A Mess
by Lise

To Part Two

I had this lying around for over a year (it was less when I found it) and while I await the return of my inspiration, I post this... there are similarities with other stories, because they were spun off before they were started ;-)

The sun was high in the sky. It was quiet all around and no people could be seen except for the man on his balcony. He was staring out over the landscape with his back to the room. Something inside made him turn around and his eyes lit up.

Really, what exactly had driven her to his balcony just wearing a bikini she did not know, but now that she was standing here looking at him there was no turning back. In his eyes she could see he did not want her to turn back. He looked too glad that she had come. This was what they both wanted, so she stayed, keeping her eyes on him. The view from the balcony was beautiful, but she had seen it before. She had seen him before too, but still it was different this time and she smiled.

He stepped closer. This was too important an occasion to ruin by thinking. Deep in his heart he had been hoping she would do this some day and now she had. He knew what he had to do. Slowly he put his arms around her, still not quite believing she was here and that he could touch her. "You came," he said, marvelling at the fact. She had come and she was not running away.

"I came," she smiled. "But you're not even surprised. You've always known I'd come, eventually." It felt good to have come. She loved him more than anything in this world and she had missed him terribly.

"Yes, I've always known," he answered and then he kissed her. Feelings that had been suppressed for so long had to be satisfied and his senses took over.

CHAPTER ONE: A week later, back at home

Queen Elizabeth sat watching the goings-on in Parliament on television. A tabloid had printed a picture of the Prime Minister Lord Setchley engaged in kissing a woman in a bikini while he was accompanying the Queen on a state visit to Brazil, after which all serious newspapers had jumped into the fray as well. At the moment he was being grilled about it in Parliament. They had not taken the news lightly, because this was really unacceptable. A state visit was an important occasion and not one to be used for getting friendly with natives who did not provide any political or economic benefits to the country. She watched the heated faces of the debaters. Was it the nature of the news or the opportunity to debate hotly that was exciting them?

The Queen leant her head in her hands wearily as she listened. The Prime Minister was in an impossible position now that his own party failed to defend him adequately. And it would indeed be difficult to maintain that Lord Setchley had not been kissing anyone if he admitted it himself. They could not claim the picture was a fake anymore, because he said it was not. It was hard to respond to the opposition's attacks when some in his own party clearly agreed that he had not been behaving as he ought.

He had been appointed two years ago and he was young, good-looking, intelligent and amusing, but most importantly for this matter, unmarried. It was not strange that he should eventually end up kissing somebody somewhere. There were uglier and older men that had landed in much bigger scandals. Nobody needed to wonder what a woman could see in this Prime Minister.

The problem was that Lord Setchley steadily kept refusing to reveal the identity of his kissing companion or the nature of their relationship, a discretion the Queen approved of, but which Parliament did not. She wondered if telling them it was an unimportant one-night stand would make them stop giving him a hard time, but she doubted it after watching the debates for a while. They just needed a reason to attack him and they would find it in anything, going by the topics they were starting to bring into the matter.

They would not have the Prime Minister misbehaving like that. It was all too clear from their reactions. Hypocrites! They envied him in secret because they were all old and ugly and this would never happen to them. But what would happen to the Prime Minister now? They wanted his head and he was holding it up high. He was not even apologising.

She wondered what effect an apology would have. He would become another hypocritical politician and he would lose his credit with the cynics. Sometimes she counted herself among those and upon closer inspection, she realised she was still a cynic. It was only a matter of time before a politician started to act like a politician, even this Prime Minister. Eventually he would give in to the pressure. Only the strongest of characters could withstand it and honestly, after Brazil, could anyone say he was strong?

A new bill had given the Queen more power and so she was professionally interested in the outcome of this situation. While the bill had raised many questions, notably from the anti-monarchist side, it had been supported anyway because it had slightly decreased the Prime Minister's absolute power -- only slightly and only nominally, or so people had thought. They had seen this as a courteous but meaningless gesture. People did not expect her to use her power and she could not even use it by herself.

"She is a discreet and impartial advisor who will not take advantage of her position," the Prime Minister had said. "Even someone in my position might need a sounding board. I do not believe that this will make me lose power. I believe the extra opportunity to consult Her Majesty will ultimately be beneficial to the entire political process."

What the bill had cleverly done was to ensure that one could not do anything without the consent of the other. The Queen had at first considered it a courteous gesture too and one that would involve even more useless paperwork for her staff to sign, but she now wondered just how devious Lord Setchley had actually been. Assuming he lost his support, how easy would it be to get rid of him?

She gasped for breath when she realised it. In the eyes of the world he had weakened his own position by sharing power, but as this soap opera was beginning to unfold she realised he had not weakened his position at all. In fact, he had strengthened it by making her some joint executive, as if he had known this would happen. He knew she was honest and just and he would be counting on that.

If she ditched a perfectly good Prime Minister just because he happened to have a love life, she would be undermining her own position and playing right into the cards of those who wanted to see her newly acquired power diminished again. They would be quick to point out that she did not know what she was talking about, that she could not recognise a good Prime Minister if she saw one, so why on earth had she been given more responsibilities?

So, really, if she took her job seriously, she could not support a dismissal procedure and he would know that. Of course he would. He was a politician.

"I repeat again, it was my own balcony. I do not think I have to defend myself for being there," Lord Setchley spoke calmly. He was apparently unfazed by the way he was being questioned about the notorious scene a photographer had captured. "Do you really want me to elaborate on warm weather and the attraction of balconies? As for what else happened: if anything else had happened on that balcony, I'm sure there would have been a picture of that as well. That means nothing else happened on that balcony."

He was not lying. The rest had happened inside, but he did not mention that. It would not be very wise. He could not claim to be a very wise man, otherwise this would not have happened in the first place, but he was wise enough to know he should not mention more.

This was the story he was going to stick to: yes, he had been kissing somebody on that balcony, but he would not say who it had been. He would admit to what he could not deny, namely the kiss, because there were pictures of it. The rest was none of their business and he was not sorry at all that he was not going to satisfy their curiosity.

"I wanted to ask you something about your brother," Clarissa Henderson asked her friend Amanda.

Amanda was used to answering such questions. Her brother was an interesting figure. "Yes?"

"Didn't he tell you anything about Brazil?"

"No, he didn't," Amanda replied cheerfully, but she felt Henry ought to have told her what he had been doing. As his sister and joint guardian of their niece and nephews, she felt she had a right to know. Suppose it was something that had an effect on the children? This undoubtedly would be. They read the newspapers too, at least Mary would.

"Haven't you asked?"

Amanda wondered why Clarissa also felt she had a right to know. Maybe there were more things Henry had not told her about. He had probably thought it wisest not to tell her in this case, knowing her opinion of blonde models as suitable wives. Why did men not think with their heads for once instead of with something else? She sighed. "No, I haven't asked him. Have you?"

"No, I didn't want to pry…"

But that was exactly what Clarissa did want, Amanda thought. "Neither did I."

"Do you think it was a Brazilian woman?" Clarissa persisted.

"I have no idea," Amanda said truthfully. She did not know who the woman had been. There had been several cases of women trapping famous men on purpose and she hoped this was not one of those. Time would tell if Henry did not. "Would it make any difference if she was Brazilian?" Her nationality did not matter; only her intentions did.

"Henry doesn't know any Brazilian women, so if she was Brazilian, she must have been a casual flirt. Or worse," Clarissa said ominously, hinting at paid services.

While that thought had crossed Amanda's mind as well, she had dismissed it. She thought she knew her brother better than that. "I don't think Henry is the type. He certainly wouldn't do that under the Queen's nose."

It was a well-known fact that Queen Elizabeth had a difficult character and that she was not fond of irresponsible behaviour. Family members who misbehaved were always severely reprimanded. Furthermore, she appeared to have a dislike of politicians that would make her eager to reprimand them as well. There was no chance that the Queen would have allowed her Prime Minister to flirt casually or consort with less respectable women and he would have been aware of that. He would also have known that doing it under her nose would antagonise her even further.

Henry had to know what she was like -- she had forced him to pass that bill, thought Amanda, who did not really know what Henry thought of feminist queens. Brother and sister usually had so many other things to talk about that they never got around to talking about the ins and outs of his job. Personally, Amanda would have wanted more power as well if she had been the Queen.

The Queen was very interested in the outcome of the interrogations. Lord Setchley could not resign. That was impossible. There was no one to take over, except people she did not particularly like and she had to meet the Prime Minister every week, so it was imperative that she could at least get along with the man -- or woman.

She felt so annoyed as she watched the debate. Those men only thought of the male point of view. The fact that there had been a woman present who had played just as big a role as the Prime Minister had, did not occur to them at all. His libido? What about the woman's? She had not been innocent. In fact, she might have been the initiator.

She decided to gauge a female politician's reactions, even though the whole thing had no significance. The men were all ignoring that there must have been a woman, but what about women themselves? "Get me Mrs Greville on the line," she ordered her secretary after the debate. People always told Elizabeth she only became excited about unimportant issues, but she did not care about their importance.

"Your Majesty?" Anne Greville, renowned for her feminist ideas, was apparently not discussing the debate in one of the hallways, because she answered very soon.

"I wonder what you think of the current case of the Prime Minister's…kissing," the Queen said bluntly.

"It's a disgrace," Mrs Greville said immediately.

Elizabeth knew better than to take words at face value. People so often lied in order to ingratiate themselves to her. "Is that your personal view, your party's view or a politically correct view?"

"It's my party's view, but I support it."

The Queen still did not believe that right away. One always had to prompt politicians a little. They were the worst of the lot. "Could you explain to me why it's a disgrace? And to whom or what?"

"To the country, Your Majesty." Anne Greville sounded faintly incredulous that the Queen apparently did not think so.

"Because…?" She should take care that she did not disagree too openly.

That confused Mrs Greville even more. "Well…a PM should be exemplary, shouldn't he? This is hardly exemplary behaviour."

"What exactly do you know of his behaviour? Everyone is in the dark about what he has done exactly, so how could it be qualified as hardly exemplary?"

"I only know what I read," Anne Greville admitted. "He didn't say anything himself."

"Only what you read," Elizabeth repeated. She was glad for that answer. "Much of which may be pure conjecture." She had read the article and the reporter had also described what had happened after the kiss, but that was of course something he could not possibly know, because he had not been in the room. "This was a tabloid, after all."

"But the picture…"

"I agree about the picture. We cannot ignore it. But, wouldn't you also agree that a Prime Minister is a human being who has a right to romantic adventures in his spare time?" She did not mean to say this was a blank check for the Prime Minister to spend all his free hours chasing women. In such a case she would probably agree with everyone else.

"Well…"

The Queen suddenly did not know whether she actually agreed with what she had just said, so she brought up her main point. Anne Greville should not begin to think that the Queen supported loose behaviour. "And, Mrs Greville, it amazes me that no women have yet protested about the way your male colleagues in Parliament portray the alleged victim, namely as a helpless, passive Barbie doll." That was one of the things that annoyed her most. They were assuming that all women would consent to any advance a man made. The PM would only have to snap his fingers and women would be running towards him. Such thoughts made her blood boil. What about women who would say no, or who would snap their fingers and have the PM come running towards them?

"But Your Majesty…do you approve of Lord Setchley's actions?" Anne Greville asked impertinently. One did not normally question the Queen, but she was immensely curious as to why she was being interrogated so relentlessly about so scandalous a subject. The Queen was not known to have any matters she was very concerned about, or rather she had never yet been known to have those. One of them might just have come to light.

"I…" Elizabeth hesitated. "I simply wish to point out that he is not the only one to blame, if anyone must be blamed in this case, which I don't think is necessary or just. I called you, Mrs Greville, because I was under the impression that you believed women have wills of their own and are capable of being active rather than passive. Perhaps I was wrong, if you believe Lord Setchley is the only responsible party here," she said sharply.

"I'm not sure I could comment on that. Perhaps you should ask him. He would have to answer the Queen."

"I doubt that he'd answer," said the Queen. "He's made it very clear that he won't answer any questions about it and it isn't that I want to hear what went on. I specifically want to hear a woman's opinion."

"Even if there was a woman tempting him, Lord Setchley should have remembered his responsible position," Anne Greville insisted. It was hard to deal with a queen who had such strange and unexpected ideas.

"He should have," the Queen agreed with a sigh.

"I am sure you will remind him of his position the next time you see him," Anne Greville said.

