#and now my household is screaming at canada. oh how the tables have turned.

[ratatatastic]

canada. my households worst enemy.

[charles-and-camilla-fanfictions]

Platinum Jubilee

There’s always something to look at. I must have walked around ten thousand markets and stalls and yet there’s always something new, something different. I’ve certainly never seen a felt picnic table before and some of the items detach. It’s really rather charming. I turn to my husband but he’s busy talking to someone else and not paying attention to me so I reach and tap his hand. I miss and end up gently fondling his hip.

“Careful!”

Unrepentant, I smile at him, the mishap amusing me somewhat. It also does the job as he’s immediately engaged in my conversation.

“Have you seen the corgis on the cake?”

“It is rather charming, isn’t it?”

He makes me smile as I continue to look at the display in front of me.

There are some benefits to growing old. One of them is that we get away with a lot more now than we ever used to. Another is that, when we don’t get away with it, people find it ‘cute’. I get told off by him every time I pat him on the bottom and he must know by now that it makes it all the more irresistible for me. I know why he tells me off. A couple of weeks ago, we were representing her Majesty in Canada and he slipped his hand down my back, before pressing slightly into my bottom. In front of the world’s media. I almost jumped out of my skin. Almost. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. But I’ve been waiting to get my own back. For the perfect moment to catch him unawares. It’s certainly made all of our engagements that more interesting.

I listen to him speaking as I wait to raise my glass for a toast.

“The Queen.”

“The Queen.” I raise my glass to everyone then turn to him, smiling at him. He’s in such a jolly mood today, buoyed by the success of last night, how we stood together on the stage in front of a crowd of twenty thousand cheering people. It was deafening and exhilarating and he spoke wonderfully. I felt like my heart was rising out of my body with pride. I see him now, turned from me slightly, chatting to someone next to him and it’s just too good an opportunity to miss. My hand can’t help reaching down to tickle him slightly on the bottom.

“It’s an interesting flavour this champagne.”

“It’s Prosecco, Darling.”

“You don’t have to drink it.”

“Oh I can put it down, good.”

I can tell from how he’s pushing against me that he knows what I just did but he’s being ever so professional and ignoring it.

“I wouldn’t want to be on the balcony drunk.”

That makes him laugh and he grins at me.

“Your mother wouldn’t be too impressed.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll hold you up.”

“You best do.”

The butterflies in my stomach are going crazy. I’ve never got used to walking out onto that balcony and listening to the roar of the crowd. It’s not quite as bad as before we walked onto the stage last night but now he’s not looking at me. He’s preoccupied with his mother and he fusses with her more than I’ve ever seen him do before. I get glared at by her, which is my cue to put my hand on his arm and warn him to stop with my eyes. She might be in her 90s but she’s still in charge. He can’t stop himself from trying to guide her into the balcony. His hand on her elbow doing little for her but soothing him. He doesn’t make room for me to get past and I see my opportunity and just lightly tap his bottom as a guise. His smiling response is instant and in front of the millions of people who will be watching this, he guides me round him using my bottom. It takes me aback and I can’t help but smile.

“Look, they’ve put up barriers so the people can’t stampede towards us.”

She looks proud as she says it and I let the comment drift over me, looking down at the sea of people, screaming and shouting and waving a thousand Union Jacks. The Household Calvary trumpets start and as the National Anthem is bellowed at us by ten thousand people, I watch the emotion in my husband’s face. The sadness and the pride. And I know I was right all those years ago, insisting that he should never give this up, his birthright, his destiny, his place at the helm of our country and the head of our family. I don’t fear the future anymore; I welcome it. I hold my hand out to grasp onto it like an equal and then I turn and follow my husband inside as the doors close to shut out the clamour of the roaring crowds.