I can't think of a title yet, but it's king's day here and that seemed like a good day to start posting this fluff. I'll do the blurb after chapter 2 or 3, otherwise it's a spoiler.
Chapter One
Anna Margaret was shown into the villa by a couple of security men in tracksuits. They had recognised her, of course. George had not even had to act all official. They seemed to know whom she had come to see, because without asking her for her purpose or identification, they took her to something that looked like a crossover between a sitting room and a study. She was glad, because part of her had been fearing during the flight that she would be turned away at the door, which would make her trip to Italy useless and mortifying.
She took the liberty of sitting down and waited. George had made himself scarce with the security men. At times like these, when he was not fully behind her decisions, he behaved as if being her secretary was an insignificant position, with no power and no responsibilities, and certainly no desire to share in the fallout. He had had to obey and come with her, but he was clearly not going to stand beside her if His Majesty King Frederick exploded.
This made Anna Margaret wonder if he was likely to explode because she had come here.
She met him once a week, usually, unless one of them was out of the country, but he had always been rather unexcitable. Of course the topics they discussed could be considered boring and they never really inspired excitement in some people. She could understand that. He could give his opinion on them, but he had no power, so he rarely exerted himself to say more than what was required. But how would he react to something personal? She did not know.
Compared to his father, with whom she had dealt for a few months until he died, he spoke less. Of course contrary to the old man he might not think himself qualified to give his opinion yet. The old king had spoken his mind often. He had had definite ideas on what should be done or decided. Anna Margaret had always felt as if he considered himself the only reliable and well-informed factor, what with politicians changing every so often. And a woman especially had needed to be told what he thought.
His son, on the other hand, had never behaved in a patronising manner simply because she was female. At least, she did not think he would have been involved more if the prime minister had been a man. Not more, not less. He never used his lecturing voice for masculine subjects like military action. He simply assumed it had all been discussed with experts and he did not count himself among those.
Clearly she had not feared anything when she had had George book plane tickets, but now that she was actually here, she wondered. Of course King Frederick could explode politely. That was also an option. Some sort of stately implosion. He might change colour and have smoke come out of his ears. But it was really difficult to imagine.
The next to appear was another man in jogging trousers. He was not wearing any shoes, only socks, and his moist-looking hair stood on end. He pushed his glasses a little further up his nose and addressed her. “To what do we owe the honour, Madam Prime Minister?”
She looked slightly confused as she stood up. “I beg your pardon?” She had not expected one of the security men to come and ask her this question. Perhaps not all reasons for visiting were good enough and they first had to be vetted.
“Is this the yearly ‘go forth and procreate’ chat?” the man inquired, flopping himself on the sofa.
She decided tentatively that perhaps he was not one of the security men, although he was dressed exactly like them. His tone, however, was far more insolent than they would dare to use. It was stupid of her not to recognise him, but was it really her fault? “You wear glasses?” When she saw him normally, he wore a suit, his hair was neatly combed and he did not wear glasses. He appeared to have changed everything he could change, down to not wearing shoes.
“It is I, LeClerc,” he said with a mock French accent, taking off his glasses for a second. “So, you flew all the way to Italy to remind me of my responsibilities to the people?”
She curtseyed belatedly. “Er, no -- Your Majesty.” She supposed she should say that, although he had not reacted to her impolite question about the glasses.
He nodded that she could sit down again. “Your father started this, you know. All his successors did the same.”
Anna Margaret was at a loss for words. She was not usually struck dumb by the powerful and the wealthy; she had seen far too many of them by now. But they were not usually disguised. Perhaps she had expected him to be studiously casual in his spare time, but certainly not unkempt. It was difficult to address such a person with the obligatory reverence. His hair! Could he not have brushed it when he was told he had a visitor? She decided he either did not care, or he meant to shock her by leaving it uncombed like that. But what purpose could he have with that?
“I expected no less from you,” said His Majesty. “But what else could it be?”
“You’ve not followed the news, Your Majesty?” Anna Margaret inquired. It would be easier if he had some clue. It would save her unnecessary explanations. And unnecessary explanations, she felt, would not go down well.
“I’m on holiday.”
He was a bad liar, she decided, or perhaps she was simply good at spotting a lie. He knew very well what she was here for. In spite of nearly always appearing uninterested, he did seem to keep up with the news and he had likewise read about this issue. He knew what had brought her here, although he might not have known it
would bring her here. He might simply have expected a mention next week. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about,” she said briskly. He might not like her visit, but she was not going away until she had spoken. Unless he called in security, she could and would speak, or else she had come for nothing.
“And it couldn’t wait until I get back?”
“No.” She had decided it could not.
