Black Sheep

“My grandparents spent their honeymoon in that cottage there." I said, standing on one of the steps that ran right through the village from the top of the cliff all the way down to the beach.
“Was that when your grandma forgot her shoes?”
“How do you know that story?” I asked
“She told me last night. She told me all sorts last night. Like the story of you dancing on tables on holiday when you were little.” I blushed bright red.
“I guess there are no more secrets I can shock you with.”
“No, there’s nothing else you can shock or scare me with.”
“That’s a shame,” I pondered as we walked down the curved pier, getting the perfect view of the village in the summer sunshine. “You seem to keep surprising me Buster.” I sat on a pile of rocks that were made up into a wall on the sea side of the pier.
“What do you mean?” He said sitting next to me, resting his arm around my shoulders. “Is this about me going back to Afghanistan?” I nodded. I had thought about it ever since he mentioned it that morning. Hundreds of things were running through my head, but the one that kept popping up was; what if he gets hurt? I didn’t think about that too much when he went away the first time, but for some reason it was the only thing I could think about this time round.
“It’s just a lot to drop on someone.” I played with a cord that had came loose on my handbag.
“I had to tell you sometime. And it may not even happen. Who knows yet?”
“But you want to go?”
“Of course I do. I would love to go back out there.” I could see an internal battle in him. He wanted to stay at home and look after Sentebale and see George start toddling but he was a soldier first and foremost.
“Then go.” I reasoned with myself to be brave. “If it makes you happy then go.” He squeezed me tight and planted a kiss on the top of my head.
“Thank you.” He said, his lips in my hair. “It’ll be a long time before a decision is made, and no one else knows yet but I just wanted to know what you thought.” We sat there on the rocky bench for another ten minutes, enjoying the cold sea breeze and being wrapped up in each other’s arms.
“Can we go home now? I’m sure Poppy mashed some banana into my hair before we left this morning, and I stink of it.” Harry complained.
“Well it’s a good job that I like bananas Buster.” With a broken smile, he stood up and reached for my hand.

On the four hour drive back to London, and although we had been cheery before, and although the radio was playing unusually cheery tracks, I could tell Harry was hiding something.
“What’s wrong?” I asked turning to see his face, staring ahead at the road in front of him, his eyes focussed and his eyebrows pulled together.
“Nothing,” he mumbled.
“There’s something wrong Harry, I can tell.” There was an eerie distance between us that lasted all the way back to London.

As soon as we pulled up on the gravel outside, Kate and Will came running out with George to greet us.
“How was your weekend away?” Will called as we walked over the gravel pathway to the front of the house.
“It was lovely, at one point I thought my grandma would never let Harry go.” I said hugging them both.
“Why is he being moody?” Will asked in a hushed whisper
“I don’t know, I can't seem to work it out.” Harry trudged his way into the house, not acknowledging Will, Kate or even little George. “I’ll go and speak to him.” I followed him into the house, up the stairs and into our room. He was sat on the end of our bed, looking down at his hands. I slowly walked in, closing the door behind me and sat on the bed next to him. I wrapped my arm around his back and rested my head against his shoulder. He just grunted.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” I mumbled into his shoulder. Nothing. Not even a grunt or a sigh. Just nothing.

We both sat there still for at least half an hour in silence. I wasn’t leaving until I knew what was wrong.

“Do you really want to marry me one day?” He eventually mumbled.
“Of course I do.”
“And the kids and the white picket fence and the labrador?”
“Harry, I want all of it.” He eventually turned his head to look at me.
“It doesn’t look like you do.” He mumbled again.
“What do you mean?” I was worried
“You dropped the bouquet.” He looked at his hands again
“And? I’m clumsy and it just-”
“Don’t lie to me,” He started
“Does it matter? It’s just a silly tradition that means nothing in the long run.”
“But in front of your family.”
“I was scared.”
“What do you have to be scared of?”
“I’m scared of everything. I don’t know how to be a princess, I don’t know how to have a future with you.”
“Then maybe you shouldn't.”
“Shouldn’t what?”
“have a future with me”
“I didn’t mean it like that, I just-” he was gone.