The Deal ~ Section V
by Lise

The Begining
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Part Sixty-One

Saturday Morning

Half an hour later James returned upstairs to drag Elizabeth out of bed. "You know, it's not comfortable knowing you'll be back," she said when he pulled the sheet off her. She had fallen asleep late, having wondered for very long how she could have been so impertinent to James' family last night and right now she had not been able to fall asleep anymore either, expecting James back any second.

"Get up and come outside."

"In my pyjamas?" she wondered, allowing herself to be pulled out of bed. Actually, she did not care about her pyjamas. James could do with her what he liked. He looked awfully awake, but she could not imitate him yet.

"You'll be taking them off anyway."

Elizabeth looked interested. "Oh, will I? Outside?" She was not sure she was up to that kind of thing, depending on what it was, and James had never shown any predilection for such odd things either.

"Yes, come."

"I'm not completely awake yet." She could not be hearing this correctly. It had to be the remnants of sleep dulling her brain.

"Brush your hair and put it in a thing," James advised.

Elizabeth did so, not knowing why. If James said so, it would be necessary. Then she followed him downstairs where he picked up a basket. He linked his arm through hers and they walked across the lawn. "Where are we going?" she asked. "If we start picnicking here, those sheep will come to see what we're doing."

"Not here, no."

"Tell me." She had tried to look into the basket to see if it held a change of clothes, but there was a blanket on top of it. If he did not show her, she would have to tell him that picnicking in the nude was not her sort of thing.

"You'll see." James took her to a path through the trees. It led to a canal. All in all it was only a few minutes away from the house. "There we are."

Elizabeth looked around herself. The canal had an average width and low sides, apart from the little beach at the end of the path which was separated from the canal by a rope. It was empty save for a boat in the distance and the path running alongside the canal was also deserted in both directions. On the other side of the canal there was an unpaved track and then fields and meadows with cows. It was lovely and quiet.

James put the basket down on the grass. There was a wooden bench there too and he draped the blanket over it. Elizabeth stood taking in the scenery and he threw her swimsuit at her. "Take off your pyjamas," he said, but because he had missed his throw, she did not realise she should be putting on her swimsuit instead. It had landed beside her instead of on her head.

She turned around to look at him. "Off? Here?" What did he have in mind? It was quiet here, but still people might come by.

"Originally I wanted to go swimming, but if you --"

Elizabeth spotted her swimsuit lying on the ground. "Oh! We're going in?" She looked at the water. It looked inviting, but it might be dirty.

"Yes, we are. I could throw you in with your pyjamas still on, but I decided to be nice." James changed into his swimming trunks as well.

"I didn't bring this swimsuit," Elizabeth realised as she was putting it on, slowly, because she also had to watch how James changed. Early in the morning it was always hard to get into a swimsuit without falling over.

"No, I did." James stood waiting impatiently, but of course he had far less to take off and to put on. He stretched out his hand to steady her and naturally helped her to take off her pyjama shirt.

"Is the water clean?" Elizabeth followed him cautiously, taking his hand.

"No, but clean enough." He wondered if he could get away with pushing her under. She was too cautious.

"Urgh!" she exclaimed when she felt the mud under her feet. "What is that?"

"It looks like this." James grabbed a handful of mud and smeared it onto her. They got into a mud and water fight, which was very agreeable.

"Let's have something to eat," James suggested after a while. "I'm a little hungry." He disentangled himself from Elizabeth, washed off some mud and then got out of the water. "Coffee," he said, pouring two cups. "And croissants."

"Yummy." Elizabeth dried her face and hands with a towel and sat next to him on the bench. He was incredible to have arranged all this. "James, you are…" Could she call him yummy as well?

"Not that what you just called me when I mud-painted you?" he teased.

"That too, but not right now," she teased back. There was a comfortable silence as they ate and drank.

James finished the last of his coffee and looked down the canal in both directions. There were still no boats. "I want to swim to the bridge. Are you joining me?"

"What bridge?" Elizabeth squinted. If there was a bridge, it was far, because she could not see it.

"About a mile off -- a little less. Good training."

"Can we leave the things here?"

"Sure, we'll be back soon, unless you want to stay there to dive off the bridge."

Elizabeth fastened her hair a little better and they set out to swim to the bridge. James was faster and he had already climbed onto the bridge when she got there. It was a wooden footbridge and not very high, so he could easily jump off, which he did with a great splash.

"When I was younger I could swim this in seventeen minutes," he said when she approached him. "Today it was nineteen and a half, but we weren't racing."

"If you give me a head start, I'll race you on the way back," Elizabeth said as she wrapped her legs around his body while he was treading water.

"Blub," James choked, disappearing under water. He was glad she let go of him. He was not that strong, or at least not without a warning of what was to come. "A head start? Thirty seconds?" That would give him time to finish well ahead of her.

"Alright."

His estimation had not quite been correct, because he finished a mere five seconds ahead of her, in 17.25, but that time amazed him. It was fast. He had underestimated Elizabeth and himself as well.

Elizabeth laughed at him when he was evidently tired. "You tried to overtake me too soon and too fast. You killed yourself. Can you still climb out or do you need help?" He had passed her very early on, but towards the end she had been catching up again.

Just when they had begun eating the rest of their breakfast, two of James' brothers appeared, towels over their shoulders. "Race you to the bridge, James?" asked Damian, who had always lost every race until now at age nineteen, so he wanted to get revenge on his brothers on every possible occasion.

"We've just been there."

"And an old man like you is probably dead now, right?" Damian asked sympathetically. "What if I gave you a two-minute head start?"

James felt insulted. He was not an old man and with a head start of two minutes he would never be able to prove that he was more than two minutes ahead of Damian at the finish. "No head start. Let me just finish my breakfast."

"What kind of suicidal action is that?" Elizabeth asked. "That'll be four miles today." And if he did not invite her to join them, she would invite herself. After all, if she could almost keep up with James, she might be able to keep up with Damian as well, since James' attitude seemed to imply that Damian was slower.

"With intervals. Piece of cake. Are you coming?"

If James went, she did not want to stay behind. "I'm coming."

When they finally got back to the picnic spot, the entire family had assembled there, it seemed. Even Lord Merscombe had undertaken the trip. James gathered up the basket. "Shall we go home to take a shower or do you want to stay here?" he asked Elizabeth. If they stayed, they would be subject to nosy questions and glances.

Lord Merscombe got up from the bench. "I'll go with you." He mumbled something about hot water.

Elizabeth prepared herself for his questions. They would undoubtedly come and she was not going to answer all of them.

Part Sixty-Two

Saturday Morning

"I take it James behaved like a gentleman?" Lord Merscombe asked as they walked back to the house. He walked next to Elizabeth and James was ahead of them.

"Always, Granddad," James replied. He was being a gentleman by carrying the basket and all.

"You should never walk in front of the lady, though."

"How else can I look at him?" Elizabeth said teasingly, feeling the need to show that she was not a helpless lady who had to be taken care of. "Not if he's behind me."

"Look at him?" This was quite a disconcerting thought to Lord Merscombe. He stared at her in surprise as if he had not expected her to say such a thing.

"He's good to look at," she clarified with a glance at James' back.

"Eek!" James wrapped the towel around his waist.

"Don't." Elizabeth lurched forward to pull it away.

"I'm surprised that he should be walking ahead of you rather than behind you. You're a true gentleman, James," his grandfather said appreciatively, knowing James could do what Elizabeth claimed to be doing. "But she's not quite a lady." She was not quite a lady to admit it so openly.

"Bahh, I don't care," Elizabeth said cheerfully.

"You don't care?"

"Not particularly."

"I do not really approve of these modern things, James," Lord Merscombe said disapprovingly. "Swimming together before breakfast. Walking back partially unclothed with nothing but a towel to hide your swimwear from sight." He was wearing a robe himself. "One wonders."

"About what?" James inquired.

"If this is just a premarital thing or if you'll continue to do this after you're married."

"That will depend on where we live. I'm not sure we'd drive an hour just to swim in the canal. Granddad, you shouldn't wonder about things."

"It's amazing how cheeky and smug they become once they get a woman," Lord Merscombe told Elizabeth with a sigh. "They're not going to be able to keep those women with only talk and little action."

"He needs to cultivate his talk, because that'll be all he's got to charm me with once he grows old," Elizabeth asked.

"Tut tut," said the old man.

James laughed. "You've shut him up!" He looked delighted.

Fortunately James' grandfather did not have to go as far as the bathroom with them and they continued on alone. It turned out that there was only a limited supply of hot water, something Elizabeth discovered afterwards when they were accused of using it all up. The rest of the family were none too pleased. "What did you do in the shower? You must have had fun," Tim said, hoping for a reaction.

Elizabeth blushed. She had had no idea hot water could be limited and they had indeed had fun, not that kind of fun, but how could they defend themselves?

"Couldn't you have taken a cold shower?" Tim continued. "I'm sure you wouldn't have noticed. Hot enough."

"It wasn't us. It was maybe fifteen minutes," James defended himself. "It must have been Granddad." James knew the whole family was used to having to take cold showers because the hot water had run out, so he knew that was not what Tim was going on about. Tim only wanted to embarrass them.

"Only fifteen minutes. Bit quick, wasn't it?" Tim raised his eyebrows and gave Mark a high five.

