#but in reality I tried to connect w them for years and got undermined or belittled or punished or ignored for all that

[zanzaklausx]

A horrific truth I've learned is that society at large just sort of assumes people go from non-sentient meat clouds, straight into fully realized and well adjusted human adults the moment they turn 18. Many people can't fathom the fact that everything that happened to you as a kid, how you were treated, what you were forced to do or accept, affected who you are and how you developed into who you are now. That you were fully human the entire time, and everything done to you out of "adult convenience" is now a part of you forever.

[katefiction]

Traces of Us

by katefiction (Maria) / 2014

Malcolm Kenton didn’t care for celebrity, and he didn’t understand why anyone else did either. He lived in a small cottage on the Isle of Anglesey with his wife Rosanne and his Labrador, Toby. He only bought the Guardian on principle and refused to watch anything but the BBC.

Malcolm’s grandchildren thought him old fashioned, and he often heard them sniggering behind his back when they came to visit, playing horrific ‘boom boom’  music, as he called it,  and watching some mind numbing reality TV show with people so desperate to be famous they’d strip naked on television.

When he and Rosanne visited Ye Olde Bulls Head Inn for a quiet drink, Malcolm would refuse to enter the pub quiz. He knew he’d get a perfect score on the every category, but would fail on the entertainment section. The one time he’d tried, the whole pub had erupted in laughter when he mistook a picture of Michael Jackson for Cher.

It came as a surprise to everyone then, when Malcolm announced he had been asked to come out of retirement and act as estate agent for his old friend, Sir George Meyrick.

Malcolm was to help sell the most famous farmhouse in Wales.

The farmhouse in the hamlet of Bodorgan boasted four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, dining room, and a stunning view of Newborough Forest. But even with that, the initial rush of voyeuristic customers who wanted to rent the property because of its famous connection had died away.

Now, five years after the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge had packed up and left for London, bookings were down, and Sir George was finally ready to sell the place.

Despite living in Anglesey all their lives, neither Malcolm nor Rosanne had ever met or even seen the royal residents around the island during their three year stay. Not that Malcolm would have cared if he did. Other people’s lives didn’t interest him and as he waited outside the farmhouse that winter’s day to give his tenth viewing, he sincerely hoped that his next clients wouldn’t do as the last nine had done – ask him questions about William and Kate.

‘Is this their original bed?’, ‘Would Kate have cooked on this stove?’, ‘Who did up the garden, the duke?’ Malcolm was sick of it. This wasn’t a museum for heaven’s sake.

The family of four rushed up to the door, where Malcolm, a firm believer that he didn’t need a coat to keep warm, was standing, his shoulders hunched from the cold. He had no time for tardiness.

‘So sorry we’re late!’, the woman said, bundled up in a scarf and hat, ‘I’m Bryony, and this is my husband Mark’

Mark who was similarly dressed in thick winter wear, shook his hand and exchanged pleasantries.

‘And these are the kids’, Bryony pointed, rather unnecessarily, Malcolm thought, to the young boy and girl chasing each other around the driveway.

‘Kids!’, Mark called, ‘get over here please, let’s not keep everyone waiting any longer’

The children ran over to their father dutifully and followed as Malcolm led them into the house.

The young couple seemed taken with the whitewashed house as soon as they entered, exchanging words of approval at the large hallway, and a painting of the Irish Sea hanging by the doorway.

*

‘Welcome home Mrs Wales’, William said, throwing his bags carelessly into the hall.

‘Thank you Mr Wales’, Kate replied, being all the more careful with their belongings, placing her bags down on the hard wooden floor.

‘You know I was always Mr Wales?’, he teased, ‘it hasn’t got the same charm as when it’s brand new’

‘Four days of being your wife and the novelty hasn’t worn off yet?’

‘Not a bit’, he smiled.

William and Kate were firmly in the honeymoon phase, despite not having been on their honeymoon yet. They hung off each other’s’ words, wanted to spoil each other at every given second and couldn’t keep their hands off each other. This was wedded bliss personified.

They had lived together in their Anglesey home for over a year, but coming back to their secluded house as husband and wife four days after their enormous wedding, it already felt different.

William kicked the door shut and grabbed Kate from behind, hoping to savour every moment they had together before he went back to work the next day.

