Conveniently Wed to the Prince

The statement had an edge to it, and she wasn’t sure whether he hoped his brother was succeeding or failing.

The rest of breakfast was a silent affair, only today the silence didn’t feel comfortable, and later, when they left the hotel, although he took her hand it felt false—she would swear she sensed reluctance in his fingers, knew it was done solely for the sake of their charade.

The car drove them through streets that spoke of the rich elite that Lycander was known for, filled with colonial mansions, freshly painted terracotta villas, but gradually, as they proceeded, the surroundings became dingier, evidence of poverty more and more apparent in graffiti and an air of dilapidation. Yet there were signs of change: construction under way, the hum of lorries transporting building materials, rows of newly built houses.

Still, the contrast between the glitz and glamour of Lycander’s centre and its outskirts was stark indeed.

Franco pulled up in a narrow street outside a ramshackle building that, despite its lopsided air, did attempt a sense of cheer. The walls were painted bright yellow, and a sign jauntily proclaimed ‘Ladybirds Nursery’. Yet Stefan’s face looked grim as they emerged from the car, stepped forward to meet Marcus.

‘Does this building comply with any building standards?’

‘Yes.’ Marcus’s voice was even. ‘I know it doesn’t look like much, but it is safe—and, as you can see, the staff have made an effort to make it look welcoming. The children are also looking forward to showing you the garden at the back. Feel free to inspect every centimetre of it yourself. It is safe or I would not allow it to be open.’

Stefan relaxed slightly, and his smile was in place as the nursery leader came out with a group of young children to meet them. A small pigtailed girl approached Holly, curtsied, and handed her a posy of flowers

Holly went down on her haunches to thank her. ‘Thank you, sweetheart. What’s your name?’

‘Sasha.’

‘Well, Sasha, these are beautiful, and we are really looking forward to seeing your nursery.’

‘I love it,’ the little girl confided. ‘My big sister is really jealous, because it wasn’t here when she was little. The teachers are really nice, and we have lots of fun. And it means my mum can go and work. “So everyone wins,” she says.’ She gave a hop of excitement. ‘And we get lunch here and it’s really nice. Me and my best friend Tommy are going to show you and the Prince around the kitchens. Is it fun being a princess?’

‘Well, I’m not quite a princess yet. But I think one of my favourite things will be meeting people like you!’

Sasha looked up at Stefan, then back to Holly. ‘Is it OK if I ask him something?’ she whispered.

‘Of course it is.’

Stefan, who must have overheard the whispered words, smiled down at her. ‘Go right ahead—what do you want to know?’

‘Are you like a prince from the fairy tales?’

Stefan smiled, but Holly caught sadness behind the smile.

‘No, I don’t think I am. But I want to be a good prince if I can. I want to help people.’

The words, though simple, were sincere, and Holly knew with gut-deep certainty that he meant them. That this wasn’t all part of the charade.

‘Now, Holly and I would love it if you’d show us round.’

Sasha slipped her hands into theirs and they entered the nursery. The converted house, though small, had been subdivided into four rooms, each one brightly painted, its walls covered with children’s paintings and letters and numbers. Boxes stored toys that, though clearly second-hand, were serviceable and clean; the children were a mix of shy and confident, tall and small.

‘We set up as a voluntary place after the major storm that hit last year,’ the leader explained. ‘It was somewhere parents could leave their children safely whilst they tried to cobble their lives together...rebuild their homes. But now the crown is funding this nursery and others—not completely, and we do still rely on donations, but we can afford to pay our staff something and the children get one good square meal a day. Now, I think these children desperately want to show you round.’

Even as Holly focused on the children, admired their work, laughed at their jokes and answered their questions as best she could, she was all the time oh, so aware of Stefan by her side—his stance, his relaxed air, the way he treated each child as an individual.

Once in the garden, the children proudly showed off the vegetable plots, as well as the sunflowers that stretched towards the sky with an optimism that seemed to reflect this nursery. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a little boy come forward, urged on by the pigtailed Sasha. But he pulled back and the two engaged in a spirited conversation.

Stefan had spotted it too and he headed towards them, looked down at the little boy, and Holly saw sudden compassion touch his eyes.

He leant down and spoke with them both. The words were too low for Holly to overhear, but she saw the little boy’s face light up, then saw Sasha and the boy high-five.

Later, as they prepared to leave, Sasha bounded up and wrapped her arms around Stefan’s legs. ‘I think you’re a very good prince. Better than a fairy tale one. And you did help.’

‘What did you do?’ Holly asked, once they were in the car en route to their next visit.

‘It’s no big deal.’