#andrew parker bowles

[grandmaster-anne]

18 June 2024 The Princess Royal and Andrew Parker Bowles on day one of Royal Ascot at Ascot Racecourse, Berkshire. 

[camillasgirl]

Queen Camilla attends the book launch of her son Tom's new book 'Royal Recipes', London, 05.09.2024

[thiziri]

Princess Anne and Queen Camilla attending day two of the 2024 Cheltenham Festival at Cheltenham Racecourse, on 13 March 2024.

[mydaddywiki]

Andrew Parker Bowles

Physique: Average Build Height: 5'10"

Brigadier Andrew Henry Parker Bowles OBE (born 27 December 1939) is a retired British Army officer. He is the former husband of Queen Camilla, now the wife of King Charles III. Andrew came from an aristocratic family. Due to these links, his parents were friends with the Queen Mother, and Andrew reportedly served as a page during the late Queen's coronation.

Andrew was educated at the Benedictine Ampleforth College and the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst and following his graduation, he joined the Royal Horse Guards. He served in the military for a total of 34 years, rising through the ranks and eventually obtaining the rank of Brigadier in 1990, four years before he eventually retired. Highlights of his career involved being awarded the Queen's Commendation for Bravery in Zimbabwe and for three years he was the colonel in charge of the Household Cavalry, even serving as the late Queen's Silver Stick.

An incredibly cute guy, Parker Bowles was an amateur jockey who rode in the 1969 Grand National, finishing the race in 11th place. He played on Prince Charles's polo team during their younger days.

The twice married, Parker Bowles was married to now Queen Camilla for 22 years and even welcomed two children together. After divorcing in 1995, just a year later he married Rosemary Pitman. The couple stayed together until her passing in 2010. And before that, Andrew also dated Princess Anne. Although their relationship never went anywhere, the pair remain close friends and Andrew is even the godfather to Anne's daughter, Zara. Damn… the British royals seems more… intermingled then ever.

[royal-confessions]

“I know they're both in relationships, but I can't help but ship Princess Anne and Andrew Parker Bowles so hard. The way they look at each other is everything.” - Submitted by Anonymous

[princessanneftw]

Princess Anne and Andrew Parker Bowles at Guards Polo Club in Windsor in 1971

[millamountbatten]

Princess Anne beaming at Andrew Parker Bowles.

(early 1970s)

[what-if-queen-camilla]

Like grandfather, like grandson - Chapter 2

“And you really don't know what he's up to?” Virginia asked and looked at her flatmate in disbelief, but Camilla shookher head. “I tell you - I have no idea, not the slightest!” “But it sounds very serious…”, Virginia said, as she looked at the noble invitation card that a courier had brought earlier today once more. It was terribly fancy and elegant, even with The King’s cypher on it, but it only revealed a time when she’d be picked up by a driver and suggested that she’d be dressed in “day dress”, so it couldn’t be too serious, Camilla tried to soothe herself. She had been dating Charles for about six months now and though she had always been really fond of him, it had taken her a while to realise that she was actually in love with the young Prince. A part of her still tried to deny it but deep in her heart, she knew it was true. Previously, she had been on and off with Andrew for almost five years; she had been head over heels in love with him and therefore forgiven him all of his escapades, the endless “slips” and the notorious cheating, but when she had caught him in flagrante with none other than Princess Anne at the edge of a polo match at Windsor Castle in one of the stables last summer, it had been enough humiliation for her. She had lost it completely and in a very strange twist of fate, that crying little mess she had turned into after her painful discovery, had bumped into none other than Prince Charles. She had been incredibly embarrassed at first, but he had been so wonderful, had taken her into his arms, held and comforted her lovingly and didn't even ask questions. In fact, he hadn't until now and she was more than grateful for it. Since that day, they had started seeing each other regularly. Charles had taken her out for walks, rides, the theatre and opera, they had been hunting together and he even took an interest in her drawings (though she herself considered them terrible, quite in contrast to his���), he had encouraged her to take proper classes which she had actually done and enjoyed immensely… he had shown her a whole new world and introduced her to so many things she hadn't been open to beforehand. Andrew had only ever taken her to dinners, parties or to the polo but Charles was so knowledgeable and interested in so many different things, it was mind-blowing really, he was mind-blowing, and before she could've thought about anything twice, she had found herself head over heels in love with the young Prince. Her sister was already teasing her, calling her “Your Royal Highness” but marrying Charles was out of the question for her. As much as she loved him and as happy as he made her - he needed and deserved a wife literally “fit for Queen” - and that was not her. If only he wasn't a future King, she could've come to terms with an Earl or a Marquess perhaps, but a Prince? The mere imagination almost frightened her to death. “Goodness, Virginia, I hope he doesn't have any… ideas…” 

