Becca Woodville 2018

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"Poor you indeed"

What does that mean? I'm just talking this through to myself when three people wander up to me. They're dressed in old fashioned clothes. Not just old fashioned but Medieval! Who are they?

"Hello," they call out to me in a hesitating voice.

There's two men and one woman. The woman and one of the men look sharp but the other man looks as if he is an idiot.

The latter calls out "I'm Teddy, King of England."

The woman immediately apologises "I'm sorry. He's not quite right in the head."

The final man tells me that he is Richard of York, that the woman is Maggie Pole and the other man is Teddy of Warwick.

I nod, not particularly interested. "Well Teddy, I'm Queen of England." I joke. He doesn't quite take it the way I meant him to.

"You're not Lizzie. You're not a good Queen," he replies.

"It was just a joke, Teddy. Times have moved on," Maggie tells him.

I shrug. It's not my fault. Then, suddenly, it hits me. "You're... you're... you're," I gasp.

"Who are we?" Richard inquires. "Why do you look so confused?"

"You're Margaret Pole and Edward of Warwick," I finally spit out.

"Yes," Maggie says "Yes, we are. Why?"

My phone beeps once, twice, a third time but for the first time in... I dunno...ages, I don't answer it. "You're supposed to be dead," I pluck up the courage to say "You're supposed to have died on that very patch of grass."

"And yet we're still here?" Maggie says.

"Well yeah...yeah. How are you still alive?"

"We've got a lot of explaining to do, Maggie." Richard says. Maggie nods. Richard continues "Shall I do myself and Teddy?"

Maggie nods again "Yes...yes. That would be a good idea."

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