That could be either an order or a question. How was she to reply to it? The Queen could not be ordered. "I am sure he will be reminded of his position the next time he lays eyes on a newspaper," the Queen said dryly. They wrote about it every day.

"He must keep in mind that the Prime Minister of an important country cannot afford to play around and I don't see how he could have serious intentions with a Brazilian woman in a bikini, which probably means that she wasn't worth mentioning," Mrs Greville deduced. "He has to protect himself from the criticism he would receive if it became known he consorted with a sort of prostitute. He's from a good family, you know."

Queen Elizabeth closed her eyes. If this was the best reaction she could expect, things were not looking well.

The Queen and the Prime Minister had met in the meantime because they did so every week, but they had not discussed this problem. They had not even referred to it at all. There had not been any need for that. Both of them had thought about it so much that they knew there was no simple way out. Talking about it would not help matters along and there were more important things to discuss.

He had given the country a youthful and energetic face abroad. Within the country, he had appealed to almost everyone. Maybe it was this popularity that was now making people's shock even bigger. People admired him greatly, but seemingly they could not handle the fact that he was not a saint. The Queen wondered how people expected him to venture into relationships if he was not even allowed to kiss. They would not approve of an arranged marriage either, so what exactly did they want? Celibacy?

She did not think this scandal had damaged the image of the country abroad much. True, it was not the image they would like to present, but it would have been far worse had Lord Setchley been married. People should keep that in mind. People in other countries would also know that men in power were attractive to women. They would hardly have been surprised or shocked to hear it. It happened all the time and it was a universal thing. It was odd, because women in power did not appear to be attractive. Perhaps it was just her fault, or perhaps she was not a woman in power, but she had never noticed that sort of thing with regard to herself. Of course she was not as attractive as Lord Setchley and she had a title that repelled instead of attracted, as was the case with him.

It was fortunate that the woman in question had not even been found, so nobody had been able to see Lord Setchley's bedroom secrets splashed all over the front pages of the tabloids. Still, Parliament was living in permanent fear of reading an exclusive interview with the woman in which she revealed exactly what the Prime Minister had done and which state secrets he had told her. The pessimists even had a worse fear of discovering that this had not been the only occasion on which he had let himself go, whereas the realists feared there was a big chance that he might now become a target for female spies.

The Queen understood their fear, but while it was not ungrounded, it was a bit overreacted all the same. Nevertheless, with a Prime Minister who refused to take away that fear, it would only become worse. She laughed at their fear that he had been done by a female spy. That would be worse than a woman who would sell the story to the highest bidding tabloid. However, those who cried the hardest were probably also those who were in the greatest danger of succumbing themselves.

It was their own national soap. She checked repeatedly if there was any news, but this had been the cliff-hanger episode before the summer holidays. The bomb had been dropped and that was it.

"Oh, it is such a scandal!" the Queen Mother exclaimed in a horrified voice. "Linnie, you must --"

But her daughter did not really listen. There was always so much that her mother said she must do. Usually half of it was unfeasible anyway.

"It is such a pity that he's already a peer. Now you're not getting that chance to punish him by not knighting him."

Trust her mother to make associations no one else would make. Elizabeth sighed. "I doubt that he'd be susceptible to that threat." He would probably laugh in her face.

"That's because he already is a peer."

"Well then don't bring up this topic!" she said in frustration. "What's the point?"

"Linnie, I don't like the way you speak to me."

"I am sorry, Mother, but if you don't want me to speak to you that way you shouldn't say stupid things." Elizabeth tried very hard not to get irritated. Her mother could do that so easily. Why did she have to be the only person with a bit of sense in a family of morons? Her mother was not the only person who could irritate her.

"Your mother deserves some respect," the Queen Mother hissed angrily.

"And so does the Queen." Elizabeth sailed out of the room regally and stalked off through the corridors of the palace as if she had somewhere to go.

"Your Majesty," a vague spot of colour in the corner of her eye called out.

"Not right now!" she snapped and marched on. Who had that been? No matter. She could not turn her head to look anymore and retrace her steps. Queens did not go back on their words. She had somewhere to go -- a peaceful state of mind rather than an actual physical location -- and she could not waste any time getting there.

The Prime Minister bent his head. Yes, he cared, but not in the way they wanted him to care -- he cared only about how he could keep her name out of it. She did not deserve to be taken apart the way they took him apart right now, accusing him of having no regard for the family values his party advocated so strongly. But he supported those family values. They just did not apply to bachelors, in his opinion. Bachelors did not have wives. He had no one to hurt except himself.

He still did not feel he had done anything wrong, even though his brain had warned him that it had not been the wisest of actions. Unwise was not the same as wrong, however. The fleeting memories that he came into his mind before he could push them away all gave him a good feeling. He only felt bad because he had to banish them from his mind.

And why was it unwise? Part of him still rebelled against that thought, trying to see, wanting to see a solution. His heart felt that it had been right, but his heart and his head had never really got along well. They never worked in unison.

A public apology, his advisors had said, but what would a public apology solve? It was a hypocritical thing to do and he did not think the public would accept it. They loved the story, even if they disapproved of it. If he apologised they would call him a liar.

A quiet anger welled up in him as he thought of what that apology would sound like. I am sorry… No, he was not sorry, damn it. He was not sorry at all and he did not think he should be reproached for anything. There was nothing he had done wrong. Was love wrong? Love could not be wrong. The world was in a poor state if people were against love.

What would she think if he said sorry? She might think he regretted it -- an aberration, soon to be forgotten, but this was something he would never forget. He did not only have the public to think about. The effect on her was just as important.

He gazed ahead steadfastly before he began to speak.

"You have all heard what I'm being accused of. Some of you may know that I have not denied it and that I have continually maintained it was a private matter. I still believe it's a private matter, but too many people believe otherwise.

"I am concerned about our state of mind if we feel the need to interfere in somebody's private life, however public a figure that may be. I believe that even public figures have the right to lead their own lives and they have the right to feel strongly enough about other people to kiss them. I am not sorry for what has happened.

"I do not see why I should deny those feelings just because of my position. There is only one woman involved. One. I don't see the problem. I'm not married. I don't have a partner in life and judging by the reactions of the public at large, I shan't ever be allowed to get one. Apparently a Prime Minister should be a kind of monk. I am not married to the country. I do not betray anyone by seeing a woman.

"I have the country's best interests at heart and I will not let this interfere with my job. It's a mystery to me why people should think that. Have I been functioning less well or acting differently since this incident? Have I taken time off? No, I have not. Had there not been a picture, nobody would have known. I can and will keep my private life private.

"This means I shall not reveal the lady's identity. I called it an incident, but I hope she'll forgive me. She knows what I should like to call it, but she also knows why I don't. I want to spare her from any unhappiness she might experience as a result of this situation. I am deeply sorry about any less pleasant feelings she has had so far and I know she has had them. It's nobody's fault and I do not blame either of us for this situation. I refuse to blame her and I also refuse to blame myself.

"I do not say something like this will never happen again, because, had you asked me beforehand, I would have said it would never happen and yet it did. Sometimes things are beyond our control. I shall neither seek nor avoid the situation in the future. Whatever will be, will be. Thank you."

The Prime Minister's words made a great impact, notably because he was speaking himself. People would be thinking a little better about him, he hoped. He had not let himself get elected just to resign two years later. His pride forbade that and he had a considerable amount of pride instilled in him by the family. He wanted to finish the complete term, but that was not his only concern: he was faced with another, but equally important, private problem now.

"My niece is at Oakhurst…" Lord Setchley said hesitantly, knowing his conversational partner would know what he meant. She had been to that school herself and she had to know there was a big reunion for its 200th anniversary coming up very soon. She would also know parents or guardians of the pupils were expected to visit and perhaps she would also know they had a little political crisis going on which would make that near impossible.

"Yes…?" she answered. She knew about the niece and the two nephews, his deceased brother's children, who were taken care of by him and his sister alternately. Not many people knew he had a greater share in their upbringing than he claimed to have. He had explained it to her once. It would make him look better, but it would be too hard on the children to be exploited by the party's propaganda. It had surprised her, cynical as she was.

"Well…" He did not know how to bring it up now that she did not immediately understand. This was neither the time nor the place to bring up personal problems. She might not like to hear about them. Perhaps that was why she pretended not to understand him.

"What do you mean by telling me your niece is at Oakhurst?" she asked patiently when he stopped.

"You have been to school at Oakhurst."

"I have." Most people knew the Queen had been there, which was why it had become such an exclusive school. She failed to see how this was connected to his niece's being there. It was, frankly, an anecdote that was out of place at the moment. They were discussing business.

"Then you have to know there's an anniversary. I can't go. It's impossible. I knew when I accepted this job that it would take precedence over other matters. On the other hand, what kind of trouble would people give me if I didn't go? I'm going to get criticism no matter what I do." He would be just as easily criticised for neglecting his niece as he was criticised for forgetting his position, possibly even by the same people, he thought cynically.

This was the first time he had referred, if indirectly, to the current situation. Of course Elizabeth had heard him speak last night as well. His statement that he would neither seek nor avoid the situation in the future had been clever, she thought, because nobody would ever be able to pin him down on it. At the same time, however, it had been indifferent and cold. And he had said he had no partner in life, which was not a lie, but he had not mentioned his nephews and niece as if they did not matter. "What kind of trouble would your niece give you if you didn't go?" she asked. Suddenly she wondered what the niece had been thinking about it all. She was old enough to know about the situation if she was at Oakhurst.

"Nothing. She would understand."

She was not so sure. His niece would be disappointed if he did not come. It was no fun being the only girl without a parent. She had experienced it herself often enough. All her material privileges had seemed unimportant at such occasions and she had envied other girls. "Are you asking me to advise you?" She would advise him to go. What was the thing that was preventing him?

"No. I can't go. That's a fact, but I just feel bad about it. I had to tell someone."

"Do you feel bad about disappointing your niece or about damaging your image even further?" she asked with a sudden sharpness.

It startled him. "Would you believe me if I said I'd feel bad about disappointing my niece?"

Elizabeth smiled guardedly. "You're a politician. We never know whether to believe you or not." But she always wanted to believe people had enough of a heart to feel bad about disappointing others.

"I'd genuinely feel bad if I should disappoint her. You were at that school. Would they be expecting me to come?" he asked.

She had no wish to increase his worries by saying the school would most definitely be expecting him to come, since he could not make it. She looked away, trying to think of something else. That poor girl would be expecting him as well. "I'm going. I could…convey your apologies." She should not be doing such things. She should let others handle their problems themselves., but she had spoken already.

Lord Setchley looked at her gratefully. "Would you?"

She nodded, looking reserved. He could not make it, but she was not certain apologies would suffice. She was not even certain he would apologise to his niece himself or if he was leaving it all to her, but she did not have any right to ask him about that.

"I asked Henry if one of us should go to Mary's school," Amanda said to her husband. Long ago, when they had first found out that there were two festivities on the same day, they had agreed that she and her husband would go with the boys, while Henry went to Oakhurst, but now something important appeared to have come up that could possibly prevent him from going. It would be easy for either her or her husband to accompany Mary, if Henry could not make it. "But he said it wasn't necessary. I wonder what he's planning. He was a bit vague about it. Maybe he's going himself. What do you think?"

She had been thinking aloud and her husband had not really been paying attention. "I don't know. Your brother is old enough to handle it on his own." He was of the opinion that Henry could ask for help if he needed it. If they heard nothing, no help was required. Henry was pretty direct about such things. He did not give vague hints.

"I don't think so." But she knew that if he was not old enough now, he would never be old enough. He was no longer a child. Perhaps she should stop seeing him as her younger brother.

"Let him deal with it. He's not going to learn anything if you stop him from making mistakes."

"I know, but…" She sighed. What was Henry doing? He was not being very responsible lately.

Lord Setchley was amazed when he was cornered by Anne Greville in one of the corridors. "I have been talking to Her Majesty," she said. "She spoke to me about the situation. Apparently she feels you're being treated in an unnecessarily harsh way." Mrs Greville did not sound as if she quite agreed.

The Queen was meddling in things she should not meddle in. She never meddled in anything. Why was she meddling now? He was grateful for her support, but she did not seem to realise how dangerous it was to support him. People who were chopping off heads would not care if they chopped off one extra. "Does she?" he asked noncommittally. He had to see if this was positive or negative first.

"Apparently the Queen feels that you're not the only one who deserves to be blamed. She pointed out to me, quite correctly, that women are not passive creatures."

