Christmas with the Queen

Chapter 27 Jack

Chapter 27

Jack

Royal Yacht SS Gothic , South Pacific, December 1953

O live. On the ship. How had that happened? I did my best to appear nonchalant, but the truth was, I was happy to see her—happier than I would have expected.

I wanted to say something when our eyes met, but in the queen’s presence, all I could do was wink and nod as she passed.

“Do the two of you know each other?” the queen asked as the door closed behind Olive.

“We’re old friends, ma’am. We lost touch for many years, though our paths have crossed again recently.” And mostly when you’re around , I thought.

This time, she allowed her smile to show. “Sometimes, people are thrown into one’s path for a reason. I find it best not to wonder why but simply to enjoy the meeting.”

I nodded. “Very true, ma’am.”

It was strange to see Olive again, never mind on a ship in the South Pacific. After Andrea’s sudden death last year, life had seemed more capricious to me than ever. There didn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to anything... and yet, here we were once again, Olive and I, in service to the royal family at the same time.

“Mr. Devereux,” the queen continued, “I wanted to personally thank you for the dish you made for Philip. He was surprised and positively delighted, although he did say that the—jambalaya, was it?—made his mouth burn.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, ma’am. Jambalaya. I’m very pleased he enjoyed it.” I’d made the savory rice dish with sausages, shredded chicken, plump shrimp, and plenty of hot peppers. The staff had enjoyed it, too, although it was a spicy step too far for those with a more conservative palate.

“The duke also enjoyed the accompanying note about the origins of the dish. It adds something, I think, to know a little about what it is one is eating.”

I’d written a short description about the dish’s Spanish, French, and African roots from the notes I’d found in Grandpa’s book. “I have to give credit to my grandfather for that, ma’am. It was his trusted recipe that I followed.”

“How delightful. There is nothing so pleasant as a family recipe, or a piece of useful advice, handed down across the generations.” She moved over to her desk. “Now, let us have a look at the menu, shall we?” The queen reached for the sheet, scanned it, crossed off a couple of items, and handed it back to me.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I replied, bowing before I left the room.

Olive was waiting outside. Her lips spread into a wide smile when she saw me. “Surprise!” She seemed to hesitate for a moment, before leaning in for a slightly awkward embrace.

Surprise hardly covered it—I was stunned to see her. More than that, I was truly happy to see her. I’d often thought of the old group of friends in the months following Andrea’s accident. I’d thought about Olive especially, after running into her last Christmas. The handful of letters we’d exchanged since had amused me, and I’d wondered if our paths might cross at Buckingham Palace one day. Now here we were, on the other side of the world, meeting yet again.

I laughed as I stiffly returned the hug. “Surprise is right! I was so shocked to see you, I almost forgot to address the queen!”

“I’m pretty shocked myself, to be honest. I was in London three days ago.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“It’s a long story, but I presume you’re busy, so I’ll keep it short.”

As we walked back toward the galley, she explained about her assignment on the new Speedbird flight, and about stepping in for Charlie Bullen.

“I heard someone had broken their leg—I didn’t realize it was one of the reporters. Bad luck for him. Good for you, though!”

“Extremely good,” she agreed. “I’m here for a week, to cover the queen’s arrival in New Zealand and the Christmas Day message. Then I’ll be headed straight home, back to—”

“Louise? Your daughter?”

“Lucy,” she corrected, a slight flush rushing to her cheeks.

“Of course—Lucy. So you’ll spend Christmas here?”

She nodded. “Christmas in New Zealand. It wasn’t quite what I was planning a few weeks ago. I still can’t believe I’m here.”

We stopped outside the galley kitchen. I sensed a hesitation in her, a reluctance to leave.

“Listen, I have to get back to work,” I said at last. “But we’ve made a habit of playing cards after the dinner service is finished, if you’d like to join us later?”

“Did you forget how dreadful I am at cards? My poker face is terrible!”

At this, I laughed. “That’s right. I’d forgotten. Well, even better then. We’ll take absolute advantage of it.”

“How could I possibly resist?” she said, as she threw me a final smile and walked away.

As I watched her go, her auburn hair shifting around her shoulders, I felt a flicker of something long-buried spring to life; memories and moments resurfacing.