The Line of Succession

by Harry F Rey

  “Mummy,” Hassan said while laying across her legs, “Daddy said he’ll tell Janey we can have pizza tonight when you’ll be out at the party.”

  “Oh, did he now? Well, I’ll just have to make you eat boiled cabbage instead,” she said, grabbing them both in a hug as they squealed.

  “No, daddy said only if you two behave,” Faisal said with a sly smile at his children. “Now go get dressed and let mummy eat in peace.” The children climbed off the bed and ran out. Faisal poured a cup of coffee and she looked at him with a sense of objective pride at just how much he could love his children.

  “What was the news saying?” he asked as he handed the coffee to her. She took a sip and smiled.

  “The lack of a girlfriend concerns them.” Alexandra let the words float through the air, waiting for him to breathe them in, give them acknowledgement, and, finally, offer the approval of her plan he’d held back on till now.

  Faisal buttered a croissant, took a bite, and handed the rest to her. “It’s a truth,” he said, swallowing, “universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

  “They taught you Jane Austen at Eton?” Alexandra asked with a giggle of surprise. Her husband was full of them.

  Faisal shook his head. “From our English teacher in Saudi. He always said reading the classics is the best way to learn the proper language. That’s why I can move in such high circles, m’lady.” He kissed her hand and she laughed, feeling his support, even if unspoken, wrap around her. “I have a little something.” Faisal pulled out a jewelry box from his robe pocket and handed it to her. She opened it up and gasped.

  “Oh, Faisal, it’s beautiful.” She took it out and looked closely at the silver chain studded with jewels. Between each pearl lay a diamond, and, at the center, a bright blue sapphire in the shape of a heart.

  “It’s The Heart of Aden. I had to ask the King, of course, but he’ll be delighted to see his favorite daughter-in-law with the most beautiful piece of jewelry in Arabia.” He leaned in and kissed her. Gently, he took the necklace and opened the clasp. “I think I’ll have you wearing just that later,” Faisal said as he placed it around her neck. Alexandra pulled him in close and they embraced again. “Come on, Alex, you have the Red Cross in an hour.”

  “Let’s be quick then,” Alexandra said, now wearing nothing but the necklace.

  • • •

  Sunlight burst into the royal bedroom and splashed over Andrew’s face. Charles had arrived, pulling back the curtains with an audible air of disagreement far too early for Andrew to handle. He squinted awake, then flipped himself over, away from the sunlight and Charles’ pottering around the bedroom like a parody of a butler. James had already left. Andrew thought about getting up, but he lay naked under the sheet; although the man who ran the house had seen both of them in far worse states.

  Charles’ muttering became louder. I guess he wants to say something.

  “Morning, Charles,” Andrew grumbled. No answer … Andrew turned back over and noticed no cup on the bedside table. “What, no tea?” Charles shot him a dirty look as he picked up clothes scattered across the bedroom floor.

  “You let him get into a right old state last night, so you did.”

  “What?” Andrew said, feeling hurt. “No, I didn’t. We were back at, like, one thirty.”

  “And what did you get up to after, eh?” Charles said, picking up a cup and saucer from a tray he had brought in, walking it over to Andrew’s bedside table. “I saw him this morning and he looked right out of sorts.” The tea cup clattered down and some spilled out onto the saucer.

  “I told you not to let him get like that,” Charles continued, carrying on with his business of sorting through their clothes strewn all over the floor in his perfectly pressed butler’s uniform. “I told you. You said ‘no, no, it’s more important he has his fun.’ Andrew knows best. Now he can barely function. And with the day he has … no. I’m not going to keep going on about it. There are bigger handbags to flap today.”

  “Okay, then. Sorry,” Andrew said, sitting up in bed and sipping the half of the tea that remained in the cup. “Papers arrive?” If it had been possible, Charles’ mood got even darker and his look even colder. Andrew nearly ended the sentence with “your majesty”, which is how he and James referred to Charles — whenever he wasn’t around, at least. He’s the real old queen of the palace.

