The Thrill Is Gone

“Hold on there. You mean to say that . . .” he hesitated, it sounded so absurd in his mind, so bloody far fetched that he actually had trouble saying it. “. . . That the Queen invited you to a garden party? That right? That bit, true?”

“Well if you don’t believe me, I don’t think anyone will.” She said with a hint of amusement in her voice. “Come on, Alfie. Do you really think I’d be lying about this? Why would I make this shit up?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, not exactly.” He shifted awkwardly in his seat. “It’s only . . . well . . . I know how much her Majesty dislikes you. You’ve gone on about it quite a few times, and I’ve just, well, I sort of came to the conclusion that you’d never meet her. You know? Not that I don’t think you’re worthy of meeting her, only that, well you made it seem like she really hated you, so I thought there’d never be any chance, whatsoever, of you two becoming acquainted. Because you know how she is, she only meets people like that when she wants to give them her approval, that’s why it took Camilla so long to meet her, and well, what I'm trying to say, is that it’s a bit much to process. What with you’ve said about her, calling you a tart and all that . . .” it would’ve been even harder to process had Paulina told him about the fiasco at Sandringham. “But good on you for having been invited. That’s brilliant. Truly, it is. This is her way of saying that you’re alright. Not that you’re just alright. You’re fucking fantastic. But you know what I mean. Don’t you?” He waited until she nodded, and then proceeded. “This’ll be a massive stamp of approval. Not that you need it, of course, but I'm sure it’ll be a relief to have. You won’t have to be worried about her disliking you anymore.”

“But that’s the thing though. I don’t know if she actually doesn’t dislike me anymore or if she’s just inviting me over to appease Harry and his dad, to make it seem like she’s fine with me, when she’s really not. That’s what I don’t understand, because I’ve heard her talk shit about me, she’s fucking torn me apart to no end. So this, well, I feel along the lines of why is she doing this? What is she hoping to get from this? And who exactly is she doing this for? I know I probably sound really paranoid, but I can’t help it. Not with the way things have been.”

Alfred didn’t speak right away. He took a moment to compose his thoughts. “You’ve a fair point, Paulin, and while I understand what you’re saying, I have to say that I don’t believe the Queen would invite you into her company just because someone asked her to. It took her years to meet Camilla. Years! And I'm fairly certain that Prince Charles implored his mum to meet Camilla loads of times, but the Queen didn’t do it, not until she wished to. And Chelsy, well, Chelsy never met the Queen, and she was with Harry for . . . bloody hell, I can’t believe I don’t remember this . . . Olivia was going on about that a few days back, no matter. The point is Chelsy was with Harry for ages, and the Queen never admitted her into her acquaintance. She never met Chelsy, but she wants to meet you. So I reckon you shouldn’t over think this. Take it as a compliment and let it be that.”

“It’s so weird though,” she mumbled.

“Not that weird,” he commented. “With the way things have been going between you and Harry, I sort of figured that she’d want to meet you at some point. Of course, I figured that’d happen three or four years down the line when she couldn’t deny your importance anymore. No matter though. Sooner’s better.” He took a drink from his tea. “Have you told Olivia?”

She shook her head. “I'm gonna tell her later. We’re having a girl’s night.”

“Oh right, that’s why she was stocking up on crisps.” He smiled as she remembered the three bags she’d gotten while they were at the market, yesterday. “I still can’t believe you’ll be meeting the Queen. That’s fucking brilliant.”

“I didn’t think you’d be so impressed. I mean, you don’t care for society.”

“The Queen’s not society though,” he said. “Society is the footballers, pop stars, and celebrities and the old money. They’re all prancing about trying to outdo each other. That’s what I hate. What I can’t bloody stand. But the Queen, well, she’s in a league of her own. She’s our monarch, and she’s above such foolishness. Is she wealthy? Yes. Does she always seem it? Yes. But she isn’t ostentatious. She’s not like my mum and Charlotte, whom drench themselves in diamonds and look liable to tip over. The Queen’s not like that. She’s stately, and it’d be absolutely fascinating to have a moment with her, to discuss everything she’s been through.”

“My God, Alfie. I think you should go instead of me,” she teased.

