EINS
Everyone was bustling about, knocking into each other and cursing, by the time I made it down to the village. It was busier today than usually. I wondered what was going on, whether there was a flash sale I hadn't realised was happening.
"Ele!" Someone shouted. A hand clamped on my arm just as I was about to turn around.
"Martha," I greeted, slowing to a stop and faced her. "What's going on?"
Her wild brown curls greeted me full force, falling about just above her shoulders. She'd had it cut more than a year ago but it hadn't seemed to grow even an inch. She still resented her mother to this day for making her cut it in the first place.
"Babe," she said, exasperated. "You have got to be kidding me. Have you been living under a fucking ro— you know what? Never mind. The important thing is the King is coming today."
"The King?" I asked. "He finally get off his high horse and decide to grace us little people with his presence?"
"Will you shut up!" She whisper yelled. "Anyone could hear you! It's like it's like treason."
"Ooh," I said, waving my hands exaggeratedly. A lady bumped into us. I couldn't really blame her, not when we were the ones standing directly in the way. "Come on, let's go, I'm hungry."
We continued walking down the cobbled streets, careful not to catch our feet on the uneven road.
Benny, manning the bakery stall as always, greeted us heartily— probably because we were two of his best customers. He immediately went to grab his homemade pastry we'd both fallen head over heels in love with. "Good doing business with you, ladies!"
I sent him a small wave. "Why's he coming then?" Taking a bite of the small slice of heaven, I began wondering what the stuck up prince could possibly want.
"Something about wanting to—" she faltered, looking up in thought. "I don't fucking know. And honestly? I don't really care that much. All I know is that he's coming and I want my boobs to look as good as possible and I need your help. So is that too much to ask?"
I sighed. "When did you become such a whore?"
"When you became so frigid," she said with a 'duh' look. "I had to even out our group's average slutiness."
"You know—" I pulled her away from the underwear store. "— I think I'm spending too much time with you because that almost made sense."
She was stronger than she looked and planted herself in front of the large store window, gazing up at the lacy number on display.
"We're going in," she said, resolute.
I stared at the store and then around. Already, just standing outside I knew it would cause a stir if anyone were to see. "I think the fuck not."
"I'm sorry," she said. "Do you hear that?" For a moment, I listened for what she was talking about. "Oh no, it's just a whiny virgin. Come on, we're going in."
Bracing myself like I was about to go to the frontline of a war, I— for some strange reason— let her drag me inside. Almost immediately, my nostrils were assaulted with the harsh smell of perfume. The stuff certain girls I knew were smothered in, like it'd take away from their lack of brain cells. Okay, that was mean, I thought to myself.
Martha said my judgmental side stemmed from insecurity and as I looked around at the perfect bodies around me, decorated in expensive lingerie, I realised maybe she wasn't entirely wrong.
I didn't know where to look. Despite the dim lighting, I could see everything from underwear to whips.
"Is that a—?" Yep, that's definitely a dildo mounted to the wall. Some people have reindeer heads sticking out of their walls, others have dildos.
"Oh my god," she let out on a breath. She was in front of a mannequin displaying some of the skimpiest pair of bra and knickers I'd possibly ever seen. And that was coming from a girl who helped Martha get ready when she went on the pull. "It's so..." Slutty? Desperate? Tacky? "Beautiful."
My head swung towards her. "You can't be serious."
"I've never been more serious in my life," she said, looking like she was about to worship the set. "More serious than when I told Danny Fawkes that I loved him."
I scrunched my eyebrows. "But you didn't love him," I said. "That was a blatant, blatant lie."
She shrugged. "But he believed it."
"You know he was completely besotted with you," I told her, trying to avert my eyes from literally everything. "Your mum told me he still asks about you."
She waved her hand, dismissively. "What's done is done."
I rolled my eyes at her uncaring attitude. These were someone's feelings we were talking about, not some film she didn't like or something.
Instead of badgering her further, though, I dropped the subject.
"I'm getting them," she told me, reaching for the cabinet in which they were all kept. She pulled out her size, coincidentally being mine, too.
"Do you really need any more?"
"Not for me," she said, walking towards the till. "For you."
I stood still, in shock. Hurriedly, I raced after her, reaching her just as the girl behind the desk scanned the tag.
"You can't buy them for me," I told her.
"Of course I can."
"What I mean is," I said, using her hips to turn her to face me. "I don't want you buying them for me."
"I'm getting them for you whether you like it or not."
"Well then I'll just return them and give you the money back," I told her, staring into her dark brown eyes.
A voice broke out from my left. "You two make such a lovely couple."
I turned to the girl behind the desk. She wore all black, like all the employees and kept her blonde hair in a low ponytail that she somehow managed to pull off without looking like a potato.
"Oh we're not—"
"Why thank you," Martha said, grabbing my hand for emphasis. "Two years and counting. Right, baby?"
I couldn't be bothered to argue. Begrudgingly, I said, "Right."
