Young Writers Society

It quickly became a routine. Every morning, Dilly and I received the invitation and I said ‘yes.’ I chose what to wear (sometimes with Dilly’s help), I left, I returned and had dinner with Papa. He was quiet as usual, and always responded, “Jolly good,” when I told him where Charlie and I had been that day. When I asked him about his day he would reply, “Oh, the usual, you know,” with a wave of his hand and we would finish in near silence. Then I spent the evening neglecting my embroidery and daydreaming of where we would go the next day. It was sometimes the park, but also sometimes the high street, the library, the museum, the promenade, the open air theatre, the nearby orchards, all everyday places where we suddenly found something interesting or funny. It was the effect Charlie had- everything was bright and beautiful with him around.

One overcast August day, as Dilly had just managed to teach me cross-stitch, the footman arrived a little later than usual. I practically ripped the letter open. It read:

17 August

Dear Nicole,

It’s been exactly a month since we first met. So we’re going to do something magnificent.

Bring yourself and wear sensible shoes (like you’d wear any other kind.)

Oh, and where? Come to the harbour for two. As always, there will be chocolate.

Yours ever,

Charlie.

“Ooh, miss!” Dilly said as the footman left with my ‘yes.’ “What do you think it could be?”

I shrugged, although I thought I had an inkling. Wear sensible shoes…

“What will you wear, miss?” she asked, seeming concerned.

I suddenly felt an overwhelming affection for her. “Why don’t you help me choose, Dilly?”

*****

We finally settled for a red floral print skirt, white blouse, blue jacket and sensible navy shoes. I made my way down to the harbour through the strong smelling fish market, listening to the cries of sellers. It was always strangely peaceful there, the people, though rough, always seemed content, happy in their place. Mama used to bring me down here with her to buy fish. I never worked out why she didn’t let one of the servants do it, but I guess she, like me, loved the atmosphere there, and it was our thing. Now, the cook bought the fish herself. I didn’t have Mama’s eye.

Charlie was waiting for me at the harbour gates with a ridiculous yellow flower which he thrust at me.

“Happy anniversary,” he said. I laughed.

“Isn’t anniversary for a year?” I asked, twirling the flower.

“What am I supposed to say, monthary?”

I shook my head and smiled. “Then here’s to a month of friendship,” I said and we clinked imaginary glasses. “So what are we doing for our anniversary?”

He linked arms with me and we twisted to the right. I nodded, knowing I was right.

“We’re going all the way up,” Charlie said.

I looked up at the striped structure standing tall against the grey sky and nodded again. I hadn’t been here since… well, a long time ago. “Hence the shoes,” I said.

“Hence the shoes,” he replied as we walked toward the old lighthouse. “Those are nice, by the way…”

He opened the door for me- being the gentleman he was- and we began to scale the spiral staircase. At one point, I paused for breath, leaning over the iron railings.

“Come on,” he said. “It’ll be worth the climb.” He took my hand. I froze, for some reason having a strange premonition, a sinking feeling in my stomach, that things were about to change, but for the life of me I couldn’t work out why. We had held hands before. There wasn’t anything in it, was there?

But he was right, it was magnificent and it was worth the climb. I leant against the rail and pressed my nose to the glass. The sea and sky and clouds piled up in shades of grey and somewhere huge streamers of gold sunlight hung down. It was silent except for our own breath, heavy from the climb.

“I came up here before,” I told him. “With Mama and Papa, when I was small. They said they used to come here before they were married and dance and sing and talk. But me, I just stared. It’s so huge, Charlie. It makes me feel so empty. Just that huge expanse. It’s a bit frightening really, that the world is so enormous and I’m so tiny.”

Then there was a movement, a rustling of clothing, a glimpse of owl eye and he kissed me.

Ah, my subconscious said. I told you you should have brushed your teeth.

I winced and broke away at that thought when suddenly it dawned on me: Charlie had kissed me. And I liked it. I had never thought that I would, never even considered the fact that we might…

“Shouldn’t have done that,” he said, rubbing his neck.

“Oh, come on, my breath can’t be that bad-” I began.

“It’s not your breath, although you might want a mint,” he said, turning away.

I chose to ignore that. “Then what?”

He sighed deeply and turned back to me. “You remember what we talked about at our first picnic?”

Realisation dawned. Everybody knows if he marries at all, it’ll be Lilia. Hadn’t that been the line that upset him? “Oh,” I said slowly. “I get it.”

“I’m sorry, Nicole, I would have told you before, but-”

I felt tears pricking at my eyes. “Why string me along then?”