‘Can I unpack first?!’ she giggled, poking him in the ribs.

‘Nope’, he replied, turning her around.

‘Tough, you know I hate mess’, she attempted to pull away, though if she was honest, her heart wasn’t really in it.

‘You have to obey me now you’re my wife’, he said with a smirk, knowing it would rile her.

‘Oh you have a lot to learn’, Kate shook her head.

‘I’m doing alright so far aren’t I? At this whole husband thing?’

‘You are’, she kissed him to show her approval. ‘Though we’re going to have to talk about you leaving your stuff by the doorway when you come in after work…’

‘The doorway!’ William said suddenly.

He took Kate by the hand and pulled her back through front door. They both stood on the step, just as they had five minutes earlier.

‘Will, what on earth?’

Lifting her up, he threw her effortlessly over his shoulder, ‘how could I forget to carry you over the threshold?’

‘This is ridiculous, put me down!’ she laughed.

He took her into the hallway, her arms and legs flailing in a bid for freedom. It didn’t have the desired effect, and instead, her foot hit the painting of the Irish Sea that hung on the wall, sending it crashing to the ground.

‘Oh crap!’

William let her down, ‘that was very naughty Mrs Wales’

She pushed his shoulder, ‘that was YOUR fault!’

‘I’m not the one who was causing a fuss!’

Kate picked up the painting and on finding that no damage had been done, hung it back up.

‘We’re married now’, she said, ‘we have to act like grown ups’

William knew better than to think she was serious. For being with Kate let out his fun side and she knew it. And if he was going to have fun anywhere, where no-one could see him, it would be here in Anglesey.

‘I suppose there are plenty of grown up things we could do’, he said, raising an eyebrow.

Kate narrowed her eyes, pretending to look unimpressed, but it wasn’t long until she broke out into a large grin, ‘you’ll have to catch me first’

With that, she sprang up the stairs, William not far behind, chasing her like a cheetah about to pounce on a particularly tasty lunch.

*

Malcolm breathed a sigh of relief as he took the family into the dining room. So far they hadn’t made any reference to the duke and duchess.

French windows looked out onto the forest, opening up the dining room, which held a large wooden dining table, ornate light fittings and fireplace.

Bryony and Mark admired the table as the children looked longingly out of the window, breathing on the glass and making shapes with their fingers in the mist.

‘Lovely for entertaining’, Bryony remarked.

‘Indeed’ Malcolm said. He wasn’t really the best salesperson in the world.

‘Looks like there’s been a little scuffle here’, Mark bent down and touched one of the table legs.

Malcolm cursed them under his breath. They had been the first ones to notice that unfortunate damage.

‘It looks like it’s been gnawed at’, Bryony said, now joining Mark at the table leg. ‘Really, who lets an untrained animal loose at an antique table?!’

*

‘KATE!’ William yelled through the house. ‘Kate, get in here!’

She rushed into the dining room, ‘what’s the emergency?’, she said, scanning the room for the disaster.

‘That is’, he pointed down to the floor where their twelve week old puppy was chomping on the leg of the dining table.

 ‘Lupo!’ she exclaimed, grabbing his back and trying to pull him off the table.

‘Bad dog’ William said, rather unhelpfully. ‘You should really train him’

‘I AM training him, no thanks to you’, she said, finally dislodging Lupo from the table.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’, William’s brow creased into a deep line.

‘It means that all you ever do is cuddle and play with him, all the hard work is left for me’, she said sternly.

His face dropped like a small child, ‘I’m no good at training him, you know that’

‘Well you need to start trying a little harder!’, she stormed out of the room, clutching Lupo, who looked rather confused at the site of the couple arguing.

‘What is wrong with you?!’, William called down the hall as he followed her, ‘because I know this isn’t about the dog, Catherine’

Kate turned on her heel so fast, Lupo’s ears swung like a helicopter, ‘it’s about the fact that we want a baby next year and you can’t even discipline a dog’

William was taken aback, he wasn’t expecting that. ‘So you’re saying I’m going to be a bad father?’

‘I’m saying that I don’t want to put all the ground work in to set boundaries for our child and have you undermine me’

He walked over to her and put his hands on both of her arms. He was stung by her words, but some things weren’t worth the fight.

