Chapter 7
Seven
Isettle back into the rhythm of life in London over the next week.
Although we’re scaled back on royal engagements, Mum has still managed to fill my diary.
I’ve learned over the years it’s not worth using my energy to fight her over it.
It’s better to accept what she says, put in a few appearances, and move on.
Even if they bring me a great deal of anxiety, theoretically, the more I participate, the easier they’ll become.
I text Amanda back on Wednesday morning.
Alice
Cheers, Amanda, sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you. It looks like next Tuesday or Wednesday can work for lunch.
Amanda
Perfecto. I’ll let Eric know. I think Tuesday is gonna work best for him. Hold, please.
I wait for her response.
Amanda
Yup. Tuesday is his best day.
My eyes widen. She’s gotten an answer already?
Alice
That was fast!
Amanda
It helps that he’s standing right next to me.
I shake my head. They must both be at Charlie’s.
Alice
*Laughing emoji*
Amanda
He wants to know if lunch is still good.
Alice
Yeah, it is. I know you mentioned you’d take care of the details, but I just thought I’d put it out there that if said plans involved horses, it might help me be less nervous going into the date.
Amanda
If that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen. Plan on meeting him at 11:30 and riding sometime in the midafternoon.
Alice
Jotting it into my agenda now.
Plans with Eric settled, I turn my attention to more pressing matters—plotting out my future home. I call Bruce.
“Good morning, Princess,” he greets me after two rings.
“Hiya, Bruce.”
“How can I assist you this morning?”
“I’d like to take a drive out to Queen’s Park.”
“Queen’s Park? In north London? Hmm, that’s a peculiar place.”
“I have some property business in the area to take care of.” I walk across my sitting room and select my black peacoat from the coat closet.
“Oh, congratulations, Princess. I told you your parents would come around to the idea of you living a few kilometers outside Kensington.”
“Um, thanks, but I’m still working on changing their minds.”
“I see. Will you be doing a property viewing to show them in the future?”
“No.” I wince. “I, er . . . bought a flat last November and we’re finalizing the deal today.”
“Princess, please don’t tell me you went behind their backs?” Bruce’s tone oozes disappointment.
“Technically speaking, I’ve shown them the listing. I just haven’t mentioned that I was in the process of purchasing it.” My voice comes out weak.
“Ma’am, you need to tell them. And the sooner the better.
” He takes a long breath. “You are an incredibly bright young woman, but there are some things where it’s best to have an expert’s help.
Buying property is one of them. At the very least, I hope you did a proper viewing and read through the surveyor’s report in detail. ”
I sink down onto my bed. I’ve spent hours and hours of time searching for a property, and researching how the process is done. But between the family dinner, going out with Amanda, meeting with Mum, and returning to my part-time job working in the stables, I’ve been strapped for time.
My heart thuds against my ribs. The one piece of advice every single SearchTube video, and home-reno program on the telly reiterates is to read the surveyor’s report before you finalize a property sale.
I told myself I’d do it when I got home from Europe, but time has slipped away from me, and now, I’m going to have to pay the price. I dry swallow.
“I haven’t done either of those things,” I whisper.
“Well, I suppose it’s too late to do anything about it.” I hear Bruce mutter a few words in the background. “You’ll just have to hope for the best and learn from this experience.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. I can picture the looks of disappointment on my parents’ faces when they hear about what I’ve done.
I hope against all odds I haven’t made a colossal mistake.
I haven’t seen the property in person. Maybe the flat will be exactly as it was described on the website, and it won’t have any major issues except cosmetic ones.
It’ll make begging for forgiveness a million times easier.
“I’ll let Arthur know to expect a text from you when you’re ready to go out.”
“You’re not coming?” I feel like my heart’s brushed up against the sharp needles of a cactus.
“Not today. Angela and I still have some logistics training to cover. Arthur, on the other hand, has just finished.”
“Okay,” I say, my voice cracking. “I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”
I disconnect the call and stare at the phone blankly for a few moments. An entire morning alone with Arthur. No, Art, I correct myself. He asked me not to call him Arthur. We may not be on the best of terms, but it’s a request I’ll honor.
Why am I making such a big deal about this? I can handle the grump for a few hours. He’ll drive me to the building, I’ll walk around with him trailing me, then we’ll come home. It’s not a big deal. It’s just business. Full stop.