"And blame the old people again," Lord Merscombe grumbled. He waved his finger admonishingly. "They're always blamed for everything. Young man, if you reach my venerable age, I'd like to see you take a shower in less than forty-five minutes."

James gasped. "You did that on purpose!" His grandfather could shower in less time than that. Maybe he was trying to make Elizabeth think he was a frail old man who needed to be assisted into the bath.

"You're being very disrespectful."

James was appalled at this deviousness. "You used up all the hot water on purpose." He could not believe it and he had trouble speaking in his indignation.

Elizabeth pressed her hand against her mouth when the evil plot unfolded itself before her eyes. It was incredible. It would never occur to her to do something like that. She could see James was incapable of speech and it was better to take him away. His brothers were already laughing at him. "They're only jealous," she said soothingly. "Come on, James. They're not getting even fifteen minutes with a woman in a shower, are they? Leave the immature. Let's go and talk to your parents."

Lord Merscombe banged his cane on the floor in amusement when they left the room. "Poor James! And Marius mature? Me immature?" He chuckled. "But I suppose we should be careful. You know, some people played a practical joke on her mother once, long ago when she was still Lady Emma and not married. It was a very innocent joke, but she was in tears and completely devastated by this meanness. Elizabeth is hopefully not as sensitive."

James' father was in his study. They spoke about the house for a while, about its history and its present condition. "If I gave you a million, would that take care of any repairs?" Elizabeth asked and the men gulped. A million was a very large sum.

"That would be quite enough, but…" Marius began. He could not take her money, not that much.

"I have no other purpose for it," she assured him. "And could you fix the plumbing so people will stop accusing us of showering for too long?"

"People would still complain because you occupied the bathroom for too long." Marius tried not to smile. He had heard from his other sons that they had only had cold water, but who could blame James, really? "What if all seven of you bring your girlfriends?"

"Yes, bring more women!" Elizabeth felt outnumbered.

"But returning to the question of your money…are you really certain you want to give us a million?"

"I don't know what else to spend it on," she shrugged. "I hate shopping and my father is probably paying for the wedding."

"That would be most welcome," Marius remarked. "If I had to pay, I might only just be able to give the guests a glass of lemonade. But if your father is paying, the reception will have to be held here." Their side of the family had to do something as well.

"Here? But she wanted a dream castle." James did not see his ancestral home as such. He was used to it too much.

"Make that two million," said Elizabeth.

"And you'd better not be pregnant. I'm not sure it could be turned into a dream castle in eight months and certainly not if several of these months are in the winter." Not even two million could do the trick, James thought.

His father looked at him. "Pregnant? I thought that was just your mother overreacting."

"She might be."

"Can't you just take one thing at a time, James?" Marius asked. "Other people take years to do all these things. You want to spend the next few months working on the house, getting ready for a child, getting better acquainted with your girlfriend, preparing for a wedding and not to mention working? Do you want to do all that?"

James thought about it. The way his father spoke about it indeed made it sound like a bit much to handle all at once. However, he could not back down. "Well, yes. That's what I want."

"Have you ever considered that other people might be interested in your private life?"

"A little, but we haven't had any problems so far."

"When they find out, that will change and you'll have all that public attention on top of it."

"We're not interesting enough," Elizabeth said, more confident than she was feeling. Marius had a good point. It was all a bit much for such a short period of time, but they had been handling it just fine up to now. There was no reason to assume they would not continue to do so.

"It's very modest of you to think so, but you're quite wrong," Marius said with a sigh.

Part Sixty-Three

Saturday Afternoon

James and Elizabeth did not believe that other people could find them interesting and they were unwilling to hide away. In fact, that did not even occur to them. They went to the nearest town to buy paint for the gate, since the gate was the first thing people would see. Not everyone would come close enough to see the condition of the house.

Elizabeth had thought they could work on the gate without attracting any attention. After all, deceptively enough there were no other buildings in sight, because it was just around the corner from the beginning of the village. However, local people seemed to have a good nose for unusual activity. James was more acquainted with the local mind and he was not surprised when an old man came to give them some solid and unsolicited advice.

"You're going to have to start at the top," said the man.

"Yes, thank you." James had never seen anyone start painting at the bottom.

"Is she a painter?" the man asked suspiciously, looking at Elizabeth. "Kev's not going to like that." Residents of the village were almost forced to make use of Kev's painting services, or else there would be trouble.

James figured that offending Kev was only part of the issue here. The pub would never send a representative just to tell him he should hire Kev. It was generally assumed that people knew Kev was the only option available. No, they were more interested in who Elizabeth was. He wondered what he should say.

Elizabeth had stoically continued to clean the gate. "Who's Kev? The local monopolist?" she asked when James did not answer.

"Sort of," he shrugged.

"A bit of competition wouldn't do him any harm." She looked at the old man, who had tucked his fingers behind his colourful suspenders. "James thinks I'm better than Kev," she said, calmly continuing her work.

James swung around to face the gate, away from the old man. He was really curious to see Kev's reaction when he heard that. Despite Kev's monopolist position, he was actually quite good.

"Ahh." The old man nodded. He was going to report this news to his mates at the pub.

"That was your first introduction to village curiosity," said James when the spy had left.

"It'll give them something to discuss," she shrugged. "I wonder what they'll make of it." She glanced at him. "I didn't know if you wanted them to know that your family probably can't afford Kev."

"Oh, I'm sure they know that." But it was quite a different thing to admit it openly, that was true.

"And I didn't want to brag about being able to afford Kev myself. You never know what they want you to buy if they find out you have money. Some people are actually offended if you choose not to spend your money on their products and services. Anyway, I'm not sure we could really mess up a gate, could we? We might very well do it just as well as Kev would," Elizabeth said cheerfully.

The next to appear and stop were two women with dogs. "How good of you, James," one said.

Because the woman had her eyes on Elizabeth, James wondered if she was talking about the gate or about Elizabeth. "Yes, isn't it?"

"I was just telling Molly that it's such a pity that the house is in such a condition."

"It's no wonder, if we're being interrupted every two minutes. Nobody's ever going to be able to finish any repairs that way," Elizabeth remarked sweetly. She could work and talk, but somehow James felt he had to stop working if someone addressed him.

James resumed his work guiltily. He should not let himself be distracted, but why did everyone feel they had to comment on their work? "We want to finish this today," he said, hoping Molly and Rose would leave them alone.

"Why are you doing this so suddenly?" Rose persisted. "Have you won the lottery?"

"If you must know," Elizabeth said in resignation. "I have money, but I'm not buying whatever you're selling."

James snorted. He wondered how she knew about Rose's home-made jam.

"I'm not selling anything," Rose protested.

"Then I'm sure we'll be really good friends." Elizabeth tended to become a little irritated if she was being kept from her work by nosy questions. She was going to regret her words later, but right now she could not stop herself from speaking them. Fortunately the two women walked on and she stared after them. "Was I too rude?" she asked James.

"Not really. And they wouldn't think you were. They're pretty forward themselves around there. Those two aren't the worst. They're friends of my mother's."

"Does that matter?"

"Well, it means they already know more than other people. They might even know about you and if they don't know it right now, they'll know it after they've talked to my mother. They're going there right now."

"How do you know?"

"They couldn't wait until tomorrow," James answered. "Suppose someone else found out before them. Even if they don't have to brag about knowing anything, it's some kind of personal honour to know they had the information first."

"Really?" Elizabeth thought this was a bit silly. "What kind of information would that be?"

"That I have a girlfriend and that I have money to buy paint. And how those two things are related."

"But I didn't act like your girlfriend." Elizabeth did not see how people could know.

"It's not as if I bring home girls every week, so everyone would know it's significant if I do."

"Oh, I see," she said thoughtfully. "I don't have that problem, really. Everyone knows my father chooses the men I go to the obligatory balls with. They're not going to think it's my new boyfriend."

"Except next time."

"Are you coming?"

"Oh," James was surprised. "Do I have a choice?" He had assumed he would be more or less obliged to go.

"You always have a choice. If you really hate balls, you don't have to come with me, of course." Even though that would mean she had a problem. Her father had already exhausted his list of suitable men. Even though she only attended one ball a year in general, she had been doing this since she was eighteen and that meant about fifteen partners. Fifteen was about the maximum number of suitable men and some of those could not be called on again because they had got married or otherwise become less suitable in the meantime.

"Well, I think it would attract more attention if I didn't come. Aren't they private occasions?"

"The next one isn't. Do you mind?"

"Not much. Or will we be bothered by your locals then?" James asked humorously.

They would be for certain, but it would not matter. "I'll have you to snub them," Elizabeth smiled.

Part Sixty-Four

Sunday Afternoon

When they got back home on Sunday morning, Elizabeth remembered that she had a little work to do, so she went into the garden with her dictionaries to get it done, while James went to the theatre. Surprisingly enough there were two children on the swing that had already been in the garden when she had bought the house. She stared and they stared back for a few seconds before they jumped off and slid through the hedge on their stomachs in one smooth movement. It all happened so quickly that Elizabeth almost wondered if they had been there at all.

