by Trevor Veale
The thought of water carried her mind back to her retirement plans. If Mustique or Barbados was out, there was always Tobago. She recalled reading in real estate brochures that villas were to be had there for people with limited means. With an effort, she imagined herself and Godfrey living in a villa with just two live-in servants, a maid and a cook. Failing that, an apartment might suffice, so long as it wasn’t old and cramped and had a decent garden. Feeling old and cramped herself, she stretched her arms and yawned – and suddenly realized there was someone sitting beside her.
King Hector, looking hale and hearty, in a cashmere sweater, open-neck shirt and chinos, was looking at her and giving her one of his beaming smiles. There’s something creepy about that man, she thought. Why didn’t I hear him coming?
“What-ho, Lettie! Enjoying the last of the warm sunny days?”
His voice was rich and creamy, and he held her gaze a fraction longer than she deemed appropriate. His use of her intimate name rankled her slightly, and she sat up stiffly.
“I’m worried about Godfrey,” she said. “It appears he has prostate cancer and needs to be operated on.”
His red face burst into a laugh. “Absolutely nothing to worry about!” he boomed. “Our surgeons are the best in the world. Matter of fact, I had the op myself a few years back – an enlarged prostate gland’s more common than you think. The chap who did mine is a specialist in keyhole surgery. Tell Godfrey there’s no scar, the op takes an hour and you stay conscious throughout. I was able to watch mine on a TV monitor. It was so boring I fell asleep. He’ll be riding to hounds within nine weeks.”
Riding to hounds! She laughed to herself. We’ll be lucky if we’re riding the bus when we get back to Melloria.
“Are there any long-term side effects?” she asked.
Hector laughed again. “None at all – apart from sterility!”
She had felt a sense of unease while he rattled off the features of a prostatectomy. It derived from vague hints from Ada that all was not well in the House of Lattis. She couldn’t be specific about what put her off him, but she felt she needed to be by herself and free from his probing eyes.
“Fortunately sterility won’t be a problem for us,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to go for a walk.”
“Splendid!” he said. “Let’s walk over to the orangery and I’ll show you my art collection.”
She got up abruptly. She had no wish to see his orangery, his art collection or anything else of his. He stood up also, and began telling her about his art treasures.
“I don’t go much for paintings, apart from erotic art.” He gave her a meaningful glance, which she ignored. “But I have some fine Rodins. Why don’t you let me show you – “
“No thank you,” she said firmly. She tried to check her rising sense of unease. “I have to rush. I’ve an appointment with the hairdresser.”
After lunch she and Ada went up to Ada’s study where they sat and chatted over a glass of sherry. Ada was planning to drive to her afternoon bridge party, and spent most of the time complaining to Letitia about Anton’s and Hernia’s reluctance to make preparations for their wedding. Letitia shuddered when she thought of Hernia as a future daughter-in-law. The girl wore horrible clothes and either had her head shaved like a concentration camp inmate or let it grow wild like a witch. They can take as long as they like, she thought. It’ll be a marriage made in hell.
“I met some really interesting young people this morning,” Ada suddenly remarked. “I believe they’re still in the palace somewhere or wandering around the park.”
You let commoners go wandering around your palace and grounds! Letitia thought, alarmed. No wonder things are not entirely well in your family.
“What are they like?” she asked distractedly
They’re young backpackers from England, about eighteen years old. Two boys and a girl. They said they’ve been inside the Magic Mountains.”
Letitia pricked up her ears. “What are their names?”
“One of them’s called Harry. He seems to be the leader. The other boy’s name is Ron and the girl’s called Hermione,” Ada said.
A small bell of remembrance began ringing in Letitia’s head. “Are you sure the first boy’s name isn’t Barry?” she asked.
“No, definitely Harry. Would you like to meet them?” Ada added. “I’m pretty sure we can get a servant to track them down.”
“Yes, please do that, Ada,” Letitia said eagerly, remembering Godfrey’s enthusiasm for Barry Trotter and his tricks, “Godfrey and I will see them in the drawing room.”