Camilla couldn’t quite believe her eyes as the car that had picked her up actually drove through the main gates of Windsor Castle about 45 minutes later. She had never been here before, at least not inside of the Castle and suddenly felt incredibly underdressed in her cute, knee-length dark blue velvet gown, but she had dressed exactly in accordance with the dress code on the mysterious invitation. The car slowly made its way up to the quadrangle and eventually stopped in front of the main entrance, and her heart beated like mad as she got out of the car and followed an equerry through the main entrance - where her Prince was already waiting for her and greeted her with an affectionate kiss, which she, however, joined only reluctantly given the presence of the servant, who, thank goodness, discreetly disappeared. “Hello my beautiful darling.” Charles smiled tenderly and his loving and admiring eyes all over her gave her a thousand little butterflies immediately. “Hello you.” She replied softly and gently patted his bum which made him laugh. “What have I done to deserve an invitation to such an exclusive place?” She asked, looking at him in expectation, but he just smiled and softly whispered: “I wanted to show you something which I'm sure you'll love.” Before he playfully took her by the hand and guided her through the corridors of the ancient castle. Camilla didn't even know where to look at, it was simply incredible to be wandering through the mediaeval walls and to think of all the historic people, the Kings and Queens of long gone centuries, who'd been wandering around here just like that before, until Charles stopped in front of a huge door, asking her to close her eyes. She was a bit afraid of what might happen but she loved and trusted him so she did as requested while he tenderly placed both of his hands on her shoulders, carefully and slowly guiding her into the next room. 

Though Camilla didn’t cheat and kept her eyes closed tightly, she sensed the sunlight possibly shining through a huge window front and a slightly woody, smokey and earthy smell which almost drove her mad with excitement and curiosity. Where was he taking her and what did he want to show her? “Careful, darling, here’s a table…”, he said and gently helped her walk around, until he finally motioned her to stop and turned her around. “Alright, darling.”, he whispered and she could literally hear his loving smile just by the way he had said this. “Open your eyes…” She immediately did as requested and found herself in front of an old and obviously priceless, wooden desk with a huge, and apparently just as old and priceless book with a thick red leather binding, gilded with the most exquisite ornaments of gold in each corner. “This is Charles I’s copy of ‘The Complete Works of Shakespeare.”, Charles explained and reverently stroked over the red leather binding. “Oh… Wow… Goodness me!” Camilla exclaimed breathlessly, desperately trying to realise what an incredible piece of history was lying just in front of her. “It was read and annotated by my ancestor while he was imprisoned during the Civil War here at Windsor Castle.”, he went on, carefully taking her hand and placing it on the book cover as well. The leather felt incredibly beneath her finger tips and Camilla couldn’t even grasp what treasure she was touching right now. “He was reading it more or less up until he was executed.”, Charles went on and carefully opened the book, unerringly turning to the contents page. “Darling, look, here’s where he started writing in characters.”, her Prince whispered, once again, solemnly touching the original handwriting of his ancestor - and there were, indeed, characters from some of the works written next to the respective play. “That… is his handwriting?”, Camilla asked, completely overwhelmed and unbelieving as she marvelled at the pages. “It is.”, the Prince confirmed and she couldn’t believe how beautiful and accurate the former monarch’s handwriting was.

“What’s this about, darling, ‘Benedick and Beatrice?” She asked, regarding a handwritten note from King Charles I next to the listing of Shakespeare’s “Oh.” Charles cleared his throat. “That was an alternative title for ‘Much ado about nothing.’ And, look, here he wrote ‘Pyramus and Thisbe’ next to ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” He excitedly showed her and Camilla frowned her forehead. “But they’re such… Quite minor characters if I may say so.”, she remarked and he agreed: “It’s strange, isn’t it?”, he replied and  suddenly suggested: “Why don't you read a bit from that piece?” They’d been talking about it, she knew he loved it just as much as she did and so she happily agreed. “Okay…” Leaving him turning to the respective page.. Eventually, she reached Act 2, Scene 1, dramatically reciting Helena: “I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well.” When, suddenly, her Prince took her hand and got down on his knee. “My sweet, beautiful darling Camilla…”, he began, and had her all teared up immediately. Of course she knew what was going to come next… what she had been dreading and at the same time longing for ever since that one fateful day back in June… “‘I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well’ - Darling, there is only one hand I’d ever want to die upon because I love it so well - and that’s yours. Ever since I’ve met you - or rather: ever since we’ve been a couple - my life has become so much lighter and happier, everything seems more joyful and brighter, now, that I can share it with you. Camilla, Darling, I want to share everything with you. I want to be with you every day, every night, I want you to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see before I fall asleep at night… I want you to be my wife, my Princess, and, so God will, one day, my Queen!” With that, he pulled out a little black velvet jewellery box, reverently opening it. Camilla, who had meanwhile got down on her knees in shock and emotion as well, couldn’t quite believe her eyes when she eventually acknowledged the priceless ring her Prince was offering her… “Camilla, will you marry me?”, he finally asked solemnly and she felt as if somebody was choking her. This ring, and this whole atmosphere was just…. perfect. They were anything any girl could ever dream of - but she was not one of these girls. She was not… worth it. She’d had boyfriends before and certainly broke more than just a handful of rules throughout her youth and her sweet, lovely and gorgeous Prince, no matter how cute and innocent he was, could not possibly seriously ask her this question. “Charles, Darling, listen I…”, she started with an insecure voice. “I love you, I, I really do! But I can’t marry you… I’m not… What you’re looking for. I could never be the wife you need and deserve…” And with this, she pushed the ring back into his hands, her own hands shaking. She was so confused and actually had to hold back some tears. This was all way too much and way too unexpected. But way too wonderful, too. Her mind was so confused.