She put her work on the table pensively. The children had obviously been afraid that she would say something. Inspecting the hedge, she noticed that the opening was rather large and apparently well-used. How often did they use her swing? Probably every day when she was at work. She did not mind that, but the children evidently thought she did. They would be too afraid to come back now.

She knew the people next door had children, because she could hear them through the hedge sometimes, but she had never actually met her neighbours. From the neighbour on the other side she had heard the man was a doctor, but that was all. Elizabeth knew it was the polite thing to introduce herself to new neighbours, but on the other hand, the fewer people that knew that she lived here, the better. Now, however, she had a reason to go there.

A foreign-looking girl opened the door, looking suspicious. An au-pair, Elizabeth guessed. "Hi, I live next door," she said politely.

The girl looked as if she did not understand a word Elizabeth was saying. "Next door?"

"There," Elizabeth pointed.

The lady of the house appeared and the au-pair shuffled away gratefully. "Can I help you?" the woman asked. She did not look very helpful towards people who rang the doorbell.

"Yes. We haven't met before, but I live next door."

The neighbour looked a little more helpful now. Neighbours living in the same sort of houses would be in the same sort of class and therefore deserved a little more respect. "How nice to meet you," she said insincerely and shook Elizabeth's hand. "I'm Mrs Taylor."

Elizabeth did not know whether she felt dislike, contempt or pity for people who introduced themselves as Mrs something. They were strange anyway. "I'm Elizabeth." She had not been planning to add her last name, but she certainly would not do so now.

"Which side of us do you live on?" Mrs Taylor inquired.

"That side," Elizabeth pointed. The Taylors did not seem to know any neighbours then.

"Ooooh! Between us and Dr Hilton."

"Ooooh! Frank, you mean?" Elizabeth asked innocently.

Mrs Taylor looked shocked to hear Dr Hilton referred to as Frank, yet she could not say he should not be addressed by his first name, because that would mean she was not as acquainted with him as she wanted people to believe. "Er…yes. I had no idea you were acquainted with…him."

"Well, he has been living next door to me for six years," Elizabeth shrugged. "You cannot avoid meeting now and then, for example at the street barbecues."

"Street barbecues?" Mrs Taylor looked positively disgusted at the thought.

"Yes." Elizabeth did not always go. She did not like going alone when everyone else had a partner or a family to hide behind, although she approved of the idea in theory. "Well, I came to see you about your children."

"My children?"

Elizabeth wondered if she was even aware of having them. "Do you mean those two children are not yours?"

"I don't know which children you're referring to."

"The ones that were on my swings."

"On your swings?"

"Yes, they were in my garden. They had come through the hedge," Elizabeth explained.

"Through the hedge?" Mrs Taylor looked appalled.

Elizabeth guessed she was not so much appalled at the idea of her children trespassing, but more at the idea of her children dirtying themselves by sneaking through a hedge. "On their stomachs," she said with relish. "They disappeared very quickly when I came out, as if they thought I would be angry with them."

Mrs Taylor looked at her uncomprehendingly, still digesting the idea of her children scooting through hedges and gardens on their stomachs.

"Could you please tell them --" Elizabeth began and then stopped. It was no use. She shook her head. This thing had to be approached differently. The woman was on a completely different level. No amount of talking would get through to her. "Would you mind if I talked to your children in person?"

Mrs Taylor gaped. "To my children?"

"Yes, please."

"I--I do not know where they are. You'd have to ask my au-pair. I could call her for you."

And the au-pair did not understand any English. Lovely. "No, that won't be necessary. Thank you for your time. I'll find them. Have a nice day." Elizabeth turned and went back to her house.

She observed the hole in the hedge. It was large enough to allow an adult to crawl through and she would not really get dirty if she did. Rather than take the time-consuming route past the helpful Mrs Taylor and the au-pair, she would crawl through the hedge and find the children herself. Why? She asked herself right before doing so, but there was no clear answer. Probably because it was very interesting to sneak through hedges and climb over walls to get out of the palace, although she was trying to get in rather than out this time.

Arriving at the other side in the Taylors' garden, she looked around herself. They had a gardener, no doubt about that. Everything was very pretty and had undoubtedly been designed by a landscape architect. Elizabeth immediately felt the urge to crawl back. It was no wonder that the children had looked for a place to play elsewhere.

She saw the two girls quickly enough. They were letting Barbie dolls dive into a small decorative garden pond, scaring the goldfish. "Hello. Don't kill the goldfish. I'm sure it was really expensive," she said, walking up behind them and startling them. They obviously knew who she was, because they looked very frightened and guilty. Elizabeth felt sorry for them. They were only about six or seven. "It's alright if you play on my swings," she assured them. "Really."

"Really?" the biggest girl asked. "Always?"

Elizabeth considered that. "Well, not if you scream when I'm still asleep."

"We never scream," the smallest girl said seriously.

Mrs Taylor had probably had her au-pairs drill that out of the girls, Elizabeth thought. "Then it's alright."

The girls were becoming a little bolder now that Elizabeth turned out not to be scary or angry. "Is it alright with that man as well?"

"Which man?"

"That man," said the elder and they both giggled. "Are you going to marry him?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Oh, that man. Yes, I'm going to marry him. How do you know him?" She suspected they had been peering through the hedge quite a lot.

"He waved at us when he was washing his car. Is it alright with him?"

"Yes," Elizabeth assured them. "Everything is alright with him."

Part Sixty-Five

Sunday Evening

"Did I stay away that long?" James frowned when he returned and noticed two girls playing in the back of the garden.

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked.

"We didn't have any children yet before I left."

"That's right."

"So…" He stared at them and wondered where they had come from.

"We still don't have any."

That was what he had been thinking. "I'm glad." He was happy he had not been mistaken about that.

"Why?" Elizabeth looked worried.

"Because it would mean I missed something." James grinned at her.

Elizabeth leant over towards him. "Do you want to eat outside?" They should take advantage of the few days of good weather they got. Soon the weather would change.

"That would be nice." He turned his head when he heard something. "I think there's someone at the door."

Elizabeth could not hear anything and she was not expecting anyone either. "I don't know who that could be. I should go and check." She sounded reluctant.

"You could just leave him there." James rather liked that suggestion. The person would go away without bothering them.

"I have to go and see who it is."

He held her back for a second. "But do tell that person you're about to have dinner."

"I will," she promised, getting up. She sighed to herself as she hurried to the door. If this was one of her parents again, she told herself she would become angry. If this was one of James' parents, she would not become angry, but she would remain polite. And if this was someone else, she did not know what she would do.

She hoped it was no one, but there was always a small chance that it was important, so she had to check. It was not likely to happen, but there was always a possibility that her father and sisters had died and that this was someone who had come to tell her she was the next queen. Elizabeth paused behind the door. No. That would be awful. What would she reply anyway? Yes? No? Thankfully it was not something she ever had to consider.

But her worst fears did not materialise. It was Francis. That was a relief, in one sense. On the other hand it was more difficult to get rid of people you knew. "Hi," she said, blocking the way so he would not be able to sneak into the house uninvited.

"Hi. I came to see if you were in for a video."

Elizabeth stared at him. How could he ask? "Francis, I have a boyfriend." Surely that would say enough so that she would not have to explain things further.

Francis looked as if he did not see why that was important. "So? Does that mean you no longer watch videos?"

"It means…I prefer to spend time with James."

"Oh." Francis managed to be surprised. "Hmm. Well, I don't mind if he joins us."

"I do," she said emphatically. Mentioning that they were about to have dinner would be a very wrong move, she guessed. Francis would only invite himself. He was probably out of cash again, trying to get her to pay for dinner and the video. It was not going to work this time. "Please don't come back until I invite you." If she sent him away without saying anything now, he might be here again tomorrow.

"When will that be?"

"I don't know yet."

Francis was not pleased and he sulked. Elizabeth did not really care what he was feeling, as long as he disappeared. He was not resentful, so next time he would not refer to this at all, as if he had forgotten it. It was a pity that he never seemed to learn anything from it. She closed the door as Francis strolled away. No, she should not feel any pity for him, even if he might now not have anything to eat. It was not her problem. He should not spend so much money. Maybe a day of hunger would teach him.

She returned to the garden and found that James had put four plates on the table. It looked like the two neighbour girls were going to have dinner with them. "They're having peas at home," James explained.

"Oh, yuck," Elizabeth said sympathetically, not being very partial to peas herself.

"We hate peas," the bigger girl revealed with a disgusted expression.

"There are peas in here." Elizabeth fished one off her plate. She had to be honest about that. "Look." The girls looked back at her with disappointed faces and she got an idea. "But you have my permission to do this thing we always did to our peas at home…" With a mischievous expression she put the pea on her spoon and flipped it over her shoulder.

The girls' mouths fell open in shock and awe. As one, they turned to James. He would like to mirror their shock. "Don't look at me. I know she's a naughty girl, but I'm not her Daddy."

"She's not a girl!" the smallest girl protested with a giggle. But girl or not, this person was cool.

"Well, women aren't naughty, so she has to be a girl," said James. "Did you do that inside or outside?" Perhaps there were lackeys in the royal household whose only task was to pick up peas. Would the princesses get away with it, though? He had been under the impression that they had good manners.