He inclined his head slightly. “They’ve been giving you a rough time. Who knows, I might have done the same in your position. Nothing like a mini-break to Italy, right? Lovely spring weather and a beach.”
“I’d like to get down to business straight away, if you don’t mind, Your Majesty. The sooner I’ll be in my hotel.”
“Oh, you’re not staying?” He feigned disappointment. “That’s fine. May I offer you a drink?”
She did not think she wanted any liquor or anything else he had to offer. She had to keep a clear head. “No, thank you.”
He poured her a glass of water regardless and took one himself as well. She was secretly glad for the water. The few sips on the plane had been the last drink she had had. George was no doubt indulging in as much drink as he wanted, but he would not think of getting her any. “Well, as you know,” she began. “There’s been some uproar about this young woman who claims you’re the father of her child –“
“Weren’t there three of them?” he interrupted, betraying at least some knowledge of what was in the tabloids. “Or have two of them seen sense and withdrawn those claims?”
“Three, yes, but only one was underage when it occurred, and as you know, this is a bit of a problem.” And it could get worse if the discussion about class justice really got underway. Some people were already suggesting he would not be punished because of who he was. She did not want to have to explain all that to him. Someone had probably already told him already, if he had not read it himself.
“When she
says it occurred,” he corrected her.
“You deny…” She was hopeful, but a second later she realised everyone was likely to start out with a denial. Only when they could no longer avoid it would people confess. It meant absolutely nothing at this stage of the conversation.
His eyes began to gleam. “I was going to say, I never had….and so forth, but that’s what they all say, isn’t it? And then it turns out they’re lying. Though in my case it’s the truth. I never.”
“You could do a paternity test.” In fact, she had never understood why the Palace had not turned to that option straight away. All they did was deny or say no comment, making everyone think he was indeed guilty of whatever they accused him of. And after the first woman, two more had appeared, as if it was contagious. In fact, without serious action against all the claimants, it probably was.
“I could,” he agreed. “In fact, I’m not opposed to it at all, in any of the three cases, but my advisers are.”
“Why?” she exclaimed, surprised that he was not opposed. She had half expected him to be angry and offended, and reluctant to cooperate. Instead he was calm and, could she say it, rather reasonable.
“It makes one look guilty. Simple denial makes one look innocent, or so they say.”
She frowned. “What?” That did not make much sense. Doing a test, especially if it proved he was innocent, did not make him look guilty. “Not wanting to do a test only makes you look guilty if you
are guilty.”
He shrugged. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“So you’re saying you had nothing to do with any of them?” she asked, before she could give in to relief and positivity.
“Quite right.”
“And a paternity test would prove you’re not the father of their children.”
“Quite right.”
“That leaves one problem, though: this doesn’t prove you never slept with a girl who was underage at the time.” And that was precisely what all the uproar was all about. People would forgive him for affairs and illegitimate children, but far fewer would condone
that.
“I have a certain dysfunction,” he winked.
“You do not,” Anna Margaret said immediately and she also immediately regretted her insolence. Still, she was sure he was making that up. People who had
certain dysfunctions at his age did not wink. They would keep silent about it in embarrassment.
“Did we ever…?” he asked uncertainly, gesturing back and forth.
She coloured, even though she knew he was doing it all on purpose. “I can tell you’re…not speaking the truth.” That sounded more politic than telling him he was lying. She was not very good at tactfully dealing with large egos, which was precisely why she had got her job. People had been fed up with all the manoeuvring. What they did not realise was that she was not carelessly tactless, like the king, but that it always bothered her afterwards. And she blushed sometimes.
“Right. I’m celibate.”
“Since when? Last month? Last week? Last night?” She felt he was not taking this as seriously as he ought. He could have any woman he wanted and he was probably more than aware of it. Why should he turn them away?
“Since I realised it was the sensible thing to do.”
“I’m not sure you realise the seriousness of the situation.” Could she say that to him? Well, no matter – she already had.
“Oh, I do. But damn it, you coming here to question me about it is really making me contrary,” he said a little plaintively.
She could understand that, in a way. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever been questioned about anything.” She was not sure she had the authority or the courage to question him now either. Their weekly sessions had been strictly about work. He had not always been completely serious or focused, or even polite, but they had never strayed into personal topics. She had never questioned him.
He took up an even more relaxed position on the sofa, pulling up his legs. “I didn’t sleep with any of them. I simply don’t have the time.”
“You go to parties.” There were pictures of that. Plenty of them. She was sure that if he showed up at a party, one or more women offered themselves. He did not even have to be attractive if he had a title and money. Today he was more attractive than a few days ago, however, and it was even less believable that he would turn them all down. The way he sat on the sofa, plenty of women would be willing to join him. And he was telling her he would ignore them and push them away?