[canesenzafissadimora]

La vita è come una macchina fotografica: concentrati su quello che è importante, cattura dei bei momenti, sviluppa la vita da negativi. E, se le cose non vanno bene scatta un'altra foto.

[camillafanfiction]

Christmas lights

Up above candles on air flicker Oh, they flicker, and they flow And I'm up here holding onto All those chandeliers of hope And like some drunken Elvis singing I go singing out of tune Singing how I always loved you, darling And I always will

Oh, when you're still waiting for the snow to fall It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all Still waiting for the snow to fall It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all

⁓ Coldplay

14.12.1973, London

The festive baubles glittered and glimmered as couples danced and friends raised their glasses while the DJ played one Christmas hit after another. This year’s Christmas hit “Merry Xmas” by Slade had already been played more than once but nobody seemed to be sick of it as of now. This was one of the most glamorous Christmas parties of the season and everybody had dressed to impress. Camilla didn’t make an exception, she looked fabulous in a dark green sequined dress with a low neckline and shimmered wonderfully as she swirled on the dance floor and moved her body to the rhythm of the music. Andrew had very much looked like a proud husband when the couple had arrived but as the clock hand moved past midnight he couldn’t be seen anymore. At least not by Camilla, but she appeared to be perfectly happy. As usual, she was the life of the party and didn’t need to worry about company or a dance partner. Friends and socialites had rallied around her and people threw their heads back in laughter as she cracked jokes and made naughty remarks. As usual, she was one of the stars of the season, and rightly so.

Charles, however, had seen Andrew in the arms of another busty blonde about half an hour ago, before they had disappeared out of his sight as well. The venue was crowded, but he had kept eagle eyes on both, Camilla, and Andrew. He had tried to concentrate on his dance partners, but he had ignored all of the flirting attempts as his eyes had been stuck. Stuck on her. The only lady he was interested in. Still.

But they hadn’t spoken a word tonight, they hadn’t even greeted each other, there just hadn’t been any opportunity – Charles wasn’t even sure she had noticed his attendance, but his arrival usually meant lots of ‘ahs’ and ‘ohs’, so she probably had… Maybe it was best as it would cause too much heart-pain and would be too awkward anyway, but Charles was still hoping for at least one little opportunity to say “hi!”. It would be an early Christmas present as they hadn’t spoken since Anne’s wedding to Mark on his 25th birthday, exactly one months ago. What a dreadful day it had been, Charles sighed, what a dreadful year actually.

Camilla’s hair fell in short, soft waves, framing her beautiful face. She looked simply perfect from head to toe and, once again, Charles couldn’t understand how Andrew could cheat on someone like Camilla. They weren’t even married for six months. Andrew had the freaking audacity to get lucky enough to marry Camilla and not stopping his philandering. What the hell was wrong with this man?! He just couldn’t bear thinking about it. If he spent just one other thought on Andrew, he’d go mad.

After another endless 20 minutes of upbeat Christmas songs, he finally spotted Camilla walking over to one of the waiters with a silly Father Christmas hat on, probably asking for her signature drink, a gin tonic with a slice of lemon. This was the moment Charles realized he was in a desperate need for a drink, too, excused himself from the girl whose name he’d already forgotten again and hustled to the same waiter, slowing down when he came closer.

Camilla was taken by surprise, Charles could see it the second their eyes met, and she bobbed down in a curtsey, lowering her eyes. “Hello, Your Royal Highness,” she said formally, feeling slightly ridiculous by the formality of the situation.

