The Royal Delivery

by Melanie Summers

  "Yes, of course. Thank you so much for seeing us, Arthur." She pats me on the cheek and then glides off in the direction of the group, leaving Vincent and I staring at each other awkwardly for a moment.

  Vincent opens his mouth and says, “Sir, have you ever noticed the scent of cheese emanating from me?"

  "Never. I don't know what she's talking about,” I say, shaking my head vigorously. “Perhaps she has some medical condition that causes her to smell things that aren’t there. Is it blue cheese people smell when they're having a stroke?"

  "I believe that's toast, sir."

  "Righto,” I say with a nod.

  He sniffs his arm a bit, then says, “I guess there might be a slight odor.”

  “No! Ridiculous,” I say, moving my face closer and standing near him, wiggling my nose so it looks like I’m sniffing – but I’m really just holding my breath. “Nothing. Perfectly normal.”

  “I don’t know. She may be right. I mean, I do eat a lot of blue cheese, to be honest,” he says, his eyebrows folding down. “I just really love it, but if it makes me smell bad, maybe I should give it up.”

  I MAKE IT TO OUR APARTMENT at exactly 10:06. Tessa gives me that little eyebrow raise that says I'm late, which I already know, thank you very much.

  "Oh good, there you are. I was starting to think we’d have to put off the mini-break."

  "Believe me, I’d have given anything to have had a better morning,” I say, trying to curb the exasperation in my voice.

  “What happened?”

  I take a deep breath and decide it’s not worth mentioning how her mother derailed my morning and insulted Vincent. She’d just end up feeling very embarrassed and angry, which really isn’t the point of this weekend. Although, between you and me, there is no possible way those people will still be living in this palace when the babies arrive. The last thing I need is to have them upsetting Tessa any more than they already have. If I could have them out today, I’d bloody well do it.

  BY THE TIME WE REACH Didsbury, I’ve all but forgotten about Tessa’s parents, and I’m sure it has everything to do with the fact that we’re about to have three days away from them. I've given Xavier the weekend off so he can work out or paint landscapes or whatever it is he likes to do in his free time (which has the added bonus of giving the babies three Xavier-free days to get used to their real father’s voice).

  When we get out of the limo, the crisp fall air greets us. Tessa, who’s been napping for almost the entire ride, stretches her arms out and sighs, this time sounding happy. Turning to me, she smiles and says, "Let's go for a walk after lunch. It's such a beautiful day."

  "There's nothing I'd like more." Okay, that's not entirely true because what I'd really like to do is go directly to bed after lunch, and I'm a little bit nervous that if we go for a long walk, as soon as we get back inside, she’ll fall asleep. But this weekend is more of a marathon than a sprint, isn’t it? Also, it’s not about sex, I swear. Well, maybe a little...

  Mrs. Potts greets us at the door, and she and Tessa exchange a big hug whilst Mrs. Potts tells her how glowingly beautiful she looks. Thank you, Mrs. Potts. That ought to help. We sit down to lunch almost as soon as we arrive. Beef stew and warm buns straight from the oven. Dessert is chocolate soufflé with vanilla bean ice cream—Tessa’s favourite.

  I watch as she closes her eyes on the first bite and smiles. “Thank you so much for giving Xavier the weekend off. It’s so nice to eat without his disapproving stare.”

  “I thought you could use a break from all the mothering.”

  Tessa chuckles. “Between Xavier and my actual mum living with us, I’m being mothered to death.”

  “If it gets to be too much, I can have him reassigned.”

  “Could you have my mother reassigned instead?”

  I chuckle. “Just say the word. But the offer’s open to get you a new bodyguard if you like.”

  “No, I wouldn’t dream of it. It would crush him. Xav’s a bit much at times, but his heart’s in the right place.” Tessa takes another bite of her dessert. “The truth is, there isn’t another person I’d trust to be around when the babies are born. He’d never let anything happen to them.”

  I stiffen a bit at her words. “Neither would I.”

  She looks taken aback for a second. “I didn’t mean it like that, Arthur. I meant when you can’t be near.”

