Once was a coincidence and twice was a habit, indeed. "So if you've touched me more than once, it's a habit?" Anna Margaret asked.
"Yes, I'm now in the habit of touching you. I think, though, that now that they know what I look like without my disguise, they may not feel the need to take pictures anymore."
"I hope so. Being watched is one thing, being judged is another." She wondered about what he called his disguise. Was it conscious? Or had he never really noticed until she had initially failed to recognise him on Friday evening?
"You're always being judged."
"But never my private life." Nobody had ever cared much about her private life before. Certainly, they had investigated it when she had been put forward as a candidate, but when she had turned out to be single and boring, they had soon stopped following her.
"Our situations have reversed then. But what was your private life like before they started judging?"
"Private. Sorry," she said when she heard his groan. "They never took pictures of me shopping, as far as I know. Or maybe they did and the pictures never got published. I never check either."
"Because you were never shopping with men."
"Not in the last few years anyway. And before that, I was quite uninteresting so nobody was watching."
"You don't have to provide an heir, of course. A partner in your case would be considered exactly that: a partner. Whereas in my case a partner would be considered nothing but a womb," he mused. "Although if you got pregnant they might worry about your ability to continue doing your job, which is exactly the opposite for me."
"Yes, that's what they always worry about if you're still in the danger zone," Anna Margaret sighed. "I told a few of them that fat old men ran equally great health risks, but that they were absolutely right: when the first handsome man crossed my path I would let him impregnate me immediately and I'd resign to take care of his triplets and cook his meals."
"You would?"
"I think they thought no one would ever take me with that attitude, so they didn't bring up the subject again."
Frederick smiled a little. "Yet you absolutely don't recognise others doing this."
"Doing what?"
"Think about it."
She tried to think about it, but she really had no idea.
"But," he said after a while. "Would you?"
"It's called hyperbole. I really cannot say. I reserve the right to change my situation at any time."
"Isn't that logical?"
"You'd think, but no. People have opinions on women, jobs and babies. Women without jobs with babies. Women with jobs with babies. Women without jobs without babies. Women with jobs without babies. I'm not trying to set an example for others. I also don't necessarily let job and babies be dependent on each other - as in, you can't have one without the other. Or, if you've chosen one thing, or that one thing has chosen you, you're then stuck with it for the rest of your life because you'll otherwise disappoint people who are using you to justify their own choices."
"Er?" he inquired.
"Pet peeve."
"Oh."
"Of course your job involves procreation and there's dependence there. Is that why you're going to resign?"
"My job does not involve procreation. The images!"
"You know what I mean. Is that why you're going to resign?"
"Not entirely, but the thought of being in a sort of three-sided marriage with a wife and the entire country, and then having children with the same threesome just wasn't very appealing to me."
"They'd be in the delivery room with you."
"Urgh, yes. And then the baby would resemble me as a baby and be...er, shall we say, not exactly pretty, and everyone will lie how it's the most beautiful baby they've ever seen, and if it's a boy, baby girls all over will be groomed to marry him later."
Anna Margaret snorted, although she sympathised with him too. "I'll have to take your word for it, although I really don't believe it, but I'm told you wouldn't notice the baby is ugly, because it's your baby."
"Right."
Frederick pulled up into the aire. With a full service station a few minutes ahead, it was relatively quiet despite the hour and the weather. He took the parking spot that was closest to the small building that housed the toilet facilities.
"I don't want to leave you alone," said Anna Margaret.
"Is that because you're afraid something might happen to me, or because you think I'll drive off?"
"You have a hidden agenda."
"It's not all that hidden. I'll come with you, so you'll know where I am. Besides, I'm a normal human being and I also need to go once in a while."
"Normal?" She raised her eyebrows and got out of the car. From behind her sunglasses she could inspect the other cars. Four were French and one was Italian. There was no one in the Italian car and there were no picnic tables, so its occupants could only be in or next to the building. Then there were some cars further away of which she could not see the number plates.
Frederick took her arm. She was not sure it was wise to walk arm in arm, but she could not bring herself to pull her arm back. "Do you think they'd drive an Italian car?"
"We'll see. I'll wait out here for you, all right?"
Anna Margaret did not see anyone inside. When she was finished he was already waiting for her. It was sunny again today, but not hot, and it would be pleasant to sit somewhere while they waited. Either they would have to sit on the ground or on the bonnet of the car, because there was nothing else in sight. They walked back to the car and got the food they had bought in one of the villages they had passed through. She decided the grass looked safe enough and sat down.
"This is the good life," he said as he lay down. "Picnic in the sun."
"You've completely lost your mind," she observed. "We're sitting on grass that every traveller probably lets their dog piss on and -"
"You have such a bright outlook on life." He rolled onto his side to help himself to some food. "Enjoy the simple things."
Life was not about picnicking in the sun. It was about getting home safely without delays and without anyone questioning them once they got there. "Have we already picked up that tail?"
"Yes, we have," he said as if it was wholly uninteresting. "They won't bother us."
"What do you mean by that? Is it the Italian car? Were they waiting in the toilets? How do you know? And why didn't you tell me?" She cast a look at the building and then at the car. A middle-aged couple was smoking by the car next to it and a lorry driver was coming up from the lorries parked on the other side. Two cars with French plates were just leaving. She ignored those. Where were those watchers? In one of the parked cars? Had they come with more than one car?
"Relax. Enjoy the picnic."
"I can't if they're watching." She had thought it would be all right, but now that she heard they were there and she did not know where, it felt different. It was the kiss, she realised. It had changed matters. She now had something to hide.
"They'll see us eat. So what?"
"It looks too couple-y." It might look too real. It worried her what she might be capable of if she let go. It might look even more couple-y then.
"How horrible."
"It's not good for my credibility if I appear to be completely taken in by a Casanova such as you. It makes me appear susceptible to blackmail and manipulation. They will think the only thing a party with less savoury intentions will have to do is send some Casanova my way and I'll give in - the country will give in."
Her phone rang. It had been surprisingly silent for a while. It was Louis, of course. "Good, good," he said. "They found you. Now don't try to shake them off, please."
"No, you can have him." She got to her feet and walked away a bit to where Frederick could not hear her. "I have had enough of his attitude. He's treating this like some sort of adventure. He is thrilled. I think he doesn't even want to go home at all and certainly not tonight. And worst of all you have people taking pictures of us that make it look like we're a couple on a holiday. And you are forwarding them to others! I'm being manoeuvred into a position I don't want to be in."
There. She felt better having got that off her chest. Louis was not responding. Perhaps he was thinking there was more to come. There was, if that was what he wanted.
"I seem to be the only one taking this situation seriously," she continued. "Why is that? Is everyone else just waiting for me to trip up? To see how long it takes for any Casanova to --"
She had been walking in small circles, focusing completely on the phone call and not on her surroundings. Consequently she had not noticed Frederick coming up behind her. He took her phone, calmly. "I'll take over," he said. "You sit down."
She did not know if she wanted to sit down. She would have preferred to blow off some more steam. It was unthinkable to get into some sort of physical fight over her phone, so she merely looked irritated and made sure he noticed. Then she slowly walked back to where their food was. Only because birds would otherwise eat it. Not because she allowed herself to be sent away.
She was not aware of what she was eating or if she was eating anything at all. At last she became aware of drinking some water. The grapes were now gone, but he might have eaten them before. It was all possible.
He returned.
"What did you say? I hope you told him you're going to take life seriously from now on." She wondered why it mattered. Did she care, just a bit?
"I asked him what they thought I was doing. That was a difficult question for them, as they do not have your directness. It took them some time to give a proper answer." He sat down and handed the phone back.
"And?"
"Some thought I was mad, some thought only a little bit. I told them I wasn't mad."
She raised her eyebrows in doubt. They could not have believed that. They could not even had said it. That whole conversation had not taken place like that.
"And I asked whether they thought you were easily swayed by hot men."
She gasped. "Do you think you're a hot man?" And how could he ask such a question of people convened in an utterly serious meeting? There had been an attack on his life.
"What I think is irrelevant. The question is, do you? And do they think you do?" He winked. "But after some stuttering they said you're not easily swayed."
"And you think they don't think you're mad? You did not ask about hot men. I cannot believe it. You're only saying that to wind me up."
"No. And I requested they put an end to photographing me and forwarding the photos to all and sundry, since it might give people the wrong ideas, because obviously not only are you strictly incorruptible, but should you wish to, I don't know, go shopping with me, that ought to be your private business."
"They'll think you're madder than ever."
Frederick shrugged. "Nah."
"How can I ever go back? Or is this your master plan? Keep me from going back, so we can travel around Europe in a rental car, sleep on couches and pee in dirty roadside toilets?" She looked a little desperate.
"I'm sorry your toilet was dirty."
She got up. "Excuse me." She went back to the toilet building and walked around it. There was one man on the other side. He looked up when she passed, but turned back to his phone soon enough. It was the only side of the building that offered some shadow and that could be the explanation for his being there. She came back to the front and considered checking the men's toilets, but since a bulky lorry driver was just going in, she decided against it.
The smoking couple was still leaning against their car and Frederick was eating something. She went into the women's toilets to wash her hands. Two women came in shortly after her. Their car had arrived a few minutes before, but they had first opened the boot before approaching the building. She had considered them harmless and unsuspicious, being women and middle-aged.
Maybe they were not harmless. "Excuse me," said one after a good look at her. She had first used the lavatory and then looked again. "Are you our prime minister by any chance?"
Considering that she was a prime minister, there were no colleagues she could think of who looked like her, and they spoke the same language, she probably was. "I suppose I am." Her mind raced as she tried to guess at the consequences of being found here by ordinary citizens. When she had seen the woman look, she ought to have left the building immediately, not waited. But she had not yet been ready to face Frederick again. It would not do to strangle him in a car park.
"How lovely to meet you. Isn't the weather nice here? You must be on holiday."
"I'm on my way home."
"I hope you had a lovely time."
She could mention the attack on the villa and all the subsequent phone calls, but there was a chance that she would tell this lady too much. "Yes, thank you." She shuffled towards the exit.
There were two women, however, and when one had finished talking, the other continued. "I am so pleased we have a female prime minister at last!"
"I am pleased to be the first one." Although that had never been her ambition exactly. It was more of a coincidence.
The lady patted her arm. "You're doing very well. Don't let those men tell you otherwise." They shuffled towards the exit with her.
Frederick was standing right in front of the exit. He was clearly waiting for her.
"You must be very proud of her," said the same lady.
He looked baffled.
Oh, shut up! Anna Margaret wanted to say. Just smile and nod.
"She's the first female prime minister."
"Oh. Yes." He was clueless as to how he had contributed to her election.
"How nice to have finally seen you. You must be very modest."
Anna Margaret bit her tongue.
"And behind every great woman..." nodded lady two knowingly.
It began to dawn on Frederick what they were suspecting him to be. There was a rapid succession of expressions on his face.
"We have so much coffee, you must have coffee with us," lady one said invitingly.
"That's very kind. I could do with some coffee," he replied with his most charming look.
Anna Margaret hoped he was being genuinely friendly and not trying to delay their departure because he knew she wanted to be home tonight. He was possibly seriously thrilled at the prospect of drinking coffee from plastic cups on a chequered blanket. It might be part of the good life. She tried to be equally friendly herself. It was not the fault of the two women that she was not able to enjoy herself fully.
Lady one held the cups and lady two poured the coffee. "We also have sugar and milk if you'd like," lady one said brightly. "I always take the sugar home if I order coffee or tea somewhere, in case I ever meet someone who wants it," said lady one. "But there's too much sugar in our food as it is."
"What did your father think?" lady two asked of Anna Margaret. "His cabinet was not exactly known for taking measures in favour of women. I hadn't pegged him as a supporter of equal opportunities."
"I don't think he sees me as a woman, actually," she said after having wondered how much she could say, but she could not very well lie to them and say her father was a staunch feminist. She also did not want anyone to think she was his puppet. "More as an extension of himself. He would, if he had my mobile phone number, try to tell me what to do, so that's why he doesn't have it."
"Oh, good, good, good. You can do it yourself," said lady two. "Though there's nothing wrong with asking advice now and then, I hasten to say."
"All boards and governments should have an equal number of men and women ideally," said Frederick.
"Are you angling for a biscuit with your coffee?" Anna Margaret inquired.
"There's too much sugar in biscuits."
"So you want two."
Of course the two ladies were completely enamoured of him now. He was for equal opportunities and for less sugar.
"Did I hear you say you studied at the same university as her son?" Anna Margaret asked when they drove away.
Actually she did not doubt at all. She had heard it very clearly. One of the women had mentioned her son and he had replied that he had done the same. It could of course have been a lie - she had come across people who made things up to impress others or to keep the conversation going - but she had never caught him doing so. He had also been detailed enough to confuse her.
"Yes."
"Why then, if you've apparently studied and even had professors supervise your thesis, do they always write you still hadn't passed your first year after four years?" She did not know exactly; perhaps it was two or three years, but at any rate he had either taken a long time or he had never passed it. That was what they always wrote - that he had spent his time on anything but studying.
