May 2012
George was driving much too fast. He knew this was most unwise, he could see the headlines, 'Paralytic Prince in Speeding Incident'. He wasn't drunk and he was only just over the speed limit, but that wouldn't matter. He was vulnerable, but he didn't care.
His state of mind had built up over years of rules and restrictions. Tonight, after another monologue from his father about finding a suitable wife, he snapped. George felt that he had no power over his own destiny in any area of his life. He turned his back on his family, took his car, which was never used because of security issues, he waved to the guards at the palace gates and sped away.
George smiled as he remembered the look on all their faces. This was the first time he had made a decision . . . and it felt good . . . really good.
He suddenly became aware that he had been driving for two hours. It was dark and rainy, and he hadn't a clue where he was. The fuel gauge was on zero and it dawned on him that he didn't even know how to put petrol in the car. The road was a narrow one and it was flanked by trees, so when he saw a driveway, he went down it. It was very windy and he hoped that there wasn't an abandoned property at the end of it.
It was hard to see anything, the rain was lashing onto the windscreen. A glimmer . . . thank God . . . that must be a light. George ran from the car to the cottage porch, soaked to the skin in seconds. He tried the bell and banged on the door. The door edged open as far as the safety chain allowed.
'What do you want?'
George stammered 'I-I ran out of petrol and I don't know what to do.'
The door slammed shut and there was silence. He couldn't blame her, it sounded pathetic.
As the first rays of the sun appeared, Alice approached the car apprehensively. She could see a young man fast asleep on the back seat. He didn't look too frightening in the cold light of day. She tapped on the window and he awoke with a startled look.
'Come in for a cup of tea,' Alice ordered.
George followed meekly. They made their introductions. On his part these were very sketchy, omitting the rather large royal aspect of his life. Alice explained that six months ago, she had just finished her degree, when her mother died suddenly. She decided to keep the cottage and write the novel that she had put off for so long.
'Aren't you lonely here?'
'To be honest, I needed to be alone. Mum and I were very close and I'm just starting to realise that she's not coming back.'
Alice tried to suppress a sob, but then the floodgates of her grief opened. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she cried six months of pent up emotion. George was at a loss. He had no idea what to do with someone who had obviously never heard of a stiff upper lip. He put his arm awkwardly round her shoulder and made a vague patting motion. She flung herself at his chest, hugging him very tightly. He put his arms around her and started to relax. He was needed, this was a new feeling for him, a thawing out process had begun.
When her emotional storm was over, there was lots of apologising by her and reassurance by him. They talked all day whilst making dinner, lighting the fire and, of course, putting the contents of Alice's emergency can of petrol into his car. As dusk fell, they made their farewells.
'Alice, would you mind if I called to see you again?'
'I insist on it, George, you've not even told me if you have family . . . have you?'
He grinned.
'Most definitely, yes.'