  Feeling suddenly very foolish, I say, “Sorry. I know how you meant it. I just...feel bad that I haven’t been home enough lately. I can’t stand being away from you.”

  “Well, you’ve got us all to yourself—I’m sure the babies will know your voice by the time we go back to Valcourt,” she says with a wry smile.

  AFTER LUNCH, MRS. POTTS leaves so Tessa and I can have the castle to ourselves. Well, not entirely of course. There are guards stationed around the outside of the property, and Ollie is here, but he's an expert at making himself scarce so my hope for a wonderfully romantic weekend should come to fruition. Mrs. Potts knew of my plans, so she prepared what appears to be enough food for the Avonian Navy already, meaning I needn't stretch my culinary skills much past microwaving leftovers.

  Tessa and I put on our coats and then go for a stroll around the moors surrounding the castle. We hold hands and walk slowly, and I stare down at her whilst she closes her eyes for a moment and lifts her face to the sun, drinking in its warmth. Something about really needing to get laid makes me rather poetic, doesn't it?

  "This was a perfect idea," she says, smiling up at me.

  I interlace my fingers through hers, and we walk along. With my other hand, I reach out and touch the tall grasses that line the path through the meadow. "We used to have cows here, you know?"

  "Really? When you were a child?"

  "No, about three hundred years ago. King Edwin fancied himself a bit of a farmer, so he bought a herd of dairy cows and let them graze all around the castle grounds."

  "Apparently, he used to try to milk them without much luck.”

  “He lacked the right touch for it?”

  “No, it turned out they weren't actually dairy cows."

  Tessa bursts out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand as she does. "Are you serious? What was he milking?"

  "Just regular meat cows. But he loved having them. I'm told he spent most of his time at this castle, and his wife, Queen Anita, spent most of her time in Valcourt, in the chambers of her doctor."

  "Well, I suppose she would, if she was playing second fiddle to a bunch of meat cows."

  “So you're saying there's a justification for infidelity? A man who has interests other than his wife is fair game to become a cuckold?"

  "Well, if he's going to live somewhere else and milk things..." Tessa bumps me with her shoulder, and it finally feels like we're us again. Not two overly anxious parents-to-be, not public figures who have to live under a microscope, but just us.

  I stop walking and turn to face her with a mock intense gaze. "I promise you, I will never start ignoring you to go off milking meat cows."

  Tessa stifles a laugh, then returns my bedroom eyes. "And I promise to never have an affair with Dr. Dropp.”

  I lean down and give her a lingering kiss that starts out as a joke, then turns into something more. I reach up with one hand and cup her cheek in my palm. We stay like this for a few minutes until a slight breeze kicks up and brushes Tessa's hair across her face, causing us to break apart. I tuck the blonde lock back behind her ear, and she lifts one finger and touches my lips.

  "This is nice. I didn't realize how badly I needed to get away."

  "I think we're going to have to make this a habit because if we go too long without having time with just the two of us away from everything, I'm afraid it'll wear us down."

  Tessa gives me an impish grin. "I don't know, it's not like my parents are going to live with us permanently."

  "God forbid. Not that I don't like having them around, it's just that..."

  "You don't like having them a
round."

  "Yes, that's it."

  She laughs for a moment, then says, "Have I thanked you lately for allowing them to stay?"

  "Well, not properly." I raise one eyebrow.

  Tessa laughs again. “Oh, I know. You must be absolutely sex-starved by now."

  I give her a very confused look and then say, "Sex-starved? Whatever do you mean? Has it been a while?"

  "Oh, you hadn't noticed, then?"

  "Not at all. I’m not some singular-minded goon who only thinks about sex. I have much more important things on my mind. ."

  "And here I thought you brought me up to the castle so you could get some. But if you're not interested, that's okay." She gives a little shrug and keeps walking.

  My feet stay rooted to the ground for a second, and then I hurry to catch up with her, slipping my hand through hers again. "Now, let's not be so hasty. I mean, I may not be thinking about it, but I certainly am not going to deny you any pleasure. I know how badly you've been wanting me lately, so I certainly can be persuaded to perform my husbandly duties, should you require it."