Letitia quietly let herself into the drawing room, having been alerted by a servant that King Godfrey was there. She found him at one of the mullioned windows, leaning on the sill. He was staring, cheeks on fists, out at the palace courtyard. She coughed and he turned around.
“Am I interrupting your thoughts?” she said softly.
He looked downcast. “I’m mentally preparing myself for tomorrow…”
She moved close to him to stroke his face. “It’s going to be all right, Godders. You’ll be in good hands – you said so yourself this morning!”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said reflectively. “It’s better than letting this thing go on.”
“I’ve got something to take your mind off all that,” she said brightly. “You remember that strange young man who came to Calliper to buy one of our books – “
“Yes, Harry Potter, I’ve been thinking about him,” Godfrey said, turning to her. “Why, is he at the front door?”
Letitia laughed. “Actually, he’s on his way here – with two of his friends.” Her brow wrinkled. ”It seems they ‘re guests of the Lattises.”
As she spoke, a servant opened the door and ushered in two young men and a young woman, all wearing North Face jackets, sweatshirts and jeans, and carrying rucksacks.
One of the young men, who wore owlish glasses, gave Letitia and Godfrey a warm nod. “I hadn’t expected to see you, King Godfrey, Queen Letitia – but I’m glad you’re here.”
“We’re glad you’re here, Harry,” Godfrey said, smiling. “And greetings to your friends too.” Harry’s two companions were quickly introduced as Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the five people sat on a sofa and armchairs around the regency table.
“Did anyone tell you how much you look like the actress Emma Watson?” Letitia asked the girl, who was slim and had sparkling blue eyes and long sandy-blonde hair.
“Frequently,” Hermione said, suppressing a giggle.
To the flame-haired boy, Letitia remarked “It must be tough for you, being ginger.”
Ron’s face went almost as red as his hair. Harry looked at Hermione and smirked good-naturedly.
“Now, Harry,” Godfrey said, “I see you have your rucksack with you. Do you think you could show my wife your mirror trick?”
Harry looked unsure. “Are you requesting another prophecy?” he asked.
“Mr Trotter, will the king and I ever be able to retire?” Letitia blurted out.
Now it was Ron’s turn to smirk. “I didn’t know you were doubling as Del Boy, Harry!” he said. Harry rolled his eyes. “My name’s Potter,” he said resignedly.
“My Dear, we have to wait until the mirror’s in place and the spell is cast,” Godfrey chided his wife. “Then you can start asking questions.”
“Oh yes, the mirror!” Harry said, and shifted in his chair. He pulled up his rucksack and reached right inside it until his arm was almost lost up to the armpit. Ron and Hermione watched, half-curious, as he slowly pulled out the large gilt-framed mirror.
“The enchanted mirror!” Hermione gasped.
Harry got up and rested the mirror on a bureau against the wall facing them, and they all watched as he took his wand from the rucksack and aimed it at the mirror: “Startupio!”
At once the billowing clouds appeared then disappeared, to be replaced by the smiling face of Professor Albus Dumbledore.
“Well,
Harry, Ron, Hermione – and of course Your Majesties, it’s wonderful to be with you again!” To Godfrey and Letitia the long-bearded face said: “You both have come a long way since our last meeting. What would you like to ask?”
Letitia, who was seeing the professor’s long silver beard and piercing blue eyes for the first time, was speechless, so Godfrey repeated her question.
“Will we ever be able to retire?”
“Yes, anytime you like,” Dumbledore said. “Right away, if you want to.”
Godfrey looked startled, and Letitia giggled involuntarily. Then she regained her composure.
“But that’s impossible! For one thing, we can’t afford to – all our possessions are gone.”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Well, if you need money, you can always get an agent and sell your story to People Magazine, Hello and any of the tabloid newspapers. Then you could appear on Entertainment Tonight, Oprah… You and your husband could become darlings of the celebrity media.”