He exhaled. "Ahh." It was innocent meddling, even if he failed to see its significance or the Queen's intentions. He was aware that women were not passive creatures and he had always thought Mrs Greville was aware of this too, so why had the Queen felt it necessary to tell her? However, he was rather relieved that Mrs Greville had been the one to be reprimanded and not him.

Mrs Greville noticed his relief. "She did not imply, mind you, that you had innocently been snared by a predatory female, so don't get your hopes up too high."

"What did she hope to accomplish by telling you that?" he wondered, feeling as if he was being told off by a schoolmistress again. He had been told off by the Queen this morning already for not going to Mary's school, not in words, but he had been able to feel her disapproval anyway. Women really had it in for him today. If you did something wrong once, you could never get back to doing things right, it seemed.

"She hoped we would go easier on you. The Queen doesn't like political manoeuvres. Apparently she believes the opposition's only goal is to bring the present government down. She knows some of us personally don't give a damn what you do in your spare time and yet give you a hard time anyway."

He knew that as well. "And will you go easier on me?" It was funny that the Queen should order people to go easy on him when her own idea of going easy was by not speaking her disapproval but only conveying it with her looks, which quite frankly did not help much to lessen the impact. One look from her did more than a lengthy speech from Anne Greville.

"We might. We all heard your speech last night. You do not appear to have any regrets," she said, looking at him carefully to see if this was true.

"No, I don't," Lord Setchley answered calmly, but he was beginning to regret that he had been giving that impression. Not having any regrets was not only a sign of confidence, it might also be seen as coldness or indifference. He knew better than to trust Anne Greville completely if there was always a chance she would interpret his words the way she liked. It was best to stay concise.

"It might have worked, but it's too early to tell."

He was puzzled by that sudden remark. "So why are you telling me?"

"I was curious," she admitted.

"You were hoping I would let something slip, weren't you?" he smiled. "That I would tell you something you could use against you. I won't."

"Oh, you know as well as I do that if I antagonise both you and the Queen, I'm putting myself in a very dangerous position. It's not really easy to use things against you."

"She threatened you?" he asked in disbelief.

"No." Anne Greville shook her head. "I don't think she would. She seems to dislike that sort of thing -- in principle. But you know how strong principles are when they're under threat, don't you? I've always been under the impression your principles were pretty strong and yet…" her voice trailed off meaningfully. "I don't know what Her Majesty's intentions were, but she succeeded in making me think and I've come to the conclusion that perhaps we should devote more attention to investigating the motives of the woman. After all, you're only a man and your motives would have been quite straightforward."

"Is that what she said?" he still looked incredulous.

"No, she did not say that. That's my own conclusion."

"Do you hate men?"

"No, I do not hate men -- I'm married -- but I do confess to not having a terribly high opinion of the willpower of men faced with an attractive woman in a bikini," Mrs Greville said with a significant smile.

Lord Setchley knew he ought to feel a trifle insulted. "You probably wouldn't believe me if I said I can withstand just about any attractive woman in a bikini. How would you know if she was attractive anyway?"

She patted him on the arm conspiratorially. "My dear Prime Minister, if we ever get to the bottom of this scandal, you would look an incredible fool if you had risked your position for an ugly woman, wouldn't you agree?"

"You're not being fair to your own sex by supposing ugly women have nothing to interest a man."

"So it was an ugly woman?" she asked shrewdly. "Which would also account for your secrecy. You'd be ashamed."

He shook his head decisively. He was not going to allow her to draw him into a guessing game. "Whatever you try, I won't reveal her identity or her relative degree of attractiveness."

Elizabeth was not here at Oakhurst as the Queen, but simply as one of the ex-pupils of this school. Nevertheless, the welcome she got from the current headmistress was a good deal more respectful and warmer than what the other ex-pupils would receive, if they were welcomed at all. It was impossible to greet everyone.

Due to the large number of prominent alumnae, invitations were checked at the gate and she could walk around in relative safety and freedom, if she could get rid of the headmistress, that was. She feared she was going to be accompanied all day. First she should find an excuse to free herself and then she should stay out of the way. "I have a message from the Prime Minister for his niece," she said to the headmistress. "To his great regret he could not be here today and when he heard I was going, he asked me say something to his niece." Well, in reality she had offered to say something, but that was a moot point.

The headmistress nodded. She knew he would not be coming. "He phoned me to apologise for his absence. His sister is also otherwise engaged. It is rather unfortunate that the boys' school should also have an event today." She stopped a passing girl and questioned her briefly. Then she turned back to Elizabeth. "Mary is in her dormitory. She didn't take the news very well."

Elizabeth frowned. It was not a good sign to be hiding away in a dormitory on a festive day like this and she wondered that the headmistress or some other teacher had not forced the girl to come out. "I remember where the dormitories are. Which one is it?" She did not need the headmistress to come with her. She could find it herself and she preferred to speak to the girl in private.

"3D."

"I'll find her. You probably have to greet the other guests. Don't worry about me. Thank you. I'll see you later." Elizabeth walked away quickly, leaving the startled headmistress behind. The building had not changed much since she had been living here. It looked different, but everything was still in the same place. She had been early, but she had not been the first to arrive. There were already small groups of women reminiscing about the good old days here and there. They looked at her curiously as she passed and she smiled by way of greeting. They knew who she was, but she had no idea who they were. It was very unsettling always to meet with recognition. She never knew if she should recognise these people in return. In these cases, she guessed she did not. They were not her age. Still, she had smiled automatically as she was wont to do.

It was easy to find 3D. Everything was numbered logically. As she pushed open the door, she hoped there would not be any other ex-pupils in here. That would make the situation more difficult. But there were no women, only two girls playing cards on one of the beds. Elizabeth had expected to find only one, so she was surprised. Which one was it? They stared at her in awe and scrambled to their feet. Naturally they had not been expecting her either.

"Er…" Elizabeth stared at them. She had been rehearsing what to say if she found the girl, but now there were two and that threw her off balance. Of course queens could never be thrown off balance and she struggled to find something to say. She would be making quite an impression if she stood here gaping. "Er…which one of you is Mary?" she finally managed to ask.

"Me," one said timidly, a dark blonde girl with red-rimmed eyes who had obviously been crying. She was about fifteen years old. The other one was about the same age, with dark hair.

Would he know? That was the first thing that occurred to Elizabeth. Would he know his absence would make her cry? If that was what had made Mary cry. What else could it be, though? "I have a message for you from your father -- I mean, uncle," she corrected herself quickly.

Mary shrugged and looked down. She sometimes mistakenly said father as well. Then she wondered why he would give the Queen a message for her. It was hard to imagine the Queen willing to act as a messenger, although her uncle would get away with it, she supposed. In her history classes she had learned that he had a powerful job, although she never saw him that way. He could probably make queens do what he wanted and if he could not make them do something because he was powerful, they would do it because he was nice. "Why would he do that?" She pretended not to care about hearing it and she looked away.

Elizabeth was not fooled by the girl's indifferent attitude. She wanted to hear it. "Because he's sorry he couldn't make it," she said in a gentle voice.

"He doesn't care that I now have to stay in here all day," Mary said gruffly, trying not to start crying again. She could not think of this woman as the Queen -- that was someone on television and in magazines. This was a real woman.

She could not tell if he cared, but did Mary really have to stay here? "Why do you?" Elizabeth wondered if they had been told to stay here. She hoped not. That would be shocking.

"Because…everybody has at least one parent they can show around. This is my school. What is the fun of walking around by myself? I already know everything. Sarah's parents live in Singapore and they can't afford the ticket and we are the only ones that don't have anybody right now. We're going to have to stay here all day and he doesn't care."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "I don't think he realises."

"So he doesn't care." Mary turned away and began to cry.

She did not want to consider that he might not care. This brought back memories. She remembered having to stay close to the headmistress or another teacher all day, because her parents had no time to come. She had had to keep herself from crying all day and she had only cried at night. It still hurt. She blinked and stared in the distance. It almost made her cry right now. "I know how you feel," she said softly. "My parents…" Her throat felt constricted.

Mary was interested enough to turn back. "What did they do?"

"They…were always too busy."

The two girls stared at her in shock, not only because of what she said, but also because her eyes were shining as if she was dangerously close to tears. "Do you mean they didn't come either?" Sarah ventured unbelievingly.

"They came once, I think. Everybody envied me, but I envied everybody." Elizabeth looked away so they could not see her eyes. "They had parents who cared more." She should not be telling anybody, but she supposed she wanted to let the girls know someone understood and that they were not the only ones who had felt alone.

"Maybe they really couldn't come. Wasn't your father the King?" Mary asked hesitantly. It was a bit of a shock to hear kings were real people with flaws. "He was probably very busy."

Elizabeth smiled bitterly. "I have his job now and if I can free time to come here, so could he and I don't even have children who need me. Your uncle is far busier than a queen. He felt really bad about not being able to come." Mary should not feel as bad as she had been feeling. Her uncle cared about her. She supposed he did, at least. He had been looking genuinely concerned.

"Really?"

"Really." She was glad to see Mary looked a little more relieved and knew what she had to do. She smiled kindly. "If you want, you can both come with me. You shouldn't be sitting here all day. There are all kinds of festivities out there." She paused when she realised they might not want to, or they might think she was not sincere. "Because I don't want to be shown around by the headmistress." That had happened often enough in the past. It would be better for all three of them if they spent the day together.

The two girls looked stunned. "Really? Me too?" Sarah asked. "My uncle is not the Prime Minister."

"Don't ask such stupid questions," Elizabeth said sternly. "I don't care about uncles."

"I hope you amused yourself," said Lord Setchley guiltily when Mary phoned him. He had been surprised to see which phone she was using to call him, or rather, surprised it was she who was calling. He knew that number and he had been expecting someone else. It made him wonder if the Queen had done more than just convey his apologies. She must have, otherwise Mary could never be using her phone. Mary was not the type to ask someone for her phone, especially since she had her own one. Either she had been ordered to use another one or she had been offered.

"Oh, yes. We did. I'm just calling to say I did, so you wouldn't be concerned, if you were."

Her last words especially sounded reproachful. He felt he had to apologise again. "I am really sorry I couldn't come." He had had to attend a really important meeting. He had been supposing that was why Elizabeth was letting Mary speak to him for a moment -- she would have to talk to him herself about the outcome of this meeting -- but Mary's words belied this. She was only calling to say she had amused herself. He frowned. She was not going to give the phone over to Elizabeth then? He did not see why Elizabeth would insist that Mary use her phone.

"I know. She told us." Mary was loath to use a distant descriptive term such as queen and she could not yet bring herself to say Elizabeth either. It was safer to use a personal pronoun.

"She." He could guess who that would be. The owner of the mobile phone Mary was using. He would stick to personal pronouns too.

Mary seemed to understand his unspoken request for an explanation. "Sarah and I spent the day with her. She also said I shouldn't worry about that…situation you were in." Mary had not dared to ask him about it before, although she had been very curious and concerned, and he had not explained it to her. She had been so concerned that she had got over her fear and asked Elizabeth about it very hesitantly. Elizabeth had only said she should not worry. "She said not to worry, but does that mean you don't have a girlfriend or anything?" After having found the courage to ask the Queen questions, it had also become easier to ask Henry something personal.

"You wouldn't like that?" he asked carefully, immensely curious about what Elizabeth had said to Mary. She had said not to worry, but that could mean anything. And she had spent the day with Mary? Why? He felt left out of very important things now -- not only left out, but also shoved aside, as if his position had been usurped.

"Not really, unless I liked her very much."

"I don't have one," he answered. He was actually relieved that she had brought it up. He had contemplated calling his niece and nephews to explain, but he had not known what to say and so he had not done it. They would have felt pretty much the way he was feeling now: jealous. Why was he feeling jealous that Mary had voiced her concerns to someone else instead of him? And that that someone had also replaced him quite ably by the sound of it. He was happy about that, but in a sense he also felt differently.

Mary had to say it, now that they were talking about the subject. "But I wouldn't like you kissing everybody either." He had better not do it again.

"Neither would I," he assured her. "And it won't happen. How come you spent the day with the Queen?" he asked curiously. He would like to know whose idea that had been, although it had almost certainly not been Mary's.

"She didn't want to spend the day with the headmistress, so she took us instead," Mary explained. She hoped she could believe him about the kissing. It had shocked her enormously to see that picture in the paper and to be unable to reply to the other girls at school when they had commented on it. "Sarah and me, because we were the only ones who were alone. Sarah said her uncle wasn't a prime minister, but she said she didn't care about uncles."

