Diary of a Reluctant Ruler

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Thursday saw me attempting to cook. Madeleine had bent, after a long session of pleading, to allow us to use a bench and stove in the palace kitchens. Although she’d threatened us with being made into the evening stew if we made a mess. I managed to gouge myself with both the peeler and the apple corer (we were making pie). Madeleine let me open a can of kidney beans for her, in order to use a can opener.

Have you seen the size of these catering tins of beans?!

I wonder how sick you’d be if you ate all of them?

And, true to form, James insisted that I wash up.

Saturday saw me gain my revenge. Mme Vennart was happily supplied with another student, and a partner for me. James nearly died of fright when Grandmother asked him, nay, ordered him, to accompany me in lessons!

Do you think James has voices in his head?

Let’s hope not.

But we could be friends!

Oh yippee.

I failed for the fifth time at completing a crossword, but discovered the delights of both tiddlywinks and marbles. A trip via a small corner store saw the sampling of such exotic foods as poptarts, popcorn and pizza. The next Saturday saw further dancing and inevitably stepping-on-my-toes, which were more than made-up for when James actually managed a circuit of the hall without tripping.

Saturday also saw an announcement from grandmother that the royal ‘children’ were to spend half term with Jeff and Lily, James’s parents, whilst the King and Queen spent the week in Italy.

How come we don’t get to go to Italy?

We get to go to James’s house! Far better.

So the week after, Jade, Felix, James and I drove halfway across Adria to the Jacinthe house. James’s house was hardly house-like. It was a small chateau. Being the Earl of Aramathia had its advantages obviously.

“Your room is in here, Meredith,” Lily showed me in.

“Thanks, Mrs Jacinthe,” I replied, “It’s lovely of you to have us.”

“Well, you’ve made James feel so welcome at the castle! And please, call me Lily,” she said.

Just how welcome does she know we made James?

I wouldn’t care to ask.

My room was unsurprisingly smaller than the one at home, but I liked it better for it. It was light and spacious, a happy break from the palaces’ more traditional décor; airy spaces being key to the French chateau ‘thing’. Lily seemed to be quite a fan of the period. Then again, I didn’t blame her.

“How are you settling in?” Jeff asked us at dinner.

“Very well thank you,” Felix said stiffly.

“Everything’s lovely,” I replied, my smile a little more relaxed.

“Good,” Lily replied, “Phil, you’ll be glad to know Olly’s coming back for Christmas.”

“Really?” I asked, “Sounds awesome.”

Apart from a few letters back and forth, my correspondence with Olly had been limited. I guess life in Paris, living on your own, was kind of more exciting than Keats.

“Don’t worry,” said Lily, catching onto my mood, “I’m sure you two will get along fine.”

James smiled reassuringly at me, and I smiled back.

“James seems to have your weekend thoroughly planned, mind you,” Jeff commented.

“He hasn’t said anything about it,” I replied, raising my eyebrows.

“Just some of the things from your list,” James smiled.

I wondered vaguely whether all James saw in me was a challenge. But the thought made me sad, so I pushed it out of my head.

“What list?” Felix asked.

“It’s a list of stuff I’ve never done,” I replied.

“What, like beaten me at chess?” Felix grinned.

I growled.

“That’s just a fluke.”

“Dream on sis,” he replied.

“I will,” I assured.

“Sounds like we should have a chess tournament,” James laughed.

“Don’t you dare!” I cried.

James showed me round the chateau after tea, though annoyingly, Felix had to tag along. I wondered whether we’d ever shake him off this week.

Doesn’t seem likely.

If we make a wish, it might happen!

That’s about as much help as a rubber duck when your ships sinking.

You could hang on to the rubber duck.

Might save your life.

“You know,” I said, once Felix had gone back to his room, “You’ve been in my room about a million times, yet I’ve never even seen yours.”

“You really don’t want to,” James gulped.

“I think I do.”

“No, you don’t,” James repeated.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because it’s my room! It’s… private.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“And mine isn’t?”

“That’s different!”

“It’s really not.”

“Fine, you can see my room.”

“Yay!” I cried.

“It’s not that amazing.”

“It is to me,” I replied.

James offered me a hand to pull me out of my seat, which just meant I got dragged into him. Experimentally, I twined my arms round his waist.

“I fit,” I murmured.

“What are you talking about, Phil?” James asked.

Like a jigsaw with a missing piece.

Urgh, you and your soppy similes disgust me.

“I fit you,” I replied, then blushed red when I realised what that might be construed as. “I didn’t mean that!”

James laughed, going a little bit red himself.

“I get what you mean,” he replied.

“So where’s your room?” I asked.

“Man, I thought you’d forgotten!”

“Memory like a goldfish,” I replied, tapping my forehead.

“I thought they had, like, a three-second memory?” James asked.

“They’re actually not bad at remembering stuff.”

“Huh,” James replied, “come on, let’s get this over with.”

James’s room was on the top floor, with small bay windows overlooking the back of the gardens. The walls were painted blue, covered in obscure band posters, a contrast to the whites and creams of the rest of the place. His bed was in the middle, surrounded by piles of music and books, plus the inevitable half-worn clothes.

He nudged some stuff out of the way in an attempt to clean up.

I walked over to the window and looked at the view; the valley spread out in front of us, rolling hills and flats with the river running a twisted ribbon in between.

“I like it,” I proclaimed after a moment.

“You’re obviously blind then,” James sighed, lying down on the bed.

“Oi!” I complained, “I’m not blind.”

“Well, you’re going out with me, aren’t you?” James said.

My heart hit the roof, exploded through it, and went into orbit.

James noticed my surprised silence.

“What?” he asked.

“Is that, are we…” I couldn’t get my sentence out properly.

“Oh,” he said, understanding, “Well, if you want to…”

“I’d like that,” I replied, biting my lip.

“Cool,” James said, taking it a lot more casually than I was, “Well, Princess Meredith, you’re in a young man’s room, a long way away from anyone who might hear a commotion, and you’ve just agreed to be my girlfriend… what should I do with you?”

I gulped, leaning back against the window.

James stood up and walked over, supposedly to look at the view. His hand wound around my waist, fitting, like before.

“This is going to take some getting used to,” James said.

“What?”

“Being with a Princess,” he explained.

“Oh,” I replied, “I’ll try and make it easy.”

“I think it’s worth it.”

“You think?” I asked.

“I’m still figuring stuff out,” James replied, “But I do know I like kissing you.”