Chapter 12 #9
Leo unlocked his phone, selected Charlotte’s number from the list and waited for the dial tone. Only then did he realise that it was early still, and as a student, she might not even be—
“Yes?” a confident, female voice asked. Young, yes. Early twenties could have fitted. Was this…? Maybe. That one word wasn’t nearly enough to tell anything for certain, and Leo felt abruptly out of words.
What had he even wanted to tell her? He hadn’t thought that far.
“I can hear you breathing, you know. Is this a joke?” the girl asked, tone sharpening. “I’ll have you know that if you’re prank calling me, or if you want to sell something—”
“It’s Leo,” he interrupted.
Vast silence.
“Your brother?” he tried.
“You bloody bastard,” Charlotte hissed. Then she started crying.
Leo’s first thought was that his sister looked like Daenerys in Game of Thrones—the same sweet face, the same white-blonde hair and pale skin, a similar style of dress that left her shoulders bare.
“You look lovely,” were his first words.
Charlotte was silent for a beat, studying him carefully, her eyes narrowed.
Around them, life in Hyde Park was moving at a normal pace, tourists and locals strolling through the afternoon sunshine, a squirrel darting across the path.
“So do you,” she said eventually, almost reluctantly so.
“All grown-up, and, like…” She made a helpless gesture. “Relaxed?”
“Thank you.” Very slowly, Leo reached out, watching her expression and giving her plenty of time to pull away.
He felt like someone testing out a weathered wooden footbridge, uncertain whether it would support the weight of a body.
While her gaze flickered, she didn’t move back.
Then he was drawing her into a hug, holding on until she sagged into it and went weak against him.
“I thought you might be dead,” she whispered, broken, and Leo felt as though the inside of his ribcage had been plated with lead. He’d never imagined—oh God.
“I’m so sorry.” He choked on it. “I thought—didn’t they ever tell you what happened? Mum and Dad? They never—”
“When do they ever tell us anything that matters?” Straightening out of his embrace, she rubbed at her eyes, smudging mascara. Gently, Leo lifted a hand to wipe it away.
“Point,” he said softly. “So you thought…”
“I didn’t know what to think. All they told us was that you were, like, a failure and had brought shame to our family or some crap like that.
That we should be glad you were gone.” Charlotte’s chest rose on a breath.
“I wasn’t glad. But I also—how could you just leave?
Without a word, and then you never even tried—”
“Because I did feel like a failure,” he cut in. “For a while there… I didn’t think I was the big brother you deserved, and I couldn’t… I was hardly an example.”
“Like I’d have bloody cared.” Her voice cracked and she wiped at her eyes again, angrily, turning her back on him. Leo inhaled around a raw ache.
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, perfectly inadequate.
“It’s been a decade, and you never once bothered to let us know you were alive. Or how you were doing.”
“I thought about it so often,” he told her, moving close enough to touch her shoulder. “I thought of you girls all the time, but for the first four years, I was just…” Trailing off, he didn’t know how to finish that. Did he really want her to know just how low he’d sunk?
Very soon, the whole world would know his past. Not all of it, but a good portion. He didn’t want her to learn it from the papers.
Gritting his teeth, he counted out a few beats, regular and steady. It took effort to keep his voice even. “I ended up on the streets. I didn’t feel that was the big brother you’d have wanted.”
“Just having a big brother would have been a start,” she snapped back, and then she twisted around to stare at him, eyes wide. “I mean—shit. Leo.”
This time, she was the one who reached out.
They retreated to a corner table in a café shortly after that, Leo assuring her she was invited upon noticing her slightly worried glance at the price list. So it seemed their parents kept her on a financially short leash; it had always been their preferred method of punishment.
His suspicions solidified once he’d noticed that her phone background was set to a picture of her kissing a girl.
“Do they know?” he asked, pointing, and she squinted at him before shaking her head.
“I’m not stupid enough to tell them. Doesn’t mean we don’t clash over a lot of other things.”
“Well. Personally, I was stupid enough to tell them,” he said.
A few seconds passed, then she took in a sharp breath and bit her lip, a new kind of understanding clear in her eyes.
From there on, it was easy. Well, easier; a couple of hours couldn’t bridge ten years spent apart. But by the time they left the café, the gap had shrunk to something that Leo hoped would disappear entirely if they had the will and the patience to work on it. He certainly intended to try.
