A few minutes later the food arrived and Mum was not kidding with how big everything was. The roll was about as big as my face and overflowing with bacon that was done slightly crispy. What got me the most was how the hot chocolate wasn't in a dainty little cup, but what may as well have been a bowl with handles. On top of the cream were lots of little marshmallows, cocoa powder, some sprinkles and there was a flake.
"Are you trying to give me diabetes?" I asked in astonishment.
Brychan laughed. "I'm sure the calories won't hurt you."
"Yeah, but still. I like my teeth as they are."
"They won't rot between now and getting home, I'm sure," he said, patted my back and went to talk to another customer.
My stomach rumbled and I wasted no more time with the food. I added brown sauce to the roll and had to squash it down before taking a bite. There was the perfect amount of butter on it and it mixed with the residual oil from the pan in the single most delectable way possible. I was about half way though before I even thought about having some of my drink.
"This is delicious," I said with a happy sigh. "I wish we could..." I'd nearly said 'bring Ben here' but people were still listening into our conversation.
"Eat up kiddo, we need to get going in ten minutes."
We both ate really quickly and hurried out but were stopped at the door by a seven year old girl who was, simply put, adorable. Long brown hair was put into two plaits that fell over her shoulders and she was wearing a light blue pinafore dress with a white blouse underneath. I think it was a Dorothy costume rather than her normal clothes, but she killed that dress even though she had red wellies on.
"This is a get well card for all the people in Canada," she said to me. "Can you give it to the king to give to them?"
"Uh..."
What the hell?! Why was she asking me? I was just Grace. I wasn't anyone important. I was... a student. A student who really wanted to get a hair cut. I really wanted to tell the kid that there was no way I could get it there and walk out, but she looked at me with those damn eyes of hers. Those damn puppy dog eyes that were so warm and brown and innocent. How could I possibly let her down? And, let's face it. This was a beautiful gesture.
I smiled and knelt down next to her. "Let me see?"
She held it out to me. It was a napkin with a pen drawing on it and the words "Get well soon, Canada" shakily written. There were a few rips on it from where the pen had gone through the thin material, but it was still really sweet. Below the words was a smiley face and what I assumed was a rainbow, both surrounded by hearts. Below that was what I assumed was supposed to be the Welsh dragon.
"This is really nice," I said. "You can really draw!"
"Thank you!" she grinned showing a few missing teeth. "Can you get it to Canada?"
I smiled. "When I next talk to Ben, um, Prince Benjamin, I'll see what he can do, but I'm sure we can get it there, yes."
"Can you send balloons too? One for everyone who got hurt?"
I smiled. "I'll see what I can do. What's you're name?"
"Gracie."
"Is it?" I asked in a child friendly high voice of excitement. "My mum calls me that sometimes."
"Even though you're all growed up?"
I nodded. "Uh huh."
"Will you talk to Prince Benjamin today?" she asked intensely.
"Just as soon as I get home," I promised.
"And –"
"That's enough now, Gracie," her father said softly and took her hand. To me he said, "Sorry."
"No, don't be," I said with a smile. "It's ok."
He smiled and looked down at his daughter. "Say thank you, Grace."
She smiled. "Thank you."
"No problem," I smiled.
Mum and I walked out. As soon as the door closed I began to feel absolutely bewildered again, but shook it off. I looked back at the napkin and teared up a little. Only a little kid would do something as simple as this to show solidarity and kindness to others. I guessed it was because kids were so innocent to the true evil of the world and didn't really care if what they were doing was inappropriate or even just a little bit weird. Once when I went to a war memorial there were a load of small wooden crosses there each with a paper poppy attached to it. Most of them had the names of the people who'd put them there written on them and by the handwriting you could tell that they were either teens or adults. But there was one cross there with the words thank you written in really shaky writing as if the person had been crying when they'd written it. The woman who looked after the monument said it was put there by a five year old boy and everyone who saw it got a tear in their eye.
I guess this was the same. The open, sweet honesty of a child.
"She was really sweet," Mum said once we were in the car.
"Adorable too," I said quietly, my mind still half on the cross. "Weird how she asked me though."
"She's our neighbour... half a mile away but still. Dad and I know her parents. They watch the Eton show every week. I guess she recognised you and figured if anyone could get it there, it's you because you know Ben."
"It's still weird."
"Try not to think about it. We're here already."
We'd only gone a little way down the road. If it was summer I was pretty sure we would have walked, but it was beginning to softly snow again. Like the café, we entered another converted cottage. Like most other hairdressers it was filled with clean lines, open space and minimalist decoration.