‘I know I can spoil him sometimes, but your word rules, we’re a team, always have been’

‘I know’, she said quietly. ‘I’m sorry’

William chuckled, ‘I refuse to let our baby be as much of a brat as I was’

Kate managed a smile, ‘William the Terrible, wasn’t it?’

She was sure she saw him pink a little, ‘yes, but that’s not the point, the point is our baby will be nothing like me’

‘I guess it would be ok if he was a little like you’

‘Oh it’s a “he” is it?’, William laughed.

‘Yep’, she said confidently. ‘We’ll have a son, just you wait’

William had already learnt that his wife was almost always right.

*

The children were dying to go out into the garden, ‘Please Mummy! I won’t run off anywhere, I promise!’

‘We said no, now don’t ask again please’, Mark said, ruffling the child’s hair.

As Malcolm took the family into the living room, with its large sofa set and more antique oak furniture, he instinctively placed his foot over a pale mark on the patterned rug that was under the coffee table. He didn’t want Bryony and Mark to notice anything else wrong with the farmhouse.   

‘But please Daddy!!!’

Malcolm didn’t know which one of the children was making that repulsive whining noise, he preferred not to converse with anyone without cognitive thinking. His own son, like William and Kate, had left Anglesey for London and had barely looked back since. Only when his son wanted to offload his teenagers on Malcolm and Rosanne, did he see him.

He loved his son in his own way, but childhood was just a necessary evil to get to adulthood in his opinion. He could never understand the way children turned grown adults into fools. Especially babies; sticky, ugly little creatures that people went wild for.

His mind wondered back to five years ago when he had been looking forward to watching the start of the Ring O’ Fire Marathon. He had bumped into his neighbour one morning as he was collecting his milk bottles from the door step.

‘Yoo hooo! Malcolm’ she hawked. ‘Did you hear the good news?’

‘What’s that then?’, he said dryly.

‘Only that Prince William and maybe even Catherine are attending the marathon this year!’

Malcolm nodded without saying a word. He truly hoped this wouldn’t bring a load of tourists from the mainland.

‘I do hope they bring the little baby, wouldn’t that be wonderful?!’

‘Why, is it going to be entering the marathon?’

The neighbour laughed uncertainly, she never did understand Malcolm.

*

Kate was on her knees scrubbing at a stain on the rug.

‘You really should start getting ready’, William said.

‘I have to get this stain off’, she said distractedly.

Last night, their baby boy had leaked through his nappy, leaving an unsightly stain on the rug.

‘You’re gonna wear a hole in it’, he said soothingly, but Kate ignored him. ‘We need to leave soon’

Finally, she sat up, taking her eyes off the rug for the first time in fifteen minutes. ‘I can’t come’

‘Not this again’, William sighed.

‘I can’t do it, I can’t leave him’

‘Your mum is here and he’s asleep’. William had repeated this about twenty times already. If Kate didn’t move soon, they’d be late for their first engagement together since George was born. It was their final way of saying thank you to the island.

‘What if he needs me? What if he wakes up and doesn’t want to drink from the bottle? He’ll wonder where I am, he’ll be scared William’, the irrational panic was rising in her voice.

William sat down on the sofa. This was going to take some convincing.

‘You went out the shops without him, and he was fine then, remember?’

‘That was only like half an hour, and I’d just fed him’

‘But he was fine, yes?’

‘Yes but…’

‘Kate, your mum knows what she’s doing, more than we do. Try and remember why you wanted to come in the first place’. He ran a hand through her hair.

He was right, she had wanted to go to show her thanks. Anglesey had been wonderful to them, all four of them.

‘What if something happens?’

‘Rebecca has our phones, but nothing will happen, he won’t even know we’re gone’

Kate knew he was speaking sense, but first time motherhood didn’t pair itself with rational thinking. Especially when you were leaving your baby.

‘I guess’, she said softly, standing up to stretch her legs. 

‘He’ll be fine’, William said, stroking her arm, ‘and so will you’

She gave him a little squeeze for reassurance, ‘what would I do without you?’

*

Mark and Bryony were eager to see the upstairs part of the house. With four bedrooms and two bathrooms, it would be perfect for this little family, Malcolm thought.

He showed them each room in turn, ending with the master bedroom. Bryony and Mark smiled at each other as they entered. Clearly the spacious wardrobe and king size bed was a hit.