They were walking close enough for their hands to brush on occasion when Charlotte said, “I’ll talk to Rosie, okay? She’ll probably want to see you.”
“I’d really like that.” He glanced down to fumble his sunglasses out of his pocket, and when he looked back up he found her smiling at something over his shoulder.
“What is it?” He turned around.
Balloons. A multitude of vibrant balloons was floating above a vendor’s head—the British flag and Mickey Mouse, stars and a character from Toy Story. Amongst all that: a fish that gleamed in the colours of the rainbow.
“Do you remember?” Charlotte asked, a little wistful, and Leo hooked their pinkies together.
“How could I ever forget? I probably still know most of the story by heart.” He pinched his voice low.
“‘The Rainbow Fish shared his scales left and right. And the more he gave away, the more delighted he became.’ Classic, if somewhat finger-wagging. Possibly a better influence than our parents ever were, mind.”
She snorted and leaned into his side. “I really did miss you.” The words came out soft and genuine. In reply, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her to him.
“Want me to buy you a rainbow fish balloon?” he asked.
With a small giggle, she shook her head. “I’m not five, you know.”
“You’ll always be my little sister, though. Jesus, next thing you’ll tell me is that you’re old enough to have sex, which, no. Not now, and not when you’re thirty, or fifty.”
Her laugh was throaty, true. Then it faded, her gaze finding his, scanning his face. When she spoke, there was a clear note of hesitance to it. “Hey, is he… He’s good to you? The Prince?”
“He’s just Joshua, really.” Leo felt his smile brighten just at the mention. “And he’s—God, Charlie. He’s the best.”
She gave a nod, and the initial, shocked disbelief at learning about Joshua had melted into something that was still a little incredulous, yet tinged with amusement because only you, Leo, seriously. “He does seem quite lovely.” She shrugged. “I mean, like, from the telly and all.”
“He’s lovelier in person,” Leo told her. “Just wait until you meet him.”
Her smile was sudden, and wait—had she wondered whether this was a one-time thing? No. Hell no. If Leo had any say in this, they’d have regular brother-sister time from now on. He could ramble about his boyfriend, she could ramble about her girlfriend, and it would be brilliant all-round.
“I’d love to meet him,” she said.
“You will.” Tightening the arm around her shoulders, he kissed her cheek, then pulled back with a grin.
“But it’ll cost you at least three coffee dates with your big brother first, and a lecture on how you always need to stay true to yourself and follow your heart and some such.
I feel like imparting some hard-won wisdom. ”
“Wisdom,” she repeated, deadpan. “You.”
“Careful, Munchkin. I still know where all your ticklish spots are.”
“Careful, Fun Size. I’ve learned all the spots that make a bloke cry with pain.”
He chose not to ask why and how she’d learned that. Instead, he widened his grin. “Challenge accepted. What do you say, same place and time next week? Although I guess we might speak before. Depending on how soon the story breaks.”
“Oh, that should be fun,” she said. “Can’t wait.”
To his surprise, it sounded genuine. Well, she didn’t know that the media wouldn’t tell the entire story and a risk of exposure loomed beyond what they intended to reveal.
“Fun? Says you,” he told her. “You know this could affect you girls as well, right?”
“We’re old enough. Also, I think we might all benefit if our parents are taken down a peg. Maybe,”—she cocked an ironic brow, but there was a hint of hope to her tone—“it’ll open their eyes. You never know.”
Leo had wished for understanding parents once; he wasn’t going to repeat that mistake. He also wasn’t going to infect Charlotte with his cynicism, so he settled for a smile and kept his arm around her shoulders, his steps in time with hers.
* * *
It started with a snapshot of Prince Joshua with an unknown guy about his age.
The two of them were surrounded by construction tools and were unloading boxes with food onto a blanket, the ground dirty.
A couple of youths were nearby, facing away from the camera, appearing tough in their hoodies and snapbacks.
The picture went viral within minutes of being picked up by PrinceWatch.
An hour later, the construction site had been identified, and three hours later, Buckingham Palace released an official statement to address the allegations of Prince Joshua trespassing on private property: the Prince was sorry, truly sorry, for breaking the law and would gladly suffer the consequences.
In his defence, he’d only intended to help out.
He’d aimed to do something practical and tangible for a bunch of kids who were in a bad situation because he’d learned what it was like from a friend who’d lived on the streets for a while.
“What friend? The one who was in the picture?”