“Yes, er, well, that’s ridiculous, of course. What I meant was, it’s impossible for my husband and I to retire until we get our crowns back –“
“ – in order to sell them?”
She could kick him if he wasn’t disembodied. Yet the sound of his deep voice made her feel happy. “No, you exasperating man! I mean, um, get our thrones back – then we can abdicate and retire.”
“I see.” His mockery was very gentle.
“No, you don’t see. The main obstacle to our retirement is securing the succession for our son and his son. Those vandals have stolen our heritage, and Godfrey won’t rest until he’s won…” She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Godfrey touched her arm lightly.
“Let me try, My Dear,” he said. “Professor Dumbledore, when we last spoke, you said the people were about to wind up the trust and distribute its assets among themselves – well, they’ve done that and they’re no better off than before. The country’s in a mess. Do you think the time is right for my wife and I to return…?”
“And pick up the threads again? Only if you agree to let the people have a say in the way the trust is held. Otherwise, that feeling of powerlessness that brought about the revolution will build up again.”
Letitia listened, open-mouthed. The way the professor was looking at her, soft yet serious, as he talked, was having a mesmerizing effect on her.
“Let the people have sovereignty,” Dumbledore said, “just as you have sovereignty.”
Under her stupefaction, however, was an anxiety she was almost afraid to put into words.
“Will the people accept us?” she asked suddenly.
“I don’t see why not – they’re getting fed up with Paul Slamil and the People’s Party.”
Ron, Harry and Hermione, who’d been listening attentively, tittered and looked at Letitia.
“That’s not what I meant!” She felt hurt at the frivolous way he was treating her and wanted him to apologize.
He did so with a nod. “The people are crying out for inspiration, for leadership of an inspiring kind. If you are willing to respect their desire for sovereignty, the people will not only accept you, they will welcome you.”
The face of Professor Dumbledore smiled serenely at them all.
“And now it’s nearly time for me to go,” he said melodiously. “Those of us who’ve gone on, appreciate you and wrap our love around you. Harry, Ron and Hermione, godspeed on your journey of discovery. We will meet again before long.” And with that, the beaming face was gone.
After Harry had taken the gilt-framed mirror and put it back in his rucksack, they all sat talking, while a servant came in and brought tea and hot buttered crumpets. The three young people looked happy that Professor Dumbledore had seen them again and was watching over them. Harry tried to explain to Letitia and Godfrey the significance of the Magic Mountains, to the others’ amusement.
“Going into the Magic Mountains helps you reach the next level,” he said. “What you Muggles call the fourth dimension.”
“Blimey!” Ron said. “Shut up, Ron!” Hermione laughed.
“I still don’t quite grasp it, Harry,” Godfrey replied, “but we’re glad to hear what Professor Dumbledore had to say, even though he was hard to understand at times.”
Harry smiled. “He was just trying to open your minds a little.”
Letitia, who was not sure how far she wanted her mind opened, shuffled her feet and rattled her teacup to draw Godfrey’s attention.
“Shouldn’t you be going upstairs to pack, Dear, for your appointment?”
“Right.” Godfrey grimaced, then turned to bid the three young travelers farewell. “So nice to see you again, Harry, and to meet you, Ron and Hermione,” he smiled. “And thanks for the prophecy!”
The three rose and bid adieu, then left to catch a train to Istanbul for the next leg of their magical tour, to meet with Whirling Dervishes.
The next day, while Godfrey was in the hospital, Archbishop Lepager flew in from Melloria and in due course, had dinner with the remaining Gorms and the Lattises under huge oil paintings showing King Hector’s ancestors on horseback, brandishing swords, and staring out with plump belligerence. Over dinner there was a discussion about the economic and political situation in Melloria.
“The country’s in a truly awful state,” Archbishop Lepager said. “The people are more impoverished than they ever were, there’s been a flight of capital out of the country, raging inflation and we all know the Slobodians are poised to invade. But the danger is that the people will be so apathetic on Voting Day that Slamil will win his election by default.”
