The Heir: A Contemporary Royal Romance

by Georgia Le Carre

  ‘It’s called a tan, Nan.’

  ‘Tan, my foot. These unattractive Western traditions that you have picked up. You should have seen your great-grandmother. She was as white as a lotus blossom.’

  ‘Talking of traditions, didn’t she also have bound feet?’

  She stares at me disapprovingly. ‘What’s that got to do with taking care of your skin?’

  ‘Nan,’ I say tiredly, ‘I haven’t come here to talk about the state of my skin.’

  She shakes her head and moves toward her freezer. She rummages around and brings out white buns made of Hong Kong flour with chicken and pork filling. She shows me the packet. ‘See? Your favorite brand.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say weakly. The last thing I feel like is food.

  While she busies herself placing the buns into the steamer I look around me. Nothing in Nan’s kitchen ever seems to change. From the time Luke and I were kids everything looks and smells the same. We used to love coming here. There was always some kind of celebration—moon cake festival, lanterns, Chinese New Year festivities when we used to eat sticky sweet cakes, get money in red packets, and burn fire crackers to speed the Kitchen God on his journey back to heaven.

  Nan wipes her hands and comes to sit beside me.

  ‘Nan,’ I begin. ‘You know I became an undercover police officer, right?’

  ‘Of course. You told me this yourself. I’m not senile yet, you know?’

  ‘Well, anyway, I was sent on this assignment and…er…’

  Her sharp dark eyes gaze at me curiously.

  ‘I think I’ve developed, well, feelings for my target.’

  There is no discernible expression in her face. ‘Tell me about him. What kind of man is he?’

  ‘He is loyal to his family, kind to animals, and… He is fair.’

  ‘Why do the police want him?’

  ‘He’s supposed to be a drug dealer.’

  I see fear whip into her eyes and she clasps her hands tightly together.

  ‘But I don’t think he is one, though.’

  Her hands unclasp with relief.

  I bite my lip. ‘But I am also afraid that my judgment may be colored by the way I feel about him.’

  She leans forward. ‘Can it be the police have got it wrong?’

  ‘Unlikely,’ I admit reluctantly.

  She frowns and studies me. ‘So why have you come to see me then?’

  For a moment I stare into her familiar eyes. And then I realize that I have come to see her because I trust her. I trust her not to bullshit me about anything. And because I know she is non-judgmental, except about things like getting a tan and modern Western ways. But more importantly because I know that something is wrong. If I put it all out on the table for her to peer at she might pick up what I have missed.

  ‘I’ve come because I’m feeling confused and guilty. And I know you can’t make it better, but maybe just talking about it all to you will clear it up for me.’

  ‘What are you feeling guilty about?’

  ‘I believe I am betraying Luke in the worst possible way by falling in love with a suspected drug dealer. Even if the police are wrong, and that is a very unlikely scenario, it is still all a horrible, horrible mess. I feel as if I have become so steeped in filth and mire that a part of me will never get out of it.’

  Nan leans forward. ‘When you were born I wanted your mother to name you Lotus, but she refused. She said that name was too old-fashioned. In an attempt at compromise she named you Lily, but she didn’t understand. She thought because my name, Lan, means orchid, I wanted you to be named after a flower too. I didn’t. I wanted to call you Lotus because I looked into your big blue eyes and I felt the sheer strength and purity of your personality. My granddaughter is going to grow up to be strong and pure. Like the Lotus she can remain in filth and mire all her life but she will rise out of it clean and pure. Not a tiny drop of mud or slime can stick to her.’

  Tears fill my eyes. I blink them away quickly. ‘I don’t feel very pure, Nan. In fact I feel as if my feelings for Jake and my guilt about betraying Luke are clouding my instincts and intellect, and making me miss something. Something very important.’

  She covers my hand with one of hers. ‘When you were a baby, not even two years old, I would sit you on that cabinet.’ She points to the high, lacquered cabinet where she stores her odds and ends. ‘And I would tell you not to move. And you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t move at all. You’d sit there with your legs dangling down.’