"Because in cases such as mine, they would either make me out to be inhumanly brilliant, or they would gleefully write that I'm inhumanly stupid. Depending on their personal needs, naturally. It doesn't in fact have to do much with me at all," he said matter-of-factly.
She could imagine. "But if you've actually got as far as a thesis, why would they not write that?"
"Because they don't know any better."
She no longer knew what to think. "Why don't they?"
"I was registered to study for some sort of academic special Olympics, but I had it changed."
"And nobody knows?"
"You can't study without anybody knowing. I'm sure you can imagine how it went. Look, do I really have to explain these things to you?"
"No, I - never mind. Oh. But how did it go? How did you study?"
"Did you study? Then you'll know how one tends to study." He nearly sounded annoyed.
"I meant, how did you switch without anyone knowing? All eyes were on your nephew when he first went to university. I just don't see how it could have gone unnoticed."
"I went in the pre-internet age. My grandfather had me registered -"
"Your grandfather?" She had not realised some grandfathers might be involved in such decisions, but of course his family was not normal.
"Who was still alive at the time," he nodded. "But when I got there - at the university, I mean, I found out I could just walk into another department and then I asked to see the leading professor. My grandfather had arranged it all, but he could not actually imagine anyone not following his orders, so he did not in fact check up on me too closely to see whether I was still doing what he had ordered me to do."
"And the professor saw you immediately."
"Yes. I explained the situation and he was very helpful. I enrolled in his department."
"But how did this professor know you could do it?" Certainly they would not accept anyone?
"I suppose because nobody had yet written that I could not pass my special Olympics courses? Or maybe I sounded very intelligent. It's even possible he checked with my school, but he never told me."
"What about your grandfather?"
"He didn't find out until I didn't pass the first year of the special courses. But instead of accepting it, he reregistered me. But by then I had a good understanding with the professor and it was all sorted under the table."
"Aren't you afraid that this woman's son will ask his professor about you and find out?" What if the son said the prime minister's partner had studied there and the professor, after a description, would know who he was? It was unlikely, but stranger things had happened.
"Woman. Son. Professor. Me. You. That's really too far away to be interesting, don't you think? Besides, when I had that age I really couldn't care less about people my mother met." He paused for a second, "I still don't. I really wouldn't tell my professor that my mother met someone on a French motorway who studied with him in the previous century, because I'd have an inkling that my professor wouldn't care."
"Do you actually have a degree?"
"Oh, you kiss only people with degrees, do you?"
Anna Margaret felt slightly insulted. "No! But I meant, if they write things that aren't true, wouldn't you want to correct that?"
"Oh. I usually don't mind. Most people who think I'm stupid never get to talk to me anyway. And people who don't know whether I'm stupid until they know whether or not I have a degree are -"
"Thank, yes, I get the message," she said hurriedly. "But wasn't there a ceremony?"
"I don't like ceremonies."
That was a fair enough response. She supposed he had been important enough to arrange something other than a ceremony if he had had also managed to change his studies. "All right, so your father and grandfather were not invited and the media weren't either, but they did know, did they? Why didn't your grandfather or father have the impression corrected? I mean, part of their and your life is getting people to admire you."
Frederick looked amused. "Because it would then come out that I'd been disobedient."
"They'd rather have you look stupid than disobedient?"
He shrugged. "I suppose it was a worse blow to my grandfather's pride to have everyone find out his grandson cunningly misled him, than to have everyone think I might not be interested in academics. But that's just my guess. Maybe he wasn't very interested in academics himself either? I don't know."
"But your father? And your mother?"
"She didn't get a say in these things," he replied curtly. "It was my grandfather and then my father."
She was completely convinced he had come from a really strange family. "What sort of special courses were you registered for at first?" she asked.
"Courses with fashionable, empty names that didn't require any work. With 'international' and 'communications' in the course titles and things like that."
"Are you sure you didn't take Feminism in the 21st Century? At the picnic you spoke as if you did."
"Pretty sure. The 21st century hadn't started yet when I was a student."
"Those women probably thought you did." They had loved everything he had said. She had mostly listened, since none of it had required interference.
"No, they thought I was a natural. Or maybe that you had trained me really well."
"I don't know if I'd want to train someone," she mused.
"I'll leave my shirts on the floor then."
Anna Margaret ignored that. "They didn't know who you were."
"Yes, that was nice."
She suspected their not knowing who he was had accounted for a lot of his friendliness. He seemed to like people treating him normally. "And are you really all for equal opportunities or was that just to make friends?"
He stared at her. "Hello? What did we accomplish on the succession front in the past year?"
"But wanting women to be able to succeed to the throne is mainly selfish. It's not because you think women are disadvantaged. It's because you think you are disadvantaged."
"Well, I am. There are a lot of things I can't do. And, apparently, there are people who hate what I stand for and who try to take it out on me personally."
She had been focused on his conversation with the two women so much that she had forgotten to think about the watchers, who were supposed to protect him from people who tried to take their dislike out on him personally. "Are we going to stop for lunch? I don't think it's necessary. Do you?"
"No. We'll probably have a brief stop in two hours."
"All right. Is anyone following us?"
"Yes."
She had to look in the mirror immediately. "How do you know?"
"I recognised one. They don't have an endless supply of them, you know."
That made sense. He would have seen some at some point, especially where distance was not required. Not all days were like this one.
Louis, now that he had a proxy eye on them, did not call anymore. Anna Margaret wished no one would call. Foreign leaders began to do so, however. "You're my secretary," she said to Frederick. "Direct them to Louis. I really don't have the time to answer them all while I'm driving."
He rather enjoyed that.
Around one o'clock she stopped again. "Now tell me where they are." This was a pretty empty car park again. There was a lorry in the distance, but nothing else ahead of them.
"Quite obviously, they're right behind us."
She looked in the mirror. There was a car there indeed. "Isn't that too obvious? Do you know them?"
"Yes."
"If you know them, you can talk to them. I won't mind."
"Very kind of you. I do want to talk to them, actually. They were at the villa."
Her mouth opened. "Ooooh." In that case they might have some information about what had actually happened.
He waved and one man came up to them immediately.
"Park the other way around," said the man. "Just in case."
Anna Margaret had already given the keys to Frederick, since he would be driving next. She studied the man, who had spoken without special forms of address. He might be the one who had let her in on Friday night. Maybe. She had not paid close attention. "If you were at the villa," she said when Frederick moved the car. "You won't have to take pictures of us to check if you're shadowing the right people."
The man looked puzzled. "No, that's right, madam. We know what you look like."
"So who sent the other photos?"
"Which photos?"
"In Genoa."
"Oh, that would be guys from Rome, I guess."
"I didn't even know we had guys in Rome. Do we also have guys in France?" she asked, but he did not look as if he could help her with that. She wondered if anyone was going to send the guys in France their way to help out. This would be a perfect justification for the expense of having them, she supposed. "So what are we to do here?"
"I don't know. It was you who stopped."
"Right. I needed to -" She gestured at the little building. "Will you trust me to be safe on my own or I will I from now on always have to take one of you with me?"
"No, you can go alone. We'll keep an eye out."
She had not stopped far from the toilets and it was only a short walk. When she emerged, the three others came out of the men's side together. "And they say women always go in groups..."
"I want to run around the car park," said Frederick.
"Oh Jesus," Anna Margaret muttered when he took off his shirt.
"You don't have to come with me." He tossed his shirt onto the car.
"I'm talking about your shirt. Why do you always take your clothes off?"
"What are Michael and Max to think of that comment?"
"I don't know. They sort of live with you. They're probably used to the sight."
Michael and Max let out a snort.
"Nothing happened," Frederick called out as he sprinted away.
Anna Margaret could appreciate athletes, but there must not be any aggravating circumstances. "He's an exhibitionist," she muttered to Max and Michael who had installed themselves beside her.
"At least no one in passing cars will realise who he is," said one of the men.
"No, never. How is this possible?" She pointed at Frederick vaulting over a hedge.
"He's a blast. But once you're used to it, he's just normal."
"Normal," she repeated. "Sorry, I have a hard time believing that."
"Yes, you know, normal. Not, what's it called, regal."
"He's jumping over a hedge without his shirt on."
"Are you very prudish? We could advise him to dress up."
"It wouldn't be any more regal with a shirt."
After a few sprints, Frederick disappeared into the building to splash some water onto himself. Anna Margaret saw the other two men look closely at other cars, but the only new arrivals were families with small children. There was no danger there.
"Yes, you look good for your age," she said to Frederick when he reappeared. "Now cover up."
"Thanks, glad you like it." He grabbed his shirt. "Do you really think I look good for my age?"
"But your behaviour is bad for your age."
"Don't be silly. Would you prefer to sit next to someone in a sweaty shirt then?"
"There wouldn't be a sweaty shirt if you didn't run around the car park."
"Would you prefer to sit next to someone with excess energy then?"
There might be no winning this argument. She looked away when he winked. He would do so in front of the other men, too! One of the men walked away and Frederick leant against the car beside her.
Extremely beside her. "I hope you won't suggest we split up now there are two cars."
Her heart was beating too fast to speak at first. Having his shirt back on did not make him any less unsettling. She closed her eyes.
"She's going to faint," he said in concern, grabbing her around the waist.
"Yes," she muttered with her eyes closed. "The idea of separating, it's just too much."
"Too much of a good or too much of a bad thing?"
The other man exhaled loudly. "I'll leave you to your flirting then, shall I?"
Anna Margaret kept her eyes closed. She did not want to check how the man looked or how far he went away. She was pleasantly pinned between Frederick and the car. "Flavour of the week..." she said, trying to stay conscious and keeping her awareness on a place above her neck and not on any of the areas where their bodies touched. She must not forget he had probably done this type of flirting a hundred times before.
"Am I your flavour of the week?"
"You seem to be applying for the position." She would expect his hands to stray, but they did not. She opened her eyes.
"You still think I do this every week?"
"Now that I've seen your men simply step aside when you start, yes. Because it was your excuse that you couldn't because of them."
"They can't hear what you're saying, but they can definitely see you. They're not gone. There's not much I can do."
"And they don't have cameras?"
He looked over the car. "No."
She slid her hands around his waist, pressing her fingertips lightly but insistently into his back. "So, what is your plan, exactly?" she asked, keeping her voice low.
"I don't know. There is no plan. I can only imagine two options and they're both bad. One, I don't resign and I abuse our weekly meetings for seducing you. Two, I do resign and I never get to meet you again."
She blinked rapidly as she envisaged either option. "Hmm. Could we please meet in another room in that case? It's not really seduction-friendly."
"Seduction-friendly? I fear you know much more about these things than I do," he said, frowning. "Are you talking about the chairs?"
"Oh, don't be so modest. You managed to kiss me at the breakfast table of all places, not because I am easy, but because I was worked on by an expert." It was all his fault.
To her surprise he laughed hard.
"But option two," she continued, slightly unsettled by not knowing why he was so amused. "Why would we never meet again? And why would you want to meet again?"
"Suppose I become an untitled ordinary person, would you be allowed to meet ordinary persons?"
"Nobody forbids me anything. I could give you my key and you could simply enter my flat. Unless you came with two bodyguards. You'd have to leave them outside."
He brightened up. "Really? That sounds easy enough. Oh, but would you actually want me to meet you?"
"We could always give it a try. Imagine coming home from work to find you've cooked," she said dreamily. Her days were usually long and her meals easy. "That would be so wonderful - and so unlikely. Bang. Back to earth."
He smiled and stepped back.
"You must be the first guy who lets go when he's given some encouragement," she observed. To her surprise he blushed. It was cute and she smiled involuntarily.
(Not THE end)
Anna Margaret had been happy to see the familiar streets, even if they were now dark. It was Sunday evening. Few people were about apart from some walking their dogs. They passed a bus letting its last passenger out. It was all normal and the adventure was over. She was home safely - well, almost.
Behind them, the car with Frederick and Michael took a turn to the left. Theirs drove on. She felt the parting keenly, although they had of course already parted when they had changed cars - but one did not kiss if there were two bodyguards looking on. She was glad Frederick had not even tried, but she regretted it all the same.
And she had simply changed cars without knowing when she would see him again. He had not said. They always met on Wednesdays. Until he truly abdicated or either one of them was out of the country, that would continue. Except this Wednesday, because he had, quite contrary to his usual practice, looked up the engagements of the coming week in his phone and he turned out to be opening a school that day.
She was curious how it would be when they next met. Would he remember? Would he acknowledge what had happened during the weekend and how they had interacted? Would he receive her differently now, as a friend? Would he kiss her before they sat down?
Or would he be distant? Would she have been a mere diversion? Fun while it lasted, but back to real life now? It was difficult to predict all of a sudden. She had felt they might be friends, but France already seemed so far away.
He had her keys. She could not imagine him using them yet. There would not be any opportunity, since he was not yet free to go where he liked. She tried to understand why she had given him the keys already. Of course there were aspects she would like to explore. There was the undeniable attraction, for one, and they had got along. However, in spite of that all, she still had trouble reading him and she really did not know whether he would still seriously be considering abdication once he was back in the safety of his palace. She thought he would, but she could not know.
