Good middle class values

"Now, now," Grandma soothed, patting her on the shoulder. "It doesn't do to get bitter, my dear girl."

"That's all very well for you to say," she sniffed. "You're not the one who has been ditched."

"I know it's hard, my baby, I know it's hard. But listen, you wouldn't have liked that life anyway."

"Grandma!"

She wiped her tears and gritted her teeth. "Grandma, you listen. I'm fed up of you telling me you know what I'd like and what I won't. All my life you've been telling me —"

"All your life I've been telling you because I'm bringing you up with good middle class values. And all your life I've been right, barring once when you preferred blue Mickey Mouse socks to go to nursery school in."

How did Grandma make her smile even when she was in the depths of despair? She couldn't help grinning now. Those blue Mickey Mouse socks! How upset she had been, that day twenty years ago, setting off for nursery school wearing green Winnie-the-Pooh socks instead. Why, every 4-year-old new Winnie wasn't cool, and Mickey was!

She sighed and looked back at the newspaper on the breakfast table. She had found out, upon reading the front page headlines, that the Prince's proposal of marriage had been an April Fools' Day joke. He had no intention of marrying a commoner, no matter how solid her middle class values were. But then, they had started dating before April. They'd met at a Valentine's Day Dance. She'd volunteered for one of his charities which was holding the dance as a fundraiser. Though she'd technically been 'working' and not 'attending', he'd picked her to dance with. She'd earned the nickname 'Cinderella' among some of her friends since then.

"Cinderella's coach turns into a pumpkin" the headline screamed.

"I'll make some scrambled eggs," she told Grandma, as she folded the paper and put it behind a cushion on the sofa, where she wouldn't see it.

"And some ginger tea," Grandma requested. "Today being laundry day I'm going to need all the pep I get."

"Yup. We're doing the living room curtains, aren't we?"

"Let's do all the curtains. We'll drown our sorrows in laundry," Grandma replied.

"Soapsuds to subdue the sadness," she quipped, putting a piece of toast on Grandma's plate and heaping scrambled eggs on it. "Add the salt, I never know how much you'd like."

She was halfway through her second piece of toast when she managed to blurt out what was bothering her. Grandma had been waiting for the question.

"Do you suppose Ma and Pa have seen the newspaper? Or someone has told them?"

Grandma sighed and put her cup of tea carefully on the coaster before she replied.

"When you're in the glare of so much publicity, darling baby, I don't know. Maybe they have heard and maybe they haven't."

"But there are no newspapers or TV or mobiles or anything allowed. It's very strict, that retreat, isn't it? I mean, they only meditate and stuff – Ma even took her pencil and diary out of her handbag before she left."

"Yes, but you're famous. And someone who read the paper ..." Grandma didn't finish the sentence.

They put the plates and mugs in the sink and got set to take the curtains down. She enjoyed climbing ladders and Grandma joined her in some goofiness as the curtain whooshed to the floor.

"If you'd become royal, you wouldn't have been allowed to do this sort of thing, you know."

"I know, Grandma."

"And if you did, it would become headlines. Future Queen climbs ladder to undo curtains. International media goes hysterical."

They had put the last of the curtains into the tub for a good hot soak when the phone rang. She went pale. "It's Ma or Pa. They've seen the news and been allowed to call from a land-line or something. Grandma!"

"Don't start crying again, darling baby. I'll answer it."

Grandma picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

She was watching Grandma's face closely.

"You're who? From where? This isn't a joke, is it? How do I know it's real?"

Grandma turned to her and held out the receiver. "It's the palace. They say you know a secret code word that tells you the call is really from the palace, and they want to speak to you."

It was Grandma's turn to watch her.

She started by whispering a code word, and holding the receiver tightly to her ear to hear the response. Then, she said, "Yes. Yes. Oh. Okay. I'll do that. Yes."

She put the receiver down and covered her eyes with her hand. Grandma saw her fingers go wet and stepped forward to hug her close. "Darling baby, what ... "

"Grandma," she choked. "Grandma, his proposal wasn't an April Fools' joke. This newspaper report is the joke. The palace is taking the editor to task for going too far. He's setting up a press conference in half an hour to clarify the situation and the Rolls Royce will be here to pick me up so we can attend together."

"My darling baby! But before you become a Queen-to-be and aren't allowed to do household chores, there's one last task you must do ..."

"Two last tasks, Grandma sweetheart. I'll wash the dishes and put the curtains in the washing machine. That'll give me just enough time to dress before the Rolls drives up!"

"Good, middle class values!"