"Outside, of course. Only do this outside," Elizabeth emphasised to her young neighbours. "Otherwise your mother will find the peas on the floor and know you didn't eat them." They practised pea shooting for a while until all peas in the meal were spread all over the garden. Then dinner had to be eaten quickly before it became too cold.

Part Sixty-Six

Sunday Evening

After dinner it was of course time for dessert. Elizabeth brought out the ice cream and much to the girls' surprise, she put some on a saucer for herself as well.

"Are you going to eat that?" asked the biggest one, whose name was Esmeralda. Her sister's name was Estella and Elizabeth had saved some comments she later wanted to make to James.

"Why, yes."

"But aren't you afraid you'll get fat?"

James laughed out loud at that. Elizabeth looked amazed for a moment and then guessed that Mrs Taylor had something to such an effect about ice cream. "I don't eat it every day," she explained. In fact, this had been in the fridge since her birthday and she had only taken it out because she had thought the girls might like it.

"My mummy won't eat it, ever," said Esmeralda.

"Is your mummy fat?" James asked innocently. "I'm so sorry to hear that." He received a nudge from Elizabeth's knee.

"No, my mummy isn't fat."

Elizabeth remembered something else. "Would you like some chocolate sauce?" The girls were too quiet to do anything but beam at her, but that was encouragement enough.

"She's spoiling you," said James. And him. He liked chocolate sauce as well and he grinned.

"Well, I always like to make children happy," Elizabeth said with a meaningful smile at him and ran a finger across his lips. "They have such sweet smiles when they're pleased."

"Do they?" James asked.

"Mmm. You can pour your own sauce," she told the girls, who were patiently waiting for her to give them some.

They both modestly sprinkled their ice cream with a few drops. "More!" said James, who was observing it. It was sauce and while sauce should never be poured too lavishly over food, ice cream was not food, because a sauce could never be poured lavishly enough over ice cream. He took the bottle from Estella and poured so much that there were only a few drops left for Elizabeth and none for himself.

"Oh dear," Elizabeth sighed with a shake of her head. Poor James. She changed saucers with him. "Here you go. A little more sauce now."

"Are you sure…?" He hoped she was, because now that she had given him her saucer, he was not going to give it back.

"Yes."

They all savoured their dessert in silence until James spoke again. He was of course the first one to finish it. "They're not going to want any more peas now. I'm not sure they'll be able to eat anything else at all. Your mother is not going to be pleased."

"Tereza is cooking, not my mother," said Esmeralda.

"Who's Tereza?" asked James and Elizabeth guessed it was the au-pair.

"She's from Pealand." The girls giggled. "We get peas every day."

"Every day? Tell Tereza to go on a cooking course," James suggested.

Esmeralda took up his suggestion very seriously. "We can't. She doesn't speak English. She doesn't understand what we say."

"Does she speak French?" James thought he had a brilliant idea. "Then she and Elizabeth can go on a cooking course together."

"No, she speaks Polish."

Elizabeth smacked James playfully. "You ate all of what I cooked. You wouldn't have done that if it was bad."

"Did I really eat it or is it in the hedge?"

Automatically Elizabeth turned her head to look, although she knew he was fantasising. There was nothing to be seen in the hedge.

James laughed and hugged her. "I'm only teasing you. It's all very edible."

Part Sixty-Seven

Sunday Evening

MIR
Are you sure he's not looking?

LIZ
No, he's in the kitchen.

MIR
And he's not wondering what you are doing?

LIZ
No.

MIR
That can't be.

That surprised James. He stared at the screen, wondering what to type. If he were doing the dishes all by himself and Elizabeth were here, would he be wondering what she was doing? He probably would, so maybe he had to pretend he was.

LIZ
I don't understand you. Do you mean you don't believe he could stay there willingly?

MIR
Yes. How do you keep him in the kitchen?

LIZ
OOOHH! I locked the door, of course.

MIR
Does that door have a lock?

James glanced at the door. No, the door had no lock, but Miriam would not be able to see that and he doubted that she had ever paid attention.

LIZ
Yes.

MIR
Are you pregnant yet?

LIZ
I don't know. When could I know? I'm not sure how to find out.

MIR
…

MIR
???

MIR
Liz!

LIZ
Yes?

MIR
You're kidding.

LIZ
No, well. I know, but I'm not really certain.

MIR
You buy a test and take it.

LIZ
Why haven't I done this yet?

MIR
You're asking me???

LIZ
Yeah, well….

MIR
You're James, aren't you??

LIZ
NO I'M NOT!

MIR
Give me proof. Why should I believe you?

LIZ
Because I'm nice? Because I'm your friend? I'm Elizabeth.

MIR
James! You're James. Liz won't type Elizabeth, see? It's too long. You're James.

LIZ
I confess I am.

MIR
Where's Liz?

LIZ
Where I said James was.

MIR
She's in the kitchen doing the dishes?

LIZ
Yes.

MIR
You pig!

This puzzled James again. Why was he a pig? He was helping! He was drying the dishes and to prove his point, he stepped back into the kitchen to dry another few items. Elizabeth did not even comment that he was being slow about it. She said nothing, so things were going perfectly alright.

LIZ
*waves conciliatory white tea towel* I am not a pig.

MIR
You are! Pig, pig, pig!

LIZ
I am drying the dishes!

MIR
You could say you're juggling plates, for all I'm able to check it. Pig, pig, pig!

LIZ
Don't you notice my short absences?

MIR
Not really, no. Pig, pig, pig!

LIZ
I have a pan in my hands as we speak.

MIR
You can't type with a pan in your hands, so I won't believe that. Pig, pig, pig!

LIZ
I can put it down for a second and then type.

MIR
I'm going to phone Liz and tell her what you're about. Pig, pig, pig!

LIZ
Will you shut up?

MIR
Not really, no. Pig, pig, pig! Pig, pig, pig! Pig, pig, pig! Pig, pig, pig! Pig, pig, pig! Pig, pig, pig! Pig, pig, pig! Pig, pig, pig! Pig, pig, pig! Pig, pig, pig! Pig, pig, pig! Pig, pig, pig! Pig, pig, pig!

James groaned in frustration and signed out of MSN. He returned to the kitchen where Elizabeth was still washing the dishes. Apparently she had not noticed a thing. "I'm not a pig," he announced. "If anyone should tell you I am, tell them I'm not."

"James is not a pig," Elizabeth practised obediently.

"Exactly."

"Why would someone say so, though?"

"Well, there are some very annoying people in this world."

"You should avoid annoying people. You should stay with me instead," she chided him gently.

Well, that was true. He could have left Miriam sooner, James thought. He could have stayed in the kitchen with Elizabeth, but how could she know he had been out in the living room meeting annoying people online?

Part Sixty-Eight

Monday Evening

They were beginning to catch on. Someone had tipped off the press, James discovered when he got to the theatre. Someone was taking a few pictures of him. Because Elizabeth was the only interesting thing that had happened to him lately, this sudden interest in him had to be connected to her. The photographer kept his distance. Since the man did not come close enough to give any explanation, James wondered if he should be worried. He decided not to be. Elizabeth was not here. These pictures would not link him to her and before he took any action he would just have to wait and see what they would use the pictures for.

If the press had somehow got wind of the situation, this was the obvious place to start, he reflected. Elizabeth was supposed to be living abroad and they would not know where to catch her, whereas it was nearly public knowledge where he worked and at which times. Anyone could look that up. He should be glad she was not with him now and that she was not planning to pick him up later either. If he left he would have to take care that he was not being followed by anyone.

He preferred to live in peace, rather than with photographers in his garden all the time, not that he did not think they would soon give up. They were pretty unexciting as far as couples went. That could not go unnoticed. Having a job in the public eye had perhaps made him indifferent and he hoped Elizabeth would feel the same way. She had grown up with heavy public attention, but she had managed to flee from it. She might not appreciate a return.

After getting his car out of the parking garage, he realised he was being followed. Someone had divined his intention, or they had know the parking garage was the only option, because there was a car that started following him as soon as he turned into the street outside the garage. He did not know how they could be certain it was him and maybe the car was not following him at all, but it was best to lose it anyway.

It took a few traffic lights to show him that it was really someone purposely on his tail. James sped up.

He was just rejoicing in having shaken off his tail when he was signalled by a police car. "Damn," James muttered in irritation. This was going to delay him and he wanted to go home.

"Do you realise you were exceeding the speed limits, sir?" a policeman asked.

In retrospect, James realised he might have. "Yes, but it was necessary." From the policemen's faces James gathered that they had heard that excuse many times before. The car that had been following him did not appear again.

"And why was this necessary?"

"I was being followed." James saw this was just as cliché as his previous answer. He had to say something else. "My girlfriend is famous." That, at least, was original, he noticed.

"Is she. And who was following you?"

"A photographer."

"Why?"

"Because he wants pictures of me with my girlfriend."

The policemen looked into the car. "Sir, your girlfriend is not with you. It would be a bit hard to take pictures of someone who's not here."

James sighed. "I know! But I didn't want to lead him to her."

"Who is your girlfriend?"

"I'm not sure I want to tell you who she is. You can't check if she's my girlfriend anyway."

"But we're not likely to believe you if you don't tell us."

James suddenly remembered the other two policemen. "Two of your colleagues know about us. They keep an eye on her house. You could check with them."

"Have you been drinking, sir?"

