ‘Apart from that.’

  ‘Have you come to terms with our need to be impartial?’

  Nothing got past her, did it? Kumari considered bluffing, but realised that the monarch would probably see through it. She must get lied to all the time. Perhaps it was time to put all that training in how to say things without actually saying anything into practice.

  ‘It’s difficult,’ Kumari said carefully. ‘But I understand the need for it and I am sorry.’ There must be some way she could help the charity and she intended to find it, but the queen didn’t need to know that.

  The old lady nodded slowly. ‘You seem to be taking to public life very well. People love you and Benedict is very happy. I think you will be fine . . . so long as you don’t do anything rash.’ Bright blue eyes flashed at her with amusement.

  Dammit.

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Kumari. Any action she took would have to be done very, very carefully.

  Benedict, spotting his grandmother chatting to Kumari, came over.

  ‘Ah, Benedict,’ said the queen. ‘Now I have both of you here . . . when am I going to have another great-grandchild?’

  ‘They’ve only been married five minutes, Grandma,’ Ophelia butted in. ‘Give them some time to enjoy themselves.’

  ‘Children are not a burden,’ said her grandmother. She glan
ced across the room where her husband was having an ostentatious game of hide-and-seek with the little princesses who were both, quite obviously, hiding behind the same curtain. ‘Enjoying oneself and children are not incompatible.’

  Benedict gave his grandmother a kiss on the cheek. ‘All in good time, Grandma.’

  ‘Don’t leave it too long though,’ said Benedict’s Aunt Venetia. ‘When I was your age, Ben, I already had Edwin and Georgie.’

  ‘Don’t listen to them, Kumari,’ said Ophelia.

  Kumari rolled her eyes and reflected that this was exactly the sort of thing she’d probably have had to put up with from her own aunties and grandparents, if she’d ever been in a position to see them.

  After some time, the clock on the mantel chimed five o’clock. Ophelia nudged Kumari. ‘Present time!’ she said.

  ‘You’re almost as excited as the kids,’ said Kumari.

  ‘I can’t wait for you two to see the presents I got you,’ said Ophelia. ‘I spent ages choosing them.’

  It was quite a long, drawn-out affair as everyone had presents from everyone else. Since Kumari didn’t feel she knew the queen well enough to buy her a full-on gag gift, she’d opted for asking Lucy to help her make a batch of fruit and cashew nut cake using Amma’s recipe. Ben, on the other hand, had cheekily got her a set of ‘granny racers’ – a track with two wind-up toys of old ladies in wheelchairs, which you could race. She seemed delighted with this.

  For Ophelia, Kumari had bought the brightest flashing Christmas tree earrings she could find. Helena got a set of fake tattoos with the names of a boy band on them. This made Helena smile. For Ben’s father, she had picked up a set of glasses with wide-open eyes painted on. This made him laugh out loud. He had Ben’s laugh, big and booming.

  All around her, people were hooting with laughter or groaning in mock annoyance. Ophelia’s present for Ben was a pair of pantomine dame glasses. He put them on to howls of laughter.

  Kumari opened her own present from Ophelia, which was a commemorative mug with a truly awful image of herself and Ben on it and the legend ‘Congratulations Prince Benedict and Kumar’.

  ‘Kumar?’ she said. She looked again at the picture, which was grainy and barely recognisable as her and Ben, and started to laugh. Ben took it from her and started laughing too. After that, everything was funny. It was the most wonderful evening.

  Chapter 33

  The Society Post

  What do the royal family get each other for Christmas?

  What do you get for someone who has everything? Choosing presents for the royals is always going to be tricky, so they opt instead for home-made presents or gag gifts. Here are a few choice gifts from last year:

  Princess Francesca gave her great-grandmother a necklace made of pasta. Her Majesty is said to have worn it at lunch on Christmas Day.

  Prince Benedict gave his brother-in-law, David, a T-shirt that said ‘Property of She Who Must Be Obeyed’. He also gave Princess Ophelia a red, braided wig.

  Princess Ophelia gave her grandmother a bottle of rhubarb gin, made with rhubarb from her boyfriend Dominic Heatherton’s garden.

  We don’t know what presents will be exchanged this year, but we hope Kumari got the memo that cheap and cheerful is the way to go.

  When Kumari got back upstairs, still flushed with laughter and liquor, Sinead was waiting for her, twitching with impatience.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Kumari. ‘I know I’m late.’

  ‘We’ve got less than half an hour to get you sorted for the evening.’ Sinead fussed around her.

  Kumari smiled a little tipsily at her dresser. ‘OK then . . . let’s do this.’

  She stepped out of her cocktail dress and stood in her shapewear while Sinead gently dropped the green gown over her head. Obediently, she raised her arms and turned so that Sinead could zip her up. The sweetheart neckline was heavily embroidered, but the rest of the dress was plain and form-fitted until it flared out slightly from her knees. The hem was embroidered the same way as the neckline. Translucent fabric covered her arms and shoulders.

  Sinead nodded to herself as she tweaked the shoulders and hem so that everything sat just so.

  Kumari stood patiently while Sinead checked whether her hair needed redoing, which it didn’t. Thankfully, she could use the same shoes. She unhooked her earrings and necklace.

