Diary of a Reluctant Ruler

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Maybe that wasn’t the best move to make…

I second that notion.

I could still see Francis blinking at me in surprise, James’ horrified/ arrogant/ smirking/ utterly-confusing expression and Violet’s nonchalant face. Unthinking I began to pull the toilet paper away from the roll in order to occupy my hands. A large pile began to gather around my feet. There were no tears this time, only a disturbing lack of emotion in the pit of my stomach.

The door sprang open suddenly – I’d forgotten to lock it.

A curly red head opened her mouth in surprise and blurted out an apology. I smiled sheepishly and got up from where I had been sitting on the toilet seat.

“Sorry,” I apologised, “I just… just had to take a time out.”

“No, no, I should have knocked,” she replied, “You’re um… you’re Princess Meredith right?”

“Yup,” I answered, sneezing slightly from the air freshener.

“Johanna Partridge,” she said, offering a hand to shake.

I shook it dutifully, wracking my brain for her occupation from my memorised list. Not a singer… or an actor… wasn’t a famous person’s daughter either…

*gulp* JOURNALIST!!! *runs frantically in circles*

“Journalist, right?” I asked, trying to cover my immediate desire to run.

“Well… supposedly. My boss is always telling me I’ve got nothing on Jonathon Tilley,” she replied.

“Jonathon Tilley?” I laughed.

“Have you met him?” Johanna asked.

“Yup, he chased me into a bush once,” I answered.

“Oh,” Johanna said, “A bush?”

“Uhuh,” I nodded.

Somebody else was coming down the corridor to use the toilet, so I skipped out and let Johanna go in. Walking back down the corridor I mentally prepared myself for the sight of James and Violet still in the corridor. Hopefully they would have had the decency to move elsewhere. He did, after all, have his own room in the place. Idiot. A stream of indecent hate-mail went through my head. The more I attempted to quench it the more it roared. In the end I just let it flow regardless. They weren’t in the corridor, so I entered the ballroom with a sour expression on my face. I quickly covered it up with a plastic smile and toured the room.

After a few circuits I searched out my school friends, who had migrated to the top of the steps down towards the gardens. Jacques was showing off, doing cartwheels backwards on the lawn, Iona and Henry were watching, and Jenn and David seemed trapped in deep conversation. Cecilia was sitting a little ways apart from Francis, who was lounging against the wall. I deliberately ignored Francis’s smile and sat down on the other side of Cecilia.

“Sorry to abandon you for so long,” I apologized.

“Oh, no need,” she replied.

“Have you heard from Olly recently?” I asked.

“We don’t really talk, if I’m honest,” she said.

“Oh, I thought you guys were close,” I replied.

“When we were little we were,” she nodded, “Not so much since she went to Paris.”

“Hmm, I guess she isn’t quite to so talkative in emails,” I acquiesced – our own friendship had been suffering a little recently, “Maybe we should go out and see her some time. Take a weekend or something.”

“Sounds like fun,” she smiled, “But would you be able to do that? You being a princess and all that?”

I don’t think we should be a princess anymore.

I second that notion.

“You’re right, I’d probably never get time. It’s a nice idea though.”

“Yeah, a nice idea,” she laughed.

My thoughts flicked back to James.

“Have you seen James anywhere?” I asked.

“Not since we came down,” Cecilia replied, “He met someone he knew – a Violet someone. I didn’t recognise her.”

I saw Johanna’s red head approaching from a distance.

God help us.

I second that prayer.

“Hey, can I join you guys?” she asked, “I’m afraid I don’t know anyone.”

“Sure,” I nodded, “Guys this is Johanna, she’s a journalist. Johanna this is Cecilia, Francis, Iona, Henry, Jenn, David and the guy showing off is Jacques.”

“Nice to meet you all,” she smiled, sitting down on the other side of Cecilia.

Cecilia smiled back and they started talking about the weather. Panic alarms went off in my head as Francis came and sat down next to me.

“That was, um… rather sudden – before,” he commented.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry,” I moaned.

“Don’t be, it’s not everyday I get kissed by princesses,” he joked.

“You know I only did it because – well…” I trailed off.

“Because James was downstairs?” he asked, “Yeah, I guessed afterwards. I had my minute of ecstasy at the fact that you might actually like me.”

“I do like you!” I glared, “Just not…”

Francis shook his head, smiling.

“I’m not complaining,” he replied, “If you ever want to annoy James again…”

I looked up to see if he was serious or not. A half and half expression was registered on his face. I mentally slapped myself for being so inconsiderate – I’d done exactly the same thing before in the garden. I could tell Francis liked me a good deal more than was friend-appropriate.