"Ah, Emily, I was beginning to wonder if you got stuck down that drive of yours," a thirty-something lady said. "This must be Grace?"
"Hello, Ma'am," I said. Then I realised just how Eton I sounded.
"Way to go to make me feel old," she chuckled. "I'm Anna."
"Sorry," I cringed a little. "Habit from school."
"No worries. Come sit down both of you. We've got you in together as we had a cancellation. Margaret got snowed in again. Both wash and cuts?"
"Please," Mum said and we followed Anna into the main salon.
I was looked after by a woman only a little older than me who was big on the smiles and compliments. I ignored most of her inane chatter whilst she washed my hair but that was because the massage she was giving my head was really, really good. This sort of treatment was why I didn't mind that my hair grew really quickly. It was so worth it. When she was done I was taken over to another seat and asked what I wanted doing.
"I want it cut to about here," I said and made a line on my arm that was a couple of inches below my shoulder.
"Really?" she asked and ran a hand through my hair. "But it's so beautiful long."
"And keeps nearly getting snagged in the runners of my rowing seat," I said perhaps a little sharply.
"Ok," she said, "but you're probably going to regret it."
"I'm really not. I'd also like some bits around my face cut a little shorter but so I can still tie it up."
"Ok," she nodded. "So I'll start those bits a little below chin length and then shorten it if you want me to."
I nodded. "Please."
"Feathered ends or straight across?"
"Feathered, please."
It didn't take her long to start cutting the majority of the length off before doing the more delicate work on the ends.
"So... Eton huh?"
I nearly nodded but saw that she was about to start snipping. "Yeah."
"My little cousin goes the little brain box," she smiled. "She's in College. Apparently there's some friendly rivalry between all the other houses and College."
"Yeah, a little. What's her name?"
"Madison Ghent. She's in... D block?"
"Second year GCSE," I translated.
"No, the one before. It must be pretty crazy huh, having a camera follow you around all the time."
I shrugged. "You get used to it. It is nice to have a break though."
"I can imagine. Isn't it weird watching yourself back though?"
I chuckled. "My house don't give me much choice. They drag me away from extra – homework."
"And that old chap you help out seems nice."
"Master MacLachlan," I said because no one called him 'old' even if they meant it with the greatest respect. It wasn't that he was offended by it, you just didn't.
We chatted about the show for the entire time I was sat down until she'd finished cutting and started blow drying. As we chatted Mum and Anna joined in and we laughed a lot about the funnier things that had been on the show, especially when they happened to the F blocker who was also in it.
Once she'd dried my hair Claire put my hair into a sixties style ponytail and applied some hairspray. Mum paid and then we headed home.
"Man she can natter on," I grumbled about Claire once we were on our way. "I nearly fell asleep when she was washing my hair."
"She's a bit shy that's why. Once she got used to you she was better."
"Yeah."
We got home about ten minutes later.
"I've got mince out for dinner," Dad said as soon as we came in through the utility. "What do you fancy?"
"Cottage pie?" Mum asked.
I nodded. "Ben's favourite."
"Ok. Have a nice time?"
"Grace made friend at Brychan's."
"Ugh, it's till weird. I'm going to see if Ben's up," I said and beat a hasty retreat upstairs.
I went as quickly and quietly as I could, but I still managed to wake Ben when I went into my room. He sleepily lifted his head off the pillow and looked at me through half closed, heavy eyes.
"Grace?" he asked with a yawn. "What time is it?"
I kicked my wellies off and then sat on the edge of the bed looking down at him. "About twelve. Your dad wants you to call. He called at about three in the morning but I couldn't wake you up."
He'd already reached over to his phone by the time I'd finished speaking, not looking sleepy anymore. He sat up properly and in a flash had the phone to his ear. It only took a beat for Christian to answer. When Ben heard his voice, he sagged a bit and looked more relaxed than he had since the terror attack happened.
"I'm ok," Ben said to whatever variation of 'how are you?' he'd been asked. "Yeah, Grace is fine... Tell Grace what's gone viral?"
"What?" I asked.
"Hang on, Dad, I'll put you on speaker phone... There you go."
"Hi, Grace," Christian said. "Someone was recording you talking to Grace in the café. It's all over the internet."
"Really?" I asked. "But it was only an hour ago!"
"Things like this spread pretty quickly. I've emailed Ben the address of the embassy here. I was wondering..."
"No, Dad," Ben said. "Whatever it is, no."