“I wouldn’t know what to do if I actually met her. I reckon I’d go into shock.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I sound daft. Don’t I? I'm always going on about how much I hate the superficiality of the wealthy, and here I am, rambling on about the Queen. I must sound like a hypocrite.”

“You don’t,” reassured Paulina with a small smile. “She’s the Queen. She’s above wealth and celebrity. And more than that, she’s your Queen. So that also explains things.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He paused, staring earnestly at her face before continuing. “Are you nervous then? What with that being the first time you meet the Queen?”

She wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t be the first time. That they’d already had a disastrous meeting, but she didn’t.

“I am, a little.” She admitted.

“Only a little?” he asked, skeptically.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I know I should be more nervous, what with her being the Queen and all, but I figure that Lady Fellowes will be more than happy to help me out and give me advice. So I think I’ll be fine when the time comes.” She was being honest, she wasn’t extremely nervous, only slightly, she was a lot more curious than nervous. “Hopefully it’ll be alright.”

“It will be. You just have to put on your best smile, and it’ll be alright.” He leant forwards and grabbed his tea from the table. “And what does harry think about all this?”

“To be honest, I haven’t told him yet, but I imagine he’ll be pleased.”

“What do ya mean you haven’t told him?”

“I mean I haven’t told him. This doesn’t seem like something to tell him over the phone or internet, so since I got it yesterday, I figured I could hold off on telling him until tomorrow.” She grabbed a piece of Battenberg from the plate atop the coffee table. “It’ll be fine though. I'm sure he’ll be happy about it.”

“Of course he will. He’ll be able to attend a function with you and his Gran. Wait. What’s that look about, Paulin?”

“You see,” she said, sheepishly. “The thing is, I don’t know if he’s going to be there. It lands on a Tuesday so he might be in training.”

“He won’t be,” stated Alfred, quite certain. “I don’t reckon he’ll be at training on a day like that. He’ll know to be at your side.”

“I hope so.”

Later that day, as she sat across the table at Olivia’s, Paulina told her friend about the invitation. Olivia hadn’t been able to believe it at first. She thought Paulina was joking, but then Paulina pulled out the invitation from her purse, leaving Olivia in shock. She stared at it in silence, unsure if it actually existed or if it was her imagination playing tricks on her, but then she took it into her possession. And after staring it over for a few moments in silence, she let out a triumphant scream.

“This is fantastic!” she exclaimed, a bright grin sweeping across her face. “Fucking hell this is brilliant,” she cursed, but her tone was so joyful that Paulina hardly noticed. “The Queen invited you to a garden party! She invited you! Dear Lord, this is brilliant! Do ya know what this means, Paulin? She accepts you! She’s giving your relationship with Harry, her royal stamp of approval! And that’s . . . that’s massive! The Queen doesn’t just meet anyone that her family dates. It took years upon years for her to meet Camilla, but of course, that’s because Camilla was a home wrecking tramp and Charles was an absolute bastard for having . . . sorry, sorry, getting ahead of myself, you know how I am with Princess Diana, but still! The Queen took ages to meet her, and she never met Chelsy! And Chelsy was with him four years! You’ve not even been with him one. Well, technically you’ve been dating him for one, but you’ve not been proper boyfriend and girlfriend for a year. But still, you’re going to meet the Queen!” She let out another high pitched scream of delight. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, happily. “Do ya know what you’re gonna wear? Have you anything in mind? Because I really think we ought to –”

“The Garden Party isn’t for a month. I don’t think I have to worry about outfits just yet.”

“You do!” snapped Olivia, eyes narrowing slightly. “We need to put together the most elegant and beautiful outfit we can, so that when she meets you, she’ll think you’re all loveliness. Not that you’re not lovely now, you know I think you are, but this is the Queen, and we’ve got to make it so when she sees you, she won’t be able to take her eyes off you.”

“I'm not trying to get her into bed.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Olivia blushed. “Don’t try to make me sound like a pervert. What I mean was that she has to be taken by you, absolutely taken. That way, she’ll think you brilliant and beautiful and amiable. And then you can get married, and . . .”

“Olivia!” shrieked Paulina. “This is only a Garden Party. I'm not getting engaged or anything like that.”

