Christmas with the Queen

Chapter 48 Olive

Chapter 48

Olive

L ondon dazzled beneath a generous late summer sun as I made my way to Andrea’s after work. The clear blue skies lifted my mood after a rather tense meeting with Tom Harding. I’d been following up on a story about John Grigg—Lord Altrincham—and his outspoken criticism of the monarchy which had left rather a bad taste in royal mouths.

I’d dug out an archive piece from the coronation year where he’d claimed the monarchy was outdated and lacked relevance in post-war Britain. His thoughts about how the new queen might modernize the monarchy had been quietly ignored at the time, but I was interested in exploring his opinions. Tom was nervous about it. He felt it was too controversial and that the BBC’s relationship with Buckingham Palace was “far too important to damage by dabbling in the thoughts of titled peers with too many opinions.”

I would leave it for now, but there was a growing mood in the country that the royal family were too distant and unrelatable. It was the elephant in the room; an issue that would have to be addressed sooner or later, and I wasn’t afraid to tackle it, even if Mr. Harding was.

I tried to forget about work as I arrived at the restaurant and knocked on the door. I felt at home there now. I’d even stopped noticing the sign above the entrance.

“Hello? Jack? Helloooooo?”

“In here!”

I made my way through to the kitchen where Jack already had everything perfectly organized, the ingredients and utensils we would need to make mum’s cake arranged in neat lines.

“What’s so amusing?” Jack asked, noticing the smile on my face.

“You! You’re such a chef, Jack! Do you ever make a mess, or spill anything? You would be horrified if you saw the state of the kitchen when Dad and I made the po’ boys.”

He laughed. “Yes, I probably would. You know me, Olive. Creature of habit. Once a chef, always a chef.” He handed me an apron. “Anyway, if it took a messy kitchen for your dad to impress your mum, then I’m glad.”

“Turns out my dad can be quite the charmer when he tries. And not a bad cook, either. He’s taking mum away for a night next weekend, as a birthday treat. It’s almost sickening to see them flirting with each other over the cornflakes every morning.”

“Love finds a way after all. Louisiana food. Can’t beat it! That po’ boy really worked its magic!”

“It certainly did.”

“Well, good for you for not giving up on them. Even when they’d almost given up on each other.”

“Yeah. Good for me.” I pushed my hands into my coat pockets. It seemed that while I was always fixing everyone else’s love stories, I was terrible at fixing my own.

Jack stopped and looked at me. “You okay? That’s the face of an Olive who has something on her mind.”

Silence puddled between us as I shifted awkwardly on my feet. “Jack, about the other night. There’s something I need to tell you...”

“It’s fine, Olive. We were both a little happy, or merry, I suppose you English would say.”

“ Too merry.” A light blush rose on my cheeks as I remembered how forward I’d been. “It was a fun night though.”

“It was, and—well, I’d hoped we might have more like it.”

“Hoped?”

He took a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you, too. I’ve been appointed to accompany the Duke of Edinburgh on his tour to Australia. I just found out a few days ago.”

My heart sank. I’d heard about the duke’s tour, having been briefed on it just that week. I’d wondered if Jack would be sent as part of the staff, but had hoped not. “Gosh, Jack. That’s exciting for you!”

“It is. A great honor. But it’s also a shame, about the timing.”

“Will you have to delay the opening?”

“We weren’t going to make the fall anyway. We’re planning for next spring now instead.” He hesitated. “But it’s also a shame because... well, I felt things were maybe... developing between us?”

It sounded like a question, as if he were looking for confirmation from me. He was so painfully shy, so uncertain.

“I thought so, too,” I said softly. “It seems we are destined to be ships passing in the night.” I tried to force a smile.

A little of the light in his eyes faded. “It seems that way, doesn’t it.”

“And you’ll be away for Christmas,” I added.

In quiet moments alone, I’d allowed myself to imagine a family Christmas this year, all of us together: Jack, Lucy, and me. Now, he wouldn’t even be on the same continent. It was this constant uncertainty that made me so reluctant to tell him about Lucy, and to tell her about Jack. Even as Jack and I had become closer, I’d been careful to maintain a distance between him and Lucy. He was sweet with her, and asked about her often, but I couldn’t bear to bring him into her life only to have him leave on another long tour. I had to make sure he would be around for her, for both of us.

“Shall we get on with this cake, then?” I said.

He looked a little deflated. “Sure. Let’s get to it. First you need butter and sugar.”

I followed his instructions, trying to concentrate, but my heart wasn’t in it.

That was that then. Jack was heading halfway around the world and there was nothing I could do about it.

“You didn’t beg him to stay, did you?” Rosie peered at me over the top of her spectacles. She’d called around to wish mum a happy birthday. “You’re not living in a Bergman film, Olive. People don’t really go rushing to train stations to declare their undying love for each other.”

I sighed and finished the last of my sandwich. “Of course I didn’t beg him to stay. I told him I was happy for him. He offered to cook me a Christmas dinner before he leaves, since he won’t be here over Christmas.”

“Well, that’s romantic. You wouldn’t catch many men offering to do that. Most men I’ve been out with can’t even be bothered to make me a slice of toast, never mind a Christmas dinner.”

I smiled. “Surely Mason can do better than a slice of toast. How’s it all going?”

A dreamy look crossed her face. “It’s wonderful. He’s wonderful. Everything’s wonderful. I think he’s the one, Olive, and it’s all thanks to you.”

“Me?”

“It was you who dragged me along to his birthday party. Matchmaker Carter strikes again!”

“Yes. Good old Matchmaker Carter, fixing everyone’s love life and making a holy mess of her own. Nothing much changes, does it?”

“A mess? I’d say you’ve made more of your life than any of us. Look at what you have. A great job. A beautiful daughter. A man who clearly adores you, even though the two of you can’t seem to ever work it out.”

I looked over at Lucy, playing happily in the corner of the sitting room. Rosie was right. I hadn’t made a mess of things. I’d made the best of things, just as I’d promised Lucy I would the day she was born on a blustery spring day in Cornwall.

“You’re so brave, Olive. I don’t think I could have done what you did.”

Was I brave? I certainly hadn’t felt brave at the time.

In those wild windswept weeks before Lucy’s arrival, I had been absolutely terrified.