"Nothing big, Ben. I was going to ask if you, Grace, or your parents could take Grace to get some balloons for everyone and then have them posted over. I'll cover the costs and stuff. If it all gets posted today it can be here by Christmas if you do diplomatic post. I can get someone from the lieutenancy office to pick it up from your house and they can sort it."
"It'll be really nice, Ben," I said in a tone that said 'I'm going to do it whether you want me to or not'.
"Will it still be so nice when the world finds out I'm here?" he asked.
"Ben, they're not allowed anywhere near you," Christian said. "So long as you two don't kiss in public I think you'll be fine."
"Come on, Ben. It'll make her day if you come as well."
"Ok," he relented, but he was smiling a little. "How many balloons do we need, Dad?"
"Fifty seven. Three people died as well."
For a moment both of us were silent.
"We'll get them something as well. We'll let you know, ok?" Ben said.
"Ok. Call me later."
Ben hung up. "I think we need to watch the news."
"Yeah, me too," I said and reached for my phone.
Finding it on the BBC website wasn't difficult. It was all over the front page. We watched some videos of reports detailing exactly what happened and how the casualty count had steadily increased, but was kept relatively low given the size and location of the explosion. The terrorists had attacked a hotel choosing the location specifically because they knew that Christian would be close by at the time it went off.
"I hate how clever they can be," I muttered.
"Knowing they can't get to the man they want so killing innocent civilians. It's cowardly," Ben spat.
"Well yeah, but also a clever bit of lateral thinking. Though it's made everyone hate them more by the look of it. Attack our cities, we can sort of live with that. But go after our King? Oh no. Suddenly it's become a matter of national pride."
"The public outcry is crazy," he muttered. "Have you seen the comments?"
"Spouting hate messages?" I asked.
He nodded. "I get their point, but..." he sighed. "I don't agree with it."
"It's probably the minority. Most people are sensible enough to know that that is what the terrorists want. Let's go get the balloons, yeah?"
He nodded and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah. I'm going to grab a quick shower."
I nodded. "I'll tell Mum, Dad and whoever's on duty."
"Samuel."
"Right."
* * * *
Gracie's house was a small cottage with a snowed over garden. Smoke was coming through the chimney and I could see that Pingu was on TV. Even now I had a serious, secret soft spot for the penguin. Ben knocked on the door. It had a wreath on it and the knocker was in the middle of it.
Almost immediately it was opened by Gracie's dad Eowen. He was in the same clothes as before – my insistence. I'd called earlier to ask if it was ok to take his daughter out – and his smile was as genuine as it had been in the café, but he looked a little nervous.
"Your Royal Highness," he said to Ben. It was really weird. "Please, come in."
"Thank you Mr. Wilson," he said. "You briefly met Grace earlier."
"Yes, hello," he smiled. "Come in."
I stepped into a narrow hallway that had a slate floor, white walls and the stairs were to the right. He led us into the lounge which was on the left and we stood by the door. Eowen had said that Gracie would get far too excited about this to sit down and have a cup of tea, so this part of the visit was going to be short.
"Gracie," Eowen said. She didn't so much as blink she was so focused on the TV. "Grace is here."
She gasped and spun around on the sofa to look at me. "Did you talk to Prince Benjamin?"
"I did better, look," I said and pointed to my left to where Ben was stood.
She gasped again and ran over. She looked like she wanted to hug him but she stopped, curtsied and then said, "Please, please, please can you send my get well card to Canada?"
He nodded. "I can yes. I spoke to my dad earlier and he's going to make sure it gets there for Christmas."
"Really? It's going to take that long?"
Eowen laughed. "Gracie, Christmas is only three more sleeps away."
"That's ages and ages."
"Well, Canada is a long long way away and it'll take a while to get it there."
"But it will get there?" she asked Ben looking hopeful.
"Yes. And my dad said we should go out and get some balloons for all the people who got hurt."
She gasped again. "Did he? Can I go, Daddy?"
"Why else would the prince and Grace be here?" he asked. "Come and get your coat and shoes on."
She dashed out into the hall and then thundered up the stairs. Eowen followed her. Ben sighed and leaned on the back of the sofa.
"You ok?" I asked and put a hand on his arm.
He nodded and let out a slow breath. "I don't like being called that."
I frowned. "What, Your Royal –"
"Yes."
"You need to get used to it."
"You think I don't know – Sorry."
"If it makes you feel better, it weirded me out a little too." I pressed a kiss to his head. "It's only for today. And only for about an hour."
"Yeah," he nodded. "Thanks."
I was going to lean in for a kiss, but a discrete cough from Samuel had me stepping away from Ben who stood up. Gracie thundered back down the stairs and stopped in the door way.