“Good morning, Art.” He assists me into the car and offers a grunt, which I take to mean “Hello,” before climbing into the driver’s seat. It looks like we’ve reverted back to single-word responses, even though last week, he finally seemed to be on his way to warming up to me.
After adjusting the driver’s mirror and his seat, he reaches for the ignition to start the car, but stops short.
“Bollocks, I forgot the key.” He rests his forehead on the steering wheel.
“This. Is. Not. My. Morning,” I hear him murmur under his breath.
Sighing, he opens the car door and starts to climb out.
“Wait,” I shout.
He freezes, slowly turning to stare at me as if he’s forgotten I’m in the back seat. “It’s push to start. You only need the key fob to be in the car, which I’m pretty sure you have since the car is unlocked and we’re sitting in it.”
Tapping the pocket of his suit jacket, he reaches inside and slowly pulls out the black key fob.
His ears, cheeks, and neck flush a deep shade of cherry-red, reminding me of a nutcracker doll.
Wordlessly, he settles himself back into the driver’s seat and slams the door closed.
A moment later, the engine hums to life.
“Do you need a coffee?” I ask. “I can have a cup brought down from the kitchens, or we can stop by a Norma’s Cafe if you’d like. My treat.”
He points to a stainless-steel thermos in the center console’s cup holder.
“Have you gotten a chance to enjoy any of it?” I make an educated guess.
“No,” he grunts.
“Then take your time and have at it. I’m not in any hurry.”
“I’m fine.”
You don’t have to be so stubborn, you know, I think as I roll my eyes. I understand how important that morning caffeine fix is. If you need it, you need it. “Art, it would make me feel better if you had the coffee. At least a few sips. I need you to be fully alert. Otherwise, I’ll drive.”
“That’s against protocol.”
I wrinkle my nose. Is he being serious? The other agents drink coffee all the time. And to the best of my knowledge, there isn’t anything in the agent rulebook about me driving. I have a license. Eddie and Amanda have driven themselves before. Why should I be any different?
I open my mouth to argue, but quickly shut it.
As I study Art, I notice purple rings under his eyes and patches of uneven stubble coating his face.
Somebody probably didn’t get a good night’s sleep.
It would be easy to push his buttons, but I know when I’m cranky, the last thing I want to deal with a smart aleck. I’ll let him off easy. For now.
“I’m pulling rank on you, Art. I’m ordering you to drink your coffee.”
Through the rearview mirror, I watch the muscles in his forehead crease and his brows form a deep V. “Fine.” Unscrewing the lid, he takes two swigs, replaces the cap, and returns it to the cup holder.
I half expect him to reply with a sarcastic “Happy?” But he keeps his thoughts to himself.
A few moments later, we pull out of the palace complex and onto the city streets.
The city of London is just beginning to wake up.
It’s about six-thirty. The tourists haven’t yet risen, but the commuters are out.
With the traffic, it takes us about an hour to reach what will soon be my new home in northwest London.
My eyes excitedly drink in the locale. I’ve taken a virtual tour, but this is my first time seeing it in person.
Queen’s Park is a residential area of the city brimming with character.
The budding engineer in me is transfixed by the lovely red-bricked Victorian and Edwardian terrace homes lining either side of the street.
A bubble of excitement is building within me.
I’ve dreamed about owning a place like this for so long.
I can just imagine myself walking Lillian down these leafy streets or taking my bike out for a cycle to the park, doing things that everyday people take for granted.
I won’t be limited by security fences, or cross paths with the hundred or so staff members who work at the palace.
It will just be me, my dog, Angela or Art, and whichever one of our neighbors is out.
“Would you mind taking a turn down High Street? I’d like to see the local offerings and shops.”
He clicks the turn indicator and circles the block. We pass an antique store, two bookshops, a high-end plant shop, and three different cafés. At the end of the block, across from a cinema, is a pub.
“It’s even better than I imagined. I can’t wait to get out there and start exploring. I bet I’ll be on a first-name basis with the owner of the bookshop, the cinema manager, and everyone at the cafés by the end of the second week here.”
Art raises an eyebrow, studying me through the driver’s mirror. I read it as What are you going on about?