“I honestly didn’t think we would end up, you know…”

I nodded, accepting the truth, although a lump was forming in my throat. “Me neither, actually. I mean, I guessed that first day, kind of.”

His eyes widened. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“I thought it would be a touchy subject,” I said, shrugging and trying to appear nonchalant. “I mean, you’re not the only one -not me, obviously, but other boys…”

He frowned. “What?”

“Other boys are, you know…”

“You’ve met them?” That was a bit of an odd question, but I answered anyway.

“Yeah, well, it’s pretty obvious when they look at her.”

“Look at who? What are you talking about?”

I suddenly felt like we had had a miscommunication. “You’re…” I began unsurely. “In love with Lilia?”

His eyes turned into huge copper dishes and a laugh nearly broke out on his face. “No,” he said.

“Thank heavens!” I cried and flung my arms round him. Then, feeling him still tense, I held him at an arm’s length and said, “So if you weren’t talking about that… Charlie, what were you talking about?”

He shut his eyes, took a few steps backwards and said abruptly, “I’m not actually Charlie Smith from the south. I… I’ve lived in the north my whole life. I know society better than you, I’ve had enough northern cider for a lifetime. Nicole, I’m…” he gulped and his eyes opened. “I’m the prince.”

I took a few deep breaths. “I just- we- we just- I- you- I thought- wait-” I took another breath.

“WHAT?”

*****

Dilly brought me a box of chocolates and we both sat in my bed, her rubbing my back and me sobbing away.

“How did it end?” she asked sympathetically.

Truth be told, I wasn’t entirely sure. I lobbed my shoe at him and was halfway down the stairs when I realised I needed it. He dropped it down to me. I did not say thank you.

“Badly,” I surmised for her, shoving a caramel in my mouth. “I mean, why didn’t he tell me?”

Dilly shrugged. “Because you’d treat him differently?”

I picked up a white truffle, trying my best to ignore the truth in her words, but knowing she was right. Dilly usually was regarding this sort of thing, she read a lot of cheesy romance books. “Let’s not talk about it,” I said. “I won’t be seeing Charlie Smith around.”

“But you might be seeing His Royal Highness Prince Charles-Edward-Henry.”

Okay, so I could forgive him for smirking at my name. “When?”

“Henrietta’s ball next week,” Dilly reminded me.

I had forgotten about that.

I went downstairs a little later to say goodnight to my father. Rather than murmuring his reply as usual, he put his book down and invited me into his study. I perched on the edge of a green-upholstered chair. We never usually sat in here together.

“You came home early today,” he said.

I was surprised, but Papa just smiled, and I could see the crow’s-feet around his watery blue eyes -just like my own- deepen. “I do take some interest in your doings, Nicole.”

I looked at my hands, ashamed that I had doubted him. “Charlie… wasn’t who I thought he was.”

“Ah,” Papa said softly. “Yes, I thought there might have been something he was hiding.”

“How?” I was curious.

“I doubted if the Honourable Lilia would invite someone whose last name was ‘Smith’ to her birthday party. How bad is it?”

“Think royally bad, Papa,” I answered.

“Oh. Oh dear,” he said and after a moment went to the window. “You know, when I met her, your mother had a market stall.”

I was shocked at the outburst. “What did she sell?”

“Fish. But I thought her the prettiest fishmonger in all the land.” Suddenly a lot made sense about my parents, why my mother loved the fish market so much, why she had had such a good eye. “And so I took her out, in secret.” I saw his reflection smile in the window. “I was ashamed, so we just used to go to the lighthouse where no one could see us. She thought my father was a pig-farmer, not a silk merchant. Then one day I realised my mother, your Grandma, had made a match for me with a duchess. So I told her I was in love with a fishmonger. I hadn’t even said that to your Mama yet. My mother didn’t believe me. So I married your Mama. My mother didn’t come to the wedding.”

I felt shivers on my arm but I didn’t know why. “Really?”

“Really,” he replied. “And maybe I’m wrong, but I think your Charlie is in much the same position as I was. But if you’re as in love as I think you might be, well you’ll overcome.”

I laughed. “Papa, we only kissed once!”

“You don’t have to be courting someone to be in love with them. I never intended to marry your Mama, not really, but I don’t think I would have married anyone else. No, I know I wouldn’t,” he added, almost to himself. Then he turned back to me. “Goodnight, dear,” he said.

“Goodnight,” I repeated. After a moment’s hesitation, I quickly reached up and planted a kiss on his scratchy cheek. “I love you, Papa,” I whispered, and the moment passed.