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Alexandra turned the page. The photographers had captured her holding the hand of a dying woman.
Olivia
Alexandra remembered her name. She always would. Olivia’s gaunt eyebrow and eyelash-less face under the headscarf. Olivia was the same age as Alexandra and had a new husband and a baby. She had spoken of the things she wished she could have done, the life she wished she could have lived. How she wished so much she could live to see her baby grow up. But it was taken away from her. She was only thirty four years old. Alexandra had written a card to her the following day and asked her staff to keep her appraised of Olivia’s condition. It was only a week later when she was informed that Olivia had died. There it was, life and death; that quick and easy stroke that could happen to any of us at any time.
Yet, here was Olivia, forever immortalised in a photograph with Princess Alexandra. Olivia dying in bed and Alexandra sitting next to her holding her hand. Alexandra’s own face kind and gentle. A tear on Alexandra’s cheek. Was that real? Did they photoshop it? It was an iconic photograph that Alexandra knew would raise her status. A photograph that would be all over social media by now. The ever loving Alexandra with her kind open heart. The image of herself that had been cultivated carefully by the palace’s press and media department since she was a child.
Princess Alexandra the good.
Princess Alexandra would be a brighter future.
Queen Alexandra one day.
Polls said she would be far more popular as a monarch than her father had ever been.
The public loved Alexandra and demanded more and more from her. Alexandra looked at her blue eyes in the mirror, her ash blonde hair full around her face with Alicia’s work. Her make up immaculate. Small tasteful diamonds glinting at her ears and neck.
She was the Princess the people demanded. Every year she gave more of herself and it was never enough. Could she feign a marriage to a suitable man just to make the people happy?
She had one year to do it. To find a man to marry. To give the people the Royal Wedding that they wanted.
Alexandra sighed as she got up and went to her dressing room to put on her perfect outfit.
Her life was not her own.
2
Sergeant Erin Kennedy was part of branch SO14 Royalty Protection in the Metropolitan Police. She was just getting her breath back after a tough gym session following a nightshift. She had been working on Residential Security at one of the Royal Country Residences. A big country castle with none of the Royal family currently in it. Sure, a great use of highly trained royalty protection officers she always thought. She was frustrated by how boring Residential Security actually was. A glorified security guard.
Sweat dripped off her face and between her breasts under her police T shirt. As usual, she had trained hard. Her dark hair damp to her head and her face red with exertion.
“Kennedy. Get over here.” Inspector Colin Travis shouted from the padded matting. He was the lead on unarmed combat. He was a tall, muscular guy with a bald head and intense blue eyes. He moved straight to a recap of things they had done before. He went to attack Erin from different angles with different weapons or methods of attack and every time her body reacted quickly and immediately diffused the threat.
“Very good Kennedy. Very Good,” he said. “Now we are going to run through a defence from a handbag snatch.
Erin watched him as he asked her to pretend to grab the handbag from the training dummy. He went through the moves she needed to make to defend it. She always enjoyed unarmed combat. She had had times when Colin had thrown her to the floor and looked at her with those intense blue eyes that she had felt almost heterosexual. There was an intensity to his grip and his moves. She learnt to replicate them exactly. He was a very good teacher.
She finished up her training and then headed to shower and change and ordered a taxi to the train station to head home.
She made it home to her West London apartment later that day. It was grey and raining outside. The nature of her work was antisocial. She had 3 days off now. A Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Her few friends worked normal office hours so were nowhere to be seen.
Erin flicked the kettle on and settled on the sofa, contemplating her life choices. The Royalty Protection Unit had sounded prestigious and exciting. But it wasn’t proving to be. It was taking up most of her life and her days off she often spent bored and lonely.
Her phone beeped and a voicemail flashed up. She swiped to listen to it.
Erin sweetheart, it’s Mum. Your father and I were wondering when you are going to visit us. It has been such a long time since we have seen you.
Erin groaned and deleted it. She didn’t have a great relationship with her parents. They had never loved the fact that their errant daughter was gay. Unmarried. No children. They ploughed all their energy into their golden son- Erin’s brother Jack who had done exactly what was expected of him. Good job, nice but bland wife, two children. They had never appreciated Erin’s job.
“Erin, darling. It is no job for a woman, the police in London. Why must you insist on doing such a manly job?” Erin’s mother was patronising and painfully middle class. Nothing Erin did or said would ever make her parents happy.
Her phone beeped again. A text.
Babe, just wondering if you are home tonight? I could come over. x
Erin’s on/off on/off girlfriend Sophie. Girlfriend really wasn’t the right word. On/off because she couldn’t decide what she wanted. Sophie was twenty nine years old and still had no idea what she wanted. A man or a woman? A relationship or not a relationship? Sophie changed her jobs as regularly as she changed her boyfriends and girlfriends. Sophie was charming and lovely and pretty but entirely unreliable as a partner. But then, Erin wasn’t so sure she really wanted a long term partner anymore so maybe it was fine.
Erin did know that Sophie’s text still had the ability to interest her straight away. It had been a while since she had had sex and Sophie could always be relied upon for a hot night, if nothing else.