Mary's words stabbed him like a knife. Only two of them had been alone? Everyone else had a parent visiting them? He felt unbelievably guilty. Nevertheless, it sounded as if Mary had amused herself very well, thanks to the Queen, but this was not an ideal situation. "I must thank her next week." He was not looking forward to the reprimands he would undoubtedly receive.

"Do you want to talk to her right now?" Mary offered. She was not far away and he would not have to wait until next week.

He considered it. "No, not right now. I have a meeting with her next week anyway. She might start talking business and that would all take far too long, but you may give her my regards and tell her I'm very grateful." He was not afraid of hearing business. It was reproaches that he would not like to hear and how could she not reproach him now that she had felt obliged to entertain Mary all day just because he had had more important things to do? She would not have been prepared to keep a girl company. Maybe she had not even liked it.

"Okay, I'll do that."

For a split second he considered asking for Elizabeth anyway, but he decided that if she had wanted to speak to him, she would have called him herself. She obviously wanted to avoid him. "Bye darling. Have a good time."

"Bye," Mary said. She took the phone back to Elizabeth. "My uncle wants me to give you his regards and to tell you he's very grateful, but he couldn't say that himself because he was afraid you might start talking business." She had to make an excuse for her uncle's impoliteness. It was impolite not to want to say hello.

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows as she received the phone. She said nothing, but put it back into her shoulder bag.

"I am sorry," Lord Setchley answered. He had gone to see his niece at school as soon as he could, which was a few hours after the important meeting he had had, because he had been feeling increasingly guilty. He had to make up for his neglect somehow. The Queen had already left, as had most of the parents. He supposed he ought to be glad, because the ones that were still there looked at him oddly and they would undoubtedly begin to gossip behind his back.

"Really?" Mary asked.

"You're going to have to believe me."

She bit her lip. "I believe you." He had come and it made her so happy that she had to cry.

"I hope you had a nice day anyway." That was a very worthless thing to say and he hoped his hug made up for the inadequacy of his words. It took an occasion like this to make him realise how attached he had become to his brother's children and they to him. Their happiness was linked to his. Why had he been thinking his job was more important?

"We might not have had a parent, but we could stick out our tongues at the girls who bullied us, because we had the Queen," Mary said in satisfaction. Some girls had definitely looked green with envy.

"There were girls who bullied you?"

"Yes, they mainly bullied Sarah, though, because her parents couldn't afford a ticket from Singapore just to come here for the day." She did not mention the trouble they had given her on account of his romantic escapades.

"Not you?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"Who?" he demanded, pushing her away from him a little so he could look at her.

"What are you going to do to them?" she asked fearfully.

"That depends on what they said to you." He could guess what they had said. He had been able to read it in many variations in the press in the past few weeks. It angered him that people should trouble an innocent girl. She had nothing to do with this and they had no right to pester her.

"I don't want to repeat that."

He put his arm around her. "Mary, they have no right to bother you because of anything I did," he said emphatically. "Tell me. I can probably imagine most of it anyway."

"They also said I might be --" Mary swallowed. "That I might not be your niece, but the result of one of your other adventures." They had implied that he had invented the dead brother in order to cover up his own philandering, when that was such a big lie that she had not known what to reply.

"What did you answer?"

"I said I wouldn't care, because I'm like your daughter anyway." She hoped he would not deny that.

He smiled and kissed her hair, glad she still wanted to be like a daughter. "That's right. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about…Brazil. I was afraid you'd be upset about it. I wouldn't ever let anyone come between us. You and the boys have already had your parents taken away from you once. I couldn't allow it to happen another time," he said softly.

One way to relax was to go shopping. "Oh, I absolutely don't need this. I want it," Elizabeth said when she saw a shiny black dress with silver sparkles.

"Don't you think you're a little too old for it?" asked her friend Theodora with a critical glance. It was also hideously overpriced, not that either of them had to care about that. She supposed Elizabeth did not even have a notion of normal prices. Perhaps she would not even realise that ordinary shops were not as deserted as this one, although she was nobody's fool.

"Who cares?" She liked it and went to try it on.

"It's not your usual sort of thing," said Theodora, following her to the changing rooms. It was not Elizabeth's usual sort of thing to try anything on either. The only reason why they were not being bothered by shop assistants was that those knew by now that Elizabeth and Theodora were actually more interested in chatting as they looked at all the clothes.

"I don't want to be usual today." She stripped off her clothes very quickly, eager to try on the black dress.

"Do you want to prove a point?"

"Which point?"

"I'm still attractive."

"Are you, Teddy?" Elizabeth laughed and hoisted herself into the dress.

"Well, I'm fifty-three," Teddy said, studying herself in the mirror. "Only fifty-three, but I wouldn't wear that dress." Yes, there was a point that had to be proven, but she was not exactly sure what it was. Elizabeth had evaded that question very easily.

"Just let me buy it. If only to wear it at home," Elizabeth begged.

"I'm not stopping you." Teddy crossed her arms to deny all involvement.

"Yes, you are, by saying I'm too old." She looked in the mirror and turned to the left and the right. "I love it."

"It looks good on you," Teddy admitted. "But it's rather risqué for someone your age and position." Or perhaps not truly risqué, but certainly not dowdy enough.

"Please, Teddy, don't you act as if I'm sixty too." Elizabeth decided to buy the dress as a protest. "Everyone else does already."

"Oh?" Teddy had never noticed that.

"I've got everyone asking me why I haven't played the PM's nanny."

She could see why people would ask. Elizabeth had been there -- she might easily have noticed something, had she been paying attention, but knowing Elizabeth, she would not have done that. "And why haven't you?"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows mockingly. "At his age?"

"I don't know how old he is. He's the Prime Minister. They don't tell us how old they are."

"He's too old for a nanny, that's for sure."

"The entire nation is playing his nanny right now," said Teddy with a laugh. "Seemingly one can never be too old."

"Still, I don't get paid to play nanny." Elizabeth turned in front of the mirror one more time before she would take off the dress again. It looked superb.

"No, you get paid to buy black party dresses you don't need," her friend said dryly, but strictly speaking this was not true either, because Elizabeth did not usually spend her money on whims.

"I played nanny for his daughter, though." With a regretful sigh she began to take off the dress again.

That interested Teddy. "His daughter?"

"Yesterday. Oakhurst," Elizabeth said reluctantly.

"I didn't mean that. He has a daughter?"

"His niece, actually." Elizabeth drew the curtain shut to continue changing. Teddy yanked it open again. "Teddy! I don't want to change for everyone to see."

"It didn't bother you when you took your clothes off, darling. Why should it bother you while you're pulling them back on? And there's nobody else here. Tell me about the niece."

"Why?"

"Because you don't want to. Why not?"

"Because I shouldn't have done it. I should have been a little tougher with that man."

"Mwah. Methinks you're tough enough with men. Your reputation…" Teddy chuckled. Not being married did that thing to a woman.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Bahh. But I was thinking back on my schooldays and I felt sorry for the poor girl, so I offered to convey his apologies. After all, I couldn't just go there and not say anything to her after he'd told me about it." She looked doubtful. "Right?"

"Right, Linnie," said Teddy with a smile. "You don't have to tell me what happened. I can guess. You're my friend."

"What does that mean?" Elizabeth asked suspiciously.

"That you were not as tough with the girl as you would have liked to be with her uncle." She knew Elizabeth.

"I wasn't, but it was none of my business to --" She still looked doubtful.

Teddy fingered her earrings reflectively. "On the contrary." It had been a good thing. For the girl, at least. She was not sure yet why Elizabeth seemed to have problems with it, but she could come up with several guesses.

"Why?"

She had to find a reason for that, one that was not too revealing. Elizabeth was obviously in the dark about her motives, yet she wanted to hear a reason anyway. Teddy went for the simple explanation for the time being. She would need some more time to see if her guesses were correct. "You're the Queen." Elizabeth would almost certainly not find that a good reason. Teddy knew that for every argument in favour, Elizabeth would be able to come up with something against it, and vice versa. They had had at least two decades of experience with this discussion. She grinned.

Elizabeth gave her a cynical look. "Oh yes. That always applies to anything. That is always as appropriate as it is meaningless. I suppose I have to be used by now to being everything and nothing, whatever is best at a particular time."

There had been a poll testing the public's support for the Prime Minister. A startling 70% supported him, despite what had happened in Brazil. Perhaps as a result of that, he was attacked less viciously by fellow politicians after the outcome of the poll had become known. While he was no longer asked to resign, there were still cutting references to the kiss now and then.

The press, however, continued to speculate. Some seemed to have made it their mission to find out whom he had been kissing. He read everything, to be aware of what accusations he could expect. Apparently some reporters had gone as far as asking the hotel staff if they had seen any women go up to his room. This was a disturbing thing and he was glad that his own security staff at least was not available for questioning, because they had all travelled back home with him. Even if they were identified, they would not be allowed to say anything.

There were some gross untruths in what he read. About the only thing that he agreed with was the fact that the Brazilian atmosphere had been intoxicating. It certainly had. He had been intoxicated, no doubt about it.

He took care not to allow these thoughts to occupy too much of his time. He had to devote most of it to his job, otherwise he would really be giving people a reason to ask him to resign. As a result he worked just a little harder than before, replied just a little more politely and became acutely aware of what impression he was making whenever he spoke.

There was a private and exclusive gym he visited nearly every day. Phones were not forbidden there and so he usually phoned his nephews or niece if he was on one of the bikes, to save time. There were always so many people making demands on his time that he found it very difficult to free a few moments to call his family on other occasions.

They all had their own cell phone so he could reach them better, but they did not have any news today, so he only spoke to them briefly. That was enough.

"I had thought you would have been desperate to claim the spotlights again by now," he said jokingly to an actor who had previously been the main focus of the tabloids, but whose turbulent love life had been relegated to the middle pages and side columns by all these speculations about the Prime Minister's mystery lover.

"They're all yours."

"I don't want them." He did not even want the middle pages and side columns -- he wanted to stay out of the tabloids altogether.

"I liked your saying you weren't a monk," said the actor. "How are Brazilian women anyway?"

Here was another person who had the wrong idea of him. It would not be the only one. Lord Setchley considered his answer carefully. Perhaps he could cure this one person of this misconception, although it would be completely ineffective as far as public opinion was concerned. "I thought I had made it abundantly clear that there was only one woman involved."

"Well, yeah, that's what you said, but I never believe politicians."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you. This one spoke the truth. There was only one woman."

"You didn't say who she was."

The Prime Minister smiled politely. If that was an attempt to drag it out of him, it was going to fail. "And I still won't say it."

"Why not? Do we know her?"

"Basically because it's none of your business."

The actor tried a different tactic. "How was the boat trip, though?"

Lord Setchley did not know anything about that. He frowned. "Boat trip? What boat trip?" Boats and ships were not his kind of thing. It was not so bad that he had to be dragged on board kicking and screaming, but he would not get on one voluntarily in any case. And if for some reason he had been forced to come on board, he usually spent the entire trip feeling sick or vomiting.

The actor shrugged. "Well, I don't know. It was in a magazine. You and your mystery woman on a boat. Lots of pictures."

"That was someone else. It certainly wasn't me." He made a mental note to have his secretaries hunt for the magazine in question to see what kind of pictures there were. After Brazil people probably thought that pictures were always speaking the truth. Well, in some cases they were not. "I don't make boat trips if I can avoid it. I always get sea sick. It couldn't have been me. They must have used some very unclear pictures to fool people." He was not even surprised. He knew such things happened just to boost the sales.

"Yeah, but they always are if they're taken from afar." The actor did not sound convinced.

"Where was this supposed to be anyway? I haven't been anywhere."

"Oh, somewhere cold and wet by the looks of it. Probably around here."

This was a worrisome development anyway. If there were fake pictures turning up, it would not be long before fake women turned up and how was he to defend himself from those? They would expect him to deny everything, so they would not believe him if he did. And the more he denied anything, the more they would believe the women.

"What? Oh, hi Clarissa," Mary said unenthusiastically as she answered the phone. She tried not to sound indifferent, but she could not help feeling that way. Where had Clarissa got her phone number from anyway? It had probably been Aunt Amanda. Assuming she was not interesting enough for her phone number to be written down in Clarissa's golden booklet, she made a note to tell Amanda not to give out her phone number anymore.

Clarissa wanted to see if Mary knew anything about Brazil, but she could not ask about that directly. "How are you?" she began.