"No, I don't drink. Test me," James said invitingly.

If he was so eager to be tested, they would probably not find anything and they did not take him up on his offer. "Where are you going?"

"I have been working and I'm now going home."

"And where do you work?"

James gave him the name of the theatre and Elizabeth's address.

"You're a bit out of the way, sir," the policeman commented. "You're not taking the quickest route."

"I told you," James said patiently. "I was trying to shake off that photographer. Now if you checked that address, you'd find my girlfriend lives there."

"Is she an actress?"

"No, she's a princess."

That silenced the policeman for a few moments. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Now do you understand why I didn't want to be followed?" James asked.

"You could be making this up."

"Then I suggest you contact the police in her neighbourhood. They know about me."

"That is not common practice, sir."

"Is it common practice to have a princes in your neighbourhood? Of course there is no standard procedure. Check the address if you wish. But not over the radio. People have scanners."

"Sir, this is too fishy."

"Then give me a fine." James shrugged. Maybe he should have gone for the fine straight away, rather than try to argue his way out of it. That would have been much less trouble.

The policemen conferred quietly. "Perhaps a warning would suffice, sir." They were afraid that fining one of the untouchables would get them into trouble.

Elizabeth was worried when he got home. "You're late. I thought something had happened."

James explained it to her. "But don't worry. I wasn't followed here."

She was reassured for the time being and switched the subject. "Look what I got today: the scenario for my parents' wedding? My father sent it to me by courier. We have to adapt it to our own wishes."

James leafed through the thick volume and uttered an exclamation of surprise. He had never known weddings were planned to this detail.

Elizabeth watched him. "Yes, it's a lot. We can scratch parts, though."

"I'm glad," James said humorously. "Do we get free choice?" That would surprise him.

"Yes, of course."

"To what extent?" he asked sceptically. They could not be given completely free choice.

"The details. The basic structure of a wedding is always the same, I think. This scenario is just to help us."

"Oh." James leafed through it again. "We can skip the official stuff, can't we?" Several chapters could go, as far as he was concerned. This would be nothing near as important as the Crown Prince's wedding.

"What official stuff?"

"Photo sessions and so on."

"Yes, there's no need to be as ceremonial about is as my parents. I think the only obligation we're under is that we have to invite relatives."

"The guest list is often a measure of a couple's social ambitions," James remarked sarcastically.

Elizabeth knew exactly what he meant and she smiled. "Mine are very low, I assure you. I don't feel the need to invite important figures."

"But I suppose your father will have a big say in who'll be on the guest list." James could imagine that there would be people who would be offended if they were not invited. And he could also imagine that there were important figures among her relatives, although she probably did not see them as such. Her father was an important figure, for a start.

"There are certain inevitable guests that I wouldn't think of myself," Elizabeth agreed. "But my father will have to provide a good motivation for any extra guests he would like to see on the list."

Part Sixty-Nine

Tuesday Morning

The day after, when Elizabeth had gone to work, James opened the curtain of the bedroom window and saw two suspicious figures sneaking through the front garden. He watched them for a few moments, suppressing the urge to open the window and ask them if his garden was going to be featured in the next edition of a garden magazine. Where were the police when you needed them? They had appeared instantaneously during an innocent argument with the weasel Francis, but now they were not around, but James supposed this was one of those things that were inherent in the police.

He walked downstairs to the telephone. Elizabeth had a list of important numbers beside it, but there was no number for the local police, at least nothing specified as such and he was not going to call of those anonymous numbers to find out what was what.

Elizabeth had obviously not listed her own phone number at work -- because no one would seek to contact oneself at work -- and he checked the pocket of his coat for the notes they had exchanged. She had written her mobile number in one. He called it, but got her voicemail.

That called for something else, equally ineffective if she was not using her phone right now, but more fun. He sent an SMS. I'm surrounded. Help!

Not happy with this temporarily unsatisfactory mode of communication, he checked Elizabeth's computer to see whether Miss Elizabeth Williams had been silly enough to send emails home to herself. Given the girl's fondness for written communication, James thought that almost certainly had to be the case. He saw his guess had been right. Her inbox was filled with emails from Elizabeth Williams. For a while he was distracted by jealously looking at the great number of emails from men whose names he did not know, but he did not open any of them. He clicked on one of Miss Williams' mails and discovered it contained a file and the words Here's your file, Lizzy.

"Elizabeth!" he cried, always having been under the assumption that Elizabeth Williams and Elizabeth were one and the same. It was alright to send files to your home address, but to include messages to yourself as if you were someone else was odd, to put it mildly.

What do I do if there are people in the garden? he emailed to her, then decided this was too vague. She might take this as a hypothetical question, when there were real live people wandering about.

This is James. There are people in your garden with cameras. It doesn't look grand enough to be featured in a gardening magazine, so what are they doing there and what do you want me to do? Whom do I call and can I leave the house? Or do you want me to stay out of sight?

He did not have to wait for too long. What kind of people? was quickly followed by another email.

1) Call 42424200 and tell them what's happening.
2) get dressed
3) leave garden through hole in hedge

"Sure," James muttered, glancing at himself. "How would you know I'm not dressed yet?" He wondered if he typed differently, but that was a silly idea. He should focus on more important matters. Where do I go after I leave the garden?

There was a rapid succession of emails going back and forth.

You go to a public phone and call 27243903 to say I'm amusing myself with an unknown man in any town you like, as long as it's far away.

James frowned at that. He had just been thinking he was silly, but he knew someone even sillier. What a revolting idea.

Why?

They know you're with me. Why also the unknown guy? Yes, he admitted to even being jealous of non-existent, imaginary, unknown guys. It was a revolting idea that she could even think of imaginary men.

Ten minutes had passed by now and the men were probably still in the garden when another email from Elizabeth came in. James thought it more important to keep checking his mail than to keep checking the garden. Are you dressed yet? she wrote.

Of course not. He was still in his pyjama trousers. How could he get dressed? He did not have the time. He had to keep clicking on that button to see if there were new messages. No, you keep emailing me.

What are you wearing?

Elizabeth! I'm surrounded by reporters and you're trying to flirt with me? He had to make sure of that before he flirted back.

Yes!
But seriously, do you mind that people know? Why don't you just do what you're good at and open the door in your underwear to scare them away?

Would that scare them? James seriously doubted it and he was not good at opening doors in his underwear. What did she think of him?

Wait! Before you go, ARE THEY MEN? You're NOT allowed to go if they're women. There was another email within a minute. Don't go! Tell me you're still there. Don't go!

He guffawed. Why not? What difference would that make? Surely not as much difference as it would make for her. You're not allowed to see any clients if they're men. See, he could be childish too.

I don't meet clients in my underwear.

That was true and he felt beaten, until he realised something with a loud cry. Yes, you DO! Remember my terrace? She had spent the entire afternoon in her underwear reading his play and considering that she had said she was going to translate it, he was a client!

You're not my client; you're my partner and if you don't agree, I could say my client appeared in his underwear first. Elizabeth sent another email right after. I can't concentrate on my work like this! And another one. I don't trust you with women in the garden for obvious reasons and I don't trust you with men in the garden because you have a history of fighting with them. Maybe I should come home?

I'm not dressed yet. Are you sure you want to? James teased. Suddenly he wondered how he came to be emailing with Elizabeth. "Oh right, the men with the cameras." He frowned. The men might be gone now. Or would they wait all day? And the men might be gone.

He had to wait a while for the answer, but it would never have been long enough to get dressed, he told himself. I want to see the men, so I don't want them to be gone, but if you'll be opening the door in your underwear, I DO want the men to be gone.

James realised this was a serious email and therefore a serious dilemma, but he could not help snorting at it. Are you planning something the men aren't allowed to see?

You haven't called that number yet, have you? she asked.

What number? "Oh, that one." No. Obviously not. I'm emailing with you.

Darling, I'm emailing with you, translating a text and also having time to phone the police (and doing something else you wouldn't want to know about.)

"God," James muttered. What kind of octopus was he going to marry? He was subdued and did not know what to type. It was good that Elizabeth did. She sent him another email. Garden will be searched, men removed and James will get dressed.

I don't need the police to help me with that, he typed indignantly. Will you please take a pregnancy test? You're mothering me. He went back to her previous email and replied to it again. What is it that you're doing that I wouldn't want to know about? He was curious. Maybe she had a client there as well. It might be a man. A young man. A handsome young man. A nice and handsome young man.

He was piling positive adjective on positive adjective and he had painted himself a terrifying picture when her answer arrived. Do you really want to know?

Yes, I really want to know! He hated being teased like this. It was excruciating, clicking on the New Messages button all the time.

Then there was a reply, but all it contained was something that made it worse. You might not be able to bear the truth.

ELIZABETH, TELL ME OR I WILL GO OUT INTO THE GARDEN IN MY UNDERWEAR! James typed with a scream.

Laughing, what else, you poor surrounded darling.

Part Seventy

Tuesday Morning

"I'm out for a while." Elizabeth told Marie after she had shut down her computer. "I need to rescue James."

Marie, still under the impression that he was James Bond or at least very much like him, because every new thing she heard supported this theory, looked awed. "Really? What happened?" Foreign agents were very likely after him.

"He's been surrounded," Elizabeth said gravely.