  For the formal dinner, she had been lent a necklace from Ben’s late mother’s collection. She knew that Ben was wearing his diamond cufflinks made from her favourite bracelet. Helena and Ophelia, too, were wearing their mother’s jewels. The necklace given to Kumari had emeralds in it, to go with her dress. There were earrings to match. They were so beautiful, she could have stared at them for hours. It was hard to believe she was actually allowed to wear them.

  Putting them on, Kumari felt the weight of the jewels. Before she married Ben, she had always worn tiny stud earrings or none at all, so the idea that jewellery could be so heavy that it hurt had been a revelation. In the first few weeks after her wedding, she’d had constant headaches from the combination of necklaces, earrings and tiaras. It was easier now. Maybe her neck had become stronger.

  She checked her reflection. The jewels looked lustrous against the smooth brown of her skin. Wow.

  Her gaze travelled down to her stomach, which was flatter now than it had ever been, but still needed a good tug of spandex. She wasn’t fat, as some of the papers liked to make out, she had a personal trainer who made sure of that, but no matter how toned she was, the newspapers found a way to comment on her ‘curves’.

  One day Ben had heard a visiting designer fussing about it and casually mentioned that he preferred a smooth arc to a harsh angle. The discussion about her becoming flatter had ended abruptly at that point. But designer dresses still demanded near concave stomachs, so Kumari wore shapewear. It was damned uncomfortable, but it made for much more flattering photographs.

  ‘There,’ said Sinead, carefully pinning the tiara into place. ‘You look fantastic, ma’am.’

  ‘All thanks to you, Sinead,’ said Kumari. She smiled at the other woman. ‘How are you getting on? Are you being well looked after here?’

  There was a whole society ‘below stairs’. It turned out that everywhere they went, the entourage staff were treated very well. But given the austere style of the main bedrooms, Kumari was a little worried at the state of things for her team.

  ‘I’m fine, ma’am,’ said Sinead.

  Kumari glanced at the heater and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘We have those too,’ said Sinead. ‘And blankets. Mrs Pilding warned me, so I have brought my hot water bottle.’

  ‘Very wise.’ Kumari frowned. ‘I wonder if I could have a hot water bottle too . . .’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Sinead. ‘It’s already planned. Before you come up, one of the maids comes in and puts hot water bottles in the beds. It’s a well-oiled machine, this house. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  Ben rapped on the adjoining door and walked in without waiting for a reply. Sinead, as always, snapped into a higher level of tension in the presence of the prince.

  He was dressed in black tie. The cut of his jacket was such that it made his shoulders seem wider and his waist narrower. And, Kumari reflected, he never needed to wear spandex. ‘Ready?’ he said.

  Kumari glanced at Sinead.

  ‘All done,’ said Sinead. ‘Have a great evening, ma’am. Sir.’

  ‘We will,’ said Ben. ‘These things are always great fun. I hope you’ve been made welcome, Sinead?’

  ‘Yes sir, everyone is very kind.’

  ‘Excellent.’ He held out his arm to Kumari. ‘Shall we, my love?’

  This time they swept down the hall towards the ballroom, which was set to the side of the house. The walls were lined with paintings of battle scenes and a collection of antique weaponry.

  ‘Your family likes weapons almost as much as they like their formal dinners,’ Kumari commented as they walked past
an impressive collection of knives.

  Ben paused. ‘Yes, I suppose we do,’ he said. He tilted his head back and looked at the collection from top to bottom. ‘The family have reigned for about a thousand years, and we created an empire based on conquest and trade . . . so yes. Warcraft and negotiation are what we do best. And both are better conducted on a full stomach.’

  Kumari took in his profile, so familiar to her now, and saw for a moment the soldier he kept hidden. He was a man descended from people who had dominated a battlefield and ruled with absolute power. Here, in the home that he most associated with his family, it was clearer than anywhere else. No wonder the hunt was mandatory. It was a symbol of the battles they’d won.

  ‘You’re different here,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re more Prince Benedict than usual.’

  He looked at her and his eyes softened. ‘I’m sorry.’ He raised her hand and kissed it. ‘I didn’t realise.’

  ‘It’s not a criticism,’ said Kumari. ‘I just like Ben the regular guy a bit better than the prince.’

  Ben was silent for a moment. His gaze roved over the collection of weapons. ‘Me too,’ he said, eventually.

  As they neared the ballroom, they were joined by Ophelia, who was striding along talking to the older of her teenage cousins.

  ‘Oh, I say,’ said Ophelia, looking at Kumari’s outfit. ‘You’ve got the emeralds.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ said Ben, too quickly.

  ‘What about them?’ said Kumari. A flash of panic. Was she not supposed to wear them? Why had they been signed off, if not? ‘Is there something I should know?’

  ‘It’s fine. Don’t worry.’ Ophelia glanced around to check for listeners, which, given the number of staff around, were a great many. ‘Just don’t be surprised if the pater gets a bit misty-eyed over them. He got them for Mummy as a present. I think they were a favourite.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Kumari. ‘I didn’t know. Sinead must not have either or—’

  ‘Worry not,’ said Ophelia. ‘He’ll be fine. Step-ma is pretty good at cheering him up.’