“It’s not just a Garden Party.” Olivia set down the invitation. “This is the beginning to something more. Believe me. This is you being accepted into the inner circle. After this, you might be invited to stay at one of her private estates, perhaps she’ll invite you to go hunting, or maybe to the opera. I don’t know. But I do know that this’ll be leading to something more. Mark my words.”

“I think the glass of wine has already gone to your head.”

“I’ve not even finished it. Barely half way,” said Olivia. “And we are going to start planning an outfit. We need to get you a fascinator. I’ve a few at homes, some really pretty ones that my Gran made for me.”

“I don’t want to wear one of those damn things.”

“That’s too bloody bad, because you’re going to.” Olivia said, firmly. “This is a Garden Party at Buckingham Palace. It’s not just some polo match. And you’re going to wear a beautiful dress and coat and a fascinator, and that’s that. But before we get the fascinator, we’ll have to find a dress though. Then we’ll match the fascinator to the dress. This is so exciting! Isn’t this exciting? I can’t believe you’re going to meet the Queen! You’ll have to tell us what she’s like.”

“I don’t even know if I’ll be around her all that much. It’s a Garden Party! There’s gonna be a bunch of people there. She won’t be able to spend a lot of time with me.”

“That’s what you think, but I'm sure she’ll make the time. Why would she invite you if she doesn’t want to get to know you? I reckon she might even invite you over to dinner.”

“I doubt it.”

“We’ll have to get you a dinner dress and –”

“I already have a fancy dress. Lord Fellowes has bought me three for every occasion I’ve gone into refined company with him.”

“And we’ll have to figure out how to do your hair. It must be elegant! So elegant and lovely that she’ll find herself forced to compliment you. We’ll also have to –”

“For crying out loud, Via, I know how to do my hair.”

“– get you some smart shoes, they’ll have to be classy, but still comfortable enough for you to walk in.”

“Are you even listening to me?” Paulina laughed.

“What?” Olivia asked, having clearly not paid attention to Paulina.

“I was saying that I’ve got clothes for fancy dinners like that.”

“You do? How do you? No one’s got fancy dresses for royalty!”

“Well, I do. Lord Fellowes has taken me to two balls and an elite dinner, so I’ve three dresses. And you know what? I don’t even know why we’re talking about this. She’s not going to invite me to dinner. It’s a Garden Party. She wants me there to see how I behave among elevated society, and she’ll give me a minute of two of her time.”

“That’s not true!” Olivia protested. “She’s going to pay you loads of attention. I know it.”

“I hope she doesn’t,” mumbled Paulina.

“What?” she cried. “How can you say that? You should want her to spend loads of time with you! Honestly Paulina, you’re mental if you’re going around not wanting her to –”

“It’s not that I don’t want her. It’s just . . . I think it’d be easier if we kept the first meeting to a few minutes. That’s all. That way it could be long enough to make an impression, but not long enough to make an ass of myself.” She was worried about that. Their last meeting hadn’t gone well, and Paulina still hated the Queen for what she’d put her through, and she feared what she might do if she were to be left in private with the monarch.

“Don’t be daft. You won’t make an arse of yourself.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I’ve seen how you get when you’re around people who are higher up in things. You get very professional and act . . . hmm, well, I'm not exactly sure as how to describe how you act, but it’s more mature, it’s the adult version of you that you present, if that makes sense. So don’t worry about making an ass of yourself, because the adult you, is going to kick in, and sort things out.” Olivia reached across the table, and placed her hand atop her friend’s. “She’ll adore you, Paulina. I'm sure of it.” She gave Paulina’s hand a gentle squeeze. “And if she doesn’t, then she’s mad, and I’ll have a few things to say to her.”

“Really?” she cocked her brow.

“Well, no, not really.” Olivia said, sheepishly. “She is the Queen. But still! She’ll adore you. I'm certain. And after that it won’t be long before you and Harry –”

“Olivia!” Paulina cut her off. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. There’s no point in thinking about all that. Not when we haven’t even been together for a year.”

“Minor detail,” said Olivia, pulling her hand away. “You might not want to admit, but it won’t be long. Not long at all.” Knowing that Paulina didn’t want to talk about that, she decided to change the conversation. “Have you submitted your statement to Harvard then?” She didn’t know that Paulina was struggling to decide between Harvard and Oxford, if she had, she would’ve turned the conversation to some other subject.