“Thanks,” I said, despite myself, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Johanna was veering into dangerous news-worthy territory with Cecilia, so I quickly put in a suggestion that we play a game of something. Ten seconds later, and for some reason, we were playing hide and seek.

Childhood games never die.

But hide-and-seek, really? Couldn’t we play… I dunno, bulldog?

Do you really want to attempt playing bulldog with Henry? He’d squish you.

Point taken.

Our expedition into the woods lasted longer than I thought it might. Our numbers were shortly swelled by rest of the party who weren’t watching Gregorio or dancing/ jamming. Knowing the woods better than anyone else, I ended up being the last found a number of times. It felt very… normal, to be playing hide and seek with so many people.

Too normal.

We had just started a last game, and I’d sought out my best hiding place – a hollow in a dead oak at the boundary between forest and hedge. At first glance the hollow looked too small to hide a person, but it widened out above the ‘doorway’, where a branch divided from the trunk, with room enough for two, let alone one person, to hide braced against the trunk. Unfortunate as I was, though, it seemed someone else was to discover the oak. A scrambling noise and another person appeared beside me. I remained unnoticed for a moment.

“Boo,” I murmured, slightly annoyed, slightly pleased to be able to scare him.

“Holy shit,” James swore, scrambling backwards into the trunk.

“You’re telling me,” I replied, “This hiding place is officially taken.”

“Coming, ready or not!” someone shouted in the distance.

James smirked.

“Well, you’ll have to share,” he said.

“No,” I replied, giving him a nudge.

He remained un-budged, so I poked him again. And again. And again. I began to tap out elaborate patterns of pokes, first going to the tune of The Muppet Show and then heading off into an improvisation.

“Stop it,” he hissed, grabbing my hands in his after a few minutes.

My face began to turn crimson at the touch of his hands, my heart deciding that it needed as much blood in my extremities as possible. Definitely to ward off an attack. Not because I was embarrassed or something…

Die, you who dare to touch me!

Off with his head!!

I second tha-

Shut up!!!

Leaves crinkled outside as someone made their way past. I held my breath, tense. James remained silent beside me, his hands still holding mine. I listened carefully to try and distract myself.

“What d’you do it for?” he asked suddenly.

“What?” I asked, confused.

James hesitated, peering out to see if the person had really gone.

“You know…” he prompted, waving one hand around.

“I know sign language, and that’s not it,” I said, pointing with my one now-free hand.

“Oh shut up,” he said.

“Well, please excuse me,” I replied, annoyed.

I began to hum absently.

“Well, why you kiss him?” James asked.

“This is about Francis?” I asked, incredulous.

“What else?” he replied, forehead perfectly tense with a glare.

“Well, you didn’t seem too ashamed getting cosy with Violet,” I shot back.

“She was getting cosy with me, there’s a difference!” he hissed.

“There’s not! Besides, what do you care who I kiss?”

“I don’t,” he said, his eyes flicking away from mine.

“Then why’d you ask?” I said, exasperated.

James didn’t say anything, his eyes still fixed on a knot in the oak.

“Urgh,” I cried, pulling my hands away from his.

I immediately regretted loosing his touch.

“How did you get up here in that dress?” he asked, pointing.

It is a little tight…

“With great difficulty. Now get out of my tree,” I said again, shuffling over to push him.

“No.”

“Idiot,” I retorted, pushing his shoulders.

“Tree-hugger,” he hissed, catching my wrists.

“Fuglio de puttano,” I swore in Italian.

“Snob.”

“Babushka,” I said, having no other Russian.

“Language-geek.”

“Bastard,” I replied, anger rumbling like the tremors before a volcano.

“Closet Danny Glover,” he hissed, the glare turning into a smirk.

My head searched for the language he was speaking in, brain too preoccupied to come up with another decent insult. It wasn’t a language, it was some kind of code…

By closet he must mean secret… and Danny Glover?

Cockney rhyming slang.

…the cogs in my head searched something that rhymed with ‘uvver’.

Lover?

That’s not an insult-

I stared at James, my mind paralysed by my surely mistaken translation. He saw my face and the smirk dropped, sudden seriousness emptying his face of anything else.

“Language geek,” he whispered again, “You weren’t supposed to be able to translate that.”

The close proximity which the tree trunk confined us in seemed to suddenly draw closer still. Claustrophobia lingered with me a little. I leant forward, our lips met, and the claustrophobia disappeared along with everything else.