May 22, 2017
Jaclyn analyzes the designs in her lap, scrutinizing the colorful lines that shape into different mugs. They're straight from Emma Bridgewater's office, and designed by her very hands. They're to support East Anglia's Children Hospices, each one that's sold £5 will be given to the organization.
"I think these new renderings are exactly what we need," Jaclyn says, passing them for Kate to look over. "I think adding the sketch of EACH's logo helps to pull it together."
"Oh, they're lovely."
They're lovely and for a lovely cause, but she's ready to get her teeth into her next big project. With the health suite at RBC doing well, and under Leo's supervision after he completed his bachelor's in kinesiology, Jaclyn hasn't been needed. She still keeps tabs, but she can't ride the waves of one success forever.
But there are so many possibilities, and so many causes that need to be highlighted she's not sure where to start. She wants to help women through pregnancy and labor, and give them a chance to be heard, but she also wants to help children in low income areas and give them opportunities they usually wouldn't have. She wants to highlight life skills programs for disabled kids, and organizations that help them get into the arts or sports or simply survive school.
She's also a mother and a wife and there's only so much time, and a part of her feels like if she can't do everything then she's failing. Letting people down that rely on her.
She's launching a new program in a couple months focusing on the mental health of children in schools, but she needs to find that thing that will make the program special. So, when the magazines lament poetry about what she's wearing and plaster airbrushed photos of her on every cover, inside there will be a tiny bit of information that matters. That people will see and remember.
"You know I want to get into photography more," Kate blurts, and it's the perfect distraction for Jaclyn to cling to. The world is racing by outside the window as they head for Smethwick where there's a center run by Action for Children. The houses have turned to the red brick semi terraced the city is known for, and if it weren't for the window Jaclyn would be looking at a travel brochure.
"Really?" She asks, letting go of a breath that got caught in her throat as she turns away from the homes squashed on the street. "I hope you're not planning on leaving me high and dry."
"I think I'll be your stylist till the day I die for the same reasons I like photography." Jaclyn tilts her head, the heavy dangling earrings smacking and swaying as she tauntingly pries for Kate to continue. The brunette rolls her eyes but smiles all the same. "I like sharing your story through your clothing. I think that's why I like photography too. A picture is an insight to someone's story."
They make the rest of the journey in silence, Jaclyn looking down at her hands expecting them to do something. Then she looks up at Kate, Kate who's so simply radiant with her dreams off her chest that she glows until her skin appears golden. Jaclyn smiles, basking in the light of her friend. "You'll have to take PJ's birthday photos for our Instagram."
When they arrive it's a rush of handshakes and photos and being shown around the facility. She's grown used to the camera crews that follow her around now, so much so she can envision they're not there all while lingering a second longer in a certain pose she knows will photograph well. It feels false, but if they get what they want here then maybe they won't be so insistent when the kids are around.
Sitting down for the roundtable she inhales the heavy scent of ash that lingers in the air, and looks every adult that's joined her in the eyes. They're all parents who've been helped by the center, all in different situations. Some seem apprehensive to share, worried she'll judge them for their circumstances, but she smiles and softens her eyes and prays they feel safe with her.
"I'm honored to be here with all of you," she starts. Amongst the wary are the tired and the hopeful. The lime green walls and inspirational colorful poster boards contrast so sharply to the atmosphere around the large table. Directly across from her is a young couple, holding hands so tightly the color from their skin drains.
On her one side is a single mother, and in a far corner is a father. A couple on the side is the exact opposite of the one in front of her with as much space between them as possible, and mirroring them is another that looks like they've been dragged in and forced to sit.
The director of the program steps forward with a big smile that reads insincerely. "Her Royal Highness is here to listen to your stories, to spread the word so we can all better help the community."
They all share a look, singlely excluded her and anyone else that lingers around them, and she can't blame them. The area has a reputation for neglect and dysfunctional family units, and she knows from her own family that it's hard to open up your community to help. Especially when so often the help parades around as a savior dripping in glamour, but eventually leaves when the cameras and excitement have died.
"We'd do anything for our kids," the woman across from her hiccups. Her skin is gaunt and tight against her bones, and her breathing controlled as if she's in pain sitting there. "I'm sure you understand that, ma'am."
"I do."
She shares a look with the young man next to her, and it strikes Jaclyn how young they are from the innocently fearful glaze that comes over them. "I've died six times and been brought back to life due to my heart attacks. My daughter takes care of me during the day because he has to work. She knows what to do better than some nurses, and I worry I've stolen her childhood."
"The centre helps," her husband adds, never looking from where his wife has dropped in on herself. Neither of them cry, but it's obvious they're both very tired, and she's trying to hide from the camera creeping in over her shoulder.
Jaclyn stands without thinking, her chair scratching the old wood until it screams, and before she can stop she's rounding the corner of the table towards the camera men. Her smile is poised, sympathetic even, as she places her hand gently on the first ones shoulder. "Have you got any good shots in here yet?" She asks first.
"Um... Two or three." He stutters completely surprised by her sudden appearance at his side, but she keeps her composure. She has a reputation as William's gentle unassuming wife, so when she speaks no one hears the manipulation lying hidden like camouflaged scales in her words. "Excellent, and we still have much to see, but this feels like a very private setting. Don't you think?"
He's stunned, frozen with his camera pointing directly at her. She's also known to be fair with the press. Despite the atrocities they've done to her she's never bad mouthed them, never refused them, and they always get what they want from her.
With round eyes he slowly nods and backs out of the room, calling the other two to join him making it his idea to leave and not hers.
"Well," she huffs with a tease of a laugh, returning to her seat, "That was very brave of you to share, and I know your daughters just happy you're alright and with her."