“Is the Church Party able to do anything to arrest this apathy?” Letitia asked. She had suddenly become interested in politics.
Lepager shrugged. “We‘ve done our best to offer people spiritual solutions to their problems, Your Majesty, but we’re up against some formidable and ruthless opponents who’ll stop at nothing to maintain their rule. They have enough money in their coffers to dish out short-term bribes to the people. We can’t match that – what we need is a new, charismatic leader who can wake the people up!”
Dawna, who had been munching crispy noodles during the dinner, said pithily:
“So unless you can find a leader the people will vote for, you haven’t got a hope.”
“Not a prayer, Your Highness,” he said with a sad look.
“Would you like to be the new leader, Archbishop?” Ada asked.
Archbishop Lepager, or Larry as he asked everybody to call him, although a man of constant action whose whole demeanor left people feeling they were with a human dynamo, had no stomach for the political life. He shook his head. “I’m afraid, ma’am, that as a devout man of the cloth I would be at a distinct disadvantage.”
“I suppose, as royalty, we Gorms would be at a distinct disadvantage also,” Letitia quipped.
“As a matter of fact, you wouldn’t be. None of the Gorms are considered royal according to the People’s Party laws. You are ordinary citizens of the People’s Republic of Melloria.”
“But surely those laws aren’t legitimate,” Hector opined.
Lepager smiled. “The People’s Party say they are, sir, and they’re in power. Might is right.”
Chapter 48
Sharon Gets A Proposal
The bus to West City was very crowded. Sharon squeezed into a seat at the front, just behind the driver. The blue-shirted driver enjoyed driving furiously through this part of town with its broad, relatively uncrowded streets – unlike the cramped madness of East City, where there was just enough room for the bus to get through among the donkey-carts, trucks, cycles and pedestrians who thronged the pavement. They shared the road with barbers plying their trade out of doors, fortune-tellers, flimsy tea-stalls, vegetable-stands, ear-cleaners, pickpockets, stray goats, occasional prowl cars of the People’s Police and bent-over men carrying huge loads of scrap metal, glass or bailed-up rags on their backs and yelling curses at anyone in their way.
; Sharon watched the suburbs speeding past and thought about her situation. Since her run-in with Joe Steel, she had found it impossible to get a full-time job, just occasional cleaning hours here and there. Her father’s condition was steadily deteriorating, his nursing-home costs had put her further into debt and the money Arabella had given her had all gone. She’d used the last of it to buy Craig a PlayStation to replace the one Simpkins had given him that he had broken. He no longer played any games except World War II ones like Soldier of Fortune and Escape From Castle Wolfenstein that she had got him from the market. When she caught him and his friend playing a game showing near-naked women called Outlaw Volleyball, that Simpkins had brought to the house, she confiscated it and endured one of Craig’s vicious tantrums.
Sometimes she wished she had a man in her life, just to exercise some control over Craig, although she had given up on Simpkins. He had disappeared after taking the king and queen to Bulimia, and she wondered if he was still over there. Probably with another woman. There had been a rumor that he had driven the king and queen to Slobodia, which would make him either treacherous or incredibly stupid. Anyway, rumors were always flying around. There was one that the king and queen were coming back to Melloria as plain Mr and Mrs Gorm! Stories… Thinking of stories, she thought about Arabella and her promise to publish her story in a Bulimian newspaper of magazine. Nothing had come of it yet, except one phone call from Arabella saying she was hustling as hard as she could to get it printed. She said she was being rushed off her feet because of the upcoming election. Election! What good was an election going to do?
It was dark by the time Sharon finished her cleaning stint in West City. She decided to get off the bus at Paul Slamil Avenue and walk back to East City. She went into a video game store that was in an arcade of shops just off the avenue. It was full of bustle, light and noise. She found a warlike game she thought Craig would like in the used section, and counted her change. There was nothing in the house for supper, so she wandered about the open market where vegetables were still available, moving from stall to stall to see what was left.