  Tessa busts out laughing. "You’re ridiculous.”

  "Should we go back inside, then?”

  “THAT WAS...LOVELY,” Tessa says as we lay wrapped up in each other’s arms, staring at the ceiling.

  “Not my best performance, really. Sorry about that.” Let’s just say, things didn’t exactly take the regular amount of time just now (read I spontaneously combusted like it was my first time).

  “Not at all. It’s been ages. Besides, I take it as a strong compliment that you were so...excited.”

  “You should. You’re quite hot,” I say, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek. “But it’s only Friday. We have loads of time for me to make it up to you.”

  She shrugs. “It’s okay. You really don’t have to.”

  “Ouch.” Ego—zero, pregnant Tessa—one thousand points.

  “Oh, I don’t mean it like that. You’re wildly attractive. It’s just, I feel a little awkward.” She lowers her voice to a whisper and points at her tummy. “Like they might know something’s happening.”

  I wince at the thought. “Christ. That hadn’t occurred to me.” But now that it did, I think that’ll be it for me until next year.

  Tessa sits up and starts dressing. “Oh, you know what we should do?”

  “What’s that?” I ask, pulling my shirt over my head.

  “See if we can sort out baby names.”

  “Righto.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Curry Take Out and Catty Conversation

  Tessa - 30 Weeks

  "Good morning, I'm Veronica Platt from the ABNC news desk. On This Week in Avonia, our top story is a controversial new initiative by Princess Tessa and her former employer, independent news outlet The Weekly Observer, that some critics are saying celebrates mediocrity but has others cheering. The princess has launched a campaign called the Good Enough Mums that many are suggesting is in response to lady Dr. Brooke Beddingfield Cunningham's Avonian Healthy Pregnancy Foundation, which we featured a few weeks ago.

  The princess, who has herself faced a great deal of criticism about her recent weight gain, has put her photography skills to use, bringing in twenty pregnant women from around the country in various trimesters, ethnic backgrounds, and body shapes in an effort to celebrate the beauty and diversity of Avonia and women everywhere. Giles Bigly joins us live for some person-on-the-street interviews to get the average person's reaction."

  "Good morning, Veronica. I'm joined by passerby Donald Miller, who I managed to catch on his way to work. And I have shown him the photographs that were posted yesterday on The Weekly Observer website and will be included in a special edition of the newspaper this weekend. Donald, what do you think of these photographs? "

  "I don't really see what the big deal is. It's a bunch of pregnant women. Seen that before." Donald shrugs and walks away, leaving Giles standing, staring into the camera with a slightly panicked look on his face.

  "Giles, is there anyone else nearby you can ask?" Veronica says with a tight smile.

  Giles glances around for a moment before shaking his head. “It seems like the lunch hour foot traffic rush is already over, Veronica. Back to you."

  Veronica shuffles some paper on her desk and then says, "That was Giles Bigly, reporting live.

  “We here at ABNC news have done an online survey to find out what our viewers think of the Good Enough Mums Campaign, and overwhelmingly, the majority of Avonians are excited to see this type of initiative. Some of our more frequent comments were from people who suggested it was nice to see normal women as a subject of a photo shoot for a change and see a celebration of the beauty that exists in the ordinary world. Let’s check out the twitter feed, #GoodEnoughMums, for more of your thoughts. Racheal576 tweeted, ‘Hoorah for #GoodEnoughMums and for Princess Tessa! You go girl!’ Here we have PeterforPresident who says, ‘I’d do any of them. #HotEnoughForMeMums.’ How charming. Apparently, the producer who’s supposed to be vetting these is asleep at his desk.

  “Carrying on, MumSquad1 tweeted, ‘Finally, a true celebration of real women. #Grateful #TessaIsBest #BrookeCanSuckIt.’ Okay, people, who’s choosing these?”

  The twitter scroll at the bottom of the screen suddenly disappears as though Veronica’s glare dissolved it.

