The Prince and the Girl

Harry’s hands were on her waist and he held her close, the two of them dancing together to the beat of the music. He grabbed one of her hands and spun her out and under his arm before catching as he leaned over.

“Last time I danced with you, you could hardly keep the beat!” Gillian laughed as she spun.

“It was all part of my plan to charm you into my clutches!” He returned her laughter.

Their bodies were packed together, much like a nightclub and both Gillian and Harry clumsily bumped into the other dancers there. She felt as sweat began to gather on the back of her neck from the collective heat of the bodies in the building. Many of the guests threw back shots of various alcohols regularly but Gillian did not drink; she never needed the alcohol to have a good time. Harry remained sober too; she suspected it was because of her adversity to drinking.

Gillian moved to sit at the bar, her back against the counter. Harry had disappeared off to the bathroom and she sat on a barstool, watching as guests bounced to the everlasting beat of the music.

A tall blonde man sat down a few stools down the bar from her, obviously drunk, and ordered another set of shots in a slurred French accent. He looked over at Gillian, obviously attempting suaveness and turned to face her.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone?” He grinned lopsidedly.

Gillian looked over at him, unimpressed. “I’m waiting for someone.”

He smirked. “Okay. I get it.”

He stood up and moved down the row of bar stools to sit next to her, the snarling grin holding its place on his face. He put his hand on her upper thigh and she felt the greasiness of his palm.

“What are you doing?” Gillian said, remaining calm, as she pushed his hand away.

“Don’t deny,” He replaced his hand on leg, “that you want me to.”

He put his hand under her dress and began to slide his fingers up her leg.

“Get away from me!” Gillian shouted as she stood up from the bar and pushed the man away.

What happened next she could hardly remember the next morning. She remembered seeing Harry there, all of a sudden, gripping the man by the shoulder, and how his hand quickly formed a fist when he saw what was happening. She remembered the sharp sound of the shattering shot glasses as the blonde man fell into the bar. She remembered the spreading of the crimson on Harry’s shirt, and the way the liquid dripped from his nose. Most of all, she remembered the feeling of Harry’s hot fingers on her arms as he pulled her away from the blonde man who was screaming and spitting as Khabane held him back.

•••

The morning came with an unexpected headache, and Gillian slowly opened her eyes to see Harry still soundly sleep, blood dried around the base of his nose. She had tried to wipe it off the night before, but his nose bled and bled and they had fallen asleep before it stopped. She smoothed his fiery rumpled hair over his forehead before getting up and crossing to the bathroom.

She looked in the mirror and saw only a pale silhouette looking back at her, hair still lying crumpled in a ponytail. Her watch read 7.00, which gave her an hour and a half before they needed to be at the orphanage. She wanted to let Harry sleep, but she knew that a medic would be arriving any minute to make sure he was alright. She had shoved him out the door the night before, telling them she would take care of him.

With that, there was an aggressive knock on the door that abruptly filled the empty air. She opened the door, dismissing the look of disbelief and disapproval that the man standing on the doorstep cast at her appearance.

“Wait here.” She said sternly as the man closed the door behind him. “I’ll go wake him up.”

She passed through the bedroom where Harry still slept almost peacefully. In the bathroom, she dampened a small tissue under the sink and went back to the bed. Gently, she sat down on the bed next to him, smoothing the sheets down softly. She pressed the tissue to his nose, wiping away the blood and his eyes fluttered open in a reaction to the cold. His hand came to hers and he sat up.

“The doctor is here to look at you.” Gillian whispered.

Harry nodded and stood, Gillian still wiping away spots of blood from his nose. He looked creased and wrinkled, but handsome nonetheless as he stood wearing his boxers and a white t-shirt. He walked haphazardly to the living room, where the doctor was waiting for them.

“Harry, take a seat, please.” He motioned to the couch as he sat down on the coffee table in front of it.

Gillian checked her watch; it was already 7.45. She placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Do you mind if I take a shower while you get checked up?” She asked quietly.

Harry smiled up at her tiredly. “No, go, please.” He waved her away.

Gillian treaded softly back to the bathroom and slipped her nightclothes off and let them fall to the floor. She pulled back the shower curtain and found Harry’s shirt hanging from the shower head, like a silvery bloodstained ghost. She removed it and hung it on the doorknob of the bathroom. Steam filled the bathroom as she rinsed the grime from her hair and felt it run over her skin and down the drain of the shower. The tap squeaked as she shut it off and stepped out of the shower.

Sporting only her bathrobe, she returned to the living room to find the doctor gone and Harry sitting on the couch, his hair pointing is several different directions.

“What did he say?” She asked, sitting down next to him.

“He said it was broken.” Harry looked over at her tiredly.

Guilt and panic rose in Gillian’s throat. “What? Harry, this is all my fault, I’m so sorry – “

An adorable smiled crawled across his face. “Only joking.”

•••

Gillian and Harry were greeted by a controlled crowd of toddlers and older children as they got out of their car at the Mants’ase Childrens’ Home. Harry had been here before and he had told her stories of the children that he met there. Gillian could see now why he had fallen in love with this place without even having to talk to one of the young children. All of them wore clothes that were either much too big or much too small and sported huge, beaming smiles as they waited for Harry to say something. He said nothing, simply walking into the crowd of orphans and ruffling them on the head or bending over to talk to them. It was so admirable, the way he was with children.

Gillian felt a small warmth on her leg and looked down to see a small girl peering up at her, her hand resting firmly on Gillian’s calf.

“Princess?” She asked feebly.

Gillian bent down and picked the girl up, resting her on one hip. “I’m kind of like a princess. You have to be married to a prince to be a princess, don’t you?”

The girl nodded almost undiscernibly.

“I’m not married to prince, but I am in love with one.” Gillian smiled at the girl.

“Princess?” The girl repeated hopefully.

Gillian laughed. “Maybe someday.”

Harry was being pulled by the hands into the white building ahead of them; the children obviously wanted to show him around. He looked back at her and they shared a look of happiness and comprehension, Gillian finally understanding how important this place was to him and Harry seeing how well Gillian would fit in to this aspect of his life.

They were given a tour of the Home and Gillian saw how little the children really had. The small children shared beds that were cramped into tiny rooms built up on cracked ground. The older children, ranging from 12- to 16-year-olds, slept some on the floor and some in beds. Their food supply was limited to stale breads and browning vegetables. It was a saddening sight.

They spent nearly four hours at the orphanage, painting and playing with the children. Gillian removed her blue heels for some of the older girls to try on, laughing as they modelled her shoes and her matching blue purse. All of them admired her flowered navy dress, spotted with pink and orange buds, with a scoop back. She longed to give it to them, to give something to them, but she had nothing that was hers to give.

The small girl followed her around for most of the morning, clinging to her side like a lost puppy. She was absolutely adorable and Gillian wanted nothing more than to bring her home with her.

At 12.00, they had to leave. Reluctantly, Gillian got back in the car after hugging as many children as she could, Harry doing the same. As the car pulled away from the Home, Gillian rolled down her window and leaned out of the car, waving one final goodbye to the children. As she closed her window and brushed back the hairs that had come loose from her low bun, Gillian turned to Harry.

“Why is that we have so much when they have so little?”

•••

Gillian had changed into jeans and a satin blouse with a bow on it and paired the ensemble with a simple pair of flats and nude clutch decorated with zippers for the plane ride to Sydney. They would arrive at 22.00 and would need to be ready to go out at half eight the next morning. It would be a 14 hour flight during which they were expected to get some sleep. She did not except this to be a problem; she was already exhausted.