“Not yet.” Paulina replied, suddenly finding her wine very interesting. “I keep forgetting to do it, but I’ll get around to it, eventually.”

“Well it better be before next Friday. The last thing you want to do is submit it late, and have to pay a penalty or be told you can’t register at all. Why haven’t you submitted it?” Olivia suddenly found it very strange that her friend, whom had been obsessing over getting into Harvard, hadn’t gotten around to submitting her intent to register.

“Because I’ve been lazy and drunk,” replied Paulina. “But I’ll get around to it, don’t worry.” She took a drink from her tea. “So, how’s the internship going?” Olivia had been interning at the local hospital with the nurses.

“It’s going well,” Olivia replied with a smile. “It’s great to have more hands on training. I mean, we get plenty of it during class, but in a hospital setting it’s just so much more real. Does that make sense? I hope it does. I just truly love being able to administer shots and take vitals, and help out with whatever needs doing. I must sound so boring, but I honestly can’t wait until graduation so I can get a proper job at a hospital.”

“Have you given any thought to where you’d like to work?”

“For now, I think I’ll stay around these parts, and live at my parent’s house so I can save up some money. Then, once I’ve saved up enough, I think I’ll go to London. Who knows though, things might change. I suppose I’ll have to wait and see.” Olivia tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear. “So what time’s Harry getting in?”

“He’d said eight in the morning, but he called me earlier and said he might get here at ten. I don’t know though. I think he’ll get sidetracked somehow and not show up until tomorrow.”

“Ten? That’s only four hours from now!”

“Four hours is plenty of time for us to hang out. Plus I don’t even think he’s going to get her by then. So odds are I’ll just end up crashing on your couch and leave early tomorrow.”

That didn’t end up happening. Harry arrived shortly after the clock struck ten, and when he showed up to an empty apartment, he took out his mobile and phoned her, asking where it was she’d gone off to. She didn’t hear her phone ring the first few times. She was drunk, and it was in the kitchen, while she and Olivia danced around the apartment, but somehow or another, Olivia ended up in the kitchen, and it was she who noticed the phone was ringing.

“Paulin!” she’d slurred. “Paulin!” she yelled much louder than her sober self would have. “Harry’s phoning you!”

“Who’s what?” asked a drunken Paulina. Her eyes glazed over.

“Harry,” bellowed Olivia, walking towards her with the phone in hand, “Is calling you!” She handed her the phone. “Go on, answer.”

“Hello güerito?” she spoke into the phone, trying (and failing) to sound sober. “How’s it going?”

“Going well enough, though I’d reckon it’d be better if you were at your flat.”

It suddenly dawned on her that she’d forgotten to go home. “Fuck. Is it ten already? I lost . . .” she hiccupped. “. . . I lost track of time. I thought it was still like nine or something. Damn. Just, uh, stay there. Via’s place isn’t far so I’ll just peddle over.”

“Like hell you are! You’re drunk.” He said. “There’s no way you’ll be peddling back at this hour with how you are. No. I’ll drive over.”

“But my bike,” she whined.

“We’ll fetch it tomorrow,” he told her. “Not like you’ll be needing it at this hour.”

“I guess not, but I don’t want it to clutter Olivia’s place.”

“S’alright!” Olivia chimed in from her place on the couch. “Just leave it here, it’s no bother.”

“Alright then, thanks Via. You’re fucking rad, you know that?” rambled Paulina.

“I know it.” Olivia grinned. “I'm fucking fantastically rad.”

“I'm still here.” Harry reminded them, knowing very well that the two women would’ve ended up drunkenly praising each other for far longer than he would’ve cared for. “Are things sorted?”

“Yes. Yes. Though I don’t see why you’re in such a rush. I was just telling her she’s fucking rad, but alright, just come get me. Oh. Can you get me a coat? Please? It was kind of warm when I left but now I think it’s probably cold. Is it?”

“Not really, though knowing you, you’ll think its cold.” He walked over to the closet to grab a warm coat. “I’ll be over in ten minutes, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll be waiting outside then.”