“Hello you,” Charles replied way more intimate and moved slightly forward to place a soft kiss on both her cheeks. “Nice to see you again.”

In fact, it was much more than “nice” to see her again, to inhale her smell even in that crowded room, to feel the warmth of her soft hand, the tickle of her cheeky curls… Charles knew he shouldn’t feel that way about another man’s wife, but he couldn’t help it. This time last year she had still been his…

“Very nice indeed.” Camilla almost looked shy and blushed but found her usual confident self again within the blink of an eye. “I seem to have lost my husband about two hours ago,” she tried to joke and ignored the queasiness in the pit of her stomach. Five months into her marriage she had realized that being married hadn’t really changed Andrew and that, though they were actually experiencing wedded bliss, he still couldn’t keep his eyes and, unfortunately, hands off other women.

For a moment, Charles considered telling her that he’d seen her disappearing with the blonde beauty, but then decided against it as he didn’t want to ruin her Christmas or, even worse, hurt her. Instead, he opted to awkwardly compliment her, kneading his hands, and resisting the urge to touch her again. “You look wonderful tonight.”

Camilla flashed him a smile, murmuring “Thank you!”, and in a rush of intimacy pushed him over to one of the tables in the corner where it was a bit quieter. Unfortunately, it was before either of them realised that they had ended up in the lover’s lane with couples around them passionately snogging and even more. “Oh my God!”, Camilla giggled, looking around, well noticing that Charles’ face had turned red. “I seem to have for-“

“Kiss me!” Charles suddenly declared and Camilla wasn’t sure if she’d understood him correctly. However, before she was able to give him an asking or indignant glance, she felt soft lips on hers, just for a millisecond, so quick she couldn’t be sure it had been reality or a just a wild dream, a vision of what her most inner self was secretly wishing for.

It must have been the gin, Camilla decided. Why on earth should she wish to kiss her ex-beau?! She was happily married to the man she had always wanted to marry, and they had loads of fun trying to make a baby at every given opportunity. “Would you like to dance?”, Charles asked innocently and grabbed her arm to push her to the dance floor where people were shaking their legs to the sound of “I wish it could be Christmas everyday” by Wizzard, another top 10 hit that, for Charles’ taste, had been played more than enough tonight. But it didn’t matter, he had Camilla in his arms and swirled her around, he had kissed her, only a millisecond and so quick she hadn’t grasped it, but he had tasted her lips and they had felt as soft as last year. He would later regret it, he already knew, he would die of heartache and the pain of missing her even more than before. He would spend Christmas just as depressed as always and count the hours till he could be back onboard that bloody ship again that would take him to shores far away from her, but not the love for her he carried in his heart and couldn’t let go. It didn’t particularly help that the DJ now opted for “I Love You Love Me Love” by Garry Glitter, who sang of a couple whose love had won against all odds. Charles tried not to listen to the lyrics but solely focus on the music instead, but having Camilla’s body so close brought back memories of times when he thought he might be able to call her his wife one day. Maybe if he’d been brave enough to ask her last year, on his 24th birthday maybe… But who on earth married aged 24 in this time and age, especially as a prince?! There was no use in dwelling in the past, Charles knew, but it hurt so very much.

“In the mood for another drink?”, Camilla asked when she found they were dancing a bit too familiar and intimate when a slow song started to play.

Charles tried to hide his disappointment, but knew she was right, so he nodded. “Okay.”

“Martini, Sir?”, she winked and added “Shaken, not stirred?” That made him laugh with his eyes, Camilla noticed relieved. She didn’t want to hurt him, this had never been her intention, but she’d made the right decision for herself with marrying Andrew, hadn’t she? Charles had been a fling, Andrew was her true love, the man she was destined to be with. Two or three times when Andrew had come home late on a Friday evening and had smelt of another women’s perfume, she’d caught herself thinking that this wouldn’t have happened with Charles, that she’d be more appreciated… but she’d made the right decision, she had snatched her fetching soldier, and she was so excited for her first Christmas as a wife. She’d already planned everything from the dinner to the music to the decorations. It would simply be perfect…

His hair a bit too accurate, Andrew suddenly appeared behind Charles, a bright grin upon his face. “Hello poppet,” he greeted his wife, placing a fierce kiss on her mouth before greeting Charles with a small bow of his head. “Nice to see you, Sir. I hope my wife hasn’t bothered you too much with talking about her plans for Christmas all night…”

“Not at all.”, Charles stated, smiling at Camilla, and giving Andrew a stern look.

“Well… good…” Andrew commented and casually took a huge sip out of his whiskey glass, emptying it and putting it on the next bar table. “C’mon, poppet, let’s rock the dance floor,” he declared then, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and winking at her.