"Fine." Mary wondered why she was being called. She did not belong to the rich and famous, only her uncle did and then only to the temporary famous, not even to the rich. Clarissa was a tremendous snob who had no time for anyone else.

"How are things at school?"

"Fine." She raised her eyebrows. Things were definitely suspect if Clarissa asked things about school.

"Good marks?"

"Yes, fine." Mary did not really want to be questioned, because she was sure Clarissa did not care. There had to be something else that had prompted this sudden interest. It was probably related to people's sudden interest in her uncle.

"Didn't you have a special occasion at school not long ago? I read about it in L-Style."

Mary did not know L-Style, but it was no doubt a very fashionable magazine, otherwise Clarissa would not read it. "Yes, we had a celebration."

"Well, was it nice?"

"Yes, it was very nice."

"Did your uncle come as well?"

He had come, but that was none of Clarissa's business. "No, he didn't. Wasn't that in L-Style?" Obviously it had not been, otherwise Clarissa would not be asking her. Was she interested in Henry or something? That would be worrisome if Henry was interested in her as well, but he had promised her he would not become interested in someone they did not like. And they did not like Clarissa well enough. While she could at least talk to Clarissa politely, David and John refused to speak to her at all if they met her. The boys really disliked her.

"No. I only read that the Queen was there and several other celebs." But because it was a magazine for women and the article had been dealing with outfits, they had not found it necessary to list which men had been there. Personally, Clarissa would have made a mention of the Prime Minister's presence, especially in a magazine for women. He was one of the most gorgeous men in the country.

"Yes, she was." The others had to be celebrities Mary did not know, because she had not seen any. Well, she had seen some well-known people, but that was all.

"She didn't look very stylish."

Mary could not really remember what the Queen had been wearing and she did not know enough about fashion to judge it properly. "Well, it was a school. She didn't have to." Would there have been any point in being stylish? Clarissa should not attack people who were nice and that they were nice mattered more than how stylish they looked. In a crisis you discovered who were nice people and she could not list Clarissa among those.

She contrasted the two women -- Clarissa, who laughed only if someone important was there to see it, and Elizabeth, whose soft and enigmatic chuckles were a completely private matter. Mary had not always understood her, but this at least pointed to a sense of humour. Clarissa was selfish and Elizabeth was not. Elizabeth was also bright and she did not put so much muck on her face the way Clarissa did.

She suddenly remembered what Elizabeth had been wearing. It had been stylish enough, although quite classic -- on the exterior. Mary snickered when she recalled Elizabeth saying she could not take off her jacket because her blouse was practically transparent, but that she was wearing it because it had such a nice collar.

It was probably not fair on Clarissa to compare her, because she had not seemed quite this bad before she had met Elizabeth, but right now she really, really lost out.

"Is he seeing anyone, do you think?" Clarissa asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Mary lied. Anything to discourage the woman. There was a brief silence and she raised her fist in victory. "I mean, he hasn't said so, but I think he is."

"Oh. Have you met her?" Clarissa's voice sounded much cooler. She obviously did not like this news.

This had to be more than a casual flirt. A serious girlfriend would be introduced to the children. However, she had just said she was not sure if Henry was seeing anyone. That meant the fictitious girlfriend had not been introduced to them yet. "Well…er…he said there was someone he wanted us to meet…a woman…so I assumed…wouldn't you?"

"Hmm. Probably. When?"

Mary grinned. "Soon."

"Livius, old chap," someone greeted Lord Setchley.

It gave the impression of being a familiar and friendly greeting, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Real friends called him Henry and Livius was only used to make some nasty point. He did not say he preferred to be addressed by another name. That would only be an admission that the attempt had succeeded. One never really got over being called Livius, he supposed. He turned around to face the man. "Yes?"

"You're so damn tight-lipped about the situation. What are you hiding?" the man asked him jovially.

Nobody who called him Livius would ever hear the truth and certainly not someone who was an editor of a main newspaper, regardless of the fact that they had gone to the same university. If even friends had not been told, it was unlikely that he should tell a mere acquaintance. Henry smiled forcibly. "And unsuitable woman, of course," he quipped. "It would shock you all." That was as far as he would go.

"You went sailing with her, didn't you?"

Apparently this was a widespread rumour, for this was the second person who had brought it up. "Yes, I heard that too, but fortunately I haven't set foot on any boat for months. Not even love could make me go sailing. Where did people get that idea?"

"I heard it somewhere."

"I haven't left town all week," Lord Setchley said in exasperation. That was a lie, strictly speaking, because he had gone to Oakhurst. "Do I have to keep defending myself?" His public relations people would have to launch some campaign to divert people's attention.

It was now firmly believed that the Prime Minister had dug his own grave by agreeing to share power. After all, the Queen could dismiss him now and she was not known to appreciate frivolity. People knew she had spoken with Anne Greville and they did not know who else, but they had seen this as a sign that the Queen was considering to dissolve Parliament to get rid of this philandering Prime Minister.

While everyone knew the Queen and the Prime Minister would need each other's backing to dismiss a Minister, nobody had cared -- if they had realised it at all -- that they would also need that to dismiss the Prime Minister himself. Prime Ministers were generally people who did not get into scrapes and in the rare instance that they did, the Queen would only need a majority in Parliament to back her up if she or they wished to dismiss the Prime Minister. A parliamentary majority alone would not suffice -- it specifically required the Queen's support.

And that was something they were not going to receive. People had obviously not considered that Parliament and the Queen might disagree, mainly because they had never taken her role very seriously.

However, this Queen was not going to give them the news they were waiting for. The Prime Minister had done nothing wrong. She was not going to dismiss him.

Perhaps, if he associated with another woman, she might, but he had specifically said in his speech that he would not, because there was only one woman involved. Still, she followed the news quite closely to see if there was any mention of another woman.

She read what people expected and she shook her head. No, she would not crumble under pressure. There was not even any pressure at the moment. The media were gauging this incorrectly. Nobody had suggested that she consider dismissing the PM. She did not agree with the remark that he had dug his own grave. Nobody was intent on burying him except the press.

She pulled on a yellow cardigan over her new black dress when she felt cold upon seeing the next magazine. They had found a woman.

Someone hurried into the Prime Minister's office. "This woman they're quoting in here…"

"Don't know her." The Prime Minister did not even raise his head from the document he was studying. He supposed someone had found a magazine or newspaper that contained 'interesting' news again. It happened all the time. He was becoming immune.

"B-B-But…"

"I know I have not even laid eyes on the pathetic piece of journalism in question, but I can say with complete confidence that I am not acquainted with any women who are quoted in dubious magazines. You would have mentioned her name had we known her." Raising his eyes, he could see it was indeed a magazine his secretary was holding.

"But she claims to have had an affair with you last year, My Lord."

He raised his eyebrows mockingly. There was a world of difference between claiming something and speaking the truth, notably when it came to having affairs with him. "You know how many affairs I've had in the past two years that you've been my secretary, Howard."

"No, My Lord." Howard did not want to admit he had been thinking about this himself. He preferred to feign ignorance of the Prime Minister's love life.

Lord Setchley knew this was a lie. He had not been expecting the truth. "You know how much time I've spent here."

"Yes, My Lord."

"Do you think it left me any time to have affairs, Howard?"

"Probably not, My Lord," Howard said cautiously. He had come to a similar conclusion himself, but thinking for oneself was sometimes dangerous.

"Indeed. Probably not, unless I'd wanted to have an affair with you, but I think we can rule that out."

Howard looked a little shocked. "Yes, My Lord."

"I'm glad you said yes, Howard. God help me if you'd said no," Lord Setchley said humorously. He returned his attention to his documents. "Feel free to cut out the picture of my so-called ex to hang over your bed. I'm not interested."

Theodora, who in her capacity of companion and lady-in-waiting to the Queen had unlimited access to the palace, came to see Elizabeth about what she thought was a matter of considerable importance. She stifled a snort upon seeing the Queen's yellow cardigan. "Darling! That goes really well with that new black dress! Looks superb! Do I have to come here before you get dressed or will my advice suffice?"

Her Majesty was not affected by this criticism. "Hello to you too, Teddy."

"I'm going to get fired if anyone sees you like that. They'll say I haven't been doing my job properly," Theodora fumed. She wondered why Elizabeth would buy a glamorous dress only to wear it under a yellow cardigan.

"I don't see what's wrong with me." Elizabeth rang for tea. "To what do I owe the honour or are you coming to check if my cardigan matches my slippers?"

Theodora checked that -- they were both yellow. Trust Elizabeth to be consistent in her odd preferences. "They match. You're off the hook, Linnie."

"Thanks."

"The real purpose of my visit was…" Theodora paused meaningfully as she pulled a magazine from her shoulder bag. "…this." She held it up in the air.

Elizabeth recognised it as one of the tabloids she had been reading earlier that morning. "Ahh! Is that the one with Shirley Silver?" That was the only one worth talking about. The others had only contained empty speculations, but no real information.

"Yes, it is."

"Shirley Silver, of Harlequin fame."

"What do you mean?" Theodora flicked to the right pages.

"The author of Love in the Moonlight, if only she'd been literate."

"In this case it was A Kiss on the Balcony," Theodora said with a laugh.

Elizabeth grinned. She told herself that this was why she and Teddy were such good friends. Other people would not have understood her. "And more -- oooh!"

"Oooh?"

"She was quite detailed," Elizabeth said gravely.

"That's what I came to see you about."

"Why?"

"Do you think Shirley Silver exists?" Theodora asked with a shrewd look at her friend. Elizabeth's earlier comment seemed to say she thought Shirley was a fake.

"She was too detailed."

That was not an answer to her question, but Theodora let it pass. "I agree. It's a bit unbelievable to read about our PM's sexy boxers," Theodora said dryly. "Did you read that too?" Elizabeth could not have missed it.

"Yes, I read that," Elizabeth said calmly. "That was indeed one of the details I didn't quite trust. It's too irrelevant."

"Maybe you date from another period, but relevance has never been a tabloid's highest priority," Theodora reminded her. "It could serve as an illustration of his character…"

"Why did you really come, Teddy?"

So Elizabeth was not interested in discussing the PM's character or his boxer shorts, for that matter. Teddy did not give up. She had come to discuss this and she would not leave until she had done so. "This article might have implications for you." She tried another way.

"How?"

"The two of you are running the country, darling. It might be useful to know your colleague's true character."

"What have sexy boxers got to do with that, other than that they indicate a dubious taste in clothing?"

"Something you suffer from too," Teddy said with a wide grin. "I take it you don't consider that a serious flaw?"

Since she was not going out dressed like this, Elizabeth could not care less what Teddy thought of her appearance. "Does it affect my functioning?"

"Moderately."

"Moderately?" Elizabeth cried. Tea was brought in and she occupied herself by pouring it. She continued when the servant had gone. "Do you really believe the PM functions differently if he's wearing different underclothes? Don't be absurd. You're wasting your time, Teddy. Think of all the useful things you could have done instead of coming here to hold such a non-discussion with me."

Teddy pondered those words. "If it had been my close colleague who was being dragged through the mud…"

"He took a nose-dive into the mud himself," said Elizabeth. "If he wears sexy boxers."

"Delicious," Teddy commented, taking a bite off a scone. She kept her eyes on Elizabeth innocently.

"The scone, yes?"

"Of course." Her eyes twinkled innocently. "I'll give him a ring."

"You'll do what?" Elizabeth cried.

"Give him a ring." Teddy was enjoying the look on her friend's face. "Have you got a problem with that?" That was a fairly rhetorical question, evidently.

"Why?" she blurted out.

"I'm curious now. Don't worry. I won't mention you at all, darling. Wait. I'm pretty sure his sister buys his underwear. I'll ask her."

"His sister." Elizabeth put her cup back on the table. "I cannot tolerate this. I'll fire you if you phone the Prime Minister's sister to ask him about his underclothes. If there are people who cannot wonder about other people's underclothes, it's us."

"You might not need to wonder, but I most certainly do," Teddy said stubbornly. "It's the best way to find out if this article is based on the truth. If his sister indeed buys his underwear, then Miss Silver was lying."

"I do not think you need to take this route to prove that she is lying. Why do we need to prove that anyway?"

"Nobody made you a queen because you were clever or pretty, darling, only because you were your parents' child," Teddy said soothingly. "And nobody expects you to be clever or pretty either. Just let me investigate this matter and don't you worry your little royal head about it. Why don't you try to turn on the heating, so you could take off that hideous cardigan? I know the heating's got a button, but a cardigan has more buttons, you know."