  I look at the cabinet. It does seem a high perch to put a small child on.

  ‘It was amazing how you were aware of the danger, but unafraid. I could even leave the room. I did a few times too. But I could never do that with Luke. I could never trust him. I always knew he didn’t know what was good for him. You have to trust your instincts. If you think he is a good man, then I trust you. If your instincts are telling you something is not right then I would trust them implicitly.’

  I nod gratefully. I know Nan is right. The only times I have gone wrong in my life are when I have not followed my instincts.

  ‘There is something else, too, that is really bothering me. I am so in love with him I can’t imagine my life without him, but I don’t know whether he really cares about me, or if it’s just sex for him.’

  Nan’s eyes flash. ‘A man can find sex anywhere.’

  ‘Yes, but not the kind of sex we have. We can’t keep our hands off each other.’

  ‘Intimacy is the flesh clearing the path for hearts and souls,’ she says primly.

  ‘What happens if the lust goes and there is no love?’

  ‘Wait here,’ Nan commands, and goes into the hallway. I hear her enter her bedroom and open her armoire. She comes back with a small box. Seashells have been crudely stuck all around it. She puts it on the table in front of me, sits down and looks at me.

  ‘Go on, open it,’ she invites.

  I do and it is full of an assortment of small, worthless objects, a yellow button, a bit of shiny foil, a bright orange earring, a screw… I raise my eyes back to her. ‘What are all these things?’

  ‘Don’t you remember them at all?’

  I frown. Vaguely. Something…almost dream-like breaks into my memory. I pick up the orange earring. It is smooth and old. I look up at her. ‘I remember this. I know it’s mine, but I don’t remember where it came from or how it slots into my past.’

  She smiles.

  ‘Yes, these are all yours. From the time you were about three years old until you were five you lived with Granddad and me in a rented house close to an abandoned factory. Many crows lived there. At first they would swoop down and eat the food that you accidentally dropped. But then you began to feed them, nuts, breadcrumbs, dry dog food. And they began to bring you presents. All these were brought to you by the crows. They were showing you their love.’

  ‘I don’t remember,’ I say with a frown.

  ‘It was a long time ago.’

  And suddenly I have a memory, of a flock of crows on the ground beside me. They are all busy feeding. I smile at Nan full of wonder. ‘I remember them now. Why did you show me this today?’

  ‘Bright shiny things are given to us by people who love us.’ She looks at my rings. ‘Like those.’

  ‘You noticed?’

  ‘I’m old. I’m not blind,’ she says, and goes to take the buns out of the steamer.

  I sigh. ‘Yeah, we got married. I’m afraid it’s all a huge mess.’

  ‘Never mind. Let’s eat now. What is this thing the British are always saying? It will all come out in the wash.’

  ‘Nan, why did Luke and I come to live with you?’

  Nan doesn’t turn to look at me. ‘Your mother was ill at that time.’

  ‘She didn’t want us, did she?’

  She whirls around suddenly, her face as fierce as I have ever seen it. ‘She wanted both of you, but she was ill, Lily. She was ill, the same way Luke was.’

  There is so much I don’t know about my o
wn family, but I am learning. Finally, the pieces are falling into place. I understand now why Luke and I always felt like outsiders. Our mother rejected us even when we were babies. No wonder I am so afraid of love. And perhaps it was why Luke turned to drugs. There is something missing inside us.

  When Nan puts the buns in front of me I realize that I am actually starving. I hardly ate on the plane and I haven’t eaten a proper meal since my dinner at Shanghai Lily.

  That night I stay over in Nan’s house. Uncle Seng, an old friend, comes for dinner and we eat noodle soup with fishballs and Kitato playing in the background. Uncle Seng is funny and Nan laughs a lot. It gives me time to lean back in my chair, sip my white tea, and feel the loss of Jake by my side. Uncle Seng leaves early and I go into the kitchen to wash up. I tell Nan to relax, but she comes and helps to dry the dishes.