Marie gasped. "Really? How? By whom?"

"I don't know. I'll have to take a look."

"Do you need help? Can I come?"

James was likely in his underwear, something she did not want Marie to see and even if he was in his pyjamas, she still did not want Marie to see him. "No," Elizabeth decided. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Why not?" Marie looked disappointed.

"Er…male pride?" Elizabeth fantasised. Female jealousy was more likely, but she did not say so. "Well, I'll be back later."

"If you don't come back, I'm going to send some police around," Marie warned her.

Elizabeth walked quickly. It was not far and she would get there soon enough, but she still had to keep herself from breaking into a run. Running would look strange, especially since her shoes were not made for it. She checked her watch. It had been nearly twenty minutes since his last email and anything could have happened. Somehow she felt that James was out there doing something she did not want him to do. "James, don't," she pleaded, but he was of course not there to hear it.

When she turned into her street, she did not see anything out of order and that reassured her a little. However, when she came closer to her house, she saw James was standing at the beginning of the drive near the mailbox, wearing only his pyjama bottoms and talking to three women. Triple disaster. "No," she whined to herself. But James turned to her with a brilliant smile and his arms wide open. It was very easy to fall into them.

"Don't look so concerned," he said. "I've only made a very minor fool of myself." And he could laugh at it.

"No!" Elizabeth said in fear. "What did you do?"

"I went after them with a hockey stick."

"What?" she cried, fearing that he had hit them. "Where are they now?" She hoped they were not lying dead in the garden somewhere.

"Oh, they were arrested for stalking."

"Did you hit them?"

"Hit them?" James seemed surprised. "No, I sort of waved the sword about and told them to go away." He had to smile at the memory.

"Sword?"

"Er…hockey stick," he corrected. "Doesn't matter what it was, as long as I had something in my hands for the symbolical value. And I quoted Shakespeare. Correctly. Amazing, isn't it, that I could still remember?"

He was mistaken if he thought she was going to applaud for that. Elizabeth was still staring at him in fear. What had he been doing?

"It sounds worse than it is," James said to reassure her, realising that she was very afraid he had misbehaved. "Have you ever seen me do anything stupid?"

"Yes," she said immediately, resting her head against his chest.

He wondered how she could have sounded so confident in her emails when he had needed it. There was no more sign of that now and she seemed to need the same from him now. "That's why I have you," he said teasingly, but he meant it a little too.

Elizabeth glanced at the women for the first time. They were looking on curiously. One of them presented the news. She was as much involved in the media as the two reporters James claimed to have chased away with her hockey stick. The only difference was that the woman lived on this street and that she was here as a curious neighbour. She remembered her earlier concern about James' state of undress and decided to keep her head against his chest so she would shield as much of him from view as possible. It was definitely suspicious that the only curious neighbours were women.

"I should get dressed," James told the women. "Thank you for your concern. It was nice meeting you. Have you met my wife?"

"Wife? I'm not your wife yet," Elizabeth said quickly, lest the newsreader should inform the nation of this tonight.

"But you want to be and I want you to be. Darling, there's no difference," was James' opinion. He gave her a kiss and ran inside, leaving her to get acquainted with the three women if she did not already know them. She should. They lived next door or across the street.

"I have to apologise," Elizabeth said. "I do, don't I? What did he do?"

The newsreader acted as spokeswoman for the three other women. "Not much really. I'm not sure you really have to apologise." She smiled a little, as if she was amused by the sort of things that worried younger people. "I wouldn't."

"But what did he do?" Elizabeth pressed.

"Linda and I were a bit late and missed the beginning of the show," said the newsreader. "What I saw wouldn't require any apologies. Kate can tell you about the beginning."

Kate lived next door to Elizabeth and she had seen more. "He came out of the house with a hockey stick, waved it about and then started quoting Shakespeare."

"And very well too," said the newsreader admiringly. "He should be an actor."

"He is an actor," Elizabeth mumbled. "But he said he couldn't act."

"For me that is even more reason to think he can if you believed him."

"Huh," Elizabeth had to say. "I don't know. Are you sure you weren't impressed by the way he looked rather than by how he acted?"

"I think I can tell the difference. Can't you?"

"Yes, of course, but --" she stopped. "Oh, why are people interested in us? We're not interesting at all. We're very boring."

Part Seventy-One

Tuesday Morning

Thinking about being boring made Elizabeth think about the people who apparently did not think so yet. "What happened to the reporters?" she asked her three neighbours.

"They were taken to the police station not long before you got here."

"But they'll be back and I wonder what they'll write." Another thing occurred to her and she looked very anxious. "My father! What will he say if it leaks out that not only do I live here but I live here with a man?"

"Doesn't he know?" It might indeed be something he would not approve of, depending on how conservative he was.

"He knows, but that's not the same as wanting other people to know."

"That will depend on how much he likes your boyfriend," said the newsreader. She thought that if Elizabeth's father knew and he had done nothing to make it stop, he had to have some sympathy for the boyfriend, because she knew he could and would put an end to any inappropriate alliances. "Do you think he's someone to be ashamed of?" That was not the impression she had received.

"No." Elizabeth still looked nervous and unhappy. "I'm probably seeing a problem that doesn't exist again. I should ask James. He'll know," she said with hopeful confidence. She could not remain talking to her neighbours while this was on her mind. "I should talk to him."

"Listen," said the newsreader, who was feeling some concern now that she had seen this clear change in attitude. "If your father minded, he would have done something already. If he didn't want other people to know, he would have cautioned you. Did he?"

"No." He had not done that, so she supposed it was alright. "My father actually acted as if it was quite normal."

"It is normal," said her neighbour Kate.

The newsreader nodded. "Your father will want you to be more careful than other people and I've heard he's gone so far as to exercise pressure on your sisters to stop seeing the men they were seeing, so he is capable of doing that. He hasn't ever said anything to you?"

"About my sisters' boyfriends? No."

"No, about yours."

Elizabeth shook her head. Really, how many had she had? She was not going to reveal that number to anyone. Perhaps only to James, if he asked.

"Well then," said the newsreader as if this solved all the problems.

"Thank you. I suppose I should go and see what James is up to. I can't stay away from work for too long." Elizabeth managed a weak smile. She excused herself and went inside, after having accepted some invitations to come around for tea whenever she liked.

James was in the bathroom and because she had only come home to talk to him, she went there, not caring that he might not be ready yet. James was shaving. After he had smiled at her she wondered what would have reassured her more, a smile or a kiss. She thought a smile. "I had a boyfriend once who only kissed me and never smiled at me, only at himself," she heard herself say. Why was she telling him? He might not want to know.

"What a loser. For smiling at himself," James added. "I don't smile at everyone either, so I can't really say anything about that." He smiled again.

"Come to work with me," Elizabeth said after a few moments. She would much rather stay here in the bathroom, but soon James would be shaved and dressed and there would not be any need to stay there.

"Why? So I can't get into any more mischief?" he asked good-naturedly. She might be afraid to leave him home by himself, which was not an ungrounded fear, considering that he had already behaved oddly two times.

"Something like that."

"Or do you mean you'd get into mischief if you didn't go back to work?" he teased.

"Something like that," she said again, but a little redder this time.

"We wouldn't get into any mischief at your office?"

"We might -- after work," she said, forcing herself to be serious, which was a really hard thing.

James understood. "Of course. I'll take my work with me."

When he was dressed, he accompanied Elizabeth back to work and settled himself at a table in her office while she worked behind the computer. He did not know if there were less opportunities to get into mischief here, but they were certainly of a different kind.

After a while she had finished typing and she began a new text by hand, so she came to sit opposite him. "Are you sure you want to?" James asked. He had been teasing her all the time because she talked to herself while she was working and he was sure this would not become less if she sat here. She had thrown stuff at him to make him stop, but now that she was closer, she would be able to touch him. "Could you bear hitting me?"

"I won't talk to myself if I see you all the time, so you won't get any opportunities to tease me."

"You could see me from there too." James pointed at the computer.

"That's different. You were just background noise."

James gasped. "Not me! I was trying to shut the background noise up. I only got twenty lines written."

"Which is more than you would have done at home," Elizabeth said, knowing she was right. "This is really more efficient than having to wait for my emails."

"Grr," he answered, bending over his work again to hide that he was smiling.

Just before lunch they were disturbed by a man with a bucket. "I'm going to clean your windows, sir," he announced.

James looked up in surprise. He did not own any windows here, yet he was the only sir around and the man had to be addressing him. "My windows?"

"Yes, sir."

"My windows," Elizabeth said sharply. She was always annoyed by the automatic assumption that if there were a man and a woman, the man would be the boss and the woman his secretary.

"Your windows?" the window cleaner looked surprised. "Oh, sorry. I thought you were the secretary, miss." He glanced at James, but he obviously did not have a high opinion of male secretaries.

Elizabeth was going to say something, but James placed his hand over hers to stop her from exploding, although he would really like to see her explode for once. "Leave it," he whispered. He was not at all offended, but merely amused. "Anyone would want to be your secretary."

The window cleaner saw the gesture and drew his own conclusions. "I'll be done in a jiffy."

"Oh, take your time. My boss is going to take me out to lunch anyway."