“No!” he said much louder than he would’ve liked. “That is to say, no. Do you really want to stand around, swarmed by the press? Just wait inside. I’ll go inside to fetch you.”

It wasn’t long before Harry arrived at the apartment complex. The moment the press noticed him pull up, they moved away from the building’s entrance, and huddled around him, shouting the usual questions at him and snapping away pictures. He ignored them, keeping his face stoic as he moved along, and when he reached the main doors, he knocked on them, waking his napping girlfriend from her nap. She hadn’t been there long, only a few minutes, but the alcohol had made her drowsy, and she’d curled up rather comfortably on the stairs.

Knowing it was time to leave, she put on her glasses. She knew she looked ridiculous wearing sunglasses at night. In the past, she’d often referred to people who did so as douches that thought they were being cool when they were just looking stupid, but despite her thinking it was ridiculous, she had to wear them. Her eyes were somewhat bloodshot, and they were most certainly glazed over. If anyone saw them, they’d know she was drunk, and she didn’t need her parents seeing her in that state. So she put them on, and walked outside where Harry waited for her. He was carrying her coat, a charcoal grey one that was nice and warm.

Quick as he could, he helped her slip it on, and then the pair made their way over to the car. They rushed along. Harry holding tightly onto her hand, afraid that if he were to loosen his grip, she might drunkenly stumble and make a spectacle of herself. They got to the car quickly enough, and after helping her in, Harry slipped into the driver’s seat and then sped off towards her flat.
There was no press when they arrived. They were undoubtedly still driving over from Olivia’s or walking over since many of them had followed Paulina on foot to her friend’s flat.

“How much did ya have to drink?” he asked as he helped her up the flight of stairs.

“Not much.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Not really drunk, though.” She hiccupped. “I'm only partially drunk.”

“Paulina . . .”

“Give me an hour or two, and I’ll be sober. So that’s . . . that’s not really drunk. You know how I am when I get drunk, I don’t even making fucking sense, but I do. I am making sense right now.” She looked up at him, a silly grin on her face. “You’re so handsome, Henry. You know? You’re handsome Henry.”

“Where’d that come from?” he asked, staring at her in amusement.

“Came from me thinking you’re fucking handsome.”

He shook his head. “You’re off your face.”

“Am not!” she argued. “I'm perfectly fine. Look, let me go, I’ll walk to the apartment alright.”

“You will, but you’ll be woozy.” He held onto her. “Come on, we’re nearly there.”

“Oh alright . . .” she mumbled. “Want to hear something funny?” she said as she tried to put the key in the lock.

“Of course,” replied Harry, fully expecting to hear some idiotic drunken joke.

“Your Gran invited me to a garden party. Can you believe that?” Paulina managed to open the door. “She had it done all fancy, had the Lord Chamberlain send it out and everything. It got here yesterday. And I was gonna tell you tomorrow when you got here, but you’re here so fuck it, I’ve told you.”

Harry didn’t hear her drunken ramble. He didn’t hear anything after she said that his grandmother had invited Paulina to a garden party. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. It was one thing for his grandmother to get him out of training so he could be at Paulina’s side during the court proceedings, but it was another thing entirely for her to invite Paulina to a public event, it was something else entirely for the Queen to want to meet his girlfriend.

“She wants to meet you,” he said, astonished.

“Does that mean you didn’t know?” she asked, stepping into her apartment.

He shook his head. “I didn’t . . . fucking hell, she’s invited you to the garden party. She wants to meet you. This – this is massively brilliant!”

“Is it?”

“Of course, she’s accepted this. Not that I needed her approval or anything, but she’s approved, and that’s massive. She’ll love you, of course. Now that she’ll actually get to know you. We just have to make sure you’re not drunk. Not that you would be. I know you don’t drink on days like that. Not much, at least,” he added.

“Will you be there?” she dropped her bag on the floor and proceeded to take off her coat.

“I will be. I’ve got to attend since Will and Kate are to be on holiday at that time. I’ll be there. Fuck. This is fantastic, Paulin.” He took her hands in his. “She’ll love you just as much as I do. On second thought, she can’t love you that much. Only I can. But she’ll be smitten. That much I know.”