Camilla gave Charles an apologetic glance, detached herself from her husband for a moment and placed swift kisses on both of Charles’ cheeks. “I’ll see you… Happy Christmas!”, she said before being drawn away by her husband onto the dance floor.

For a few moments Charles masochistically watched them kissing and dancing like lovers (or newly married couples) do before emptying his glass with one sip as well, cursing the day he was born. Or rather the day Andrew had been born, he wasn’t sure yet. Without taking another look at Camilla and her husband or anyone else again, Charles left the party, knowing he would live from the few moments he’d had with her today till the next time he’d see her again.

[justdonotaskmewhy]

no, guys, but imagine if there was an Andrew Parker Bowles x Princess Diana fanfiction

like when Diana realizes Charles will never be faithful she decides to get revenge on Camilla and Andrew is just vibing because we all know he is an adulterer

[heavyarethecrowns]

[camillasgirl]

Queen Camilla attends the QIPCO King George Day at Ascot Racecourse, 27.07.2024

[thiziri]

Princess Anne looks on alongside Zara Tindall following the Gallagher Novices Hurdle during day two of the Cheltenham Festival 2024, on 13 March 2024.

[queencamillaspam]

[charles-and-camilla-fanfictions]

Assassination Attempt (part 1)

Thinking back, she is almost certain she felt the moment the gunman fired that first shot as a streak of pain through her heart. Her body goes cold and every hair in her body stands on end. Although she is aware she possesses no demonstrative psychic abilities, she is as sure about this as she is about the ghost in her former house. That phantom did nothing more than tease her with the television. This feels much colder, much more threatening. So when she switches on the nine o clock news and sees the words ’Gun Man Fires Two Shots at Prince Charles,’ she’s not surprised. Apart from the shock of the report, she sits stoney faced yet surprisingly calm. Her husband is tiptoeing around her, grating on what’s left of her nerves but he puts a lit cigarette in her mouth and even through her agitation, she inhales gratefully. The cold has returned to her body but with intermittent prickles in her back and around her neck which chill her further.

“And now to our main story tonight. Whilst on tour in Australia, an unnamed gunman shot two shots at Prince Charles before leaping upon the stage, coming within a metre of the Prince before being taken down by security.”

“Darling, he’s quite alright. You can see from the video.”

“Thank you Andrew, I’m not capable of watching the television without your narration.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Evidently not.”

“He ought to have warned you.”

“What, like you did, you mean?”

“Camilla, that was different. I was dealing with the aftermath of a terrorist attack. I lost my men that day. I wasn’t thinking about you.”

“I know. I’m just saying, this is not the first time I find something out on the news.”

“I’ll get you a whisky.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

It’s true. Her hands are shaking so badly, it’s difficult to raise her cigarette to her mouth. “Yes.” It takes her a moment to focus her eyes on him, everything feels so far away.

“Jesus, Camilla, you’re not going to be sick are you? You’ve gone so white.”

“I’m fine. A whisky would be good.”

He doesn’t give her a minute to sink into her thoughts. Each time she replays the clip in her head, he’s demanding an answer to a question, saying her name and pulling her back to the present until she’s drunk so much whisky her tongue comes to life.

“Why didn’t you ring me? I was worried sick!”

“Are you talking about The Prince or about me?”

“The Prince isn’t here. Obviously, I’m talking about you!” It’s so easy to be angry with him. The fear she felt the day of the IRA bomb mixes with her rage with Charles. “I was sat in front of the television, not knowing if you were dead or alive. You couldn’t be bothered getting someone to inform me?”

“He might not have known this would be picked up so quickly by the world’s press…”

“I’m not talking about Charles, I’m talking about you!”

“You’re angry with him and you’re taking it out on me.”

“Don’t get all psycho-babble with me! You’ve no idea what I’m thinking.”

“Okay, I’ll bite, I didn’t inform you because I was the commanding officer at a terrorist site and I’d seen dismembered soldiers in my unit lying dead on the street, horses mangled and screaming and there was a high chance it wasn’t an isolated incident and I knew that I could be blown up at any second. Is that reason enough for you?”

She puts down her whisky and grimaces, the embarrassment of admitting she is in the wrong colouring her cheeks pink. “I’m sorry.”

“Damn right you are.”

The look on his face is unreadable as he stares at her but she doesn’t feel anything other than anger. Anger at being put in her place. Anger at being disregarded. She picks up the bottle and pours it into her glass, glaring at him in disbelief as he takes the bottle off her.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do.”

“Actually, I think you might be needing me to tell you what to do just at this moment. You’re acting very strange.”

She feels very strange. Perhaps it’s the numbness that’s creeping through her body, firing off all her nerves into anger. She feels heavy and far away from the world.