The girl smiled hugely and grabbed a bag from under the desk, giving me the opportunity to shoot Martha a glare. There was no way I was going to let her buy me such an expensive gift, especially because I could probably fit all the material in one hand.
"I hope you enjoy," the girl said brightly with a wink.
I let Martha take me out of the store, hand in hand.
"Was there a reason for that show?"
"Oh baby," she cooed. "Can't I just show my love muffin some affection?"
She puckered her lips exaggeratedly and clenched her eyes.
"You better stay the fuck away from me."
She laughed, pulling me onwards again.
"Isn't that your dad?" She asked as we rounded the corner onto the long and straight street. She was right. My father stood about ten feet away, talking to one of the stall owners— hands flying about to emphasise whatever point he was making.
"I'll be back in a sec," I told her. I was too intent on going to my dad, I hardly registered she'd given me the bag.
"— the biggest you've ever seen," my dad's voice reached my ears. "The queen herself complimented it."
"That's quite a tale," his company said. The man was greying and stood eye to eye with my father, which made him about six foot.
"A tale?" He questioned, outraged. "That is the truest truth I've ever told."
"Then you must lie through your teeth for everything else."
"Swear on my son's life," he said, defiantly. "What I'm telling you is true."
The man eyed him carefully but conceded.
He was about to say something more when I tapped him on the shoulder. "Darling!" He said, drawing me into an almost excruciating hug. "This is my star. My pride and joy. Did I tell you she got a scholarship to that elite school— what's it called? The one in the city."
"Drexton," I filled in for him. "But it still needs to be confirmed."
"Yes, yes," he said, pulling me to his side as he boasted about me. "But it's in the bag," he told the man. "The brightest girl in the village, I'll tell you that right now."
The man looked at me. "Very impressive," he said. I noticed his front tooth jutted out a bit and he was missing most of his back teeth. By the cigarette hanging from his fingers, it wasn't all that hard to see why.
"Dad, we've really got to get going," I said, desperate to get him away from people before he'd pissed off the entire village with his obnoxious bragging. He let me take him by the arm and across the street. "I don't have a brother," I said as we walked. "And when did you ever speak to the Queen?"
"I 'aven't," he said like it was obvious. "But sometimes you gotta give a story a little something something to make it more..."
"Of a lie?" I tried.
"More impressive."
"Why do all your stories have to be impressive?" I asked. "Can't they just be true for once and leave it at that?"
"Where's the fun in that, pumpkin?"
He was ageing fairly well, all things considered. Despite being outside most of the day under the sun and wind, the wrinkles were mainly only faint lines on his forehead, around his eyes and slightly on either side of his mouth.
Those pristine blue eyes looked downwards. "Oh, you went shopping?"
I glanced at the bag in my hand I'd hardly registered I was carrying. Silently mortified, I pulled it behind my back. The bag had been slanted so I prayed to god he hadn't seen the brand on the side or even better, didn't know what it was even if he had.
"It's Martha's," I said quickly. "For her birthday."
"Isn't that next month?"
"Can never be too prepared," I said with an awkward chuckle.
He seemed to accept my answer. "You know I sold three bags of flour today and that's not including the ones I sold to Farmer Bob."
"That's nice, Dad," I told him like I told him every time. I would've tuned out his drabble had something he said not caught my attention. "Say that again."
"I've requested company with the King."
My eyes must have been as big as saucers.
It was one thing lying to a stall worker and quite another to lie to the King.
"Is that such a good idea?" I asked. "Surely he has more pressing matters to attend to."
"What I have to say is a pressing matter," he said, though I knew I had to take everything he said with a grain of salt. "Besides, he won't want to miss out on the opportunity I'm going to offer him."
"Dad, I really don't thi—"
"It's the best for the both of us, Eleanor," he told me, earnestly. He stopped in his tracks, making me do the same. His icy blue eyes stared into my own. "I have to look after you, always. And this is the best way to do that."
"Alright," I relented. "If you think so."
He nodded, sure. "I do."
I walked with him all the way to the front of the butchers. "I'm going to go find Martha," I told him, looking around for the untameable hair. "See you later!"
It seemed even busier in the centre of the village than I remembered, if that was even possible. Unfamiliar faces lined the streets, many with children at their sides. Many were already sitting on the edge of the pavement on either side of the road, waiting for the King and, I assumed, his entourage.
I found Martha at one of the stalls. "How's your dad?" She asked, glancing at my haggard face.
"Same old same old," I told her. "I don't know what's wrong with him recently. It's like it's getting worse."
"He'll grow out of it."
I gave her a pointed look but didn't say anything more on the subject. "Do you know when the King is passing through? And can you hold this."
She took the bag from my hand, muttering a little 'virgin.' "I guess around—" she cut herself off. People had begun to cheer and make a commotion.
Because, just as we turned to see what all the fuss was about, we heard the royal trumpets and spotted the unmistakeable royal flag.