Chapter Thirty-Nine
Prince Arthur
I stayed away because it’s what I thought everyone wanted.
My family is a fucking curse, we know that but being around them—in their presence just emphasises that.
Maybe I feel bad for saying that because there were good times, too, before Theo.
When he died, though, everything shifted slightly to the left.
Our entire dynamic is off center now and it doesn’t feel right. I don’t think it ever will.
Ev will never be ten again, I’ll never be thirteen but Theo will always be seventeen.
I stand on the doorstep, think about knocking, think about going away but then I remember my promise to Phoebe so I knock and Delphine answers.
She smiles warmly, welcomes me in and then sends me through to the living room where my parents and sister are. No site of Seb. Can’t say that I’m upset over that. Whole country has gone off him—me included.
Mum jumps up, hugs me. “This is a nice surprise!”
I stare into her clear blue eyes. They’re almost transparent. “You knew I was coming.”
She tuts. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just so lovely to see you.”
I sit down on the sofa. Dad gives me his usual acknowledgment of a slight chin nod while Ev doesn’t look up from her phone.
“So…” Mum smiles, glancing at us all.
“So?” I nod, shift awkwardly.
She taps my knee. “How are you and Astrid getting on?”
Ev looks up from her phone.
I pull back. “What?”
“You and Astrid!" Mum says like it’s obvious.
“Yeah,” I nod. “What about us?”
“She wants to know if you’re shagging her,” Ev interrupts pointedly.
“Evangeline!” Dad shouts. “Room! Now!”
She scoffs, rolls her eyes. “It was getting cold in here, I decided to break the ice!”
“I don’t care,” he laughs dryly. “That is no way to talk to anyone!”
She rolls her eyes one last time before storming off upstairs.
“Well…?” Mum gives me a nudge, looks a little hopeful. “Are you?”
“Jesus, Mum!” I look at her. Look at my dad, too. “Is that the only reason you ever want to talk to me? To find out who I’m sleeping with? I don’t remember that ever being your business.”
“Who you involve yourself with has always been our business,” Dad says, clears his throat, gives me a little look. “You do represent our name, after all.”
Mum glances at him and then back to me. I can’t remember the last time they were happy and I’d quite like to be here more so I could see how they are while Ev is still living here.
I tell myself I shouldn’t care but I do.
Of course, I do. She’s my baby sister and I’ve always felt it to be my duty to look after her.
Seb looked after Theo, Theo looked after me, I look after Ev.
That’s just how it’s always worked. Maybe it’s a sibling thing.
Maybe it’s just a me and my fucked up family thing but I don’t trust them to look after her in the way I’d want them to, if that makes sense?
“Look,” Mum sighs, turns to face me. “I love you Arthur and I—we—are so unbelievably chuffed with how far you’ve come in your recovery but still, love, you need to be careful. You know, with who you spend your time with—what you’re doing in your free time. The paper’s write all sorts, don’t they?”
“I don’t care about the papers.”
“Yeah?” Dad butts in. “Well, I bloody do!”
I look over at him. “Then that’s your problem, isn’t it?”
He pulls back, smiles. “Don’t talk to me like that in my own home! I’ve cleaned up more of your shit now than I did when you were a baby!”
Mum swallows, goes quiet.
“And how many times have I asked you to?”
He thinks for a second. “You don’t need to ask. I do it anyway because you’re my son and we have a family unit to uphold.” He shakes his head, all bewildered. “Getting photographs of you watching girls shower naked? It’s ridiculous. You never learn.”
I stand up, not really thinking straight. Never think straight when I’m around my parents.
“That’s Phoebe you’re talking about,” I tell him as he also stands up. “You know, the same Phoebe you welcomed into your home for so many years? The same Phoebe you fed and made laugh and watched me fall in love with.”
His eyes flicker, this brief moment of regret passing through them and that’s how I know.
This isn’t my dad. Not the dad I grew up with anyway.
This is just the man that came out the other side of grief.
My dad, the man I know, the man I see when I look into his eyes, is still there, just buried a bit too deep inside to come out.
“And we love Phoebe,” Mum says from the sofa, touching my arm. “Don’t we, darling?” She asks Dad. “And we feel so dreadful for her.”
“Yeah,” I nod, swallow and turn back to my dad. “And how’s Ev? Been to any of her shows lately?”
He shakes his head, scoffs. “She doesn’t want me turning up and embarrassing her.”
“And how do you know that?” I tilt my head. “You’ve never turned up to any of them.”
“Arthur,” Mum says softly. “Don’t start, darling, please.”