“I feel sorry for the poor bloke who was in charge of his security. That’s his job gone.”

“Too right!”

“And the wives of the men who jumped in front of the gun man to take him down…”

That makes her start. What if the gun had not fired blanks? At that range, he would have been dead, the bullets would have ripped through his skull and blown out his brains. The lack of any sort of emotion on his face. He knew and he didn’t care. Suddenly her heart races to action and she feels a cold sweat drip down her back.

“Camilla, breathe normally.”

“I’m breathing.” She is. Breathing so hard to try to fill her lungs which seem to refuse to be filled.

“You’re hyperventilating, Darling, try to match my breathing.”

But she can’t. She can’t see anything other than the dead in Charles’s eyes as he looked at the gunman with scant interest. How he pushed past his security, not caring about his safety, to watch. How easy it would be for some mad person to take him away from her forever. And then she’s crying, these enormous sobs which consume her and Andrew keeps on trying to comfort her but she feels a flash of cold ice each time he touches her, making her shrug him off. Eventually he settles for handing her tissues and giving her a cushion to hold against her chest, which she squeezes as tight as possible.

The phone rings and she springs to her feet but she’s so light headed, she sinks down again and as her brain spins back to central, she hears Andrew answering.

“Yes, Sir… Very well, Sir… I’ll let her know.”

“I want to speak to him!” She mouths at him across the room but Andrew frowns at her, shaking his head.

“Upset, as you’d probably imagine, but you know Milla. She’s a tough nut… I’ll let her know. Goodnight, Sir. Sorry, good morning, Sir.”

“I wanted to talk to him!” Her voice is a growl across the room and the tears still sound in her voice.

He walks back to her with a sneer, sitting on the arm chair opposite her. “You wanted to talk to him in that state? I won’t let you embarrass yourself like that.”

It’s a flash of anger rather than hysteria which hits her this time. “What did he say?”

“I’ll tell you when you’ve pulled yourself together and stopped crying. He’s going to ring later. You can’t talk to him in that state.”

“He won’t care.”

“Yes he will. The man’s just had an attempted assassination attempt and you’re the one crying? He’s not ringing you to hear you sobbing down the phone.”

“Don’t be cruel.”

“I’m not. I’m just being truthful. You know what he’s like.”

It’s a dark bitter feeling to know that she is wrong and he is right. She can’t cry down the phone to him. It would only panic him. Crying is only for when they are together. When she can hold him tightly in her arms and keep him safe from the world.

“And you need to sober up. He’s ringing you at 11pm. He said there had been a lightning storm and the power went out overnight.”

That’s better. At least there was a reason. She looks at Andrew for the first time in relief and starts wiping away her tears, blowing her nose. She can feel the whisky in her head but she knows she’ll be able to sober up when she needs to. She’s not worried. Once her legs stop shaking so badly, she gets up and heads to the kitchen, lighting the hob and pouring herself a large glass of water. A few minutes pass before Andrew shuffles in and she serves out the leftover stew into a bowl, gesturing to Andrew, who nods, before doling out another bowl. They sit at the kitchen table in silence whilst they eat the stew.

“Did you cry when you found out about the bomb?”

Andrew doesn’t look at her and she takes a sip of water before answering, “No. Not until I knew you were alright. Before that, I was too shocked to cry.”

“So you cried with relief?”

“Yes. I suppose so.”

“Like you were before?”

“I don’t remember but I don’t think so. The children were there.” She’s lying. She remembers it clearly, sitting the children down and explaining what had happened. Remembering the tears which ran like streams down her son’s face and trying to console him by telling him what a hero his daddy was. She was one of the lucky ones, not having to explain her husband’s death to her children. How would she even begin to articulate the death of a parent to two young children? It was unimaginable.

He nods. “Good.”

“Why good?”

“I wouldn’t have wanted you to feel like this.”

“It’s just emotion. I feel better for crying. I needed to.”

“Was I right to stop you from talking to him?”

“Perhaps.” But she’s lying again, trying to make Andrew feel better. Just hearing Charles’s voice would have soothed her far more quickly than anything else.

She makes to tidy away the dishes and he stops her, clearing the table and putting them in the sink for the housekeeper to wash, flicking the switch of the kettle to make a cup of tea. “You look much better now. You’ve got colour in your cheeks again and you’ve stopped shaking. You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve never seen you like that.”

“No. I know.” Of course he hadn’t. She wanted him to enjoy his time with her and caring for a crying woman wasn’t high on his list of pleasures.

“We’ve been married for twenty years and I’ve never seen you that upset. Have you ever been that upset with me?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve hidden it from me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you hide it from him?”