Elizabeth took off her cardigan and threw it at Teddy, displaying her glamorous, but sleeveless dress. "Do you want me to walk around like this?"

"Take off those yellow slippers too," Teddy advised. "Yes, that's my girl. That takes forty years off your age."

…You know what I mean, even if I don't say it…

Theodora knew her place when she was in royal company, but if she was somewhere with her husband she did not have to worry about outshining the Queen. Not that Elizabeth would mind, but it was just not done.

She was at a party thrown by someone her husband knew vaguely and she looked around to see who else was there. There was a gleam in her eyes when she spotted the Prime Minister, a swarm of married women around him. It was a pleasant surprise to find him here. She wondered what would happen to the women if she asked him a politically tinted question, but as she edged closer, she discovered he was already talking politics and boring the small crowd around him. She asked him a few specific and well-informed questions and to her great satisfaction she saw the crowd disperse slowly when he took more than his time to answer. He was an eloquent man.

"Such stamina," he praised her when it was only the two of them left.

"Well, you develop that if you have to deal with Her Majesty on a daily basis." She was curious what he would say to that.

He looked somewhat incredulous. "Really?"

"It takes some persistence to get the woman out of her ugly yellow cardigan, for instance."

"I can't say I've ever tried that," he replied. "Why was she wearing it and why was it bothering you?"

"She said she was cold." Theodora wished his face would betray more, but he was really good at keeping his expression blank.

"That seems a perfectly valid reason, I should think, what with increased energy prices."

The increased energy prices had been a hot item lately. Perhaps they were indeed the reason why Elizabeth had not turned up the heating. It cost a lot of money to heat an entire building. "You increased them yourself."

"We had no choice," Lord Setchley said politely.

Theodora stopped him from elaborating. He no doubt had a long and convincing explanation at his disposal, but she did not want to hear it. "So, indirectly you're to blame for that hideous cardigan?"

He did not deny that. "Why is it hideous?"

"It's yellow."

"I know that one," he said with a faint smile. "It must be her favourite."

"So she wears it a lot?" Theodora asked with a shudder. He did not say if he thought it ugly, but here was a smile, suddenly. It had to be significant, but she could not tell what this meant.

"And is that bad?"

"You should have seen the dress she was wearing underneath."

"Even worse?"

"For her age, yes." She gave him a sly look. "In one sense it was good that it was so cold that she had to wear that cardigan. It hid the dress. It was a bit inappropriate for the occasion. By the way, if you lower the energy prices again, people might forgive you for what you did in Brazil."

"You're no better than the rest of them," he said curtly, his jaw tightening at the mention of Brazil.

"I wish I'd gone to Brazil as well. You wouldn't have been able to fool me. It probably wouldn't even have happened." Elizabeth claimed to have missed everything, but she would have been keeping an eye on this man. Teddy could see he did not like the turn of the conversation, because he was not looking at her too kindly. She decided to ask him something no one had asked him before. "Do you miss your mystery woman very much?" she asked him in a gentle voice.

He looked taken aback and paused before he answered, as if he had to make sure he could really say this. "Maybe."

Teddy patted his arm. "Would you like to talk about it?" Maybe was not an answer. That meant he did, but felt he should not, or that he did not, but felt he should.

"No, but thank you. Your offer is much appreciated." He looked away briefly. "If I talked, I might begin to think I could change something and I cannot. It's better not to talk or think about it."

So he missed her. Idiot, she said silently. Do you really think I would believe a direct denial if you give me an indirect admission? I'm an optimist!

Amanda had taken Mary out for the day. She had not had the opportunity to talk to her niece for a while and Henry was about to leave for Madrid for a few days. She had briefly spoken to him about Christmas, but he had said he would go along with any arrangement. He was too busy to give it any thought himself.

"How is school?" Amanda asked when they stopped for a cup of tea at the end of a long day of buying Christmas decorations.

Mary shrugged. "Alright. I hate physics, but that's normal, isn't it?"

"How are the girls at school?" She had spent an hour on the phone listening to Henry's grievances about the subject. He wanted to do something about it, but he thought he could not because of his position. If he resigned, Amanda thought, both problems would be solved at once, but it was silly to resign because a few girls were giving Mary trouble.

Mary played with her spoon. "Mmm. Alright. They haven't been bothering me much anymore." Not about Henry, anyway. They had still bothered her with questions about how she knew the Queen and they had not believed the truth.

"Ever since the Queen took you with her?"

"Yes. Henry hasn't been in the papers much either. I suppose they forgot about him a little." Mary concentrated on her tea cup with a frown. "Will he be home for Christmas or will he be busy?"

"He said he would be home." Amanda hoped he had spoken the truth. The children would want him to be there. He had done well with them despite his job.

Mary loved Amanda, but she was her aunt and she had her own family and children. Although Henry and Amanda shared the responsibility for their niece and nephews, Henry could be their guardian more exclusively because he had no children of his own. He had his job and that kept him busy enough, but it was different. "I hope he'll have time."

"I'm sure he could put his work aside for a few days. If not, we'll go and abduct him from his office."

Henry never travelled alone. This time, however, more journalists were in his wake to see if he was meeting any women in Madrid. He knew they were taking pictures of every woman he spoke to and he dearly hoped they would get enough of this by the time he actually arrived at his hotel.

In his absence, he knew Elizabeth would replace him during the informal talks on social security. He would call her from Madrid to tell her what she had to say. Or rather, that was what everyone believed. They thought she was conveying his ideas, but she rarely adopted his opinion without thinking. There was probably no field where people disagreed more often with each other than in politics, but he and she could nearly always come to an agreement. It was rare. Henry realised that and he treasured the fact. He knew they could go over the points one by one and she would represent his opinion capably tomorrow, no matter whether people believed this was her opinion as well.

He ordered Howard to call, not wanting to spend minutes waiting for the call to be put through. It was never a quick undertaking, unless he called from his office on his direct line. While Howard called, Henry unpacked a few of his things. He spread the documents on social security out on the bed so he could check them if needed. Then he sat waiting until Howard had established a connection.

"Where is he?" asked on of the civil servants. The PM was expected to go to dinner and they were hovering outside his room nervously together with the security men. They were hungry and they were afraid of being late.

"He's talking to the Queen," said Howard, hoping that would instil some respect into them.

"Still?" Howard had said the same an hour ago. What could anyone have to talk about with the Queen for that long?

"They have a lot to discuss."

The men complained. "We just left the country. Couldn't they have discussed this at home? Does he have to tell her what he ate during the flight?"

"Something might have happened at home during the flight. Something probably came up," Howard shrugged. He knew things tended to come up suddenly during these phone conversations. He had listened to the PM talking a few times and it always took forever.

"Do they disagree on something?" They were all in awe of the Queen after having seen her disagree with someone once.

"No…" Howard did not think so. The fragments he had caught did not point to that. "She's got the social security meeting tomorrow."

"So? She can't handle that alone?"

"He needs to tell her what to say there and she needs to tell him what to say here."

"Why don't they switch places?" asked one of the security men with a sigh. That seemed a far more logical solution to him. "And we could at least go to dinner."

Howard took this question seriously. "They can't, because this is an official meeting for government leaders and she's attending informal talks, so…"

"Try to think some more socialist thoughts," the Queen advised the Prime Minister halfway their conversation. "While we don't strive for a complete redistribution of wealth…"

"I would have liked to hear you say that, though," he commented. "Starting with your wealth."

"I wouldn't be a socialist. I would be stupid." She needed that money. People expected her to have it and to use it. It was all part of the deal.

Lord Setchley prepared himself for the long speech on why her wealth was necessary. He had heard it before, so often he could rattle it off by heart if he liked.

It was as if she could see his face. "You've probably heard me say so before, so I won't say it again."

He was surprised. "Oh, that consideration never stopped you before. To what do I owe this kindness?"

She did not know she had been repeating herself. "Am I unkind if I subject you to my views on this matter?"

"Fairly."

"You never told me so," she said accusingly. If he had not wanted to hear it, he should have said so.

"Would you?"

"No," she admitted. "I suppose there are also things I let you ramble on about without listening." It was not very polite to say anything about it, unless people were really good friends and even then people needed time to vent about what was occupying them most.

"Such as?" He was curious.

"The maximum school fee a public school can charge," she said promptly. "You do have some socialist streaks when it suits you."

"Nobody is completely pure," he defended himself. Did he rant about it that often? He was not aware of it. It was true that the children's schools cost him an enormous lot, far more than what they were actually worth if you looked at what they offered. He was lucky that he could afford them, but if he got another job he would either have to win the lottery or send the children to another school.

"True, but most people don't claim to be. Listen, you must talk to the Chancellor in German." She switched to something else before she set him off again on the subject of schools.

"Why?" Lord Setchley was a bit baffled by her sudden change of subject. And how did she know he spoke German?

"Goodwill."

"What about? Are you going to proscribe a topic too, Madam?" he asked in mock obedience. She had a point, but she usually had a point if she ordered him to do something.

"The Bundesliga, for all I care. You're not usually stumped for topics, are you?" she said, referring to his ability to make simple phone calls last over an hour. It was not as if the Chancellor was a stranger with whom he had nothing in common. There were enough things they could chat about.

"No, mother," Lord Setchley said in response to her brisk tone.

"Will you stop? I'm only advising you and I never give bad advice," she said admonishingly.

"Hmm," he said dubiously because she was so arrogant.

"And will you not call me mother? I'm not that old."

"Yes, mother."

"Isn't it time for you to hang up, Livius?"

After dinner the Prime Minister called her again. "Are you up?"

He was greeted by a very sleepy and reproachful voice. "I'm up now. You woke me."

"Good. I just wanted to tell you I spoke to the Chancellor in German."

Had he called her about such a futility? Elizabeth groaned. "If that is all…" She was not really certain what she would do then, but she would think of something when she woke up completely.

He laughed. "I wish! No, that is not all. Listen…"

"You look wrecked, Linnie," Theodora said pityingly when she came into her friend's bedroom to help her choose her clothes. Elizabeth was still in bed, looking unable to get up.

"Stupid PM calls me at two in the morning to tell me what he's been discussing with the German Chancellor," she said with a whine.

"And that couldn't wait?"

"Apparently not."

"And it was probably no more important than the latest football scores, was it?" Theodora did not have to think very long about a way to punish such behaviour. "Call him right now. He's bound to be asleep." It was still early. He could be repaid in kind.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Oh no, Teddy. I don't think that's very proper."

"Proper? It's my job to tell you what's proper and I say it is, but if you don't want to, I'll do it myself." Theodora called his cell phone and was dismayed to hear it being answered with the sound of traffic in the background. "Damn, you're up," she said. "Yes, of course I'm up." She grinned wickedly. "Er, this is not Elizabeth; it's Theodora. Elizabeth thinks it's not proper to use her phone for personal calls." She changed her tone into something cooler. "But Prime Minister, I must talk to you about a serious topic. As you know, it's my job to make sure the Queen looks bright and happy at every occasion, however artificial this happiness might be. You, My Lord, are making my work impossible by calling her in the middle of the night and keeping her up for God knows how long, but knowing you, probably very long. In short, thanks to you the woman looks a wreck and I don't know how I'm supposed to patch this up in an hour."

Elizabeth gave her a very miserable and sleepy look. She was sure she could not be patched up quickly.

"And her age is not helping much. She's past bouncing back, you know. You have no idea what this woman looks like when she wakes up."

"Teddy," Elizabeth spoke up worriedly. "There's no need to get carried away here." She was sure she looked normal when she woke up, but she was not in the habit of running to a mirror immediately. Today she did not even want to walk to a mirror, let alone run.

"You're such a gentleman," Teddy said sarcastically in response to something Lord Setchley said. "However, if we traded jobs I'm sure you'd take that back. You know I speak my mind freely in private, don't you? Well, I know she has a meeting, but do you really want this to represent you there?" She looked at Elizabeth, who was sliding under the covers. "Yes, thank you. Bye." She broke the connection and cleared her throat. "Pour a lot of coffee into it, he said. Compassionate fellow, our Prime Minister, isn't he?"

…Control, or lack of it…

An ex-Prime Minister had died and important people were of course expected to attend the cremation, even queens who had never known him personally. The preceding church service was very boring and Queen Elizabeth looked around herself. Of course she was not allowed to, really -- there were cameras broadcasting the event. She met the Prime Minister's eyes and then quickly looked away. Her hands and fingers began to move almost out of their own accord, signing letters. I-T-W-A-S-T-O-B-E-E-X-P-E-C-T-E-D… She glanced at him. He could follow that. They had done this kind of thing before.