"Ready to go?" I asked.
"Yes. Is that that care we're going in outside?"
I nodded. "It's my dads."
It was the only car we had between all of us that would carry two guards in the front and the rest of us in the back. Gracie pulled a hat on as we went through the door and loudly went 'bbbbbbbbbrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr'. When we got to the car James opened a door for us all and shut it when we were safely inside.
"Wow," Gracie said. She was stood up between the two benches of seats which faced one another. "It's hugemungous!"
Her dad pulled her over to the bench which faced backwards and lifted her into the car seat which had appeared. "Sit down, Gracie, there's a good girl."
"Can we get lots of big balloons?" she asked. "Big, bright balloons for the poorly people."
"Whatever you want," Ben smiled.
"I want the biggest balloons in the shop," she said and stretched her arms out wide. "And the brightest and the glitteriest. With ribbons and streamers and sparkles."
We let her chatter on about the balloons all the way over to the town we went to. There was a card and balloon shop there, right in the centre. The store manager had been checked out by the guards and given a little forewarning that we were coming. When we got to the pedestrian area a police officer waved us through and some that were on bicycles rode at the four corners of the car so that no one would protest. Gracie looked around with wide eyes and her face pressed right up to the window.
I looked around a little more uneasily. It was like a mini official visit. There were more police in the street than there normally were on the last few days before Christmas, people were looking at the car in confusion, interest and some a little irritation. Gracie waved and people waved back to her.
We pulled up outside the small card shop. It was on a corner and had balloons in the window along side occasion cards, Christmas decorations and stocking fillers. We got out and as soon as her feet were on the floor, Gracie grabbed one of my hands and one of Ben's. Ben looked pretty started at first, but them smiled and looked up at me before leading us into the shop. We had to go in single file and a bell tinkled above the door.
There were a few people in the tightly packed shop, but none looked up from what they were doing apart from the elderly chap who I assumed owned the place. He smiled and shuffled over, his cane clicking on the floor.
"He's really old," Gracie whispered in surprise.
"Gracie!" her dad hissed at her.
I did my best to not laugh.
"Your Royal Highness," the shop owner said a little loudly so that he could hear himself.
That was when everyone looked up and began to murmur. I ignored it as best as I could.
Ben shook the man's hand. "Mr. Davies, it's good to meet you. This is Grace Bennett, we're here with Gracie and this is her dad Eowen."
Mr. Davies ignored the rest of us completely and looked solely at Gracie. She blushed under his kind gaze and shuffled a foot back and forth.
"Here to get some balloons for the people in Canada, eh?" he asked. "Come this way, little Miss. I think I might have just what you want down here."
"Really?" she asked hopefully. "Big, bright, sparkly balloons?"
"I'm sure I have," Mr. Davies said and took her hand from mine. "Come right this way. They're a bit high up. Maybe if you ask nicely the prince will lift you so you can see."
We walked to the other side of the shop passed a couple with a huge push chair and twins, to a corner where cards met decorations.
"Up there, look," Mr. Davies said.
Gracie stepped back and craned her neck. "Can't see."
"Come here," Ben said and picked her up.
He put her on his shoulders. She bunched her hands up in his hair to steady herself. He winced a little but didn't complain.
"Oooooh, I want to get those ones," she said and without warning reached out to get them.
Ben scrambled to steady himself against the sudden change in weight distribution. I helped him steady himself with a laugh and then he was hit in the face with a packet of balloons.
"Ow!" he scowled.
I took the balloons. They were purple and had sparkles, but no get well soon message.
"And these ones," she said and held a packet of multi coloured balloons in front of Ben's eyes. She pointed to some more. "And these, and those."
I quickly did the maths. "We'll need seven more once we have those."
Her eyes roamed the shelves for a long time before she put her hands on her hips and said, "They don't come in sevenses."
"How about we get a packet of ten just in case some of them break?" Ben asked.
"Those ones!" She pointed to some that were gold.
Ben took them off the shelf and passed them to me. He lifted Gracie from his shoulders and put her on the floor. She held his hand and looked up to him, sadness in her eyes.
"What about the people who died?" she asked.
"I was thinking," he said, "we get them some white balloons."
"Because there're in heaven?"
"Yes."
"Ok," she said and picked up a packet of ten white balloons. "And white ribbons?"
"Ok, let's see what we have..."
We spent the next ten or fifteen minutes deciding what ribbons to get for all of the balloons, counted out weights that were in the shape of the Welsh dragon and then double and triple checking that we had enough of everything. When we got to the counter Ben pulled his wallet out to pay.