She wonders what he wants to hear before shrugging and telling the truth. “Sometimes, if I don’t think he can cope with me being upset.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Never when we’re together. When we’re together I don’t need to put on an act. But when we’re apart, yes.”

“Why have you hidden it from me?”

“I didn’t want to make you angry, or give you a reason to not want to come home to me.”

“Jesus, Camilla. Am I that shallow? No. Don’t answer. What’s changed?”

She looks at him, her eyes sad and he drops his face to his hands.

“You no longer care…”

“Andrew, I care…”

“But only as a friend…”

“My dearest friend.”

“That’s a lie. He’s always been your ‘dearest friend’. You’re more yourself around him than me. You both turn into a pair of teenagers when you’re together.”

The kettle starts singing and she moves to stand before he stops her, taking his time to fill the tea pot, stirring it absently to speed up the diffusion before pouring hers out. He waits a minute longer for his, allowing it to stew and then pours, adding a dollop of cold milk to his and a slice of cut lemon to hers. As he hands the cup to her and sits down, the familiarity isn’t lost on her. The cup of tea is perfect.

“So, ironically, you let me know you better, now, because you no longer love me. Oh, Milla, I’m sorry.”

“What for? I wouldn’t change anything.”

“Does he make you happy?”

“What?”

“HRH, does he make you happy?”

“Andrew, I…”

“All I see is all the pain he causes you. The past two years, you’ve been so unhappy. Your name slung across the tabloids, trapped inside our house by the paparazzi. He’s made all our lives miserable. So I want to know, is he worth it?”

“Yes.” She blurts it out quickly, forcefully. Perhaps too earnestly but she means it with all her heart and she doesn’t want Andrew thinking anything else, for him to think she wants them to get back together.

“Have you got a dastardly plan to get rid of me so that you two can be together?”

“No! Of course not, Andrew!”

“I’m wondering what the point is, Camilla?”

There is no point to her and Charles. That is the entire point. Andrew wouldn’t understand, unless he was referring to the two of them and in that case the point was always the children. “Well you’re just waiting until the children are grown, isn’t that the point?”

“Yes, I am. Then I can escape this bloody circus.”

That hurt. She doesn’t bother hiding her face from him. He meant to hurt her with his words but now he’s looking repentant and he reaches across to squeeze her hand before encasing them both in his. It’s always nice to hold his hand, hers dwarfed by his. She gives him an out. “Are you planning on marrying Rosemary?”

“Possibly. What about you? Are you hoping to become his official mistress?”

“I don’t have any plans.”

“Oh my God, Camilla, you’re planning on marrying him!”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not. Your face. You’re planning on marrying him!”

“I’ll never be allowed to marry him.”

“That may be so, but that’s your plan. Jesus. You’re not even doing it for status. You just love him. You’re an idiot.”

“This is nonsense.”

“Yes. So we have about four years left. Charles and Diana are never going to last another four years… So you both divorce around the same time and then you attempt to marry him.”

“You’re talking fairytales.”

“Perhaps. Well I want a seat at the wedding.”

“Really, Andrew!”

“I can be your lady in waiting!”

“You’re a man!”

“Ah ha! It is a plan!”

“It is not!”

“I want to be front row at the coronation.”

“You’re delirious.”

“I think it’ll be a bit weird bobbing to you though. I might give that a miss.”

“Charles won’t like that…”

“Charles can suck my…”

“Andrew!”

“What? It made you laugh, didn’t it?”

“Yes… Yes, it did.”

“Let’s go back to the lounge. I want to sit in comfort.”

She doesn’t let go of his hand and when they sit down, she feels him pulling her to him and curls up against him, his arms wrapped around her. They sit for a few minutes, watching News Night before she pulls away, leaning instead into the sofa and raises her eyebrows at him as she plants her feet on his lap. He just smiles at her, pressing his thumbs into the sole of her foot from habit.

“Andrew, whatever happens, I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me. Perhaps you can grant me a title?”

“Give over.”

“Seriously though. I promise you lunch dates.”

“Lunch dates?”

“Yes. We can have lunch dates and it will all be very civilised. I’d like to bring Rosemary, if we’re still together then. We can all go out together.”

“Charles won’t do that.”

“His loss. We’ll have lunch dates. And parties. You can both come to our parties. But I do expect to be invited to yours too.”

“You are invited to our hypothetical parties.”

“Do you think you’re going to be the next queen?”

“No. Not really.”

“Does he not want you to be?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Ah. There, you see, that’s where I am better than him. I would make you my queen. No questions asked.”

“Thank you. I think.”

“Now all you have to do is tell him that. He’s so stupidly jealous of me, he’ll do it to spite me.”

“Yes, you’re probably right.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So tell him.”