P-A-Y-A-T-T-E-N-T-I-O-N he signed back.

She had wanted to comment on the fact he was not paying attention and she looked away in frustration. Did he mean it? Was he really disapproving of the fact that she was doing something as disrespectful as this? Maybe he genuinely regretted that they had abused one of their weekly conferences long ago for learning the hand alphabet, no matter how little there had been to discuss that week.

G-O-D-W-I-L-L-P-U-N-I-S-H-Y-O-U he signed, looking extremely serious.

A-V-E-N-G-E-M-E.

She remembered the first time they had discovered they both had a tendency to become bored during official occasions. The next time they met he had asked her a question about a crystal chandelier she had been studying on that occasion and she had coloured, but he had only laughed. He could not be reproaching her for anything, since he had obviously not been paying attention either, but he had said it had been beyond him why she had been studying a chandelier, because there were far more interesting things to look at. That came back to her. She wondered why. Perhaps she understood his words a little better now.

Hopefully there were no people at home who could follow their signing. First, however, there would have to be a cameraman who recognised it as such. Then, he would have to see who was signing to whom in order to focus on it. That would all be very difficult and a serious broadcast would not focus on it even if they knew it was going on.

But then again, serious people were not supposed to engage in hand signing during a funeral service, so who could predict anything with regard to serious broadcasts? She was supposed to be a serious person.

Thinking of services made her think of weddings. She did not think she could stay focused during a wedding either, not even during her own. But at least for a wedding a church service was not obligatory, although for a queen it was almost inevitable that there was one and that it should last long. One did not pack hundreds of very important guests into a church only to have the service last five minutes. People would wonder why they had taken the trouble to come.

The family -- or the deceased himself -- had chosen a cremation rather than a funeral and Elizabeth was not sorry. It was cold and wet outside and pretty clothes were seldom warm. Even the short walk from the car to the building had chilled her and she was glad to be inside again.

She queued to offer her condolences after the brief and more personal speeches there. The Prime Minister's mother was related to the deceased, quite closely so. He was even in line to receive people's sympathies. She had forgotten that close relationship and wondered if his signed words had been in earnest. He might really not have liked her distraction.

But he did not mention it straight away. "I appreciate your not skipping the children," he said, referring to several people before her who had not condoled his sister's children, but who had ignored them to move on to himself.

"I shouldn't comment. We all have our ways of being disrespectful," she said, referring to their hand signing.

"I like some of those ways better than others," he said mysteriously, leaving her to wonder if he liked hers.

The movement of the queue forced her to move on. Not having known the deceased personally, Elizabeth felt no grief about him whatsoever, but she had been impressed with a general sadness. Death had been such a reality in that room and it was inevitable for everyone. And people crying and sobbing always made her cry too if she was not careful, so she had been happy to leave the room. She proceeded to the coffee room where drinks and cakes would be served and the guests could recover from saying goodbye.

Still cold, she chose a seat closest to the radiator and moved her chair back against it. That was better. She had come here with her mother, who had known the deceased, but who also knew many more people in the room and who was taking this opportunity to catch up with them. The majority of the people present were old and the average age at their table was soon rising to nearly seventy. Fortunately acquaintances of her mother's knew better than to treat her funnily, so this was alright. Elizabeth always felt uncomfortable with people who did not know what to say to her. She was not scary.

Matters took a turn for the worse when people were beginning to sit down. Everyone erupted in post-cremational cheerfulness and chatter. One of the old ladies at Elizabeth's table noticed the Prime Minister was sitting at an adjoining table right behind her and she began to talk about his escapades in Brazil. Elizabeth was determined to stay out of it, the more so because he was not far away and he could hear everything that was being said.

From her vantage point near the radiator she could see everyone and no one would come to sit beside her unless they especially wanted to single her out. Naturally she had concentrated on watching the ones she knew personally, who were basically only her mother and Lord Setchley. She was surprised to see Mary and two younger boys turn up and Mary smiled at her in recognition. They had not been standing with the family just now and they sat down at their uncle's table. Elizabeth wondered where they had been in the meantime. Because the children sat at that table, she noticed that nobody else would. All around there seemed to be a general distrust of young people.

Elizabeth moved her chair back a little. Her place at the table was usurped by a sharp elderly lady who grabbed a chair from the neighbouring table. Elizabeth did not really care to sit with the old gossips, so she watched this happen without protesting until she realised where she was going to have to sit instead when coffee came around: with a man and three children. Because the age at the other tables, except his sister's family's, was predominantly over fifty-five, it might go unnoticed. Still, she should stay close to the radiator for a while.

Coffee and tea were served and she could hear the children were worrying because they did not like either. When the serving ladies came around, they said they did not have orange juice. It was possible that they really did not have orange juice. After all, they were not a cafeteria, but a crematorium. Their tone was not very friendly, however, and Elizabeth decided to test them. "Have you got orange juice?" she asked in a friendly voice. If they did not have orange juice for the Queen, they did not have it at all.

"But of course, Madam," the serving woman said immediately.

Elizabeth kept her expression polite, although she was feeling very indignant. "Then I'd like three."

"Three?" the woman was startled. She glanced back at the three children, guessing they must be having something to do with this.

"And a coffee for me, please." Elizabeth drew her chair closer to the table, just in time to hear Lord Setchley tell Mary to fill their cups with water. She wondered if they had heard that their orange juice was on its way. Probably not.

"People would rather see them go. They haven't made themselves popular by playing with a ball," he offered as an explanation for why they had to drink water.

"That was to be expected," she sighed and stared at the table, just like the two boys were doing. She had manoeuvred herself in this position. Or had she? Other people had conspired to choose chairs and tables so that she would end up here. As long as they kept that in mind too.

Mary came back with two cups of water. She was just about to leave with the third when the woman brought three glasses of orange juice, which took everyone but Elizabeth by surprise.

"So you do have orange juice," Lord Setchley said sharply.

"Yes, sir." The woman placed them all in front of Elizabeth and then fled quickly before she could be questioned.

The youngest boy had raised his head and stared at the glasses longingly. "Why aren't we getting any then?"

Elizabeth pushed a glass towards him. "It's me who's not getting any." She refrained from looking at his uncle as she gave the other glasses away too, but she felt he was staring at her.

"Daddy, that woman behind you has purple hair." The two boys laughed. They lost some of their shyness now that Elizabeth had turned out to be nice.

She was trying not to get too involved with the rest of the table for fear of what people might think, but she could not stop herself from asking, "Daddy?" As far as she knew he was still their uncle.

He leant a little towards her so the woman with the purple hair would not overhear. He had been able to hear her perfectly all the time and considering that she had been talking about him, she would be all too interested in what he had to say. "Not biologically, but close enough."

Elizabeth disagreed with his discretion. "That is the sort of thing you ought to say out loud. At the moment." It would do his reputation a lot of good. She caught the eye of the smallest boy and saw he was curious about her.

"No." He shook his head. "Uncles get away with everything."

She swallowed. "Fathers don't?" She saw his point. Fathers had children to think of and there had been critics saying that not having a family did not mean he could do all this. He was probably referring to that, even though at the moment she really did not see the difference between an uncle and a father. Or would a daughter and sons be staring at her even more curiously than these three children?

"No."

"Well…there's some logic to it, I suppose." She felt a little sick when she realised what the other side of the case was. Was he purposely stressing the uncle thing in order to get away with more?

"Uncles get away with a lot," he said with a smile. "If they keep the children at home, they're praised. If they send them to a boarding school, it's because they're just an uncle. Uncles just can't go wrong."

"And you sent them all to a boarding school?" she asked, knowing Mary was at Oakhurst. He should not smile. That was suspicious. She still felt sick.

"Yes." He lowered his voice a little more. "She was getting the idea that she had to replace her mother in taking care of the boys. She was too young for that."

That was an unexpected answer and her eyes flickered to Mary and then back to Lord Setchley. Maybe she had been worried over nothing.

Her mother wanted to leave, but Elizabeth remembered that she was supposed to meet the Prime Minister in two hours. If she had known he would also be here she would have made some other arrangement. They were both here now and it seemed to be so inconvenient for him to go home and then come to the palace, especially since he seemed to have the children with him for the rest of the day. "If I had known this relative of yours would die --" she began after she had excused herself to her mother for a moment.

He looked at her funnily.

She knew she had phrased that clumsily. "Well, I'm meeting you in two hours."

"Really?"

It surprised her that it seemed to surprise him. He ought to know which people he was supposed to meet. "You don't know that?"

"My secretary keeps track of my appointments," he said apologetically with a charming smile. "I'm a busy man. I forget about them sometimes."

She wondered whether that was a lie or not, but she was not going to question him about it right now. "If I'd known, I would have made an appointment for an earlier hour. It seems pointless to both drive home, probably behind one another as well, and then meet again. It seems such a waste of time. We could have done it right after this and then you would have been free to entertain your family."

"We could do it here." Lord Setchley rather approved of the idea of being free sooner than he had expected. The children would not like it if they had to wait for him another time.

"Here?" Elizabeth glanced around herself doubtfully. This was not going to be the only group having coffee here today. People died all the time. Crematoriums would have business regularly. They would want one group out as soon as possible to make room for the next group. Even if the Queen and the Prime Minister would not be asked to leave, she still felt a bit uncomfortable about the location. "But this is such a gloomy place."

"Well, nearby. There's bound to be some quaint little place we could grace with our presence. It would boost their sales if they could boast of having served us. The patron would be delighted --"

She knew better than to listen to everything he said, because quite often he was only stringing words together without an apparent purpose. "But logistically that's going to be a problem, because I arrived with my mother and she's not going to want to wait." Her mother was already looking impatient and she had to go home with her mother, because they had not brought enough chauffeurs and security for two.

"Are you a slave of your security staff or are they supposed to be serving you?" Lord Setchley asked, pinpointing the problem with perfect accuracy. He orated a bit further on the subject, but he knew he had won the argument. Besides, he was so unpatriotic as to dislike the Queen Mother and he did not really care how she got home as long as she left. "Send your mother home," he advised in a low voice.

Elizabeth was not going to do anything about it. If he wanted to resign, he would tell her and somehow she did not think Lord Setchley had any plans in that direction. Only a man who was intent on remaining Prime Minister would order her to send the Queen Mother home. Her mother had not been pleased, but he had taken over. A man's glib tongue and a charming smile were always more convincing to her mother than her daughter's perfectly sound reasoning.

They went to a restaurant across the road from the crematorium, because he had said they should be obvious about what they were doing, which was transferring a meeting to a location that was more convenient. The children had gone into the playground outside first and had said they would come in later when they were thirsty, which suited her fine because she had no idea how to talk business if there were children present. "Well," she said as he placed his briefcase on the table. She took that as a sign that they were starting. "You'll have read the press. What do you say?"

"I read I'd dug my own grave," Lord Setchley said cautiously.

She could not think of the opposite of a grave. "No, you made yourself immortal -- untouchable." There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Or, if it had truly been a grave, he had made certain that it was extremely comfortable and luxurious indeed.

"You realised that too?"

"Of course."

"It isn't quite true, though. My fate is in your hands." He extracted a pile of documents from his briefcase. "I anxiously await your verdict."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic." It was nothing as bad as that.

"I didn't give you more power just so you could dismiss me." He did not really like to be in an uncertain position and he hid it behind a flippant exterior.

"I wouldn't dismiss you just so the next Prime Minister could take that power away from me again."

He gave her another opportunity to dismiss him so he would really know for sure what she wanted. "Power corrupts. Look what happened to me."

"What happened to you has nothing to do with corruption. You were there because you were elected, not because you were corrupted." He had been there because he had been himself. Nothing had happened to him that had been beyond his control.

Elected? He frowned. "Are you saying others…"

"No." She paused when the waitress came. This would not have happened to everyone who had been elected, but if he had never been elected, it would not have happened to him either.

"W-W-Would you like to order something?" The girl was obviously very impressed by her high guests. She looked at them nervously.

"Two coffee, please," Elizabeth decided. She smiled kindly to reassure the girl.

"They want my head," Lord Setchley said when the nervous waitress was gone. "Heads must roll, but mine will only roll if my body rolls with it and if my head rolls, yours will too. They can have my head once I find it and while I'm at it, you can have my body and no one shall have cause to grieve, because all of me will be handed out among the needy. Christ, I should have joined the Labour party."