  ‘You must be tired. You better go to bed,’ she says, hanging up the towel.

  ‘Yes, I suppose I am. Goodnight, Nan. Thank you for today,’ I say and bend to kiss her.

  ‘You won’t tell your mother I put you on the cabinet, will you?’ she asks.

  I laugh. ‘Why did you do it, anyway?’

  ‘Because you used to look so cute and solemn up there.’

  ‘Oh, Nan, how I love you,’ I whisper, and hug her small delicate frame tightly. Her rib bones seem so small and birdlike.

  ‘Sleep well, little Lotus.’

  I climb into my old bed and fall asleep almost immediately. I dream of the crows. They come bearing gifts. Their unrelieved blackness is neither startling nor offensive. I open my arms and receive them gladly. They are my special friends from another time.

  Chapter 47

  Lily

  I left my keys to Jake’s house in his suitcase before I left the Hard Rock Hotel, which means I won’t be able to let myself into his house if he is not in. Fortunately, standing across the road from the house I see that his car is parked close by but in a different place from when we left for Vegas. So I know not only that he is back, but also that he is in. I do not know what kind of reception I am going to get, but I know he won’t turn me away.

  His body won’t let him.

  Maybe that is why I have not called first. Calling would mean our bodies don’t get to talk. I cross the road. At the bottom of the steps I stop, courage suddenly deserting me. It is startling just how nervous I am. My organs feel like they are floating inside a hollow space. I take a deep breath. I think I am afraid of what he will be like without the alcohol.

  Come on, Lily, just a few steps more. You’ve come this far. It’s not like you ran out on him or anything like that. You left a note. You just needed a bit of time to think.

  I look up at the sky. It is a hazy white.

  I want to take those last few steps and ring the bell. I want to see him again, but I am terrified I will see a stranger with cold, mean eyes. I debate the matter. What’s the worst that can happen? He slams the door in my face. A small voice speaks, I’m not prepared for that. I can’t go back to what I was when I lost Luke. This is a bad idea. Maybe I should leave and then call first. Prepare him. My body starts turning to walk away when in my peripheral vision the curtain twitches. Oh God in heaven! He has seen me.

  It galvanizes me. I don’t want him thinking I’m a coward. I run lightly up the stairs and ring the bell.

  The door opens almost instantly and my voice dies in my throat. My eyes widen with shock and I feel my soul shrivel. This I had not prepared for.

  ‘Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,’ Andrea Mornington drawls as her eyes travel down my body derisively, while she stands in Jake’s fucking shirt! The buttons have not even been done up. She has just thrown it over her naked body and is clutching the edges together. Underneath the shirt her legs are long and bare and her toenails are painted a pretty peach.

  Fuck him.

  He went back to her!

  Just like that.

  The sensation of shock is so immense that I feel physically ill. I want to vomit. I am jealous, horribly jealous of her standing in my man’s shirt. At that moment I don’t think of what I have done to him or how I have betrayed him. I just feel betrayed. Utterly and completely. I really believed we had something rare and special. A kind of deep connection that I have not had with another human being.

  Her eyes note my suffering with great satisfaction. There is not an ounce of pity in them. I see her clearly then. She has never in her life sung the song of pain, or had the branches torn from her tree. She is one of those lucky women. Bestowed with everything.

  I open my mouth and no words come out!

  ‘It’s always a good idea to call first,’ she advises insolently.

  It is not rage I feel but pain. Such pain that I don’t want to punch her, or scratch her eyes out. I just want to run away somewhere no one will see me and howl in pain.

  Some part of me refuses to believe what I am seeing. What if she is tricking me? What if he is not in? I force the words out.

  ‘Is he in?’

  ‘Obviously,’ she says, with an amused smirk.

  I won’t scratch your smug, spoilt face, but I’ll leave you with this: ‘Tell him… Tell him his wife was here.’

  Without waiting to see her reaction I whirl away from her, and lurch toward the steps. But my legs are so unsteady that I miss the first step and, with arms flailing and an involuntary cry starting at the back of my throat, I begin flying face first toward the hard, concrete pavement below.