“She’s fine, for goodness sake!” He throws his hands up. “She’s finished school, passed her exams—”
“And how’s her eating?”
He frowns. “What?”
I sniff. “Are you still scribbling out the calories on the bread or did you forget after a week? Still make sure she sits with you after eating her dinner or do you still let her disappear off to the bathroom?” He says nothing, his eyes locked on mine.
“I bet if I looked in the bathroom, the scales would still be in there, wouldn’t they? ”
“Jesus Christ,” Mum mutters.
My dad remains silent, sits back down and looks away from me. Fine. Fuck them. I’ll go and try to repair the one relationship in this family that is still worth my time.
Ev’s sitting against her door again.
“Let me in,” I say, through the crack. “Please, Ev, it’s just me.”
“Fuck off!” She sniffs.
“I’ll stay here all day and night but you’ve got ballet at six so, suit yourself.”
I sit down in the hallway, against her door, my old bedroom staring back at me.
I don’t even have an urge to go in there and see the dust mites crawling around.
I hold no remorse against them for kicking me out.
My mum can’t even bring herself to tell me that she’s proud of me.
Chuffed. Chuffed, she is, for my recovery.
And fine, let’s cut her some slack, she was going through it as well but she’s in therapy, she’s clean.
If I can move on and get better, why can’t she?
She’s a mother. Future queen. Who am I? I’ve never worried about my place in the monarchy. Touch wood, but I probably won’t even live to see my parents reign, let alone hold the crown myself.
“How do you know that?” Ev whispers after a few minutes. “How do you know that I have ballet today?”
I shrug even though she can’t see me. “Just do.”
“Delphine only knows that.”
Fuck. I lean my head back on the door.
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?” She sniffs.
“Everything.”
Her door opens and I fall back into her room. “Thanks,” I smile up at her as I get up and sit on her bed.
“Welcome,” she mutters, staying by the door. “When are you marrying Phoebe, then?”
“What?” I laugh.
She gives me a look. “Don’t play stupid, Arthur. She fucking hates Digby.”
“Don’t I know it?”
“So, when are you going to ask her?” She sits on her floor, grabs the Peter Rabbit teddy she’s had all her life and starts playing with its ear.
I shrug. “When she wants me to, I guess?”
“She wants you to now,” she glances up at me.
“She tell you that, yeah?”
“We talk,” she says, nose in the air. “We’re very good friends.”
“I know.”
“Astrid is nice,” she shrugs. “But I love Phoebe. We all do. Even you do. Just marry her and get it over and done with.”
I smile. “It’s not that easy.”
She looks at me, lifts one eyebrow. “I know you were hauled up in Scotland for a million years but don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to propose,” she shakes her head in disbelief and then gets down on one knee, opening her hands like it’s a ring box.
“It really isn’t rocket science, Arthur, Christ.”
I push her over and she laughs, falling on her back.
“Did you miss me?” I ask her.
She scoffs, looks away. “Cop on, as if.”
“You did, didn’t you?” I poke her in her ribs. “Just admit it, you pussy. You missed me.”
“Actually,” she stands up, hands on her hips. “It was quite nice not having you around. No more wake ups at three o’clock in the morning because you were off your face.”
She says it playfully, almost laughs but I know that look too well. The fake smile you think you’ve perfected, how it doesn’t reach your eyes. The glint in your eye that says otherwise. I fucking made the look.
“I’m sorry I put you through that.”
She raises her eyebrows, folds her lips.
“I love you because you’re my brother and it sometimes feels like I only have you in the whole world but I don’t know if I can forgive you.
Maybe one day I will—and it isn’t to do with you or Phoebe or anyone else—it’s to do with me because I can’t get over it even if everyone else has. ”
I nod, run a hand down my face. What can I say? Need to accept it, don’t I? Can’t force her to forgive me, can’t tell her to feel one way. If that’s how she feels then, yeah, that’s how she feels. No one’s fault but my own.
“I never understood it,” she carries on. “It was selfish. I thought you were so selfish to do that. And I know everyone tried to hide it from me but I knew right from the beginning. I was ten, Arthur. You went to rehab when I was seventeen. I knew for seven years and still never understood it.”
“Yeah,” I nod. “It was selfish—but if it makes you feel any better, no one else has gotten over it yet. Mum and Dad still hate me.”
“They don’t,” she shakes her head. “We talk about you all the time. Mum can’t get enough of you. She loves you more than me, I reckon,” she sniffs a little laugh.
“I highly doubt it.”
She hums, takes a deep breath, clears her throat. “Anyway, I have things to do today.”
“Nice, kicking me out,” I smile, stand up.
She smiles up at me. “Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”