"All you want is to make pretty speeches anyway. You don't care who has your head as long as you can make pretty speeches and you don't even really need your head to make such speeches as you like." Perhaps she should call it rambling.

"A true analysis, cruelly reducing me to the King's jester."

"The Queen's fool," she corrected.

"You complement my pretty speeches with your concise descriptions."

"Fool," said Elizabeth, who saw his double meaning.

Lord Setchley looked pleased. "That was a clever one, wasn't it?"

"You seem to be fishing for compliments."

"Which you will provide royally. Your generous character, Madam --"

She would never provide compliments in a public restaurant. "Hush, fool. They'll think we're rehearsing for some play."

"We have been acting all along. We don't need to rehearse anymore. What are you going to do?" he asked, his tone suddenly serious.

"I haven't decided yet."

"Then I'll have to wait and we're back at square one. Let's take a look at these reports," he said, pushing the pile towards her. "More power is more boredom."

"I'm never bored."

He knew she was not speaking the truth. "I know what bores you."

"Don't be so sure," Elizabeth replied, beginning to read the first document. But he had been right --these were not the most interesting papers he had ever brought with him.

"Do pretty speeches bore you?"

"Sometimes they do," she said evenly.

"And then you've got some sharp set-down at your disposal, Your Majesty."

"Livius," she acknowledged without looking up, showing she had heard his words and the last two especially. He should not call her that if it was only to mock her and why else could it be? She could mock him too.

"Henry," he corrected patiently. People who did not use his official titles should use the name he preferred, not the name he had been given at birth.

"Livius."

"Henry. If you don't call me Henry, I won't listen."

"You listened when I said Livius."

"Henry."

She sighed. They could go on indefinitely. "I order you to stop and that was a Royal command."

He did not take that seriously. "Yes, ladies and gentlemen, as unbelievable as this may seem, the Queen was lying."

She looked dignified. "We do not lie."

"I know you have multiple personalities, but I only want to talk to one of them," Lord Setchley said calmly. He thought that speaking in the plural was silly and he refused to be impressed.

Elizabeth was going to say something, but she would not be able to finish it in time. The waitress was coming to their table with two cups of coffee, so she said nothing. "Thank you," she said and then looked at her companion when the waitress had gone away again. "Which one?" she asked quietly. A lot depended on that question, but she was not sure if he realised it.

"The one that uses I instead of we, unless you were talking about you and me when you said we do not lie?"

Her eyes blinked rapidly and then she looked down at the document again. She saw the words, but their meaning would not register. "I can't follow that."

"You do not lie. If you can't follow me, you can't follow those texts either, because they're far more complicated."

"Do you have to be so…" She kept her eyes on the paper, but her fingers were curling the edges nervously.

"So what?" Henry looked at her strong fingers fiddling with the sheets of paper and the eight rings that were on them. They were fiddling nervously now, but she could handle porcelain cups and other delicate things with a miraculously confident and light touch.

"You're overstepping your bounds," she said softly, although there was nobody nearby to overhear her.

He had already overstepped his bounds once and it was becoming easier. His bounds were no longer as clear as they had been. Fortunately he was spared a reply by the arrival of the children, who noisily announced that they were thirsty. They slumped over the table and he could barely save the documents from them. Across the table, Elizabeth stoically kept reading as if they had not been besieged by any children at all. She appeared not to have heard the boys.

"Maybe we should go and sit at another table," Mary suggested reluctantly, noticing that Elizabeth was not reading, but simply looking down. Perhaps she was too polite to say she did not want them to join their table. Mary wanted to stay. Something about this woman puzzled her. She was so controlled. At Oakhurst she had appeared to be easily amused, but she had never got beyond betraying this amusement by a twinkle in her eyes or a very brief and soft chuckle. Right now she was not amused at all. Maybe it was Henry's fault. Henry did have a tendency to think very well of himself and he had no reason not to, but maybe queens expected more obedience. "Henry," Mary said when he did not react to her suggestion. He should say they could stay.

"Why don't you call him Livius?" Elizabeth inquired. Perhaps only the two boys would miss the sharp edge to her voice.

"You're overstepping your bounds," said Henry, playing her own words back to her.

Mary wondered if her uncle outdid Elizabeth in self-control. If he did not, he was close enough. There appeared to be a lot going on that she did not know about. It made her curious. Would they know it was so obvious they were holding back? Or would they underestimate children? Henry had to know she knew him well. He would not speak to any queen like that.

"Be quiet," she hissed at her brothers, who were fighting over a place. If they did not behave, Henry would send them away and she would miss everything. Somehow it was important that she stayed. Under the table, a warm hand closed over hers reassuringly. It shut Mary up in an effective manner, because it told her Henry was not going to send them away, no matter what the boys did. Someone had taken the responsibility away from her. It was no longer up to her to make sure her uncle acted peacefully. It had been a long time since anyone had taken any matter out of her hands. Her uncle had done so at times, of course, but not with respect to himself. This was different. If she thought about it, it was strange to sit holding hands with the Queen under the table, but it did not feel very strange at all.

"Livius," Elizabeth said, but that only set the boys off. They burst out in delighted laughter at the use of that stupid name.

Lord Setchley glared at her. "You're not helping much," he said.

"I think I am," she said quietly, feeling the girl's hand in hers. The poor girl had needed that. Her grip had been quite tight in the beginning, but she was relaxing now. "Remember whom you're speaking to." He should not speak to the Queen like that.

"I am trying, but you're not helping much." What was she doing to Mary? She had done something to make her relax.

Elizabeth looked up from what she was reading. "Could you explain this pension plan to me in three words?" She had a hard time concentrating on the text. It would be better if he told her what it was about now that the boys had quieted down.

"Bloody stupid idea," Lord Setchley said promptly.

"I meant three sentences."

"Do you really want to know? It's a bloody stupid idea. That's my opinion."

"So there's no point in reading it?"

"No, trust me."

"Alright." She laid the proposal aside. "What about this next one?"

"I haven't read that one." He had brought it so she could read it. That was what joint responsibilities were all about. He read half and she read the other half.

"So I should read it," she realised and saw it was about abortion. "You saved the feminine topics for me, I see." He should not.

"Are you people running the country?" Mary asked sceptically. They certainly had a dumb way of doing so. She had been thinking they were more serious about what they were supposed to read, not treating it like homework.

"I don't know anything about feminine topics, Mary. That's why I was in favour of running it together with a woman," Henry explained.

That earned him a sharp look from Elizabeth. "That's useful. What do I know about abortion that you don't?" she asked. She did not even want to know anything about it. Why was he forcing her to read this?

"Well," Lord Setchley gestured. "You're a woman."

"Really? How does that help if I've never had an abortion either?" And she was not planning to have one, ever.

"But you could have one if you wanted."

"If I wanted!" she exclaimed. "You could have had one too if you had wanted. There's one word that explains it. Need I mention it or are you clever enough to realise it yourself?"

Lord Setchley decided he was not clever enough. "Please mention it," he said with an inviting gesture of his hand.

"Brazil."

"Oh," he said. He looked thoughtful. "You're right."

"I don't get it," said Mary. "You kissed a woman in Brazil, but what has that got to do with abortion?" The woman in Brazil had had one?

"Thank you for bringing this up in front of the children," he said to Elizabeth. She would not know it, but in the unlikely event that they were not saying anything now, they would bring it up later. He knew the children better than she did and they would never let a matter rest.

"What's a bortion?" John asked. Naturally he was interested to hear what she should not have mentioned in front of him. David wanted to know it too, but he was afraid to ask a stupid question. It was better to let his younger brother do it.

"She'll tell you," his uncle said, crossing his arms to signify that it was not his subject.

"It's a typical male reaction to have all the fun but none of the disadvantages," Elizabeth said, feeling mildly annoyed.

"What's a bortion?" John repeated, feeling this was something he really had to know because it seemed important. He was afraid to look at Elizabeth, so he kept looking at his uncle.

"Did your uncle tell you where babies come from?" Elizabeth asked him. She thought he might be too young for that. Since his uncle was content to let her handle it, she was going to tell his nephews all about it. That would serve him right.

"Yes, he told me."

She was surprised and caught a self-satisfied look from across the table. "Well, an abortion is what some people have when they don't want the baby."

"Why don't they?"

"I don't know."

"And Uncle Henry could have had a baby too?" John had remembered that bit, but it made no sense to him.

"No," Lord Setchley said firmly.

"It would be very easy for Uncle Henry to have a baby," Elizabeth shrugged.

"He's not married." John remembered that his uncle had been speaking about husbands and wives in this respect. His uncle could not have babies, because he was not married.

"That's not really what matters."

"But Uncle Henry said only married people could get pregnant," he piped up in confusion.

"Would Uncle Henry be surprised," Elizabeth muttered. She could not help but think that little John should have said this in Parliament. What would his uncle's critics have said about it if they heard Uncle Henry had been instilling good values in his nephew?

"Uncle Henry promised us he would not get married," said John confidently. "So we wouldn't get a wicked stepmother. So Uncle Henry can't have a baby." It all made perfect sense to him.

"And what does this have to do with Brazil?" Mary asked again.

Lord Setchley sighed. He regretted that he had brought the abortion documents. He should have left them at home or told her not to read them now. "Nothing, unless you like a lot of ifs."

"I do," she said, just to get him to answer.

"Mary, no." He was not going to say more about it and his tone made that very clear.

"I was thinking," said Elizabeth after the children had gone out to the playground again at their uncle's request. "If you're asked about your opinion on abortion, you're going to have to say you're against it."

"I am?"

"Yes, most definitely."

"Why?"

"To balance your behaviour." He should not appear too liberal, yet a too conservative opinion would make people think he was a hypocrite. It was difficult to make a choice.

He narrowed his eyes. "What if I'm not against it?"

"Your personal opinion doesn't really matter at the moment," she told him. "Your image does."

Not being honest was undoubtedly very good for his image, he thought wryly. "What's your personal opinion?"

"I don't have any opinions -- I'm the Queen," Elizabeth said with a saucy smile. It was always a great excuse to use on people other than the Prime Minister. She knew he would not buy it.

Lord Setchley looked at her in exasperation. He shook his head before he spoke. "Excuse me, but didn't you just give your personal opinion about what I should do?" Then why on earth was she giving him that about not having any opinions? Did she think he was too stupid to notice?

"It's better if you don't allow me to have any opinions," she said. "You'd be held accountable for them. What did she mean, Prime Minister? Can't you tell the woman to shut up? But you'd have to ask me first if could order you to tell me to shut up, isn't that so?"

He looked away wearily. "I see I have manoeuvred myself into an untenable position." The Queen was trouble with a capital T.

"Not really," she said cheerfully. "Your position depends on my mood, as much as mine depends on yours. It keeps life exciting." She tried to convince herself.

"So I might be dismissed just because it's raining and that's influencing your mood, Ma'am?" He did not sound as if he liked that idea. It might be just the way things went, however.

Elizabeth inclined her head a little. This situation might not have been what he had in mind when he increased her power, but this was not the time to regret past decisions. "That's queens for you, My Lord. There might seem two ways you could go. The abyss -- a clean push over the edge and exit -- and the downward spiral -- which will drag me with you -- but there's actually only one way."

"Which is the latter," he stated.

"Yes."

"I suppose I should be relieved that you can't push me over the edge."

"I am fairly loyal, but don't count your blessings just yet. Spirals are slow and painful and at the moment quite inevitable. This meeting," her flat hand hit the table, "could set off something very unpleasant, but the meeting was inevitable."

"Was it?"

"It was. I haven't got involved in the debates thus far, but it's not unthinkable that someone might start wondering about my opinion. I cannot stay too aloof, but I also cannot get too involved. I have to keep three sides happy."

"Three?"

"Really, I wish you were a little quicker today," she said sharply.

"I'm an honest man," Lord Setchley said with a sigh. "You are far more unscrupulous than I thought you were."

"Self-preservation," she mumbled.

"Allow me to be slow in understanding your double-talk. I think I have reached the point where things are becoming too complicated to grasp. I honestly don't know how you can still keep track of all your different meanings when you say something. I did not scheme my way to this position. I got here by being an honest man, as amazing as this may sound to you. This is getting too much for me." He had become more and more heated during this little speech and he wanted to get out of here. She should choose a side and not wriggle. He gathered his papers together with abrupt movements. "You're a manipulative bitch and if I go down, you're going down with me, just like your little spiral theory predicts." With that final remark he left her, knowing it was neither very honest nor very brave to say that and then leave.

To Part Two
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