"It's a good thing you're doing, Gracie," Mr. Davies said with a smile.
"Mummy was in the army," she said sadly. "She died too."
Ben squeezed her hand.
"I'm very sorry to hear that," Mr. Davies said.
"Me too. But she died doing her job. Daddy says I should be proud of her. I really, really, really am. She saved someone's life."
"Then, my dear," he said passing a bag of balloons to her, "she is a hero."
"She's my hero," Gracie smiled.
"Then I'm sure you'll grow up to be as good as her."
"I hope so."
"Run along now," Mr. Davies smiled. "You don't want those to not get to Canada do you?"
"No!" she gasped and began to pull Ben from the shop. "Daddy, it's time to go!"
I smiled and then turned to Mr. Davies. "Thank you, Sir."
"Oh, not at all," he smiled and patted my hand. "Now do the nation a favour and snog the socks off that young prince of yours."
I gasped in surprise and felt my jaw drop. He laughed his head off and shuffled away somewhere. I realised that people were staring at me and jumped into action. I hurried from the shop ducking my head in embarrassment and caught up with Ben just a few paces outside the door. It took me a moment to see that there were now several local news reporters stood either side of the door. They were taking photos. Gracie was waving with her free hand, lapping up the attention. Ben waved a little too.
Me? I wasn't sure what to do. I sort of just walked alongside them, smiling a little. I was unable to wave because I was holding bags in each hand, but even just the thought of waving made me feel a little uncomfortable. When we got in the car I was glad and sighed in relief when we pulled off.
As always the journey home seemed shorter. We dropped Gracie and Eowen off before going home. When we got there, there was a posh car sat in front of the house.
"It must be someone from the lieutenancy office," Ben said as we pulled up. "That was quick."
We got out of the car and quickly headed inside. We took our wellies off by the door and hung our outdoor gear up there as well. We found Mum, Dad and our guest sat in the quiet lounge with a fire going and a pot of tea out.
"Lord Wilson," Ben smiled and crossed the room to shake his hand. I figured that made him the Lord Lieutenant himself.
"Your Royal Highness," Lord Wilson smiled. "It is good to see you again."
"Likewise. This is Grace Bennett."
I stepped forward, politely smiled and shook his hand. He was about sixty but still had a head of thick brown hair. Standing at about six foot I felt tiny next to him even though I wasn't by any means short or waif like. Even so I felt pretty comfortable with him even though I still wasn't great at meeting new, older people. "It's good to meet you, Lord Wilson."
"Yes, and you," he said.
We all sat down, me and Ben sat next to one another on the sofa with Dad, Mum was in a chair and Lord Wilson seemed to fill his, and the entire room, with his confidence.
"We didn't know you were here or we would have asked Gracie to come as well," Ben said.
"Oh, not to worry, Your Highness," he smiled. "I'm afraid this is a flying visit. I have a meeting to get to once I've sent the parcel off."
"Then we'll not keep you," Ben said. "We've not got a box or anything."
"Ah, I'm sure there're plenty at home."
Ben took the bags I was holding, stood up and walked Lord Wilson to the door explaining what was what on the way. I excused myself from the room and headed up to my room where I flopped face first onto the bed and let out a long, slow breath. I listened out for the front door closing and not a moment later heard Ben come up the stairs and into the room.
I sat up and crossed my legs. Ben sat opposite me, one leg on the bed and the other dangling over the side.
"That was..."
"I know," he said. "But it was a one off... Until I finish Eton anyway."
"You're not going to university?"
He shook his head. "Maybe. I don't know. But I'll be old enough to do official duties. I'll have to do some in the holidays at the very least." He shook his head again, this time to clear it. "This isn't supposed to be about me. Are you ok?"
"All that made me realise... You're a prince, Ben. I know we talk about it from time to time, but... Mum and Dad have thought more about what this means than I have. To me you're just Ben, but... Even the first time we met after you insisted that I call you Ben, I never thought of you as a prince. You've always been just Ben. But today when people called you Your Royal Highness I guess it reminded me of who you are and that my boyfriend is a prince. And the press came and..."
"What do you want to do?" he asked quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"Well... I don't have to be your boyfriend."
"Don't be stupid," I said quickly. "I love you. For the foreseeable future at the very least you're stuck with me."
"Good," he sighed and kissed me. "You had me worried for a moment."
"Sorry. I just had to get it out my system. For the record – it's weird, not bad."
"That I can live with."
"It's Christmas Eve the day after tomorrow. Want to get the rest of White Christmas down?"
"Yes."