Max pulled up outside her parents' home at her request. She got out. "I won't be long." And she ran to the door.
Her mother opened it after having peeked through the small window to see who was at the door. "Anna! Why are you coming around so late?"
"I need my spare keys. I can't find my keys," she lied. She still had all of them except two.
"Oh, of course." Her mother hurried back into the hall. "Come in."
She did not follow. Undoubtedly she would be stalled if she did. "Thanks," she said when her mother returned with the keys, having stayed away rather longer than expected - presumably to inform her father. "I can't stay; I should go to bed."
"Your father would like to talk to you about -"
"Yes, I know. But I really don't have the time." She tried to sound regretful. "I was away for the weekend and I'll have a lot to do tomorrow. Bye, Mum!" She jogged back to the car before her father would appear in the hall. He was undoubtedly in his chair waiting for her to be brought in, or he would have come to the door.
Max drove her to her flat. "I'll need to check the street and your flat," he said. "We don't know if this failed attempt gave anyone any ideas."
"Seriously?" She got out and looked up and down the street. Two people were walking their dogs and someone else had just parked. Nothing dangerous about that. And really, if someone intended to do her harm, Max on his own could do little to help her.
She unlocked the door and they went up the stairs. Her flat was on the first floor. She shared her landing with three other flats, but no one came out. Max checked all the rooms of her flat, but she was not surprised he could not find anyone there. Why would anyone target her anyway? But of course everyone would have thought the same about the king. And her address was not all that secret.
"Thanks," she said to Max as he left.
She opened her suitcase in the corridor and took out the dirty laundry. Only then did it strike her that they had not taken Frederick's clothes out. Oh well. He was not likely to miss some underwear and a shirt. It would look rather odd if she took it, washed and folded, to the Palace next time. On top of a pile of documents.
What would he do with it? What would the staff think?
Would he even know where they kept his underwear? She contemplated the matter. Did he stand naked waiting for people to dress him up at home? No, that could not be. She had not actually seen him get dressed, but she had not been far away, and he had not asked for assistance. Which meant that he could do it himself. He might even know where to find his clothes at home.
She stuffed the clothes into the washing machine so they were out of sight and they would no longer remind her of kings looking good in their underwear.
The following morning she reached her desk an hour later than usual. Some of it was intentional, because she had tried to sleep in, but at least ten minutes were due to staff asking her questions or trying to inform her about the weekend's events, and another few from having to take another entrance due to a minor media circus outside the front doors.
George knew she would be late; he had phoned right after her alarm had gone off to ask her if she had ever arrived home. There were therefore no questions from him as to why she was late. She had been glad to hear George had safely travelled home, but since she had only just woken up, she had not asked him if he had spoken to anyone about it.
The entire morning was spent on matters regarding the attack on the villa. Talking to people, listening to people, reading things - it was difficult not to correct some of people's assumptions that she knew to be wrong. From Louis she had obtained a list of people who had been present at the crisis meetings, but it was sometimes difficult to remember who knew what.
She could not say too much and she could not say too little. The latter involved the danger of appearing incompetent and indifferent. They would say she did not care if terrorists shot at the king. They would say she did not care about bringing them to justice. At the same time, if she was too outspoken about punishing them, there was a whole contingent of others who would feel personally insulted and persecuted, and who might then act upon their feelings. She resisted the urge to want everyone with the least bit of sympathy for the attack to be wiped off the face of the earth.
Although that was exactly what some citizens wanted. She had been shown some interviews with them that had made her frown in concern. Fortunately, no supporters of the 'other side' had been found. That did not mean they did not exist - Louis had claimed some were arrested, after all - but that they had not been given a voice. And it was a blessing that the perpetrators had been Italians.
Or not. Because people were already pointing at the dangers of all the boats crossing the Mediterranean filled with migrants waiting to shoot foreign kings. It gave her a headache and she wished she had lived in a time when rows about fishing quotas had been the worst problem. If such a time had existed at all.
After lunch a delegation came to inform her that His Majesty was considering abdication. "Let him have it," she said tiredly, falling prey to a rather serious after-lunch dip. "Start the process." While they had never dealt with an abdication, less than a year ago they had had to arrange an inauguration. She was sure the planning of the public part could not be too different. And then of course after the abdication came another inauguration, with which they were already familiar.
"But -"
"I don't think it's our duty to dissuade him." Yet she felt that was exactly what they were expecting her to say. In other circumstances she might indeed have felt it necessary to try and figure out if the step was really inevitable, but not in this case. The fact that he done this first thing in the morning made her pleased. It meant that he was serious about it.
"I think, given the circumstances under which he came to his decision, it is," said one of the men. "He suffered a traumatic experience. Will he still think so a week from now?"
"I think he will, but why did you say he was merely considering it? Was that his choice of words or yours?"
"That was ours, yes. He did appear decided, but given the circumstances..."
She shook her head. "It's his life."
"I think we should allow for a cooling-off period. He should realise there's no going back."
"He'll be aware of that."
"He'll no longer be the king."
"That's the point of the abdication," she replied. "Find out what's required. You can do that without already setting things in motion. I'm sure you'll need to look up who need to be present at such an event and what needs to be done. Do that. I want a brief outline of that in two days. In the meantime you can continue to ask him. Once a day or so."
"Two days!" protested the man.
"Brief outline. It's not going to take someone two days to read through all the relevant legal articles. Or do you mean two days is not long enough for him to come to his senses?"
"That."
"Did he sound deranged?"
"No."
"In two days, before I go to South America, I'd like to know what needs to be done, who needs to do what, and where. The basics. I imagine it would be something like persons A and B sign a document in the presence of persons C and D. I do not yet need to know about the clothes, the cars, the guests and the route."
She thought back to the previous inauguration. That had gone pretty much by itself. There had been a usable roadmap from the previous time - Frederick's grandfather had died not many years before his father - and that had simply been pulled off a shelf. It was, however, a rather thick volume and browsing it for relevant passages was not something she had time for.
"I know there's the document we used last year," she went on. "But the basic idea would be different, since it's based on a funeral. That is not what I meant by a brief outline. It's about 200 pages and while I know that is in fact some people's idea of a brief outline, it's not mine."
She had made a list of things she needed to check or be on top of, but apparently so had her parents. They phoned.
"Were you with someone when you picked up your keys?" asked her mother. "I thought I could see you were not driving."
"Yes, that was the driver." She hoped they had not seen the foreign number plates on the car.
"Oh." That was a disappointment. "What about Italy? Wasn't it terrible? The terrorists got to us now and -"
"Working on that. Listen, Mum. I've got so much on my mind. You really shouldn't use this phone to ask whoever was in my car." They really did watch her too closely whenever she gave them the opportunity. Because they did not have her mobile number, they had her work number, because, or so they said, they would never be able to speak to her otherwise. She was never home, they claimed. She disagreed with that, although she did concede she was rarely available for long chats.
"Your father would like to know your official point of view about Italy."
"It's in the media. I believe Eric spoke on TV on Saturday evening." Well, she did not actually believe it, she knew it. She had even watched the recording of it. There had been nothing to add to what Eric had said and she had told him so, which had seemed to please him. "What more could Dad want?"
"Your father says you should have been on TV."
"Next time," Anna Margaret promised. She had not been at hand and there was no point - except for people who really loved to be on TV - to repeat everything Eric had said. As if the people would not realise she was repeating everything!
She returned to her list. Italy. Several items on the list had to do with that. What had been discovered by the Italians? What was going to happen to the perpetrators? Would security have to be scaled up?
And then there was South America. It did not look as if the trip was going to be cancelled and she did not see why it should be. Before she went, however, she would have to make sure she had her fingers in every pie.
Thankfully the abdication seemed to have been set in motion, albeit it hesitantly and slowly. Frederick, at least, had taken action the morning he got home. It was the other people who were trying to keep him from rushing ahead thoughtlessly and doing things he might regret.
She would not be able to evade the media forever, so when she left she made sure to leave through the front doors to answer questions. By then she knew exactly what her answers would be. The usual suspects were there. It always took too long, though. They could never get enough of asking the same questions over and over again. At long last she had to cut them off and say she was hungry.
One fellow even asked her out to dinner, but this was definitely no longer an option. Years ago she had done this sort of thing, but these days, she thought as she escaped by boarding a bus for a useless tour, it was definitely a bad idea, mixed feelings towards the king or not.
When no one got onto the bus with her, she got off two stops down the line and walked home.
Anna Margaret never checked from the street whether there were lights on in her flat, because her flat was at the back. She lived alone and she forgot to turn off a light once every three months or thereabouts. It did not strike her as odd that she could see a light behind the frosted glass panel of her front door; she must have accidentally left a light on before she left, which would cost money but it was otherwise no big deal. The services had checked out her street during the past week and noticed nothing suspicious. She had been informed of that. It therefore did not even cross her mind that it could be anything but a forgotten lamp.
There was something odd, however, when she opened her door. There was a smell that definitely had not been there when she left, yet she had been gone to South America for a few days and any smells ought to have disappeared by now.
She was tired from the flight and dropped her suitcase in the hall. Then she kicked off her shoes, hung up her coat - and failed, but she left it lying on the floor. The smell was still there, but she did not immediately investigate. She must have left a window open and the neighbours' cooking smells were wafting in.
First she went to the bathroom and replaced her clothes with pyjamas and a bathrobe. It was imperative to do that first. After she had eaten something she might be too tired to change. Then she walked slowly to her living room and kitchen, glancing at her suitcase and wondering when she would feel up to unpacking it. Not any time soon, she suspected. When she had not been kept busy by her hosts in South America, she had been on the phone or emailing back home. She had not got as much rest as she had needed.
Stepping through the door, she halted again almost immediately. From there she could see part of the kitchen and it was a mess. There also seemed to be someone in it. She peered around the corner to see if it was not a burglar.
"Frederick?" she cried.
She had not seen or spoken to him since France. The best she had been able to do was to look up pictures of him opening the new wing of that school. He had continued with his own activities, but he had not held any interviews, except that he appeared to have told a girl at the school that he was fine. That, for lack of any other information directly from him, had been repeated and analysed in the media until every possible meaning had been inferred.
"I heard you come in," he said matter-of-factly. "I wondered when you'd find me."
"What are you doing?" She observed the worktops. Every pan she owned was on them, as well as several egg shells, vegetable waste, knives, spatulas, spoons, cups, and something was even dripping onto the floor.
"Cooking. I'm glad you weren't delayed." He allowed himself to smile a bit. "It's almost done."
"How did you escape?" She glanced around, but there did not seem to be anyone else with him.
"Oh, I simply walked out."
"Why?" She had not missed the abdication already, had she?
"I thought you might be hungry." Because she was still staring at him as if he was a strange apparition, he dropped the wooden spoon he was holding onto an untidy pile of pans and stepped towards her. "I hope you are."
Well, perhaps not so much for a meal. Anna Margaret fell into his arms. He was surprisingly accommodating. "I don't know," she mumbled between kisses. Any hunger she might have felt had been replaced by this other sensation.
She found out that he had not really escaped, but that the compromise was that a car would pick him up at ten. Until then they could do as they liked. They had even eaten, but she could not tell if she had actually tasted the food. It must have been all right, but her mind had been on other things.
It still was. Snogging and more snogging on the couch. She would not have minded going further, but although he had taken the initiative to come here, it had soon become clear that he would not take the initiative to go further any time soon. There were sensible arguments in favour of that, certainly, and she had refrained from running off to the bedroom. This time. She supposed the fact that someone was going to pick him up was not helping either. It seemed he could live with people knowing he had had dinner here, but not yet live with people suspecting something more.
Which might not have anything to do with not being attracted to her enough. She watched as he pulled on his jacket at 21:58. "Are we now involved?" she asked. It was like being eighteen again. She had been wondering for half an hour at least, but she had not been sure if someone her age was supposed to know.
He focused on his zipper and it took a few moments before he answered. "I suppose, but only secretly."
"Thanks for letting me in on the secret. I wasn't sure how you felt." This was probably not the wisest conversation to have so shortly before his car would arrive. It might take long. Once one question had been asked, others might follow.
"I wasn't sure about you either."
"It would not be clever if I asked you to stay, would it?" But she needed to let him know he was at least welcome.
"Do you think I don't want to?"
She shrugged.
"I didn't come prepared."
She shrugged again.
"People might notice."
She shrugged.
"No, you'd care about that," he decided. "Once you've got a clear head." He opened the door and gave her a kiss. "I do want to stay, some time."
"But you're hurrying out of here now so it won't be today?"
He smiled and stepped out. Anna Margaret followed as far as the threshold. She froze when she saw her neighbour staring at them interestedly. He was a secretary of state and although his portfolio was agriculture, and therefore he could not possibly have been present at the crisis meetings of a week ago where photos had been shown, she was sure the king had met with all the secretaries of state and ministers a few months ago.