  Oh shit! Now she will witness my utter humiliation, too.

  My descent is stopped suddenly by an iron hand. Wet and strong, it curls itself around my forearm and jerks me backwards. The force is so great I slam into a hard wall of solid muscles running with water droplets. The clean smell of soap and shampoo envelops me.

  In a daze I feel myself being pulled through the entrance past an open-mouthed Andrea. I turn my shocked face to the owner of the hand. His hair is plastered to his head and rivulets of water are still running down his face and neck. My stunned brain makes a mental note: he was in the shower. His only covering is a small, white towel slung around his delectable hips. He must have just pulled the first thing that came to his hand, and run down the stairs when he heard the doorbell.

  Did he know it was me ringing?

  He propels me into the living room, and keeping a firm hold of my hand turns to glare at Andrea. She has followed us in and is standing at the door watching. An odd, unfathomable expression crosses his face. He shakes his head slightly to himself, part irritation, part exasperation.

  ‘Get back into your own clothes and leave, Andrea,’ he says tightly.

  ‘What about lunch?’ she asks sulkily.

  ‘What about lunch?’ It is obvious that he is finding it difficult to keep his temper in check.

  ‘You promised to take me.’

  ‘And I will, another time… If you get out of here right now.’

  Huffily, but with impressive flamboyance, she flings his shirt to the floor and in her underwear stalks to a sofa where her clothes are. The bitch! She had wanted me to think she was naked underneath Jake’s shirt. That I had interrupted them at an intimate moment. Jake turns his gaze back to me. I have so many questions eating at me, but I am too frozen to say anything. My mouth is still hanging open.

  I clamp it shut—I can wait until she is gone before I go ape shit.

  She shoots daggers at me before bestowing a fake, happy smile on Jake. ‘See you later, then,’ she calls and flounces out of the room.

  We hear the door close and Jake says in a weary voice, ‘Don’t make me come there and put you out, Andrea.’

  There is a muffled sound of outrage and then the door slams hard.

  ‘How did you know she hadn’t gone?’

  ‘When things don’t go Andrea’s way she tends to slam doors.’

  My mind is a seething mess of emotions. How dare he? How dare he act so cool?

  ‘What was she doing here?’

  ‘When she came
I was training. I went to take a shower. She was supposed to wait…in her own clothes.’

  I still don’t like it. She obviously feels she has some sort of hold on him. And what is that thing about taking her out to lunch? But I can’t act all jealous. Now is not the time. We have other far more important things to talk about.

  I gaze at him, and suddenly I am aware that he is standing in an inadequately small towel. And he is staring at my mouth. Heat is coming off him in waves. My gaze leaves his smoldering eyes and skitters down to his throat.

  ‘I’m glad you came,’ he murmurs.

  ‘Why?’ The sound is strangled. His nearness is doing things to me. We have been apart for so little time and yet, it feels as if it has been ages since I have had him inside me.

  ‘Because it’s saved me the trouble of going down to Vauxhall to fetch your ass back here.’

  My eyes rush up to his. ‘You know where I live?’

  ‘There are two things wrong with you, princess. You’re too naïve for your own good, and you’re always wearing too many fucking clothes.’ His voice is low and husky and he watches me like a hungry beast.

  I flush and feel wetness pool between my legs. The air around us is thick with all kinds of emotion.

  ‘Um, yeah, we really need to talk, Jake.’

  ‘Everything in good time, but first…’ In an admirably smooth movement he unbuttons, unzips and pulls my jeans down my legs. ‘I’ve got to have you.’ Sitting on his haunches, his mouth is so close to my sex I feel his breath as warm puffs of air through my panties. I take a shaky breath. Mother of God, this man is something else. I rest my palms on the thick knots of strong muscles on his shoulders as he slides my panties down to the floor. I step out of them.

  ‘We really should talk first,’ I whisper without any conviction.

  ‘Aren’t you even a little bit keen to have my cock inside you?’

  ‘Not really,’ I gasp.