Malcolm had a good feeling about these clients; they seemed to like everything about the house and hadn’t yet uttered a word about the previous tenants. Sir George would certainly be happy if he found a suitable buyer.

‘Great view’, Mark said, his hands tucked in his pockets, staring out of the window. The view from the bedroom was Malcolm’s favourite. It looked out onto a small beach that Sir George owned. ‘I could look at it all day’.

*

The waves lapped at the rocks, sending water spraying across the beach. It was why William loved the view from his bedroom window; you never knew what the sea would be doing from one day to the next.

‘See that George, that is what Mummy and Daddy got to wake up to every morning’. He looked down at his son who was blinking at him sweetly, tucked up in his arms.

He turned around and looked at the room, now almost empty, but for a few boxes that had to be taken away. This had been his home for three wonderful years. It pained him to think that George wouldn’t grow up here.

As Kate took charge of the packing downstairs, William walked solemnly from room to room, recalling memories to George.

They were different like that, Kate always kept herself busy when she was stressed or worried. William on the other hand would sit and stare at the ceiling with the sounds of the African bush pulsing through his headphones.

‘This is where we found out we were having you’, he said, showing George the all-white bathroom. ‘Daddy even cried a little bit that day’, he whispered.

After moving through each room as slowly as he could, he finally reached the largest spare room. ‘And this would’ve been your room, it would’ve been so cool, I’d have put all sorts in here, little elephants and lions on the walls, you would’ve loved it’

If things had been different, William, Kate, George and Lupo would’ve stayed in Anglesey. But with the Search and Rescue Service being privatised and William’s other duties calling, they had no choice but to leave.

‘Will, are you done?’, Kate called from downstairs.

‘Just a sec’, he called back.

‘One day, you, me, Mummy and Lupo are going to come for a summer holiday here. I’ll take you to the beach and we can have a barbecue, how does that sound?’

George gurgled in agreement, making Will laugh.

‘Shall we say goodbye then?’

He took George downstairs and met Kate at the front door.

‘Ok?’ she asked, sensing his mood.

‘I was just telling George about us coming back for a summer holiday’

‘That would be fantastic’, she said, rubbing his back softly.

It truly was bittersweet. As much as Kate was excited to move into their apartment in London, to have a home she could decorate without renting restrictions, she loved this home as much as William had. Their memories here were countless, each room, nook and cranny left behind a trace of them.

‘Shall we?’ William said, reluctant, but ready to leave.

‘Let’s go home’, Kate said, confident in the fact that eventually, their lives in apartment 1A would live up to their little Welsh farmhouse.

Boxes removed and cupboards emptied, they left the keys on the counter in the kitchen, closing the door on the best three years of their lives.

*

The Cambridges hadn’t been back for a holiday, that much Malcolm knew. He could always tell when they were about by the blacked out cars driving up and down the island. It was too late now, he thought. It would be sold, probably to this family, in a couple of months.

He could go home to Rosanne a happy man, knowing that he didn’t have to show any more people around here.

‘So, shall I tell Mr Merick you’re interested?’ he asked the couple as the children ran out of the door.

The couple looked at each other, ‘I think we’ll have a think about it’, Bryony said.

‘Yes, but it is lovely, thank you for showing us around’, Mark said as they left.

Malcolm locked up the house and meandered down the path, watching the family bundle into the car. He was off to the Ye Olde Bulls Head Inn, but certainly wouldn’t be taking part in the quiz, he muttered to himself.

*

‘So what did you think?’ Mark said, strapping himself into the driver’s seat.

In the back, the two children were arguing, the boy shouting bossily at the girl.

Bryony pulled off her hat and scarf, and turned to face her children in the back seat.

‘George Alexander Louis, if I have to tell you one more time to stop yelling at your sister…’, she shot a warning look at her five year old son, stopping him in his tracks.

Turning back to her husband, she answered, ‘it was nice to see one last time, even if it wasn’t for our summer holiday’

‘Do you think that bloke suspected anything?’, his sharp blue eyes gazed into hers.

‘I think he was in his own world’, she laughed. 

The family drove away in their Land Rover, the children arguing and laughing in turn all the way home.

The fingerprints of the young prince and princess against the French windows was the only trace they left behind.