That meant there was a possibility of recognition, even if Frederick was wearing jeans - he had dressed up for this date. She crossed her fingers behind her back. Patrick was only a few years younger; he might actually be observant and notice this was the man he had met a few months ago.
Frederick gave the man a polite nod and bounded down the stairs. She watched him disappear and quickly retired into her flat.
They were not entirely in the same boat privacy-wise, Patrick and she, because nobody could care less what he did in his spare time as long as it was sort of 'normal'. She got a lot more exposure and that nobody had cared until now was because she had never done much until now. He might actually tell someone she had had a visitor, although she had always believed these flats had been made available to them partly to reduce that risk.
Of course she had had visitors before, but they had been in groups and she had never said goodbye to anyone in her pyjamas.
Perhaps she was worrying too much.
Frederick had been so right, though. If he had been caught leaving in the morning she would have worried even more.
The next morning there was no one who asked her about her visitor. Patrick did not seem to have talked, or at least not to people she encountered. She hoped he was decent enough not to talk at all. Of course he might ask her something at the next courtyard party, but she would be able to handle that. Summer was coming. The next barbecue might be soon. They had them sometimes, with as many residents of the building as wanted to come. It was always an excellent occasion to find out more about people.
Work was the same as before she had left. Everything had been communicated to her across the Atlantic, so there was relatively little news, she thought at first. The only things people had not informed her about had to do with the king, but he had told her some the night before.
Except that her meeting with him had been cancelled. She wondered if he even knew. Or if he was as disappointed as she was. It should have been the day before, but she was not back yet then, and now it would only be next week.
Then, a surprising new thing was that he had flown to Italy in her absence to speak with the men who had been arrested over the attack.
"What?" she cried. "Why wasn't I told?" He had been at her flat! And he had not said a word about it!
"Because we've only just heard about the trip. We're only just processing the findings," said Eric apologetically. "Which is why we hadn't informed you yet. I'm informing you now."
"There were findings?" She tried to think logically. There was no way she could have pretended she did not know anything if Frederick had told her something last night. She hoped that was why he had not told her. "There were things they told him that they hadn't told the authorities?"
"Exactly."
She was even more stunned now. "I need to speak to him, but our meeting was cancelled."
"Yes, he's speaking to us."
"Why not to me?" He could have told her today, at the same time, yet he had cancelled their meeting. Was he afraid of her reaction? He would have to be even more afraid now. This was important!
"I don't think he'd have any objections to your being there," Eric said cautiously. "But I was told you are meeting the crown princess at that time at her request and as such you were unavailable. I'll fill you in later."
She did not want to press too hard. It might look as if she really wanted to see the king. Why had he gone to Italy and had he really discovered something? And why had he not told her immediately? She could understand, however, that he had not wanted to place her in an awkward position and she clung to that explanation for the time being.
That, and he avoided possible confrontations by simply not telling anyone he was about to do something of which they disapproved. Perhaps he thought they would dissuade him. When he did not tell them until afterwards, there was very little they could do. Just like his studies, she thought. But who had been there to dissuade him, though? She had been away.
That day she was indeed, unexpectedly, seeing the princess who was due to become the queen hopefully soon. The last time - and perhaps the only time - they had spoken, was over the phone from France. Anna Margaret admitted to being a little more nervous about the conversation because she was now secretly involved with the brother.
There was also the fact that the princess would be nothing like her brother - she would actually have to mind her words and make sure she was extremely polite - and very controlling.
It was unclear where this desire to meet her came from all of a sudden, unless the princess was already taking over the weekly meetings. Frederick could not have talked - he had not said so. On the other hand, it had been days since they had returned from Italy, so it would have given anyone enough time to probe, someone close to him especially. Perhaps it was simply to do with the abdication.
The request had come in early that morning. It was in fact more of an order, as if the princess had known she was available. Of course, if she knew about the weekly meetings with Frederick, she would certainly know that time slot was free for the taking - certainly with a brother who was not very strong.
Surprisingly they were not meeting at either of their offices, but at an exclusive and overpriced lunchroom. It was within walking distance of her office, so she left a little before the appointed time. It was long before people would actually have lunch, so its top floor was still closed. It opened when it got busy, or if princesses requested a table there. One of the waitresses saw her and immediately led her upstairs.
There, it was quiet. Two bodyguards were having coffee near the stairs, but the princess had chosen a table near the back.
"I'm glad you could meet me, Madam Prime Minister," the princess said as she extended a cool hand.
"Your Royal Highness," Anna Margaret acknowledged. She passed her order of coffee to the waitress.
"We'll be meeting much more often in the future, I understand, if my brother has his way. I didn't think it was wise to meet professionally until everything has been sorted out. There's a chance, of course, that he's simply confused."
There were a lot of people who thought he was simply confused, traumatised or in need of psychological help. Anna Margaret did not respond. The princess was about ten years older and she knew her brother much better. At least, she had known him for far longer. She might not accept Anna Margaret's opinion that none of these things applied to him: he knew he wanted out.
"I have tried to speak to him about Italy," the princess continued, but she shook her head. "I'm not getting much out of him, as if a lot happened that he doesn't want to tell me about. But what is pretty clear is that this time he seems absolutely certain he wants to give up. He never wanted the position in the first place, you see, so that in itself does not surprise me. What does surprise me is that he sometimes smiles."
"He does not usually smile then?"
"He smiles as if something good is going to happen afterwards."
"He will have much more freedom?" Anna Margaret guessed.
"No. That was already the case the previous ten times he mentioned giving up. There's an added dimension now. Something even better." The princess held her gaze.
She was glad the waitress brought her coffee and an elegant étagère with pastries. It hopefully got her out of reacting. Something even better. She would not speculate on that out loud, even if she could make a guess.
"You will have spoken to him about the abdication," his sister continued.
"I was in South America." And, she supposed, Frederick had been to Italy for a short while. Would his sister know? She would not mind hearing if he had managed to do this against his sister's wishes.
That seemed to make little impression. "Not for long. What did he tell you? You phoned me about it, remember, so he mentioned the subject to you some time ago already."
That was right.
"So in the middle of escaping an attack on his life, he phones you tell you that you must phone me to say he wants to abdicate? I don't know if that really makes any sense. Why involve you? He managed to tell me directly all other times."
Anna Margaret squirmed. She suspected his sister was on to something.
"What you tell me will not go any further," said the princess. "I should like to have the true sequence of events. I'm not likely to take it to the press."
She contemplated one of the pastries. Chances were it would make her fatter and then she would have to run again. She had done practically nothing lately. But it was also likely to be extremely delicious. She transferred it onto her plate. "I..." she began and decided she had best stick to as much of the truth as would be wise. "I had flown to Italy on that Friday to hear from His Majesty whether there was any truth in those rumours."
"On Friday. The attack happened on Saturday."
"Yes."
"When did you see him? Did he allow you to see him?"
"On Friday night, but he invited me for a run the next morning." She looked at the other woman cautiously. This was the truth, but would she believe it? Did she know her brother invited women to run with him? Would she say he always did, or would she say he never did?
The princess seemed not to care about the run. "Did you stay at our villa?"
"No." Our villa. Interesting.
"And you came back in the morning and then what..."
It was best to summarise. "We ran and then there were gunshots when we were at breakfast."
"You were there," the princess said almost accusingly.
"Yes, I was there."
"I take it you and he got away."
"Yes, together."
"Were you taken to Rome?"
Anna Margaret pursed her lips. "Er, no. That is why it wasn't revealed that I was there. He...er...refused to go to Rome and he told me that I either I was to go with him or he would escape on his own."
The princess, who had been in the process of lifting up a pastry, froze. "He...what?" The pastry dropped onto the table.
"He did not want to go to Rome."
"Why not?"
"The freedom."
"And you?"
"It was not about me. I could have gone to Rome, but then what? He didn't want to come."
"Surely he had no say in the matter," his sister said incredulously.
It was now Anna Margaret's turn to be incredulous. "No say? A grown man? Was I to tie him up until the cars arrived?"
"Surely he would have -"
"Surely he threatened to run away. You will see why I had little choice. Or rather, why at the time I felt as though I had little choice. I was rather tired from the run and he would have been able to leave me behind without any trouble. And then what? I thought he didn't have enough practical knowledge to get anywhere safely." Surprisingly it was a great comfort to be able to tell someone about it. She could even take a bite of her pastry. It was always good to render oneself blameless in retrospect.
"And you did not go to Rome either?"
"No. We took a bus."
"A bus."
"Public transport," Anna Margaret could not resist explaining.
"Why on earth would he want to use public transport?"
"My guess is because he'd never done it before."
"Midlife crisis," muttered the princess. "Did you take the bus home?"
Occasionally one could feel superior to Princess Isabelle. "Buses run on fixed routes that are usually short. They certainly aren't long enough to cover the entire trip home, although my former colleagues and I did try to promote long-distance and cross-border bus lines, but they're not public transport."
The princess looked as if all travel by bus was undesirable transport, public or not. "Which means?"
Another summary was in order. "We got off the bus, rented a car and drove to France."
The princess narrowed her eyes. "Ah, that explained why the photo looked like Genoa." Evidently she had been shopping there as well.
"It was Genoa," Anna Margaret affirmed.
"And it was you in the photo." The princess took her phone out of her handbag and looked it up. "I see it now. So why did you really fly to Italy?"
"To ask him about those rumours."
"Were you jealous?"
"Of what exactly should I be jealous? I was annoyed that people were giving me trouble for something he may or may not have done, but that he was completely indifferent and silent about anyway."
"And he? The prime minister flies over to bother him about stupid rumours and he invites her for a run?"
Anna Margaret shrugged. "He said I could lose some weight."
"There are a lot of people who should really lose some weight and he would never invite them at all."
"Then I don't know." She had not asked him again, afraid that he would indeed bring up her weight again, even though he had since then not mentioned it.
"What did he have to say about those rumours anyway?"
"He said they weren't true."
"Of course they weren't. You didn't have to fly all the way to Italy to find that out. Common sense could have told you. Or anyone in our family. We could all have told you he doesn't do these things. Did you want to see him personally? Privately?"
"I wanted to hear his version. I suggested paternity tests to him." She wondered if the princess belonged to the advisers who had not thought those necessary.
"And then suddenly you became the best of friends?" the princess inquired in a sarcastic tone.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Anna Margaret wondered as innocently as she could.
"Oh, don't play the fool. You have some sort of rapport, or he wouldn't have asked you to phone me."
It was still unclear what his sister understood by a rapport. Anna Margaret was not keen on making her very much wiser if she could avoid it. "Not immediately."
"But you did later. Aha. Of course, he didn't return until Sunday. You spent the night somewhere. I am beginning to see why there was so little information about this trip. The things you've discussed and done are quite beyond the imagination."
Anna Margaret decided she wanted another cake. She took her time choosing one, avoiding the inquisitive gaze of the princess. She had no idea whether it was wise to say nothing had happened. The kiss had. Perhaps that was enough. "You've just said he doesn't do these things, so why do you assume he did them now?"
"Well, that is exactly my problem."
Anna Margaret could only look blank. There were worse problems in the world, she would think. And what was this problem exactly?
"Are you free this evening? We're having a barbecue tonight. It would be an excellent occasion to practise your poker face."
"My poker face?" Anna Margaret did not know why she would need that. She certainly did not have it now.
"We start at six."
That was definitely a similarity between Frederick and his sister. They both started at six and expected her to attend. "Will he be there?"
"Probably."
She still did not know why she would need her poker face and why she was invited at all.
When she returned from the brunch, Eric was out, but he had left a time when he would be able to see her. She waited for that impatiently.
"Sorry," he said. "I thought you'd like to be there, but the princess decides, it seems, and she had first dibs on you."
Maybe, like her, Frederick had not wanted to appear too eager to see her and he had yielded too easily. But still, his sister seemed to have some power.
He continued. "So, it appears they were nothing but common robbers."
"Seriously?" Had anyone even considered that angle? "That's what they told him?" And he had believed them?
"Yes."
"And does that fit the facts?" As she spoke, she tried to see if it fit.
"That is still being investigated. Including why shortly afterwards someone posted on Twitter that the king was dead. That's a bit that doesn't quite fit a robbery scenario."
"They could have thought that such a scenario would give them a lower sentence than a terrorist plot."
"Undoubtedly."
"But why wait until Frederick spoke to them?"
"It's quite possible that they had already said this, but that we were simply not told, or that it wasn't taken seriously enough."
"Are there any facts that support this scenario, though?"
Eric checked his notes. "Two of them were suspected of another robbery, also a large villa. There has been a number of thefts from large houses in the past year. Furthermore, their car contained that sort of equipment and very few weapons were found."
"There's no reason why they couldn't do both - no reason why they couldn't branch out."
"No," he agreed.
"And a lot could be wishful thinking on the king's part." She thought she should refer to him less personally now, although she was not sure Eric had noticed.
"Yes, that too. It's always nicer to think it was your possessions they wanted and not your life." He paused. "It didn't seem to affect his decision to abdicate."
So the news had spread. She was not surprised. Frederick might even have told him himself.