  Charles marched over to the tray he had brought the tea in with, picked up a stack of newspapers, marched back to the bed, and dropped them squarely on Andrew’s lap. Andrew unfurled the first of the pile to reveal a full-page paparazzi shot of James standing alone on a deserted Bahamian beach in sunglasses and swimming shorts, hands on his hips, gazing into an empty ocean. Andrew remembered that moment perfectly. He’d watched from the window of their luxury hut on their own private beach as the roar of speedboats cut through the idyllic waters, resort security chasing off a pack of photographers.

  Single, but looking? The headline blared in bold. Scandalous reports on the Royal Twins’ big day claim Prince James has never had a real relationship, or even a girlfriend to introduce to the family. Despite being linked to numerous models, singers, and actresses over the years, it seems James still prefers that swinging single life of non-stop parties and boys’ weekends to the seriousness of his duties.

  “Oh God. Oh my God. Oh my fucking God, Charles, did you see these? What the hell is going on?”

  “It’s not my department.”

  “Charles! Help me here,” Andrew whined. Charles was their mother hen, running around after them and keeping Clarence House the peaceful sanctum that let their relationship work. An old queen himself, Charles had owed some unsaid, unbending loyalty to Prince Richard that had transferred wholesale to his son. If anyone knew how to solve a problem like this, it was Charles.

  “Well, instead of just lying there why don’t you get out of bed and do something about it?” Charles finished collecting the clothes and headed straight for the door. “You better fix this, Andrew. It’s on you.” The door slammed behind him.

  “How was I to know?” Andrew called out, but too late. He opened one of the tabloids to reveal a double-paged picture of James and him, side by side on two sun loungers. James lay on his stomach and Andrew had just finished applying bronzer to his bare lower back. His hand touching the top of James’ ass. The headline read: What would the rest of us want to ask our thirty-year old, perennially-single son?

  “Fuck.”

  • • •

  James yawned as he tried to get comfortable on the wicker couch in his mother’s conservatory. It wasn’t easy when bits of wicker kept poking him in the back through the cushions. He squirmed so much his shin whacked against the coffee table.

  “Ouch,” he said to no one, with growing frustration.

  The small television played on mute in the corner, silently displaying the news, which he wasn’t paying attention to.

  Why does everything in his house has to be so overstuffed like she’s salvaged it from the Titanic? James smiled as he remembered what Andrew used to say every time he’d been here: It’s like Bette and Joan’s retirement home, except with half the residents and twice the bickering.

  “Here we are,” Princess Alice said, his mother sweeping into the conservatory in a silk dressing gown as if descending a marble staircase. She carried a tray that looked ready to topple with the weight of stuff on it.

  “Are you entertaining for five, mummy?” James asked her with the eye roll reserved exclusively for his mother.

  Alice ignored him as she placed the tray down on the coffee table and sat beside him on a wicker chair. She began to take items off the tray; a plate of croissants, a pot of jam, another pot of jam, butter, and china tea cups.

  “Of course, I’ve not heard a peep from the palace about the arrangements till quite at the last minute, but it was the same even when your father was alive.” She poured him tea and put the cup in front
of him.

  “Mum,” he tried to interject, hoping to slow down her freight train-like conversational style that threatened to break his already splitting head in two.

  “And I’m bringing Samuel tonight,” she continued. “He’s flying in special. I know she won’t even meet him, but it’s about time he gets to know the rest of the family, don’t you think? We’re talking about marriage, but I guess it will have to wait till your granny’s kicked the—”

  “Mum,” he said through gritted teeth, wondering why the prescription painkiller Charles had left on his bedside table hadn’t yet kicked in.

  “What? Your sister gets on perfectly well with him. She took the whole family to his house in Miami last year … even brought along old Uncle Abdul, or whatever the crown prince is called. Honestly, James, I don’t know why you two wouldn’t get along. You love Miami—”

  “Palm Beach. And mum—” She glared back at him, the silver spoon clanging against the china tea cup with a ding harsher than Big Ben.