Part Seventy-Two

Tuesday Afternoon

Elizabeth took James out to lunch, or rather, they bought an Italian sandwich and sat in the park. She would have eaten at the catering facility in the building, if it were not for all those curious people. James could only just stop her from taking any work with her. She was used to doing that if she went outside. "You have me," he had told her. "Amuse me."

"Can I amuse you yet, James?" she asked when they were enjoying the sun. A glance sideways told her he had not finished his sandwich yet. She had not either, but she was taking a break. It was so big.

"I'm already amused," he said in between bites.

"How?"

"I don't know."

"You're easy. I haven't done anything yet."

"That's what you think," he said with a grin. He placed one arm around her shoulders and stretched out his legs. "You took me here."

"But I'm going to have to leave you for a few minutes," Elizabeth said regretfully.

"Do you have to go to the toilet?"

"No."

"Oh." James had wanted to suggest those bushes, because that would surely be quicker than running back to the office. He did not know what to suggest now.

"You can stay here. I need to buy something. Hold on to this bench."

"Alright. Will you be quick?"

"Very," she promised. He suddenly snorted and she looked at him strangely. "What is it?"

"I wanted to say you could go behind those bushes there, but I realised just now that of course you couldn't, because you're a princess."

"Princess or not, I doubt that any woman would do that in a public park in broad daylight." Elizabeth kissed him. "And don't you do it either. Stay here or people will steal your place. I'll be right back."

She left the park, crossed the street when the light was still red and turned a corner. In the shop, she regretted not having taken James. The choice before her was confusing and she did not know what to take. Sixteen-year old shop assistants could not know anything about it either and she was left to her own devices. However, reading all the boxes to compare the different brands would take far too long and she had promised James she would be right back. Perhaps she should ask anyway. "Hello?" she said to a girl who looked as if she had just finished primary school. "You probably don't know anything about pregnancy tests, at least, I don't think you ought to know anything about them at your age, but could you help me make a choice anyway?"

"Of course I know about pregnancy tests," said the girl a little indignantly.

Elizabeth was shocked. "Really?" she said weakly. Today's youth seemed to grow up much faster than she had. "But you're about sixteen."

"Yes, madam," said the girl. "Do you need a pregnancy test?"

"Yes, but they probably all claim to be reliable and effective and I don't know what. I mean, I don't see how they could be different in having extra features or anything." She frowned at the range of products before her. "They can't tell about the sex yet, can they?" She thought they could just tell her yes or no.

"Yes, they can."

That surprised her. "Is that new?"

"Well, they can tell you had it, obviously."

Elizabeth grimaced. Why did people want to get pregnant if it was so embarrassing to find out?

"This is a popular one. It's very reliable." The girl pulled one off the shelf and gave it to her.

Elizabeth studied it doubtfully. "Is that your personal experience?" She would really be out of touch with the world in that case.

"No, madam."

"I'm glad. I mean, how do you know it's reliable?" she asked quickly.

"Customers said so, or maybe I got it from a commercial."

She decided to buy this brand just to get the ordeal over with. "I'll take this one. If it tells me no, I could always come back and try another brand."

"Yes, madam. Or you could try another man," the girl suggested.

"No!" Elizabeth said vehemently. "The same man, thank you."

"Oh!" the shop assistant acted as if this was a quaint idea. "Other customers…er…well, some of them…"

"I don't want to know. I'll take this one."

She returned to James and dropped the package in his lap. He picked it up and turned it around, reading what was on it. "What am I supposed to do with that?" he asked. He thought pregnancy tests only existed for women.

"Nothing." She grabbed it out of his hands again. "Buying this is really embarrassing."

"I'm sure taking it is embarrassing as well." Looking at it was embarrassing enough for some reason. "Especially since you'd have to take it behind those bushes." He always became less embarrassed if Elizabeth was embarrassed as well and he could even tease her.

"Why?"

"Read the instructions."

"It doesn't say anything about bushes." Elizabeth hid her face between her knees.

"Where else could you go, though?" James looked around himself.

"James, do you still want a baby or not?" she asked. If he did, he should be a little more co-operative.

"You act as if there's a baby in that bottle that won't come out if you don't open it. Is it a bottle, by the way?"

"I don't know."

"That test can't change anything anymore. It can only tell you about it a little sooner."

"You're the one who wanted to know sooner!" Elizabeth told him, still with her face between her knees.

James rested his hand on her back. "I know, but I didn't know it would be so…so…" He had thought it would be easy.

She dropped the package in his lap again. "I don't have the nerve."

James studied it again with a frown. It was totally useless in his hands. "It's not made for men. I can't do anything with it."

"It's too stressful for me."

James pocketed the package thoughtfully. "Stay seated, darling. I'll be right back."

"You don't know where I bought it," Elizabeth said from between her knees. She thought he was going to return it.

"That's not where I'm going."

"Where are you going then?"

"If you want to hold on to it until I get back that's fine with me, but I'm not going to do anything with it yet." He was going to buy a bottle of water.

Part Seventy-Three

Tuesday Afternoon

As he was walking towards the shops, James wondered whether he was a responsible man. The fact that there was possibly a child on its way required him to be responsible, but it was quite daunting. It would be easier if he could tell he was already responsible, but he did not dare think so. Elizabeth certainly had problems with something, so it was all up to him. He had to take charge. If this was something of a more simple nature, they could pass it on to William, but this was too personal. This was only Elizabeth and him, without the comfort of having a back-up.

On the other hand, he realised he would not like too much interference either and he resisted the urge to call his mother. Help, yes, but interference, no. They could do it alone. Elizabeth could do things alone. Maybe she did not realise just what she had done all by herself. This frightened reaction would be temporary, James reasoned, and he should help her in the meantime. After all, there was ample time for him to be frightened himself. What they should not do was let these periods coincide.

And now he was looking for a bottle of a size that would certainly prompt a visit to the toilet. Elizabeth could not postpone it. She should take that test right away. It would be hell if she kept it to fuel her fears.

Perhaps it had not been the outcome, but his reaction to her buying it that she had been worried about. James hoped that was it. It was much easier to deal with, because reasoning could cure her and he was always more comfortable with problems that reasoning could solve. Really, why should his reaction worry her? He knew he had done things that could lead to a pregnancy and he had done them on purpose, even a little sooner than he would otherwise have done them. Nobody in his position had any right to be surprised by a pregnancy test.

He returned with a huge bottle and saw no sign of the test anywhere near her. "What did you do with it?" he asked.

"Do you think I would sit in a public park with a pregnancy test in my lap?" Elizabeth glanced at the bottle. She knew what it was for.

"Why not? So you didn't go behind the bushes to take it?"

"No. I'd have nothing to…use. Don't tell me that's what the bottle is for. The opening is too small, I'm sure."

"Is it?" James studied it.

"If you want to take the test, go right ahead," she said invitingly.

"I doubt that it would tell me I was pregnant. Were you afraid of my reaction?"

She shrugged.

"But I did what I did with the sole intention of getting you pregnant --" James said.

"Not because you loved me?" Elizabeth cut in quickly.

"That played a role, but a small one. Did I really love you the first time?"

"James!" she said in shock. That was something she had never thought about yet, but he was absolutely right.

"Don't kill me because I'm telling the truth. You didn't notice a thing, but I was feeling I was doing something really…really…" He could not describe it.

"I'm so sorry," Elizabeth said contritely.

"Don't be. I knew what I was doing and I hadn't wanted to say that. Now back to this test…" James said briskly.

Elizabeth did not want to go back to the test just yet. "But right now you feel…" she said hesitantly. Right now he should love her more.

"Don't keep getting away from the test. Start drinking." He handed her the bottle.

"I love you, James, but if you don't answer me, I won't drink."

James wanted to pour the water down her throat, but he remained calm when he spoke. "Who cares? We'll just wait until you get fat and then we'll know soon enough if you're expecting a baby."

"James, I just said I loved you. Act impressed." She had not expected him to give a serious answer, but sometimes he had to do the unexpected.

James kept his eyes on the bottle. "I suppose I wouldn't get into half so much trouble with you if I didn't love you. Now drink. Please?"

"I suppose that was as good as any passionate declaration of love," Elizabeth mused and began to drink. She squirted half the water out again when James poked her in the ribs. "Do you want me to drink or not?" she asked in mock indignation.

"Yes." James sat up straight and crossed his arms. "I'll keep my hands off you. Would you appreciate that sacrifice?"

"If it doesn't last too long. Can I still keep my hands on you while I drink?"

"Not both. You'd drop the bottle."

"One, though?"

"One is fine."

Elizabeth moved closer and placed one arm around his waist. Then she drank some more.

"I'm sure we look really stupid," James remarked. He still had his arms crossed, but he wished he could do something else with them.

"Yes, you look as if you don't want anything to do with me," she agreed.

"Well, I don't. Not until you've drunk enough."

A phone went off and it was not Elizabeth's tune. "I think your phone is ringing," she said.

"No, I didn't bring it."

"But it's not my tune."

"It is now," James grinned. He wondered why she had not noticed before. She must not be getting a lot of calls then.

"What do you mean?"

"I played with it."

"James!" Elizabeth hurriedly took her phone from her bag. "Why did you do that?"

"I hated it."

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" she told the person on the other side of the line. "I didn't know my phone was ringing. James changed the tune…What? What do you mean you agree with him?"