"How lovely to see you," the princess greeted her when she was taken to the garden by a member of the staff.
"I came straight from my office," Anna Margaret said. "I hope I'm not too late." As far as she could see there was nothing on the barbecues yet and two men in catering uniforms were still getting them going.
"Oh no, not at all. Not everyone is here yet. I try to space them out a little so I can welcome them all individually."
Of course. She did not like, however, that her parents appeared to be among those guests. Her parents and her new secret boyfriend. Great. Assuming he was really going to be here, of course, but why else would she need a poker face? She was too tired to play games, yet the princess seemed to have got some game going on.
"Yes," said the princess, following her eyes. "You will know some people."
A waitress circulated to provide everyone with their first drink. Anna Margaret took the first glass that was available. It proved to be red wine. She could handle that; she had come on foot and planned to leave the same way. Rather than making a selection from among the drinks on the tray, she had been scanning the other guests for familiar faces. He was not yet there, as far as she could tell. The fact that so many others were made her wonder if she had been a last-minute addition. This could not possibly have been a last-minute event, unless so many people were willing to alter their plans at the last moment because a princess invited them.
She decided that perhaps there were.
"My brother is not yet back. I sent him back inside to change, because some ladies were wondering why I had invited the tennis instructor."
Anna Margaret looked at her in surprise, although she did not know what surprised her most: the fact that he allowed himself to be sent inside, or that he had been mistaken for a tennis instructor. Or perhaps the fact that the princess might have been humorous.
"You would allow it," said his sister a little questioningly.
"Yes, probably."
"Oh my god," said the princess. "I was hoping a woman would at least put an end to that!"
"I'd pick my battles."
Princess Isabelle excused herself to receive some new arrivals.
Anna Margaret walked on to greet Louis and his wife Fabienne, who were standing nearest to her. Her parents could wait, especially her father. She could tell Louis had gone home to change before coming here and Fabienne had probably booked an emergency appointment at the hairdresser's.
"Very nice, this saves me some cooking," she said to them. "I hadn't been here in the garden before, had you?" She looked around. The garden was surrounded by a high wall, hiding it from the rest of the town. Beyond the wall might be other official buildings. No high ones, at any rate. The garden was divided into a few sections by high hedges. She supposed one also hid a tennis court.
"No, we're here for the first time as well," said Fabienne. "Out here for a barbecue, that is."
She looked at the barbecues, which had now been left alone by the staff. "Do you think we'll be allowed to do it ourselves?" Otherwise it was not really a barbecue, was it? It would then simply amount to eating barbecued food.
"I'll let some man do it if Louis won't. They tend to like it."
"I don't find it particularly riveting either, but I wondered." She had also wondered how long it would take for her parents to come in her direction. As it turned out, not very long. She kissed them on the cheek.
"I didn't know you were invited," said her father. "I hope you didn't invite yourself."
"It's not as if I have a long history of doing that."
"I didn't know you were personally acquainted with Princess Isabelle."
"I am personally and impersonally acquainted with a lot of people. I can't keep track of them all." She took a sip of her red wine. Hopefully it would help her sleep tonight. She was still exhausted from her trip to South America and perhaps it would have been better simply to have gone home, but one did not turn a princess down. "But since I most often get invited by people who don't know me personally at all, I say it's a moot point."
"You never said where you'd gone on holiday," said her father.
"Didn't I? Oh, yes. Maybe I didn't."
Louis had walked away with Princess Isabelle's husband and Anna Margaret's father had decided that His Majesty was a better source of information about anything at all than his own daughter who did not seem inclined to tell him anything spontaneously. Or perhaps the king simply needed to be greeted as soon as he arrived. She noticed he had barely set two steps outside when her father made a beeline for him. It was so utterly embarrassing that she downed the remainder of her wine in one gulp.
She turned away on purpose, though not before noticing that Frederick looked pretty chagrined. That was understandable if his sister had sent him inside to change his clothes. A suit and tie for a barbecue? She would personally not think it necessary, but all the men wore it and even Isabelle's sons were dressed like that. Poor children, she thought, to have to spend a few hours among uninteresting adults, although they were old enough to behave themselves. The eldest were already in their twenties. Isabelle had started young and it might be a source of vexation to her that her brother had not. Even her children might marry sooner than Frederick.
Anna Margaret did not have to wonder whom she would speak to next. She had gravitated towards the salad bar - trays with salads that were still covered - when a woman who was also inspecting the food addressed her.
"Isn't it lovely weather for a barbecue?"
"It certainly is," Anna Margaret agreed.
"Did you leave work early? My name is Emma, by the way."
Anna Margaret shook her hand and introduced herself, although she was not sure it was necessary to say who she was. "Did you notice I'm still in my office clothes?" she asked wryly. She seemed to be the only woman who was not in a dress or skirt.
"There's nothing wrong with them," Emma hastened to say. "But yes, I did. I'd been wondering if this summer dress was good enough. I'm afraid I've been comparing myself to what other people are wearing."
She smiled. "I usually wear trousers to work, but I didn't know what would be a worse offence: coming like this or being late because I'd first gone home to change. But Her Royal Highness didn't send me back inside, so I suppose I'm all right."
"I think," Emma said slowly, looking around. "This is pretty much it. I think it would get noticed if you arrived very much later. She told me it would be a small party. Any more people and it would be big. By my standards, anyway."
"How are you acquainted?" Anna Margaret assumed that this was her first time attending such an event.
"I'm a musician. I sometimes perform here, but today I can just eat. I've just never performed at barbecues before, so I have no idea what these people wear to a barbecue."
"I'm not one of these people," Anna Margaret whispered. "Although my parents are here, but that is probably because my father was in the same line of business. I don't really know what they're doing here." She had walked slowly to the drinks table and picked up a glass of orange juice, setting down her empty wine glass. "Or what I am doing here, for that matter. I met the princess exactly once and that was this morning."
Emma looked relieved to hear it. "Are you alone? I brought my boyfriend, but he's found some old lady to talk to."
"Yes, I came straight from work."
One of the catering men walked around to announce that the barbecues were ready and everyone was free to prepare their own meat. This broke up most conversations and people mingled to choose what they might like to eat.
Anna Margaret tried to catch a glimpse of Frederick, but he was not the only one wearing a dark suit. At last she spotted him by the farthest barbecue with her father talking to him again. He looked like a statue and moved like a robot, if he moved at all. She wondered how anyone could think how such a stiff man could ever have seduced three women. He moved particularly robotically in his suit. She was almost tempted to coax some emotion out of him. What was wrong?
She moved up behind them with her orange juice, trying to hear what was being said. Her father looked at her, but Frederick thoughtfully poked some sausages.
"I want to keep an eye on my meat," she said with a saucy smile. She was not exceptionally hungry and had not picked anything out herself yet.
"It will be in good hands until you can have it," said Frederick stiffly.
"Not too long, I hope," she said.
"Anna, really," said her father, looking shocked at her impertinence. He probably thought she should bring her own meat to the barbecue, rather than commandeer someone else's. Especially if that someone was the king.
"I haven't had any sausages in years," Frederick said gloomily, looking at what he was poking. "I wonder if I even like them."
"Just give it a try. I find they grow on you." She could see her father really was not getting why the king had loaded four sausages onto the barbecue if he was not going to eat any, because he looked at them in confusion. "Dad, why don't you get yourself a drink? I'll look after your meat for you."
"You?" He sounded incredulous, but he gave in when he saw her look. "I'll get a drink. Your Majesty, is there anything I might bring you?"
There was a slight hesitation. "No."
"Did you actually notice what you put on your plate?" she asked Frederick when her father had walked away.
"No."
"Did your pet goldfish die?"
"No."
"Are you annoyed because our meeting was cancelled?"
"In part."
"Are you upset because you had to change your clothes?"
"In part."
"It's warm. Take off your jacket, I'll take off my jacket and I'll hang them over a chair."
"My sister..." he began.
"Your sister," said Anna Margaret, pricking the barbecue fork a little too viciously into a sausage she wanted to turn over. "If your sister says anything about that, I'm going to take you behind the hedge and do something to you she's not going to like."
He took off his jacket. She took off her jacket as well and walked to the tables and chairs, hanging them both over an unoccupied chair. Princess Isabelle clearly pulled the strings here. Not only her well-behaved husband and children's, but also her brother's. Of course it was her home, but her brother was not her property. It was not that she did not like Isabelle - she had been rather friendly - but it was Frederick who should show some spine and she would gladly help him with that. It seemed she had gone from being the prey to being the hunter, but if they alternated that was not a big deal.
Emma and a man brought some food over, since their barbecue still had the most room. Apparently Frederick had been a forbidding figure, but less so now that he had removed his jacket. Anna Margaret was introduced to Emma's boyfriend, Daniel, but she could see they had no clue what to do about the king, who was studiously inspecting one sausage after the other. She supposed any further introductions fell to her now.
If Emma was good enough to have played for the princess, she had very likely met other well-known people as well and she had certainly not appeared awkward talking to a prime minister. Meeting a king might not be too great a step up from there. Anna Margaret tried out a few introductions in her head, but she had to choose one fast or it would be odd.
"This is the brother of your hostess." She thought that might not be too daunting a description for either side.
Frederick exerted himself to speak. "That describes exactly in which capacity I'm here."
Anna Margaret was pleased to have hit the mark. "I thought you were here to eat. Now, this is Emma and Daniel."
He shook their hands. "I'm not sure I'm here to eat. Do you see my mother and my aunt over there? They have not bothered to get anything to eat for themselves, but just when I've done all the hard work and will be settling down with my plate, they'll be homing in on me and scooping the plate out of my hands before I can take a bite. Either that or they will call out across the terrace to ask me when their meat is ready."
"Either that or you could just stop being a doormat," was Anna Margaret's advice.
"I didn't say I always give them my food," he protested.
"No, you didn't, but you do apparently always give them the space to try and commandeer your food." And, apparently, he barbecued extra sausages for them as a precaution. Why else could he have four?
"I don't give them the space, I see the signs and know what they're going to do."
To illustrate his words, one of the elderly ladies yelled, "Freddie?"
Freddie? Anna Margaret mouthed at him. Freddie? He gave her an apologetic shrug in return that infuriated her. "Are you going to let them take your food?"
She would almost tell him what to do. However, there was some danger in becoming the one making up his mind for him instead of his family - it would still not be him doing it. She had not felt this as strongly in Italy or France. Perhaps it was only when he was the king.
"I'll just go and see what they want," he said, perhaps before she would go and ask them what they wanted.
Anna Margaret glared at his back. Of course they would not be so secretly involved any more if she spoke to the old ladies and gave them a piece of her mind. She disliked not being able to say anything to them, however.
"I first thought he was very arrogant," Emma confessed. "But all the other barbecues are full and we had no choice but to check here. I think he might be all right. He seems quite...tame."
She contemplated answering that, but she did not want to give too much away. "I don't think he's unapproachable, no."
"Don't we have to speak to him in a special way?"
"Intelligently would be nice, I suppose."
"We are usually briefed on how to address people if we perform," said Daniel, who was a little confused.
"I've had that briefing once, so I know what you mean. But," she lowered her voice, seeing him turn back, "I think he likes it better if you're less formal, but his sister might not."
"I told them it was your right-wing politics," said the king when he returned, "that made you prejudiced against doling out sausages to the helpless."
"Right-wing?" she exclaimed. "I call that right of the centre." Tame? Not really. There were some claws there. It pleased her, even though he should really apply those claws to the older women. Who were not helpless by any definition, she was sure.
"You don't know what I vote," he pointed out. "You don't know what the old ladies vote. We might all be right of the centre."
"No, but - urgh." She suddenly felt rather sick. She wanted to sit down, but there was no chair nearby. The ground would have to do. "Did you tell them I forbade you?"
"Are you all right?" asked Frederick, who could evidently be distracted from his sausages if something was interesting enough.
"No. Must be the jetlag."
Emma took her around the hedge. "It would be a crime to vomit on this lawn, but if you must, better do it behind the hedge."
Anna Margaret choked back a laugh. The lawn looked perfect indeed. Too perfect to spoil. "I think - I don't know, a bucket or a bag?"
"I'll look for one."
She lay down on the grass as Emma went away and Frederick peered around the hedge.
"Are you sick?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Had you eaten something already?"
"I had some wine, but that wasn't it. It's probably the jetlag and not enough food."
Emma returned with a cardboard box. Amazingly an unused cardboard box had been present at a royal barbecue, but it came in useful.
"Thanks." It was not bad enough yet, so she put the box beside her. "I'll be all right. I'm sure it will pass."
"Should I get you a chair?"
"No, I'm fine."
Frederick returned to the barbecue for a moment and then came back. Without sausages. "I'll take you inside to a quiet spot."
"Do you have your sister's permission?" She touched a nerve, she saw.
"I had my reasons for not opposing the meeting switch," he said curtly.
"I thought as much. But she still decides too much for you."