“No. It’s his decision or not at all. I don’t want anything from him. I want to be with him as an equal and the only way to do that is to go in with no expectations. If he wants to give me anything, that’s his choice. The only thing I want from him is his love. It’s the only thing I can give him in return.”

“Everyone has expectations. You had them of me. You expected to be married. A house. A garden. Children. You wanted a certain lifestyle and I gave that to you.”

“And look what that got me. Got both of us. We’re stuck in a marriage we’d both rather be out of but for our obligations. We’ve both fallen in love with someone else who we can’t be with. We’re so lucky to be friends but it’s not enough. No. Love. That’s my choice now. Just that. Anything else is a bonus. I don’t need it.”

“Are you saying you didn’t love me?”

“No. I loved you. But you didn’t love me. Not the way I wanted to be loved. And I was young and foolish and thought that you’d change. You’d settle down. You’d grow to love me back. That I loved you enough for the both of us. I was wrong.”

“I’m settling down now.”

“But not with me.”

“I would have happily settled down with you, Camilla. That was the point. You choose someone you want to grow old together with. But I can’t now. Because you’d be half a person if I made you give him up. Don’t deny it. I remember the first time I made you give him up for me. And I was of the understanding that you were quite pathetically in love with me yet it still hurt you to leave him to marry me. So I allowed you to cling onto him as a friend.”

“I didn’t require your permission.”

“But I encouraged it. The second time I made you give him up was much worse.”

“That wasn’t your decision.”

“Ultimately, it was. I steered you both towards it and after his wedding you seemed to shrink. Everything about you was less vibrant. You were so quiet for such a long time, even though you claimed you didn’t love him. If that was your heartbreak to lose a man you didn’t love… I don’t want to be responsible for doing that to you again. I know it’s the real deal between the two of you. If you get ripped apart now, I’m not sure you’d ever be whole again.”

Surprisingly, she’s dry-eyed although perhaps that is because she cried out all the tears in her soul beforehand thinking about Charles. There’s none left for Andrew. “I’m sorry.” It seems so insignificant to her. What on Earth can the word ‘sorry’ do to atone for all that?

“It’s just bad timing. It took me thirty years to want to settle down with you. You wanted to settle down immediately. You could have coped with ten years. You were at your breaking point with twenty years. But thirty. That was too long. You gave up on me. I don’t blame you. Perhaps if you’d have taken many lovers, we might have been okay. But you’re not like that. You’re loyal. That was never going to work for you.”

“No. I’m not built like that.”

“Unlike me, he’ll appreciate your monogamous loyalty. Us two, we’re good together. We’re a really good match. But you’ve never looked at me like you look at him. You’ve never been that degree of desperate to answer the phone to me. I think you’re hopelessly in love with him, the all bells all whistles desperately in love epic like you read about in one of your novels.”

“Does it make you feel nauseous?”

“Completely. But I feel better for getting it off my chest. Thank you for listening.”

“Any time.”

“It’s almost time for you to wait anxiously by the phone as if staring it it will hurry it up.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“I’m being factual. Time to listen to your other husband.”

“Don’t joke.”

“Just tell me one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Tell me that I’m better in bed.”

“Oh! I don’t remember. It’s been too long.”

“No! I can’t have that. Tell me I’m better in bed. Surely I’m better in bed?”

“Andrew, you were quite exceptional in bed.”

“I know that. It wasn’t my question though.”

“Well, sex just gets better with age, doesn’t it? So it’s not really a fair comparison between now and then.”

“Does it? I think it peters out, personally…”

“And it’s definitely better the longer you’ve been with somebody…”

“Hmm… I’m not sure I agree with that either… Hold on, have you been sleeping with HRH for longer than with me now?”

“With Charles? I think so.”

“God it must be dull.”

“Perhaps I enjoy dull sex?”

“You don’t.”

“No, I don’t, you’re right.”

“Could you imagine the two of us having sex now?”

“Not really.”

“It used to be really good.”

“Yes, it did.”

“I taught you everything you know.”

“How boring does that sound?”

“You’re not boring. I’ll give you that, Milla. Insane, yes, but boring, no. Never.”

“I’m calm now, thank you.”

“Don’t say I don’t look out for you.”

“I never would.”

“Duke… I would make a good Duke. Or a Baron. I’m not grasping.”

“If it were up to me, you would be a Duke, if that’s what you wanted, your Grace.”

“Instead I’m just a Brigadier and the Silver Stick.”

“What a lowly position.”

“Compared to what you’re going to be, it is.”

“I’m getting it.”

“What? The crown?”

“No! The phone.”

“It’s not…”

The bell sounds and she smiles, getting up and walking out of the room to answer.