The Prince and the Girl

Gillian’s huge suitcase, the one that had been her grandfather’s, sat on her bed as she laid clothes out beside it. This suitcase had taken her so many places; it was like a faithful friend. At least she had something that was faithful.

A soft knock came from the doorway and Gillian turned to see Iris. She stood holding two spoons and a tub of ice cream.

“Wanna talk?” She smiled as she sat herself on the floor next to Gillian’s bed, motioning for Gillian to sit down next to her. Gillian did so, and Iris peeled back the lid of the ice cream, handing her a spoon.

“Iris, I’m going to need you to take care of things here for a while.” Gillian said weakly before spooning some ice cream into her mouth.

“How long?” Iris asked as she did the same.

“I don’t know.” Gillian said as she felt her tears returning. “But I know I need to get away from here.”

Iris set her spoon down and gripped Gillian by the shoulders. “I want you to go for as long as you need to. No matter how long it is. Go away for a month. A year. Whatever it takes.”

Gillian began to cry and Iris enveloped her in her arms. She stroked her hair gently, murmuring that everything would be alright.

“Where are you going to go?” Iris gently whispered.

“Home,” Gillian replied. “I’m going back to my old home.”

•••

Having packed much of her life in England into that leather suitcase, Gillian stood in her nearly empty room. In one hand she held her plane ticket and in the other, a picture of her with Kate, Will and Harry. She was leaving the next day.

She placed the photograph on the edge of her desk, leaving the only physical piece of evidence of her time with Harry. She did not want to remember him, or think of him. Slowly, she backed out of the room, hoping to leave all the memories behind.

Downstairs, Gillian found Iris waiting with the rest of her workers. They all wished her well, sharing hugs and tears and assuring her that they would take care of her vineyard. In a strange re-enactment of happier days, one of them came bounding over to Gillian.

“There’s a car here, Jill.” He warned. The group went quiet and Iris began to usher ever one out of the front foyer.

“Do you want me to ask him to leave?” Iris asked.

Gillian slowly shook her head no, for a reason she could not determine. She did not know what she was doing as she marshalled Iris into the kitchen, or why she threw open the front door and marched out into the sunlight, watching Harry as he got out of the driver’s seat. There was a moment when Gillian forgot everything that had happened and her heart filled with the love she had once felt.

“Gillian – “ He began.

“No.” She said quietly as she walked towards him. “No. You cannot just show up here after what you did. I don’t want to listen to you try and talk your way out of this. I don’t want to give you the chance to charm me back into your life after you lied to me like this.

“I didn’t lie.” Harry said quietly

“How can you say that?!” Gillian shouted hysterically, enraged by Harry’s continued insincerity. “How can you say that, after I saw you?”

“You didn’t see what you think you saw, Gillian.” Harry returned calmly.

Gillian stopped where she was, fighting the urge to hit him. “Leave, Harry. Go, and don’t come back. Don’t come back, because I won’t be here to keep you and your hypocrisy from destroying the happiness that my people can find here.” She turned away from him, walking back towards her house.

“You won’t be here?” She heard Harry meekly venture.

Gillian turned to give him one final look of ferocity. “That’s right. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“For where?” Harry asked desperately.

“Montreal.”

•••

The flight from Heathrow to Trudeau in Montreal was a constant figure in Gillian’s life during her early years in England. Her parents had wanted her to return home for all major and even some minor holidays. They were constantly worried about her wellbeing and the success of her business. As she began to level out and her income began to increase, her commitment to her vines doubled. She had less and less time to return home. The last time she had been home was for her father’s funeral two years ago.

When Gillian had called, her mother had sounded light and happy. “Of course you can come home. You can stay with me as long as you like.”

Her mother’s warmth, a consistent part of Gillian’s childhood, brought back many memories of her youth. It was a reassuring thing to hear that her mother had not changed after all this time.

Iris dropped Gillian off at Heathrow and after a tearful goodbye, they parted ways. The flight was long, dry and sleepless. Gillian hoped not to be spotted or recognised by anyone, but she knew that this was not likely.

As Gillian walked into the arrival gate, lugging her heavy suitcase, she saw her mother. She could not help but smile, seeing her mother holding a sign painted with the words, “Welcome home”, and her sister with her two small children holding balloons.

“Auntie Jill!” They both cried as soon as they saw her, running to hug her.

Gillian dropped her suitcase and swallowed them both up in her embrace.

“My dears!” She kissed both of their heads. These two small girls, Carolyn and Vera, reminded Gillian of herself and her sister. They were two mischief makers who, even at their young age, showed signs of their mother’s genius.

Gillian picked her suitcase up again as Carolyn and Vera bounced about, both of them trying to tell Gillian about everything that had happened since her last visit.

“Hi, mum.” Gillian smiled as her moth hugged her and the familiar smell of home came over her.

“It’s so good to see you!” Her mother responded.

Her sister, Sarah, leaned in to hug Gillian and they shared a smile.

“Welcome home, little sister.”

•••

Gillian left her suitcase in the front hall and made her way to the living room in her old house. Her mother, sister and nieces all took seats in the comfortable lush chairs that Gillian had known her entire life. Her childhood home had not changed since then.

“So, maman, tell me what’s new?” Gillian smiled as she took her seat and sunk into the cushion of the chair.

“Gillian, I have been working the same job since you were in the third grade. Tell me what’s new with you.” Her mother laughed.

“Well, nothing has really changed.” Gillian responded.

Sarah gave Gillian a sarcastic look as she stroked Vera’s hair. “Jill, we know.”

“You know what?” Gillian said evasively.

“That you’re a princess!” Carolyn cried before seating herself on Gillian’s lap.

“We know about Prince Harry.” Her mother said in response to the look of questioning on Gillian’s face.

“What was it like?” Sarah leaned forward in interest. “What were they all like?”

“Sarah, she obviously doesn’t want to talk, you saw the pictures.” Her mother scolded under her breath.

“Pictures, what pictures?” Gillian asked desperately.

“There were pictures of you leaving that big party a few days ago.” Sarah said. “It was pretty obvious that you had been crying.”

There was a pause as Gillian tried to respond. She looked up at her mother and sister, these two who had been witness to her entire life, and smiled.

“I was royally screwed.” A smile cracked across Gillian’s face and her sister started laughing. The two of them were joined by their mother and soon their laughter reverberated off the white ceiling above them.

Conversation flowed easily between the three of them for the rest of the evening. Gillian nearly forgot the events that had brought her back across the ocean. Soon, Sarah rose and gently woke her two daughters that had fallen asleep on the floor. The group made their way to the front door to say goodbyes.

“We’re still on for shopping tomorrow, right?” Sarah asked her mother tiredly. “There’s still a lot that we need to pick up for the party.”

“We’re having a party?” Gillian asked.

“I decided to throw you a nice welcome home party, so you can meet some new people.” Gillian’s mother smiled as she kissed Sarah, Carolyn and Vera goodnight.

Gillian smiled. “That’s a lovely idea, mum.”

Her mother returned the smile. “You look jet lagged. You should go to sleep.”

Gillian looked at her watch; it was two in the morning back in England. She grabbed her suitcase and lugged it up the stairs to her old room. Shadows danced on the white walls as Gillian changed into nightclothes.

She was exhausted and fell into a deep sleep almost immediately after crawling into her luxuriant childhood bed. She dreamt extensively, her mind filled with images of Harry and her eyes with the tears she had hidden from her family.