He led her inside past the other side of the hedge, so that few people would see it. Then, through a few corridors and doors, he showed her into a bedroom. She had not objected at any point, because she knew she would throw up some time. It was best to do it out of sight.
"Here," he said.
Anna Margaret responded by vomiting, half over her clothes, half over the floor. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't take that as an order. It just happened."
"It's all right." He set her on the edge of the bed and undid her buttons. He disappeared with her clothes and returned with a bucket and a towel.
Anna Margaret hung over the bucket and did not pay attention to what else he was doing. She sat up when he handed her a glass of water and let herself be dressed in some shirt.
"I'll be back later," he said. "Lie down."
The next time she woke, the alarm clock said 2:42 and she stumbled out of bed to find a bathroom. Fortunately someone with foresight had left the bathroom door open and the faint light coming in from the window showed her all she needed to see.
Only when she got back did she notice there was someone in the bed with her. She guessed it was Frederick, since he would not have left her in someone else's bed. She was too sleepy to mind. He gave her a questioning rub and she gave him a rub back, not inclined to speak in the middle of the night. She left her hand in his, to indicate she did not mind being there.
She fell asleep after wondering why he had taken her to his own room and why she had not realised that this was in fact his own room. As far as she recalled it was bare and devoid of personal touches, but she had been focused on her stomach too much to wonder where he had taken her.
In the morning she was shocked to see 11:12 on the clock. There was no one with her anymore. Frederick had left without waking her. Evidently she had needed the sleep. But where would people think she was? They might think she had gone missing.
Where was her phone? She swung her legs out of bed, pleased to note only a small degree of queasiness now. But her clothes were gone. She remembered vomiting on them and Frederick taking them away. But where to?
She peered around in the room, but it was still as bare as the night before. The spot where she had vomited was clean. At any rate she could not see where it had been. She now spotted closets and a look in them revealed they held clothes. He must have taken a t-shirt from there, because she was now wearing one.
Her clothes were not in the bathroom either. She looked around for a bit and rinsed her mouth with toothpaste. Then she went on to the other rooms. Surely he did not think she would leave in her underwear? Two other rooms were practically empty. Then she found a sort of laundry room. It held a washing machine and a dryer, at any rate. There were things on top of the dryer and she checked them. Yes, some sports clothes, her clothes and two towels. That was nice, although the fact that he had a washing machine and knew how to use it was mind-boggling.
She returned to the bathroom and contemplated taking a shower. Then she remembered her phone and needing to report sick. Where had he left it? It had been in a pocket of her jacket, but that had been hanging over a chair when she had been taken inside.
She walked to a window to see if she could see the terrace. No. She could not see if her jacket was still outside. There was also no landline in any of the rooms on this floor. But then, if she had been reported missing, another half hour would not matter at this time of the day. She would rather shower first and get dressed, than go downstairs in her underwear. Who knew who might be there. There had to be staff down there, because there was no one up here.
Washed and dressed, she descended the stairs with extreme caution. This was not simply the Palace, this was the king's private apartment. Well, she guessed it was anyway. She practised what she would say if she ran into someone. Hello. Without any explanations. Perhaps she could also ask for food, depending on how friendly she was being treated.
Downstairs, however, there was no one and looking into the kitchen made her realise she was starving. She had not had a proper meal since yesterday's brunch. Make that yesterday's breakfast, since the brunch could not exactly count as a proper meal.
Her jacket turned out to be in the kitchen, slung over a chair, the phone on the table - with a note. Called George and said you were ill, x F.
She sat down and read it again. He had called George. What had he said? Had he said who he was? He had called George! Frederick had called to say she was ill.
She called George too.
"Is that you?" George asked warily.
"Yes, it's me. I've just got up." She hoped he would now say he had already been called that morning, and by whom.
"Someone phoned me. I didn't know what to do. I was hoping it was a genuine call this morning." He sounded relieved. "And not someone who'd kidnapped you. He was using your phone and said he would not take a picture of you sleeping, because you wouldn't want that."
"Quite right! The places such a picture could go! I was really asleep. I've only just found out that he called you." And she guessed from what George had said that Frederick had not identified himself. What had George been thinking about that, a strange man reporting the prime minister ill? But she did not dare to ask. "I'll just have something to eat and then I'll come to the office."
"How long will that take?"
She looked at the kitchen cupboards. There might not be anything in there. If they were just for show, she would have to get some food elsewhere. She had best not give George too early a time or he would fret. "In an hour."
Then she got up and examined the fridge. Surprisingly it contained food.
Just when she had finished a quick lunch, there were sounds outside the kitchen. She stepped out. Frederick was just coming into the hall. She smiled at him, even though he was in a suit and his hair combed in that completely old-fashioned way.
"Hi," he said, loosening his tie. "I had to go somewhere and now I have to be somewhere else in an hour, but fortunately it's just across the courtyard. I'm going to eat something."
"You have food in your kitchen." She was still in awe. Would he also know what to do with it? There was no one here to do it for him.
"Yes."
"Do you go shopping?"
"Sort of. I have it delivered. How are you feeling?"
"I feel better. I just woke up. Before dressing and showering. You washed my clothes." She did not know what was more unbelievable, that he had washed her clothes or that he bought his own food. It was probably too silly to say she wanted him for it. The hair could be messed up. It did not hold her back.
"I put it in the washing machine," he corrected. He took her back into the kitchen.
"Yes, but..." Anna Margaret leant against the kitchen table, but he was still holding her arm. She might otherwise have fallen backwards. "It's so..."
He raised his eyebrows. "...easy?"
"I didn't know you'd live normally."
"I didn't always live normally. You should see the apartments across the courtyard. I spent years arguing my way out," he said as she wrapped her arms around him. "I have a meeting about my abdication speech in less than an hour."
She could tell he was worried about that in some way and not because he might not have time to do something else with her. He certainly did not seem inclined to cuddle, although he was not pushing her away. "What's the problem?"
"How do I not come across as a failure? I'm not writing the speech, mind you, but I just can't imagine they could make anything of it."
"Just...wait. Who knows, they might have written something really good. Why don't you write it yourself?"
He smiled in a self-deprecating manner. "It would be rather short if I did. See, I would leave out all the lines about how grateful I was to have been able to serve my people. I just know there will be some of that in there, but I don't know if I could read that out loud without feeling an utter fraud. I don't feel the least bit grateful."
She smiled. "You'd prefer something like: I'm fed up. My sister's taking over. Bye?"
"Yes." He removed her arms from around his waist and gently set her down in a chair. "I need to make some lunch. But you'll understand that I won't be able to say anything like that. I'm expected to say something deep and literary."
Anna Margaret watched thoughtfully as he set some food on the table for his lunch. "What if it isn't deep and literary?"
"People will criticise it."
"They'll do that anyway. Can't you just say how you really feel?"
"No, that would be considered selfish and shallow." He sat down. "It's difficult to succeed my father. He was popular. He could do this."
She laid her hand on his arm. "He might have been a good king, but he was a worthless father, I'm beginning to think. Should I come with you? Think of the good things you've experienced. I'm sure there were some."
He moaned.
"What does that mean?"
"The good things I've experienced lately are all things I cannot possibly mention. Most of them involve you in either inappropriate clothing or inappropriate positions. Not that anyone would believe there was actual clothing involved at all times. I'm stuck."
"I need to come with you. If I don't come with you, I'll be writing your speech in my head all afternoon," she decided. Since she would then not be able to concentrate on anything else, she might as well devote half an hour to overseeing the actual process. It would not be a waste of time.
Frederick looked worried. "But what would they think? They might find out you spent the night here."
"Yes, so? You were the lucky man whose floor I vomited on." If anyone mentioned the night, she was sure to make that absolutely clear.
"I didn't know you'd fall asleep and stay asleep. I thought you could stay there for a bit until your clothes had been washed and -"
"And then you suddenly had a guest."
"I came back half an hour later and you were asleep."
"Sorry." She imagined he might have been at a loss. Or maybe not. He did not sound as if he had been. He seemed to have happily taken it in stride, because he even managed a smile. It was a little strained still - blast that speech.
"And then when your clothes came out of the dryer you were still asleep!"
"Sorry. You have a very comfortable bed. And I wasn't cold, because you dressed me up in some sort of shirt."
"I hope you didn't mind my undressing you."
"It would be ridiculous if I did. I only wish I'd been aware of it. By the way, I hadn't expected you to own a washing machine either." Perhaps she had expected his laundry to be collected.
"You probably expected a different sort of room as well."
"Yes. It's all so modern."
"I'm fairly modern."
She had called George from the hall to say she would be later. Then she had met the housekeeper, who could not hide her surprise at seeing a visitor. Anna Margaret showed her where she had vomited, as far as she remembered, while Frederick remained out of sight. He was probably afraid to own up to having a girlfriend, she thought, and she let him be. Besides, what could he add?
"He seems to have cleaned it," she said. "But I don't know how." She figured that being nice to the housekeeper might have some benefits in the future. Perhaps the woman was then less likely to gossip about whom she had found in the King's private apartments.
"No problem," said the housekeeper, who did not ask when or why she had vomited upstairs in the bedroom, of all places. "I'll mop the floor today. Is His Majesty here?"
"In the kitchen." It was still a ridiculously abnormal place for him to be, she thought. She could hardly say it without sounding incredulous.
"All right. I'll see to it."
Anna Margaret returned downstairs. "I met the housekeeper."
"I heard."
"You stayed in hiding."
There was a small smile. "Yes."
"She'll clean your floor upstairs and the toilet." And, she supposed, the housekeeper would do the dishes, since he piled them up.
"You could also not have told her."
"I suppose. Sometimes it's better to be friendly than to be secretive, though."
He was not sure. But then, he was worrying about his speech. "She's cleaning, yes?"
"Yes."
"Come here. I haven't even greeted you properly yet."
The fact that the housekeeper knocked on an open door told Anna Margaret she had seen enough. She was nearly as embarrassed as Frederick, but since he could only look at the floor, she had to be the one to see if the housekeeper required anything from them or not. She felt sorry for him. Just when he dared to do something, he got caught. The poor thing.
At first Frederick had been extremely stiff. She guessed he was nervous about bringing her to the meeting, but she had decided that for herself there was no point in being nervous and her calm manner soon seemed to convince the other men she had a right to be there. There was one woman among them, a young one, but presumably she only took notes because she was clutching a notepad and nearly hiding behind it.
When one of the senior officials began speaking about His Majesty's personal motivations that would have to be used in the template, Frederick began to look slightly panicked.
"If you've based this template on other abdication speeches," Anna Margaret commented, thinking of some other monarchs who had abdicated. "How could you use it? They did it for other reasons."
"It depends on His Majesty's motivations."
"I don't like it," said His Majesty with a hint of petulance.
"The template?" inquired the man.
"No, the position."
"Be a little more poetic," Anna Margaret advised.
"I can't."
"Let's start with your motivations, Your Majesty," said the official. "Since we don't know them, we found it hard to create a suitable template. All your colleagues who retired made room for the younger generation. And the prime minister is right; this makes it difficult to make a similar sort of speech. Perhaps we'll need to create something original."
Anna Margaret thought that was the wisest thing to do in any case. She had never used templates for speeches. Perhaps they were talking about guidelines for paragraphs rather than actual stock sentences, but she did not want to ask.
"I...my motivations?" Frederick squeaked when they all looked at him expectantly. "Poetic?"
"They will turn it into something poetic," Anna Margaret guessed hopefully. "All you need to do is be clear about why you want out."
"But that is obvious."
She gave him a stare. No, it was evidently not obvious to everyone. She waved her hand in frustration. "Did you have this much trouble with the Christmas speech?" she asked the official who had spoken before. What were they thinking of him? He was behaving like an idiot, but they really were not looking surprised by this at all. It pained her that he was apparently generally behaving like an idiot. He was sweet. He had taken care of her when she felt sick. He was not an idiot.
"No, madam."
She guessed they had written all of it then and he had simply read it, without making any contributions or corrections to its contents, much as he had always been during his weekly meetings with the prime minister. "Right. And you have no idea why he wants to abdicate?"
The official shook his head. He might have his suspicions, but he clearly did not dare to voice them.
"I don't like it," Frederick repeated.
"Are you always like this?" She began to wonder if it was due to her presence. Perhaps he would manage to be a little more cooperative if she left. She had been thinking her presence would help, but perhaps it would not.
He gave no answer.
"You don't like it. Good, we've got that so far." She tried to sound as encouraging as she could, without sounding as if she was speaking to a small child. He was not a child; he only needed some help. "And why don't you like it?"
"You know that."
"You're not writing a speech for me. Now get over yourself and behave," she said sternly. The men all looked shocked, but the young woman bit her pen.
Frederick gave it a try. "I never wanted to succeed my father."
The young woman wrote something down.
"Good," said Anna Margaret, encouraging again. "We're getting somewhere." Frederick was saying something and the writer was able to use something - she hoped.
"I have always felt that my sister was better suited to the task. But my father believed the title should pass from father to son."
"Whereas you are modern."
"The other day you called it selfish."