  “Oh, yes. Happy birthday. I know. I already called your sister this morning to wish her one too and invited her for breakfast, but, no, she was rushing off to some Red Cross something or other, too busy to say hello, as usual.”

  “Mum!” James called out, a little too loudly. He clasped a hand to his forehead and massaged his temples in a vain attempt to not feel like death warmed up in a microwave.

  “What?”

  “I wanted coffee.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  Alice took his cup away and padded back into the kitchen. James continued to ignore the TV and glanced out into the garden behind him. In places like this, he felt perfectly secluded. Of course the feeling of being rather too safe often led to one letting one’s guard down. He saw the shed at the back of the garden where he and Andrew used to…

  “Here we are,” Alice said, sitting back down and placing a mug of coffee in front of him with Victoria II Regina. 70 years on the throne stamped around the royal coat of arms. “The papers weren’t very kind to you today.”

  “Oh?” James said, taking a sip and feeling a sense of humanity rush through his veins “I try not to pay too much attention.”

  “Well, I know you don’t, darling, but someone should. What’s Andrew doing about it, hmm? Honestly, darling, I know he’s your best friend, but he’s utterly useless as a press secretary. He seems to be the cause of half the trouble you get into.”

  “Mum, leave it.” At least she knew better than to lather on the criticism of Andrew these days.

  “All right, all right. What does your mother know? But, Jamie … Granny is ninety this year. I know that old dreadnought seems indestructible, and, please God, she won’t last forever. But what are you going to do then?”

  “Dunno,” James said, staring down into his mug. It was just like so many talks before … from her, from granny, from every single person connected to the damn family for the last fifteen years. “Guess I’ll be king then.”

  “Oh, and as king you’ll just what, go on dates? Jamie, darling, people are worried. I mean, of course, I’m very fond of your sister’s family, but, well, you know the situation. It took all of my power just to make sure your blessed grandmother didn’t cut the children out of the line of succession.” Alice paused, her legs crossed, her tea cupped perfectly in both hands. She may have started out as a commoner, but palace intrigue and innuendo suited her. “I’ve told you a million times we can set you up with plenty of actually intelligent women, ones you would like. Not these … these sluts you and Andrew—”

  “Mum!” That particular word out of her mouth felt like salt in a sugar bowl; so unbecoming of the title she’d been desperate to cling on to.

  “Well, what else would you call topless girls bow-legged on a yacht or fawning all over you and Andrew in a jacuzzi?” She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, but instantly pulled it away again and reached for the remote control. “Oh, look, he’s on the telly.”

  “What?” James had his mug halfway to his mouth. Andrew sat right there in the news studio, smiling blankly at the camera.

  “Good,” Alice said, examining the remote for the volume button. “Maybe he’ll get out there and start defending you for once.”

  James could only stare on in horror.

  “And now we’re joined by Prince James’ press secretary, Mr. Andrew Hodes. Mr. Hodes, you and the Prince have been friends for a long time. Is he now thinking of settling down?”

  “Well, look. Nice to be here, firstly. But the Prince is a young man.”

  “Even at thirty?”

  “Yes, David. Even at thirty. The prince takes his role very seriously, and he is an excellent ambassador for British culture and trade all around the world. You know, the fashion industry, film, theater … James has been instrumental in generating billions for the British economy.”

  “But Mr. Hodes, what about his personal life?”

  “Well, you just said it, didn’t you. It’s his personal life.”

  “But it’s no secret that many in the Palace, in the government, even the Queen herself, have expressed much concern in recent years about this playboy lifestyle that the heir to the throne seems to lead. And with the public still very much divided over the possibility of having royals with Saudi heritage in the line of succession, don’t you think Prince James’ private life is of national importance?”

  “Look … look, these stories. I mean tabloids love to … The Prince has been … There are relationships. Of course there have been. Many significant people are in the Prince’s life. It’s not all what gets splashed over the front page, David.”

