Diary of a Reluctant Ruler

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“Meredith!” grandma cried, looking flustered as we returned back to the castle, “Thank goodness you’re back.”

“I thought I was free today?” I asked, wondering if I’d forgotten a lesson.

“Well, you were, but then I realised we had the opening of Parliament this Monday, and I need to go over the proper addresses with you.”

“Can’t we do that tomorrow afternoon?” I asked, glancing at Olly and James, who were listening in from behind me.

“Absolutely not,” Grandmother said, frowning, “Sunday is for rest.”

“Sorry,” I said to the others, shrugging slightly.

“See you at dinner,” Olly said.

James just shot me an odd sympathetic grin, which may simply have been evil. I rolled my eyes at him and followed Grandmother upstairs. The session took perhaps two hours, going over cabinet policy, the names of various politicians I would have to greet before and after, the current issues they might quiz me on… the list seemed ever so slightly endless.

God, I’m soooo bored.

My neck hurts, *whimper*

“Meredith! Are you even paying attention?” Grandmother snapped.

“You were talking about the Lord Chancellor’s love of Bree?” I guessed.

“Not quite,” Grandmother blinked, “I think you can go.”

“Thank you madame,” I said, standing to go.

“Meredith, you can stop calling me madame in lessons. It’s a little… static,” Grandmother grimaced.

“Thank you, grandmother.”

“And grandmother sounds so old. Please, just grandma.”

“Ok,” I grinned, “If you’ll call me Phil.”

“Phil?” Grandma asked, a slight look of revulsion on her face, “But that’s boy’s name, Meredith. Your have a perfectly serviceable name.”

“As you wish, madame.”

“Sometimes you are extremely stubborn M-… Phil.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling.

“See you tomorrow morning for church.”

“Ok,” I said, slipping out of the suite and into the corridor.

I smiled as I closed the door, doing a little jump in triumph. Finally Grandma was calling me Phil! How many years had it taken? Oh well.

I worked my way back to my room, and sat down with a book. Comfortably wrapped up in a world of non-realistic romance, I didn’t hear the knock on my door. I didn’t realise anyone was there until they were peering over my shoulder, their chin tucked into my neck, quoting my dreadfully soppy heroine, but inserting different names;

“So that’s the truth, Phil, I can’t live without you!” James cried, barely concealing his laughter in a series of coughing snorts.

I rolled my eyes, closing the book.

James laughed, throwing himself across the bed in front of me. Spread-eagled, he looked even taller than he did when standing up. Smirking at my mock-annoyed face, he began to quote a mixed-up selection of Shakespeare.

“What light from yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Phil is the sun. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more temperate and more lovely! My mistress’s eyes-”

“Ah!” I cried, outraged at the last sonnet.

“What?!” James asked, as my book landing square in his stomach, making him double-up.

“Sonnet 130?! Hardly romantic, James!”

“I thought…” he said, then stopped, “Oh, it’s that one.”

“Yes, that one; in some perfumes is there more delight than in the breath from my mistress reeks,” I quoted, “18 was a better idea.”

“In that case,” James said, getting down on one knee beside the bed, “Phil,

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
and summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
and often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
and every fair from fair sometime declines,
by chance, or natures changing course, untrimm’d;
but thy eternal summer shall not fade,
nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
when in eternal lines to time thou growest.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
so long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”

“Good sir, you shouldn’t jest,” I sighed, putting my book down on the bedside table.

“My lady, I would never dream of it,” James said, helping me to my feet and linking arms with me.

“Oh, foul jester, thou jesteth still,” I scowled, at his unrelenting light-heartedness.

“Phil,” James said, suddenly serious, his hand tightening round my own.

I gulped, butterflies exploding out of my stomach and trying to force their way out of my mouth.

That would be weird.

Some party trick though.

“Hi,” I said when he looked for reassurance.

“I wouldn’t mess with you,” he continued, his gaze unflinching on my own.

“Well, that’s good to know,” I laughed, breaking the seriousness and instantly regretting it. He grinned at me, and took my arm again to lead me downstairs to dinner. No! I yelled in my mind. Go back! Proclaim undying love for me, or something! Just don’t… don’t do this… I don’t want to be only a friend. I hid my disappointment under a forced smile.

He let go of my arm as we came into the downstairs hall outside the dining room, Olly appearing from round the corner and the library. I smiled at her, and James left us alone. She curled up her nose at me, realising something wasn’t right.

“What’s up?”

“James.”

“Aw, hun,” Olly said, wrapping an arm round my shoulder, “He’s got you pretty low hasn’t he?”

I gave a what-was-supposed-to-be-light-hearted-but-ended-up-rather-pained smile, and she hugged me properly.

“Don’t worry, he’s just waiting for the opportune moment,” she whispered.

“If you were waiting for the opportune moment, that was it,” I quoted, my heart sinking further.

“Urk, come on girl!” Olly cried, shaking me a little, “He’s just a guy.”