"In a speech, it is better described as modern. Although, I don't know, taking it too far might make you sound republican. Can you make something of that?" she asked the young woman, who she guessed was in charge of turning this information into actual text.
She looked up shyly. "Yes, I think so."
"Good. So, in fact, he was the placeholder for his sister. Should he be feeling delighted or blessed to have served the people in the meantime, according to your template?"
"The template contains something of that nature indeed," one of the officials confirmed, but clearly he was doubting His Majesty's ability to feel delighted.
"He's delighted the law was changed," said His Majesty, who for the first time betrayed something other than panic or unwillingness.
Anna Margaret thought this a good sign. "So, you'll be able to suffer reading up that you were happy to serve the people in those few months."
"Actually I put my life on hold for the people for twenty years. Though it's not their fault; it was all my father's and grandfather's."
"We'll have to rephrase that," the young woman muttered to herself.
Frederick was on a roll. "I've had to fight for my own kitchen for more than fifteen years."
"Your own kitchen," Anna Margaret repeated. "And washing machine. It makes it sound as if your sole ambition is to be a domestic god. While it would explain all too clearly why you have some problems with your job, most people will not exactly think it...er...sexy for a king."
"It would be for the girlfriend, obviously," he said rolling his eyes.
That silenced her. And the rest of the table, she noticed. She closed her eyes and tried to rewind. "Right. You wanted your own kitchen, because..." It was not for the girlfriend. It was for some degree of independence, she was sure.
"Not for baking pies with an apron on."
"But you'd like that girlfriend to bake pies with an apron on?" Once she had asked she regretted it. She should stick to the speech, but he had almost sounded like himself there and she had let herself go a bit.
He gave her a long look and then sighed. "Really. I eat often and I eat healthy. I need to be control of that."
That had to be one of his issues. She nodded. It was a fairly innocent issue, because she had not noticed him being overly picky about food. It had been healthy, but not extreme. Nevertheless, if he felt he could not control anything in his life except his food, it made sense he would try to control that at least. "Still," she continued. "The kitchen really sounds too domestic. It's only a symptom of an underlying condition. Kitchens should not be mentioned."
The men had also been taking notes on the papers they had before them. "So let us summarise," said the man who had spoken most so far. "You're making room for your sister because she's better qualified and you believe the title should have passed to the eldest child regardless of whether that was a boy or girl, and you look forward to..."
Frederick took something from his pocket and removed his contact lenses. He then put his glasses on. They were not the pair he wore in his spare time, but a more elegant-looking pair. "It doesn't have to be a long speech," he then said. "Nobody needs to know what I look forward to."
"People will want to know why, or they will invent things."
"They have been inventing things pretty much all my life. Can't I do this together with Isabelle?"
"That might be the most useful thing you've said so far," commented Anna Margaret.
Anna Margaret wondered what Princess Isabelle had thought about her disappearance from the barbecue. Frederick might not have told her everything. He had gone back, though, after he had put her to bed. He must have done, because he had brought back her jacket. And everyone else? Had they noticed her disappearance? And where did they think she had gone?
She had left the writing of the speech, since Princess Isabelle had been requested to come and it would look rather strange if she was still there. However, she had not been told where the princess would be coming from and she was not prepared to be stopped by a car when she was just walking out of the large courtyard through the passage underneath the front of the palace.
"Are you still here?" asked Isabelle in surprise when she had rolled her window down.
"Just leaving." Anna Margaret checked if she could be seen from the street. Yes. Well, no matter. Everyone would think all the well-known people knew each other anyway and she could have been here on legitimate business.
"On foot?"
"I work nearby." Although, really, everyone would know that.
"I was told you felt ill last night."
"Yes."
"Where did he take you?"
Although this was Princess Isabelle, who was probably used to receiving answers to her questions, Anna Margaret did not feel under any obligation to answer her. "You'll have to ask him. I didn't pay attention. But my office is expecting me. Excuse me." She hurried ahead towards the gates through which she had come in the day before, back to her office.
Her parents did not have her mobile number, a fact for which she was again grateful when she came home at last that evening. It did not take long until the phone rang.
"You were gone from the barbecue all of a sudden," said her mother. "Dad said you were minding his meat and then suddenly you were gone and his meat was burnt."
"Could..." She could not mention Frederick here, that would be too revealing. "Could the other people who were there not watch his meat?"
"Oh, they did, but it was still a little burnt."
Which meant that it was not burnt at all. "That's awful," she sympathised.
"And you were gone behind the hedge with the girlfriend of that nice violinist -"
Emma, Anna Margaret supplied silently.
"And she later said you'd been feeling a bit sick and you went inside. I hope you didn't vomit anywhere. The king would never invite you again."
She bit her fist. When her mother paused, she removed her first from her mouth and removed a meal from the freezer to place it in the microwave. Her fridge was not as well-stocked as Frederick's and a fresh meal was out of the question today. She had stayed longer at work to make up for all the time she had missed going to brunches and barbecues. "It was Princess Isabella who invited me."
"She's never going to invite you again, you know. I hope you're not pregnant."
"Just like that? Without sex?"
"Anna Margaret!" Her mother was shocked.
Which was surprising, since she was the one who had first brought up the subject. There was no understanding some people. "What do you think?"
"I wouldn't know, since we are always the last to know."
Guilt-tripping, check. She watched the time on the microwave. Of course her parents would be the last to know. She was no longer eighteen.
"But I think you wouldn't, because you work too much and where would you leave a baby?"
"There are men without jobs, you know." Or men soon to be without jobs, although she had never considered the subject in this manner before - and her considering it now did not mean she was really considering it. It was simply a convenient thing to say to her mother. Either she or her father were probably expecting to be asked permission before any babies were conceived. They would expect to be asked if they had time to babysit, too.
"Yes, but - you wouldn't really get pregnant by a man without a job, would you?"
So, she would also have to have the man vetted? "That a man is not working doesn't mean his equipment is not working," she said sharply, wishing the microwave would go faster so she would have a legitimate excuse to hang up.
"Anna Margaret!"
"What's wrong with men without jobs?"
"You wouldn't really consider getting pregnant by one, would you?"
"My dinner is ready," she said when the microwave bleeped. "I'm going to eat and then I'm off to bed. Bye!" She hoped her mother would not discuss this with her father, or completely incorrect conclusions would be drawn. Which would be her own fault; she realised that.
She changed into her pyjamas and got into bed. When she turned off the light, however, someone rang her bell. This was odd. Since it was the flat's door, and not the outside door downstairs, she wondered if it was perhaps a neighbour who needed something. When she got out of bed to walk to the door, someone used a key to come in.
Frederick? She was surprised.
"Hi," he said. "Tomorrow is Saturday."
"What does that mean?"
"That I have nowhere to go and I'd be all alone. Do you?"
"Not much." She was still stunned. "So what changed since the previous time?" He did not stay then. Now, he was carrying a bag of sorts, which she could only imagine to contain overnight things.
"Yesterday. I'd rather be with someone who's sick than be all alone." He looked at her pyjamas. "I just want some company. Is that all right with you?"
"Of course. I'm just surprised, that's all." She was even too surprised to be excited and she told herself to show some enthusiasm before he would leave again. "Because you wouldn't want us to be found out."
"I know, I don't, but...I have no excuses."
"Will you be picked up?"
He shook his head. "No. Because how would it look if you sent me away before the appointed time? Or if I didn't want to leave?"
"You're here in secret."
"Not entirely."
She was pleased he had not been entirely irresponsible. He must have told someone so they would not worry. "Until..."
"I have no idea."
She took him by the hand and led him to the bathroom, although if she had been him she would have checked out the flat when had been here to cook. He would probably already know where the bathroom was.
He shrugged out of his shirt and pulled on his pyjama shirt. "Are you...you know, on the pill?"
"Yes, but I missed two this week due to travelling and not sleeping at home. Don't tell me you have plans." She had invited him the other day, that was true, but she had not exactly thought this far ahead yet. Apparently he had and he had probably rehearsed this question on the way.
"I should be prepared in case you have plans."
"Oh." She examined herself to see whether she had plans, but such plans could come into existence pretty fast, she felt.
"I've been thinking about it, of course, but I've so far not yet dared to order condoms with my groceries. I nearly clicked on them several times, but I just couldn't. What if you wouldn't want to, what would I do with a box of twelve? And what if you would want to, a box of three seems so few. What would my housekeeper think if I ordered them so often? She puts away my groceries, where would she put them?"
Anna Margaret had to laugh at his predicament, also because it was easier to laugh than to think so seriously. "I can imagine."
"Will you buy them tomorrow?" he asked without looking at her.
She was taken aback. "Me?" Although people did not usually look at what she bought, a lot of times they did recognise her and then they might look. She was not going out to buy those things. Certainly not locally, where they regularly saw her. "No! What would people think?"
"What would they think if I bought them?"
She wanted to say they might not recognise him, but this was home. They might recognise him here a lot sooner than abroad where no one was expecting him. It would be easy if they could simply not care what people would think, but the fact was that they did care and they would have to work around that somehow.
But this threatened to ruin any plans they might start having.
Frederick brightened up as if he got a really brilliant idea. "No, wait! You can order online as well. Just add a few bananas or something and they'll deliver it to your door. It sounds awfully desperate, but it's merely a precaution. I really won't jump you the moment the box comes in."
"First the image of your housekeeper and now this." She hid her eyes behind her hands as if to stop the images from forming. "But get changed. I'll start up the computer. It might not be such a bad idea. There's lots more that I'd otherwise have to go and buy tomorrow morning. I'm sort of out of food. And I'm really not ready to have a baby," she added under her breath. She was not sure if she had intended for him to hear this or not, but he definitely heard her.
It was not long until he joined her. He was far quicker at navigating the site than she was, and she let him do it, only mentioning what she would like to order. "At eight o'clock?" he asked. "Because of the breakfast things, obviously."
"I didn't know it was that easy," she said in surprise. "It would have made my life a lot easier if I'd ever tried to get my groceries online."
Frederick lifted her off his lap. "Where do I sleep?"
She gave him a strange look. "With me, of course."
Eight o'clock itself was not much of a problem. Getting out of bed was. Anna Margaret hurried downstairs when the bell rang. Unfortunately her neighbour the secretary of state was just collecting his newspaper from his mailbox as she accepted her shopping.
"So," he said as he went back upstairs at the same time. "I thought I recognised your visitor the other day, but then I thought it couldn't be."
"Oh." She did not know what else to say, other than that the box she was carrying was really heavy. There was a minimum amount one had to spend before it could be delivered and that made it rather a lot, and although she could have had the delivery man bring it up to her kitchen, she had politely rejected the offer. But now she certainly understood why the option existed.
"The fact that you're not asking means I'm probably right."
"Oh."
"You're not even curious whom he looked like, because you already know."
"Oh."
It was always wise to invest in having some support later on, but she did not know how to go about it in this case. The fact that Patrick had seemingly not yet made the information public in the past two days did not mean he had not tried to or that he never would. She could confirm his suspicions, but what would he do with it?
She moved the box to her hip.
"No wonder you said this week that his security was adequate," said he. "If it was doubled or tripled he wouldn't be able to."
"Whose security?"
He pointed at her front door. "I saw him from my car last night. He had his own key."
"Oh."
"At any rate, avoid the stairwell around ten. Lea's mum is coming over because she's pregnant."
"Lea, I hope. Not her mum. Congratulations?"
He grinned. "Yes, Lea. Thanks. Less happy about her mum, though, but anyway, she reads the magazines."
"All right." She set the box on the floor and opened her door. "See you."
"Patrick, my neighbour, knows you're here. He saw you."
Frederick did not look surprised. "Agriculture, right? Although we had talked about football. I recognised him the other day, but I wasn't sure he recognised me."
"I'm not sure he was sure, but all I said was oh. Anyway, his mother-in-law is coming around at ten, so we definitely can't use the stairwell around that time, because she reads the magazines and she might know you. What plans did you have?"
"Actually I had no plans at all."
"I have to go to an engagement party at around five. You can come, or you can stay here, or you can go running. No, don't go running on your own," she decided. "I don't want to be responsible for anything happening to you." And even coming with her would be a merely theoretical option.
"Who's getting engaged and how long will it take?"
"They're already engaged. It's George. You know him."
"I've seen him," he corrected her. "But how long will it take?"
"I suppose I should stay for at least an hour. I could whisper in his ear that you're waiting for me and he'd understand, but other people might not."
"What's the dress code?"
"Dress code? I'll wear a dress." She started to unpack the groceries, handing him some items that should go on the breakfast table.
"Are jeans all right?"
She tried to recall if that was what he had been wearing the night before. She had not paid attention. "Do you mean you'd like to come?"
"Maybe."
"I can't just get on a bus with you." There were people on buses and they had nothing to do but observe all the other people on the bus with them.
"You already did once. You don't have a car?"
"No."
"Is it far?"
"On the edge of town. But your safety is my responsibility. Where are your bodyguards?"
"Not here."
She pondered phoning them to come over. "What if someone recognises you?"
"The presence of a bodyguard wouldn't stop them from taking a picture, which is the most they could do."