  “So, are you saying the Prince is seeing someone? That the reports in the newspapers this morning are wrong?”

  James couldn’t feel his legs. Or his hands, or face. Just the rapid pounding of his heart, feeling like it could be seconds away from exploding. He had no choice but to wait for the bomb to tick to its inevitable end.

  “It’s not for me to say, of course. But, yes. The newspaper reports this morning are sensational and, frankly, incorrect. This anonymous source really has no idea what she, or he, of course, what they, are talking about. The Prince has someone significant in his life. And these things take time. Meeting the family is always a big step, especially when that family happens to include millions of Commonwealth citizens, but we’re very confident, I must say. Very hopeful. But as I am sure we can all appreciate, these things cannot be rushed.”

  “So, Mr. Hodes, if she is that significant, will she be attending the birthday concert this evening, whomever she may be?”

  James knew exactly the look on Andrew’s face when he felt trapped. Andrew blinked twice, pulled on his earlobe, and opened his mouth to speak. James closed his eyes and held his breath.

  “Well, I mean, I guess it’s not really much of a secret anymore, so why not. She’ll be coming along tonight, I’m sure. I know his royal highness is very excited to introduce them, um her, to extended family and friends, and of course let the British people get to know, ah her.”

  “Well, we all look forward to seeing her. Andrew Hodes, thank you very much.”

  Alice turned off the television. James noticed his mouth still hung open and his knuckles had gone white. He closed his mouth and tried to breathe.

  “Well, that’s just typical, isn’t it? You never tell your mum anything.”

  Chapter Three

  Princess Alexandra brushed her fingers against the spot on her neck where the necklace had been earlier. She sat at the head of the polished mahogany conference table, strewn with papers and coffee cups, trying not to zone out as the twenty other members of the Red Cross board argued and discussed the agenda, yet still made little progress.

  Fondly, she remembered when she first laid eyes on the necklace, on her very first visit to Riyadh, when her and Faisal were dating. Faisal, the long-forgotten eighth son of the King had little hope of ever making it to the top in Saudi Arabia. His ideas about equal rights and parliame
ntary democracy would never be realized. The kingdom would never be his. He’d also eschewed the love for fast cars, money, and models of his elder brothers in favor of studious scholarship at Oxford, where they had met.

  Yet, there had been one thing, one part of the Saudi monarchy he’d wanted more than anything to take away, The Heart of Aden. She remembered like yesterday the day he’d taken her around his palace, down into the vaults beneath the sand-line and shown her the treasure-trove. During her briefest of moments alone with the King, he’d talked all about the sapphire, and its alleged origins as a favorite of the Queen of Sheba, having been given to her as a gift by King Solomon himself.

  Perhaps it was a fondness for his youngest son, or perhaps the idea of proximity to British royalty had caused King Abdullah to take a shine to her. Should you marry my son, he’d told her, your heart shall have whatever of my kingdom it so desires.

  “That’s the thing. Funding isn’t so much the problem with Syria anymore. No government is interested in a political solution. What do you think, ma’am?”

  Alexandra fell out of her daydream with a thump, back into the corporate surroundings of the Red Cross board room.

  “I think,” said the slight Asian woman sitting next to her, an MP that Alexandra always recognized but whose name she could never remember, “that more pressure needs to be put on the international community. Perhaps if, for example, the Jordanians, or the Saudis, could be convinced to hold a peace conference, the main actors would come to the table.” The MP left her statement hanging in the air with a long, hard look at Alexandra.

  Before she could answer, the boardroom doors swung open and the staff from the office began singing Happy Birthday while carrying a very large, Red Cross-shaped cake. The mood of the whole room changed in an instant. Everyone rose to their feet, singing to her as the staff poured in. Someone cleared off the papers in front of her and the cake was laid down. Alexandra blushed. They finished singing and she held her hair back, leaned forward and blew out the two candles shaped as a three and a zero. Someone popped a champagne cork and a loud cheer arose from the room.