James began to snicker and she kicked him. "Ouch," he complained.

"Could I call you back in…an hour?" Elizabeth asked, thinking James would have forced her to take that test by then. "No? Not even if it's important?…Really…Yes…Bye." She put her phone back in her bag. "I thought I had a password on my phone."

"I know your password."

"How do you know?"

"What did you think I'd be looking at if you typed it in while you were practically sitting in my lap?" James asked with a snort.

"Me?"

Part Seventy-Four

Tuesday Afternoon

James took Elizabeth back to her office, but she complained a little about the lack of privacy there. Sharing toilets with an entire floor ensured that it was quite busy there right after lunch. People looked at them oddly because they lingered right outside the doors.

"They probably think we're having an illicit affair," James whispered with sparkling eyes. He was ready to act it out. "Could we be from adjoining firms with the toilets as our only opportunity to meet? Or could we be with the same company, but having this toilet affair? I can see they're wondering what we're about to do. And if we're going to choose the ladies' or the men's for that."

"We would have done that over lunch," Elizabeth whispered back.

"Not if we had to eat with our co-workers to stop them from becoming suspicious."

"And we wouldn't be standing here so suspiciously."

"Do you know these people?"

"No."

"So they wouldn't know you either and might think we were just talking." James had been counting and now the second woman who had gone into the ladies' toilets had also come out of it. That meant the room was now empty. "Time to move," he said, pushing Elizabeth in.

As he was waiting for her to come out of the toilet, another woman came in. She looked at him strangely. "You're supposed to be next door," she said.

"Not this time."

She filled her water bottle. "You'd better not be up to any mischief, or I'll call security."

"Isn't there any room in this building where a man and a woman can discuss procreation while enjoying the slightest bit of privacy?" James asked seriously.

"I'm going to call security," the woman announced with a shocked look and she strode away with her bottle of water.

James muttered something uncomplimentary and then banged on Elizabeth's door. "Hurry!" They had better get out of there before security arrived.

Elizabeth appeared, looking embarrassed. "It's really difficult," she complained.

He grabbed the container from her. "Thank you. Now go back to your office and I'll handle it from here." He would take it into the men's toilets.

"No!" she protested. She wanted to see all of it. Quickly she washed her hands.

"Well, we're going to have to relocate to the men's room, because some stupid woman threatened to set the security dogs on me." James peered out of the toilets. The coast was clear and he tiptoed to the next door down the corridor.

He did not have to urge Elizabeth. She followed him obediently, even when he went into one of the toilets. He made sure she was inside and then he locked the door. "And now what?" she asked, looking at the container that James was still holding. He had managed not to spill anything so far.

"Now we lower the lid and sit on it," James said and did so. He placed the container on the floor and pulled Elizabeth onto his knee.

"It's a bit small in here."

"That's because they don't want two people in a toilet. Contrary to us, other people who take a friend are usually perverts."

"Is that why that woman was going to call security?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Don't stall," said Elizabeth, her eyes on the container. James had the package. She had to wait for him. "I'm probably not pregnant at all." She tried to imagine what she would feel if she was not. "I mean, people try for so long sometimes and it would be so…arrogant to think we could do it in one week and then even be disappointed if it didn't work. What would we do if I wasn't?"

"Try again?" James suggested gently, but she was already sniffling. "You wouldn't like that?"

"I don't want to try. It has to happen."

They sat in silence for a while. Then James spoke again. "What if it already happened and you didn't take that test? Then you'd keep on trying for nothing."

Elizabeth raised her head from his shoulder. "You're right. You do it. I'll watch."

James treated it like a chemistry experiment. He remained calm and serious. "Well, what does that look like?" he asked when the result was visible. Elizabeth could not be as calm as he was and he pulled her fingers off where she had been pinching him.

"It looks like…"

William had been wondering what the important thing was that Elizabeth was maybe going to call him back about. He was a little preoccupied.

"What's on your mind?" Emma whispered. He was supposed to be paying attention.

"Elizabeth said she might call back."

"While you're here?"

"Yes."

"It wouldn't be appreciated," said Emma with a frown. "This is a formal lunch." And why would Elizabeth call? She was sure William had told her about the lunch.

"She said it was important and you're not supposed to be whispering at a formal lunch either."

"Tut, tut. Are you of the opinion that couples shouldn't be seen speaking in public?"

William looked around, but he saw no other couples whispering. "I don't see anybody else doing it."

"That's because I haven't seated them together," Emma said with a pleasant smile.

William pondered that idea. He looked around to see if it was really true. He did not know everyone, but the couples he knew were indeed sitting at different tables. Why was nobody else sitting together? "Why not?"

"Because otherwise people don't mingle."

Yet it did not apply to him or her. He had never given any thought to seating arrangements, but this struck him as odd. "And you don't want to mingle?" he asked.

"Not really."

He was intrigued, but his phone began to vibrate and he could not ask her to explain herself.

Part Seventy-Five

Tuesday Afternoon

William answered his phone, ignoring the curious looks other people sent him. They had been told it was a capital punishment to bring a mobile phone to lunch and now the King was using one himself. He still disliked people phoning during lunch, but this was important. It was Elizabeth. "Elizabeth?" he asked, but it took her a while to get her message across. He frowned for a while in incomprehension, but then he began to smile. Emma nearly tore the phone out of his hands and because it would not do to start a fight in public, or even at all, he let her have it.

"What is it?" Emma asked Elizabeth anxiously. She could guess what it was.

James says I'm pregnant. He took the test.

"James?" That puzzled Emma.

He did it for me.

"He helped her," William said helpfully, deducing that the mention of James was confusing her. He had heard this vague explanation already.

"Ooooh." It dawned on Emma how it must have gone. "I see. So…er…you're…"

You don't sound happy, Elizabeth said worriedly.

"I'm really happy for you, darling. It's wonderful, but I'm not surprised," Emma explained. "I knew it had to be really important for you to call and what could be more important than this?"

And what does Dad think?

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Emma assured her after a glance at her husband. He had told her, although not in so many words, that he would just be happy to see Elizabeth settled, even if she wanted to do it her own way. It was funny that the daughter who was most like him hardly ever understood him.

But he didn't say anything.

He would not say anything even if she asked directly. Emma sighed. "Because I took the phone away from him. Lizzy, you must come to dinner tonight, alright?"

We will. I'll leave you to your lunch then.

"Thank you for calling."

James and Elizabeth finally left the toilet. Elizabeth was startled by the sight of a man using the urinal, but not as startled as he was by seeing her, since she had known there might be men there and he had never been expecting a man and a woman to come out of the toilet.

"Excuse us," James said politely. He dropped the remains of the test in the waste bin and quickly washed his hands. Then he pushed Elizabeth out of the door, snorting quietly. "I wonder what he was thinking."

"I don't want to know," she said, glancing around, but nobody had seen them leave. They walked back to her office.

"Will you tell people?" James asked.

"No, not yet," Elizabeth answered after thinking about it. "Isn't normal not to tell people until after three months?"

"I'd have to tell my mother, though." His mother would have been expecting that news for a week or more, he suspected.

Elizabeth frowned. "James, it's yours as well. Of course you should tell your mother. She'd be thrilled to hear it."

"We'd have to come over right away," James predicted. His mother would not be satisfied with a phone conversation. She would want to talk to them in person.

Elizabeth went into her office and closed the door behind them. "We can't -- we have to have dinner with my parents, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind if your parents came along, if they insist on seeing you tonight."

James did not know if he liked that idea. "They'd team up and plan all sorts of things we don't want to do." His eyes followed her as she walked through her office energetically, but without apparent aim.

"Then we'd team up too."

He snorted. "I thought we had already teamed up?"

"Yes, of course."

"I hope they don't expect us to call it William." He did not like that name much.

"No, my eldest sister might have to do that," Elizabeth smiled. "I have more sisters, remember?"

"Plenty of inspiration," he agreed, grabbing Elizabeth when she came within reach. "We could always name it after an aunt or an uncle. I think we almost have to, considering the number of siblings our parents left us with. Didn't they have anything better to do?"

"We have better things to do, but we're not doing them either," she reminded him. Her computer had little appeal at the moment. She preferred James. "If you are anything like your parents…" He would have inherited that.

"And if you're anything like yours, we'd have three boys and three girls."

Elizabeth had to giggle. "I can't imagine that. Mmm. Shall we do some work or shall we take the afternoon off?" She had almost made her choice, but she wanted his opinion just in case, although she knew what he would say.

"Afternoon off!" James voted. The choice was easy. This was his day off too. "Can you?"

"I'm the boss!" They would be curious, but they would understand she liked James better. "There isn't a lot of business right now anyway. But call your mother first." After they had done that, they could leave. She did not know where they would go, but they would have fun.

James stretched his hand out to the phone and then withdrew it when he suddenly thought of something. "No," he said in embarrassment. "My mother would know we…"

Elizabeth did not laugh at him. It did not even occur to her. She thought about it seriously. "But she would know it's the only way."

That did not matter to James. "Yes, but I'd rather not have her know anyway."

"You don't have to mention that bit at all." She patted his back. "If you dial the number, I'll talk to her." She talked to Lucy, while James fidgeted nervously in the background.

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