“And then I go home, because I always get up early. We’re running at six tomorrow morning, if you’re inclined to join us, by the way.”
She was not allowing herself to be sidetracked. “As far as I recall, one of the women spoke of a broom cupboard.”
King Frederick looked at her as if he had never heard anything more stupid. “Do I strike you as being so absolutely needy and frustrated that I would consider going into – what exactly
is a broom cupboard anyway? Am I supposed to know?” He took out a phone and looked something up. Then he held it out to her.
Anna Margaret had waited patiently. One did not rush a king, she supposed, even if she had already violated etiquette in other ways. There must be limits to his forbearance, however, otherwise protocol, etiquette and the entire monarchy would have been dispensed with long ago.
“This, google says, is a broom cupboard,” he said, showing her a photo. “Just exactly where and how…?”
She bit her lip so she would not laugh. This topic was far from amusing and she did not know why she felt the need. Perhaps it was his amazed indignation. “I can’t say I have any experience trying.”
“I’d be shocked if you did, Madam Prime Minister.” He studied the photo again in bemusement. “Really. How?”
“All right, all right, I believe you,” she said hastily before he would start speculating. She did not think she could take speculations, especially not from someone in a ridiculously contrary mood. “Not the broom cupboard then. Do you have any idea why they’d make such claims? With so many details? Where do they get the details? Do they invent them?”
“Money? Attention?” he said in a bored voice. “They probably think I’d rather pay fifty grand than investigate the matter. Because, really, if they were truly my children they could get much more than fifty grand out of it.”
Anna Margaret had taken out a small notebook and wrote that down. “That’s hardly evidence.” Although it made sense. Someone who was very certain that he was the father of her child, would aim for a much higher amount. Millions? Yes, probably. There would be millions somewhere. They had not been spent on the inside of this villa, unless there had been no money left after landscaping the grounds.
“It is telling enough, unless you’re stupid. The reason is money. I am suspected to have plenty of it.”
Then perhaps it really had all been spent on the swimming pool here. “You’re also suspected to have plenty of the other it,” she pointed out.
“I have never been caught in flagrante delicto, so I’m not sure why anyone would think that. Unless people are simply projecting what they’d do in my position, which is usually strikingly different from someone who lives this life day by day. So many misconceptions.” The king shook his head.
“But if you agree to the DNA test, that will be the end of it. Maybe you could sue for defamation at the same time and then women would think twice before they went down this path. But of course that would only work if you really abstained from now on.”
His Majesty looked back neutrally. “People who tell me what to do always make me rebellious. They make me want to get some body part pierced, or a tattoo or maybe a gold tooth.”
The prime minister was horrified. “You’re too old for that,” she said. “It’s time you –“
He held up a hand to silence her. “—found a woman and produced some heirs? They’ve been pressing for that for at least fifteen years. Frankly, I think I don’t want any children at all.”
Anna Margaret said nothing.
“What will you tell Parliament?” he asked, sitting up straighter and evidently nearly done with the interview. “Tell them I’m willing to do paternity tests, but that I’m not ready to marry. At least if I’m seventy I wouldn’t have to pretend that marriage is a business arrangement; I would now. All the family photos with happy smiles and all. I’d be tempted to – no, I’d better not tell you. So, six o’clock tomorrow morning?”
“I never said I would!” she protested. What was it again, running?
“You look like you could lose a few pounds,” he said critically.
She gaped at him.
He got up. “Six o’clock.”
Anna Margaret had a quick dinner with George. When she had told him the king had requested her presence at six the following morning, he had not looked too pleased. He had refused to buy running shoes and clothes around the corner from the hotel like she did, and he looked extremely suspicious when she added swimwear to her pile of purchases. “What?” she asked crabbily. “He has a swimming pool and a beach. I must be prepared.”
“You may not be invited for a swim at all,” he pointed out.
“No, but if I have no swimwear, I must decline if I do get invited, and I won’t be able to keep an eye on what sort of women do attend.” But invitation or not, the beach had looked incredibly tempting. She was sure it was at least partially private and there would not be any tourists snapping pictures of well-known politicians carrying just a little too much weight. She was still a little insulted by that remark. Not that anyone would really care about politicians from small countries, but still.
“I didn’t see any women,” said George. “Security didn’t mention any either.”
“You’re gay; you wouldn’t think of bringing them up.”
“You’re straight, yet you bring them up?”
Point taken. Anna Margaret grumbled a little and took the plastic bag with her purchases up to her hotel room. George had better be ready at a quarter to six or she would wake him – and she would force him to run anyway.
But why did they run so early? And for how long? And why could she not simply ignore the order?
After a look at the clock she went straight to bed.