Diary of a Reluctant Ruler

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I shoved a pile of pictures and biographies off my desk. I was sick to my toes of bachelors. I had seen far too many in the past few weeks. The papers had successfully toned down their remarks about me, though, which was a blessing. They were calling me respectful names now… apparently I was playing the field with ‘remarkable ease and a great eye’. They’d certainly liked the last fellow, a slick French man with an annoying talent for correcting your every word.

I had suffered exuberant facial hair, extremely loud chewers, and one man who had already planned out our entire future, down to the name of our pet gerbil. I’d left him sitting at the coffee bar and gone shopping instead.

Right on, girlfriend.

Where did you learn your vocabulary? Urban dictionary?

There was only one option left, and my parents and grandparent had been keeping him secret. I felt like some crazy princess being auctioned off to the highest bidder. They’d told me to be down in the dining room before dinner to meet him. Unusually, I was late. With seconds to spare I burst into the dining room with as much decorum as I could muster, having just run down two flights of stairs and three corridors.

“Francis!” I gasped, still out of breath, “Have you seen my mother?”

Francis stood up from where he was leaning against the sideboard.

“No, but she left me with strict instructions to stay here.”

“You?” I said, confused, “You, to stay here? Before dinner…”

“Yes? She said to tell you that, er, I was ‘A’.”

“Great,” I said, unable to prevent myself from smiling hysterically.

Like we haven’t messed him up enough…

“Look, it’s all right Phil, I don’t mind being your escort for the next few days,” Francis said.

“You’re,” I paused, “You’re happy with this?”

“Perfectly,” he replied.

“But, I’ve – I’ve messed you around so much already!” I moaned.

“True,” he nodded, “But it’s not like we’re getting married or anything. Just having fun together. And you know I like you.”

“Right,” I said, unhappy, “But I just feel guilty. You know I only like you as a friend.”

“That’s fine, that’s all it’ll be,” Francis agreed, “Just friends, doing stuff in the same vicinity… Phil, you don’t have to fall in love with me. Just enjoy my company.”

He shot me a slight smile, and I attempted to return it.

* * *

A week passed with James as not the first and last thing on my mind. Francis somehow managed to turn up whenever I had free time: I was fairly sure that grandmother had supplied him with my timetable in a bid to get us together. Something of his clumsy awkwardness had disappeared, and instead he took to slipping an arm around me every so often, or holding my hand… which, although not wanted, didn’t feel bad. If I couldn’t have James, then why shouldn’t I have someone else? I liked Francis, he was a nice person… he liked me.

I’m not gonna lie, it felt completely wrong.

Of course, I probably should have known that the silence between me and James would brew and boil until it roared into sound. I probably should have said something earlier, and then it wouldn’t have been quite so explosive when it actually came out…

I would say it was coincidence, but Lady Luck seemed to have been against me since the moment we broke up, so it was almost certainly Miss Luck saying I was never gonna have it easy again.

So yes, we had a huge argument. And yes, it happened in public. And yes, the papers got hold of every word, including photographic and video evidence. Just another field day granted on my behalf…

Francis had picked me up from College. We were walking across the square in front of the main building, and having already been holding my hand, Francis decided this was the opportune moment, and kissed me. I stood there like a statue, unsure of how to react as Francis left to bring the car around.

And then the whole world collapsed.

“You’re a bitch sometimes, you know Meredith,” James said in a low voice, standing a few metres away by the fountain.

“What?” I asked, too shocked to feel anything in particular.

“You’re a complete hypocrite,” he replied, dumping his satchel on the ground.

Confusion whirled in my brain for a moment, I wondered whether it was wise to say anything whilst he was obviously rather angry. His glare burnt into me.

“What’s that meant to mean?” I hissed, unable to stop from frowning.

“It means, you can’t go around telling people off for kissing people they’re not going out with, when you do exactly the same thing, and then send ultra-confusing messages by kissing other people as well,” he growled, knuckles white as he gripped the fountain edge.

A few people had stopped talking around us: someone from school cottoned onto the fact that they could make some money from this and had pulled out a camera phone.

“Can this wait until some other time?” I asked, trying to stay calm.

“No!” James shot back, “I’ve kept my mouth shut for long enough. Fine, I’ve been a git, but I don’t think you realise just how annoying you can be.”

“How is this my fault?” I cried.

“Er, when you’re jealous of Vi and Cecilia even though I’m not the slightest bit interested in either of them, and then you go out with Francis?”

“I only did that because I was jealous!”

“And that makes everything all right?”

“No, but you can’t just blame all of this on me! It’s just as much your fault!”

“And how the hell is that my fault?” he yelled, standing up.

Most people had gone still around us. It was one of those dreadful moments in High School dramas were everything goes quiet at the wrong moment.

“For being so bloody right all the time!” I cried.

“Is it my fault you can’t see past the end of your royal nose?”

“You’re a complete idiot! You know that? It’s not my fault I’m a stupid bloody princess, and have to get married to a bloody prince, and that I’m in love with some bloody stupid earl who can’t seem to get enough of hurting me!”

Somewhere in the midst of my tirade, Francis returned; Iona, Jenn, David, Jacques and Henry came out of school; Cecilia and Violet caught up with James; and the whole square went quiet.

“You love me?” James whispered.

Bugger.