  “So a lot of support overall for Good Enough Mums. Speaking of mums, Lady Dr. Brooke Beddingfield Cunningham will be joining us tomorrow to update us on her own healthy pregnancy, and on the latest ideas for how to provide your own baby with optimal nutrition. We’ll also ask the question everyone’s dying to know the answer to—will Blake be back from Kenya, where he’s shooting his latest film, in time for the birth of their child?”

  EMAIL FROM DYLAN SINCLAIR to Me

  RE: Wild Success

  Dear Princess Tessa,

  Congratulations on the beautiful piece for your Good Enough Mums Campaign. I’m thrilled to see you’ve applied what I’ve taught you. According to my graphs (attached), you’ll see that you are indeed making great inroads to becoming the People’s Princess.

  All the best,

  Dylan

  TWO DAYS LATER

  "Did I miss anything?" Nikki says, rushing into Arabella's apartment with her arms loaded with curry take out.

  "Not much. So far, all Brooke and Blake have been doing is making a lot of very smug predictions about how easily this whole thing is going to go." Arabella rolls her eyes as she walks toward the kitchen to get plates and cutlery.

  It’s Wednesday evening, prime time, of course, to have the maximum number of viewers for Brooke’s perfectly perfect, ‘I’m a yogi with in-depth medical knowledge’ labour and delivery. Arthur is in New York, so this is a nice diversion for me.

  "Hhhhoooooo." Brooke is standing, bent slightly at the waist, her smile tightening as she starts to breeze in short, quick pops.

  "So what you're seeing now is Brooke having a contraction." Blake looks directly at the camera.

  "No shit, Sherlock," Nikki says, scooping some butter chicken onto her saffron rice.

  "You'll notice that Brooke is able to easily handle these contractions even though they’re increasing in intensity according to the monitor. This is a direct result of the many hours of meditation, visualization, and—"

  “—healthy eating," Brooke says, her face relaxing. “Which I...really...” puff, “...can't stress enough."

  I slap a hot piece of naan bread onto my plate in response.

  “We’re anticipating a very quick dilation of Brooke’s cervix, which she has prepped and ready for tonight,” Blake says. "So the baby should arrive sometime around ten o’clock.”

  “Oh! Drink up, ladies, he said ‘cervix.’” Arabella and Nikki each have a swig of wine, whilst I have a sip of boring old San Pellegrino with lemon. "That baby better come before nine—the ratings won’t be nearly as good during late-night."

  An hour later, after we finished our feast, I pop a Tums
tablet into my mouth to try to stave off the inevitable heartburn caused by too much baby and too much curry. "Doesn't this seem a bit wrong? For us to sit here watching this whole thing and making fun of her?"

  "It would if she weren't a completely horrible bitch," Nikki says with a slight slur in her voice.

  “Who tried to steal Arthur out from under your nose,” Arabella adds.

  "Good point. I almost forgot about that."

  "It seems like she's a little bit tense, no?" Arabella says, tilting her head as she stares at the screen.

  I turn my attention to the telly again, where Brooke is now practicing her Lamaze breathing but is also looking very red in the face. "Is that a bead of sweat on her forehead?"

  "Oh God, I think you might be right," Nikki says. “She might be a human after all.”

  "Blake, cloth!" Brooke barks from her standing position with her forearms resting on the bed.

  Blake pops to it, wiping down her cheeks and neck with the cloth.

  "Forehead, you ninny," Brooke snatches the cloth out of his hand and does it herself.

  "Perhaps it's a good time to practice the open flower meditation?" Blake says, reaching for his iPhone.

  Brooke, clearly having a very painful contraction, ignores the question and starts panting and puffing while gripping the blankets in front of her with both hands.

  "Oh, dear," I say, slightly horrified at the amount of pain she appears to be in.

  Suddenly, Brooke's voice can be heard over the speaker even though the real Brooke is still puffing away.

  "Brooke, it's me, Brooke." She laughs a little, then continues in a very soothing voice. "You're ready for this. No one has prepared themselves as well for the gift of childbirth as you have. You are a goddess. You have done everything possible in the last nine months, and now it is your moment to shine."

  "Shut that off." Brooke swivels her head at Blake. "Wrong one."

  "Sorry, darling,” he says, looking slightly flustered.