She supposed he might be right. "Still, people might see us together."
"Then we won't sit together. Easy." He carried the things she had pressed into his hands to the breakfast table. Something else required a little detour past the bedroom.
If only it was really that easy. Anna Margaret was not sure. She continued unpacking as she thought it over. There were three parts of this trip where they might get noticed: on the bus down, on the bus back, and then at George's parents' house. She did not know George's parents. There was no telling in what sort of circles they moved and what sort of people were invited, although she expected that most of the guests would be friends of George's. But there too, she had no idea what he did socially.
"We need to talk," Anna Margaret said when they had sat down for breakfast. She had been waiting for a good opportunity to say it, because she had not wanted it to spoil the moment.
"I can guess about what."
"You went to Italy. Tell me about it."
"I thought I should do something instead of waiting for everyone else to do things with regard to me. Be active rather than passive. I needed to know why they did it, so I could move on. So I went over there to ask." He gestured as if nothing could be more logical.
She could understand that. "All right. I heard what they told you. They were robbers. Did you believe them?"
He shrugged. "I know why people wouldn't. But they hadn't spoken to each other and I spoke to all of them. They weren't innocent guys, but one even apologised."
Anna Margaret looked sceptic. "So you believed him."
"I'm not that easy," he smiled. "But I've passed on my thoughts and now it's up to others to decide."
"But you feel different believing they weren't after you personally?"
"Yes, of course."
"You could have told me straight away that you'd been."
"No, sorry. I was afraid what you'd say and the moment never seemed right for it. We were otherwise engaged. I didn't want to interrupt that. I could finally..." He gestured.
"All right, you feared you wouldn't get to kiss me if you brought it up?" That made sense. She did not think he had got the opportunity too often before.
"Priorities," Frederick said very seriously. "Besides, how would you explain knowing about it if you were not supposed to have seen me?"
"You could say you phoned me."
"Why should I phone you first? What would they think? But all right, I preferred to do other things. And I don't have your number, actually."
Anna Margaret stood up and scribbled her number on a notepad. She gave it to him. "I couldn't believe you'd let your sister cancel our meeting. That was the worst."
"Working on that," he mumbled.
"She's a little domineering, isn't she? How did she handle your grandfather and father?" There must have been clashes, unless her ideas had coincided perfectly with theirs.
"I don't know. I've never paid close attention, because I'm younger. She was married by the time I'd grown up."
"But you didn't tell her where you took me after the barbecue," she said appreciatively.
"No."
"Not that she can't guess, because this morning she saw me leave, but at least you didn't tell her."
"Yes, I know. She saw me, immediately asked me what you'd been doing there and then she asked me where I'd taken you last night. I said it was none of her business, but that you were all right now."
When they were having lunch, Anna Margaret felt they should really decide what to do about George's engagement party, just in case it required a long preparation such as summoning bodyguards or a car. "What shall we do? I can't simply not go to this party." But she did not want to leave Frederick home alone either.
"Of course you should go. He's only getting engaged once, I suppose. The question is, what will you do with me?"
She looked at him. "Would you like to come?"
"I don't know. Yes and no."
"Well, that's clear then. The other thing you were once so undecided about, you ended up doing after all," she said with a smile.
"I took the fourth opportunity, not the first."
"True. I'm afraid I don't have three more engagement parties lined up. In fact, this is the first I have to go to in my entire life. I could ring him up and ask if I could bring someone, and what sort of people he's invited?"
"Yes."
She wondered where she had left her phone, but eventually she found it. She called George.
He sounded busy or distracted. "Yes, madam? I hope there's no emergency?"
"No, not at all. I was just wondering what sort of people you've invited and whether I could bring a friend."
"A friend friend, or a friend friend?"
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. She had no idea what the difference was or if there even was one and she was not prepared to specify the precise nature of her relationship with this friend. "George, seriously. A friend."
"A girl friend or a boy friend?"
"Boy."
"Is that the same friend you stayed with Thursday night or another one?"
"How would you know I that was a boyfriend?"
"It certainly wasn't a girlfriend. But is he the same one?"
"How many do you think I have?" she cried. "The same one, of course."
"Of course you can bring him. It sounds like it's a sort of serious thing."
She thought it might be, but it was too soon to tell someone else. Taking him to parties was different. "What sort of people will be there? Are they all from work?" If they were not, they might even accept that George knew Frederick professionally. They might not know what George's work involved precisely.
"Your boyfriend is from work?" he deduced. "Who?"
"No! Well, not exactly. But are your guests?"
"They're a very diverse lot, actually."
"I hope none of them are tabloid journalists."
"There's no such thing as a tabloid journalist," he corrected her. "But why, the boyfriend is tabloid material? I can't believe it. He sounded very decent over the phone."
"Thanks anyway," she said hurriedly. "I'll discuss it with him and then you'll see. Oh, wait. Is there a bus stop near your parents' house?"
"You'll be taking the bus?" He sounded like Princess Isabelle would have sounded. "But madam, you're no longer Minister for Transport. You don't have to."
"I don't have a car."
"But you're allowed to have a car now!"
"That's no reason to get one. I live close to everything. I don't mind the bus. Really." It occurred to her that she might even walk or take her bike. She did not need a car at all.
Anna Margaret did not know what would happen, but she was prepared to risk taking Frederick with her. He said expectation was everything and if people were not expecting him, they would not see him. She was not so sure. He might never have been noticed when he had slipped out, but this time he was with her and people might look because of her.
She had tied back her hair and put on sunglasses. Her colourful dress was not something she ever wore to work and she might looked sufficiently different. "I never would have thought I'd have to smuggle a king out of my building," she remarked. "First we have to dodge Patrick's mother-in-law, who may or may not have left already, and then the entire population of this city."
"Does that mean the front door is out?"
"This is your thing, isn't it?" He was probably hoping for some climbing or crawling. She did not know if she could give him that.
Frederick looked out of the window. "Is there a way out of the backyard?"
"Not unless you climb the wall. There's a small alley somewhere behind it."
He studied her dress and thankfully decided it was not practical to leave that way. "All right, we'll keep it in mind."
"Are you putting yourself in charge of smuggling yourself out?"
"If you want."
"Let's walk," she decided. "It looks like rain."
He met her eyes. "Umbrella time!"
"Exactly." It would be a good cover.
It would take them about an hour to walk to George's parents' house, Anna Margaret estimated. They left normally through the front door and had not encountered Patrick or his mother-in-law. Frederick held the umbrella, although it was raining only lightly, and she held his arm. She felt quite excited to be walking around with him. After so much time in a car with him, she did not think she would grow bored during their walk. They would talk.
She remembered that her mother had phoned the day before. "Does your mother ever check where you are?"
"My aunt does that more often. She has the bossy genes."
"Your aunt is your father's sister?"
"Yes."
Then his mother must have the doormat genes. She did not know much about the woman after whom she had been partly named. "What did you really go and tell them at the barbecue?" She did not think it had gone the way he said it had.
"I asked them how I might be of assistance. They wanted my meat, I said someone had been there before them."
She waited.
"They asked who. I said someone. My aunt asked if that someone was female. I said yes. They looked and saw you and my aunt said 'oh, it's her. Tell her that women should do their own barbecuing if they want to be taken seriously.'"
Anna Margaret was baffled. "A woman who refuses to do her own barbecuing says that women should do their own barbecuing?"
"I said 'exactly' and walked away."
"What about my right of the centre politics?"
"I thought of that when I walked away. But I should have said it. Or were you insulted?"
She had felt sick directly afterwards, but there was no connection. "Not really, although...what do you vote? Do you even vote? Your father didn't vote. He told me so."
"I know. We've had discussions about it because he didn't like my take on it. He didn't vote, I do now and then. I can't tell you what. I've been all over."
He was silent for a few moments. "Did your father understand what sort of meat you were referring to?"
"Doubt it," Anna Margaret said with an angelic smile. "I'm not that kind of person, you know. My mother phoned because she heard I'd felt sick, but she didn't mention meat to me. Not in that sense anyway."
"What," he said in a more serious tone, "would he think?"
She understood immediately that he was talking about the two of them. "He was annoying you, wasn't he? Initially he would probably annoy you some more. Once the novelty has worn off, I hope he'll back off. What was he trying to get out of you? Nothing to do with me, I hope."
"No, he had no clue you'd been in Italy at all. He was trying to find out how the attack had happened. I've talked about if often enough now, so I wasn't very talkative."
"I could see that." She squeezed his arm. "I don't know what he would think about you as a person. I think he might need to start seeing us as persons first and not as jobs. But I won't introduce you to them until you want to. And if you want to before I do, not until I want to."
Sometimes Anna Margaret stopped, ostensibly to check her phone, but really to check if anyone was following them. There did not seem to be and cutting through parks and alleys had made it difficult for anyone not on foot to follow them. Somewhere halfway they had bought some expensive chocolates - rather, she had. Frederick had remained outside the shop under the umbrella.
She had to check the map on her phone for the last bit, but then they arrived at the house of George's parents. The front door was open. Anna Margaret folded the umbrella and shook her hair loose. They stepped inside, since that was obviously what they were expected to do. George came out of nowhere to greet them.
"Did you really come by bus?"
"No, on foot," Anna Margaret replied.
"Oh my god," George whispered dramatically when he perceived her companion. "Is that really him?"
"I don't know. I ran into him outside. He seemed to be going here as well."
"Oh, like that. Oh, well. Why don't you go in already and I'll take his coat."
"Now that you're engaged I suppose it's safe enough to leave handsome men with you," Anna Margaret decided. She went into the living room. She had no idea what to expect of an engagement party, but inside it looked as if it simply involved chatting and eating. Not many people were there yet and she recognised George's boyfriend from the last office Christmas event.
"Congratulations," she said to him.
"Thank you, madam," he said and then looked a little horrified. "Did George let you go in alone?"
She smiled. They were well suited in their well-manneredness. "That's all right. He's with another guest. I can fend for myself."
He did not look sure of that. "Let me introduce you to George's parents." And he took them to a couple fussing over the hors d'oeuvres.
They were gratified to see her, she noticed. Obviously they felt she was either very busy or very important, and her actually coming was a very special favour. Depending on what George and Frederick were cooking up in the hall, they might be in for another surprise - although she hoped not.
"We're delighted you could stop by," said George's mother. "You must have so many other things to do."
Anna Margaret could not help but blush, considering she had spent a large part of the morning in bed. It would be far from the important things these people were expecting her to be busy with this weekend.
"Joël's parents aren't here, you see," said George's mother. "They do not approve. I felt very sad for him. He's such a sweetheart. So that's sort of the reason why we're having this party."
"I see. I admit I haven't ever been to an engagement party before, so I didn't know what to expect."
"Actually we've never been either, but we're inventing our own party. Please, take something to eat and drink and make yourself comfortable."
It was unclear whether anyone had recognised Frederick or they were simply discreet. Anna Margaret also did not know if anyone other than George knew they had arrived there together. When they left it was busier, so the sudden absence of two people would not be noticed. It was no longer raining, so the umbrella was out as means of disguise, but the sunglasses could now be used. The advantage of walking was that no one could really study them in great detail because they kept moving, even without the umbrella.
"How did the speech go after I left?" she asked, suddenly remembering.
"Would you like it to have gone worse or better?"
"I hope you arrived at an acceptable speech."
"Kitchens were not mentioned," he said in a solemn voice.
"And my attempt at interference?"
"Er...I can't say there were no attempts at mentioning that. But my dear sister squashed them all. 'He has no love life, so it plays no role.' That sort of thing."
"And that after seeing me outside."
"Obviously she didn't know if you'd stayed, or if you'd just come over. It was after lunch, remember, and I'd been out. What could you possibly have been doing? She had asked where I'd taken you, but now how long you'd stayed there."
"Oh, of course. I hadn't realised it was so late already when I saw her. I didn't tell her anything. I don't know why she doesn't want you to have a love life if she actively invites me to barbecues where you are as well." She found Isabelle quite puzzling.
He shrugged as if he had no idea, or perhaps he did not want to try and guess. "Well, I don't think you fooled the speech girl."
"How come I didn't?" Anna Margaret tried to remember what she had said that might give anyone ideas.
"The fact that you were there, I suppose, and annoyed with me."
"Well, I -" She coloured because she was afraid he would be angry or disappointed. "I knew you could do better. I didn't want them to think you were an idiot."
"I am, occasionally, an idiot." He was very calm about it too.
"Not with me," she managed to say. He responded by kissing her. She looked around nervously. The quiet residential area they were in might not have much traffic, but it was exactly the sort of neighbourhood that was lived in by people they encountered during the week.
"Don't make it look as if I shouldn't be doing that. Not that there's anyone to see it. I checked first."
They crossed a street and passed two cafés. This was a busier area and Anna Margaret kept her sunglasses firmly on her nose, although there was only occasionally a ray of sunlight peeping through the clouds. She had been wondering if they should hold hands or not. Just when she was thinking that she might as well leave her hand in Frederick's because no one was going to recognise them, a voice rang out.
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