They don't dwell on the story after that, but the others more easily open up. The woman next to her lost her husband to a drug overdose, and now the same people who got him addicted are preying on her teenage son. The man next to her is raising his three kids by himself while his wife is in jail, and every story somehow cuts deeper and deeper until she's on the brink of sobbing.
They can all see it in her. She can school and sculpt her expression as much as she likes, but her eyes betray her every thought. But Jaclyn refuses to cry, refuses to put that on them because the last thing they deserve is comfort her.
Leaving the room for the nursery is almost a relief, and the parents with kids that age follow her, explaining some of the programs they participate in. Usually it functions like a daycare, but other times there are special events to attend.
"Children this is the Duchess of Cambridge, she's going to join us for arts and crafts today." The cheery, teddy shaped woman who's watching the kids announces her entrance into the classroom like it's the most grandeur thing. Most of the kids look up, blink and return to coloring. Jaclyn immerses herself into their world instead of pandering to the thought of forcing them into hers.
Silently she's given a piece of paper and an assortment of brightly colored crayons, and none of them go together, but for the most part the kids go about their business as everything is completely normal. It's one of the reasons she loves events with kids so much. The bowing and scraping is limited, no falsities to their actions, and nothing she needs to prove. They can color and it's enough.
"How's Princess Amelia?" One of the girls asks. She's the oldest of the kids, bent over on her knees because she's too lanky for the chairs. Jaclyn looks up from the blue flower with a yellow center and pink leaves that she's drawing so she can look the girl in the eyes and give her a smile. "She's doing well, so is Phillip. They're both going to be really jealous when I tell them what I did today."
"Is that from Star Wars?" Another boy asks, pointing to the gold necklace she's wearing. Before his mum can pull his outreached hand back Jaclyn leans closer and allows him to caress the smooth engravings of the japor snippet.
Soon all kids want to take turns touching the copy of the necklace Anakin gave to Padmé in The Phantom Menace. "William got it for me," she explains, now holding it preciously herself, "I think it's my personal good luck charm."
"Who's your favorite Star Wars character?"
"Obviously, Obi-Wan Kenobi."
While The kids giggle the parents from the roundtable whisper around the room, some still shooting her apprehensive glances from over their hands, while others let out heavy breaths and fall back into chairs happily. The cameras are still schooled on her, and every time she catches one of their eyes she clenches until the triumphant swell from earlier settles.
A few years ago she wouldn't have been able to do that, but her reputation precedes her and no one sees her as a threat anymore.
-----
It's late when he gets back home. So late most of KP has gone dark and the halls lurk in silence. The sky is pitch outside, but clear so the full moon glows through each window he passes.
William doesn't know what he expects to find at this point when he comes home, but finding Jaclyn, Amelia, and Philip all crammed into one tiny bed shouldn't be surprising. Jaclyn's back is awkwardly slouched against the headboard of Mia's bed, both of her arms open so each kid can cuddle into her sides. PJ is clinging to her like a koala, but Mia has rolled and is practically hanging off the bed.
It's easy to breathe calmly again being back with them, the stress of his job falling from his shoulders. The faces of the people they help follow him home, the voices from their families circling his head, but being back with his allows his mind to set it all aside.
He moves PJ first, his son easily letting go of Jaclyn so he can wrap his arms around William's neck instead. William stands like that, supporting the little boy who's so quickly growing, and not for the first time he wants to rewind the clock. Back to when he held him for the first time, or watched him toddle on little legs.
When he's finally in his own bed William slowly shifts Amelia back onto hers, leaning over to kiss her head without waking her up. The attempt is futile, just as he's about to pull away she leans up and pecks his cheek. "Told you," she whispers through a yawn. Her grin is satisfied as she curls back into her pillow, her eyes never truly open, and just as he realizes she's awake she's asleep again.
He turns the TV off, silencing the end credits of A New Hope that they must've all dozed off to. The hardest part is Jaclyn, who's like a sack of potatoes when asleep despite her small stature. He scoops her up under her knees sighing as she nuzzles sleepily into his shoulder just like PJ did.
A lingering maid coos as he turns the corner to their bedroom, and he can only imagine how they look. His uniform is still on, and Jaclyn is balled up tightly in her sweats and messy hair, but William's focused entirely on not dropping his wife who refuses to stir. Even in her sleep she trusts him entirely.
It's only when he's carefully pulled the comforter over her that her eyes squint at him. "Will? Is that you?" He must appear to be nothing more than a hovering shadow, but still she reaches up towards him. There's a haze in her eyes, the whites barely visible as they fall and open, but her fingers are alive as she touches his cheek. "It's me darling. Go back to sleep."
She hums as he kisses her forehead, easily collapsing into their pillows, and he pulls away just in time for his phone to start ringing. It's a frantic moment of him searching his numerous pockets to silence it before the spell holding his wife breaks, but he answers without her even stirring.
"Hello?"
"Your Royal Highness..." The news shared with him from Buckingham is so random, so painfully cruel, that he gapes in the darkness surrounding him. He looks to Jaclyn again, half her face smashed into the pillow she's squeezing the life out of, and he tries to find solace in the peace she's in.
It's a futile attempt.
A part of him doesn't want to beleive the poor man delivering the news, but another part of him is sadly not surprised.
"Can you repeat that? What's happend in Manchester?"
-----
I apologize for the long break, life got randomly crazy with my intensive and my three summer courses, but to make it up in planning on doing another update this weekend so keep your eyes peeled.
In other news I know this isn't my best work, but I'm in a weird funk where I don't like anything. The usual I suppose, but it just feels like a lot of this is a filler...
I don't know, let me know what you guys think!!!