“I know your father called you with heavy news, and I know that you had to sit with it on your own. I should have been the one to come and tell you, rather than leaving it to him.
“I’m going to say something to you, and I want you to hear it properly.” She paused until he gave her a nod. “Your father has done what he had to do, and the titles are going. There’s no use grieving over them like a Habsburg widow. You are still you, my darling. Mr Vidal Montcada has rather a good ring to it, I think. It’s plain, yes, but distinguished.”
Princess Anne busied herself with tucking the blankets more securely around Vidal.
“Mr Vidal Montcada’s life is, by any measure, going to be a great deal more fun than His Serene Highness’s was. There’ll be no more standing for anthems. No more cutting ribbons in the rain at the openings of provincial swimming pools. No press officers reading your post. There will be nobody, Vidal, watching how you spend your trust fund disbursements. Nobodyat all.” She tipped her head a fraction. “I am not, I should add, encouraging an immediate descent into bacchanalia. I just want you to understand that your life now has expanded rather excitingly.”
Beauchamp was looking at him now, at least. The stoniness of his expression had cracked somewhere aroundtrust fund disbursements, and what was sitting in its place was the expression of a man watching another man absorb a loss in real time.
His mother kept smoothing the cuff of his hospital gown over the cannula on the back of his hand, her thumb moving in slow steady passes. “Now. There’s a change of plans I need to discuss with you, my darling.”
“Mama?”
“Your father had hoped to gather everyone in Geneva on Thursday. That isn’t going to work now. I’ve spoken to him this morning, and he agrees that we shall come to you instead, since the doctors are very clear that you shouldn’t be flying with that arm for at least a fortnight.”
“Everyone is coming to London?”
“Everyone. Your father lands tomorrow morning. And both your brothers will be here by Friday. There’s no reason at all that we cannot have our family supper in your little flat as easily as in Geneva.”
The tears arrived before he had a chance to head them off. He hadn’t seen Fidel in eleven months, hadn’t held Adelina at all, hadn’t kissed his father’s cheek since the morning Carlos had left for Geneva. The thought of all of them in one room, with Adelina passed from arm to arm and his father saying grace over the table brought up a lump in his throat.
“Mercè will bebeside herself. She has not seen Pare in three months. She used to sit on his feet during the news, do you remember, and now she’s been deprived. She is going to makethe most appalling fuss when he walks into the flat, you have no idea. She’ll piddle. There will be piddle, Mama, all over the parquet.”
“Then we shall mop the parquet.”
“And Adelina. I shall finally meet Adelina, and she’ll love me on sight! I have been practising my baby voice. Beauchamp has heard it and he hasopinions.”
His mother’s mouth softened at the corner. “I’m sure he does.”
“And we must put Jordi in the Connaught because Fidel and Maria will need somewhere quiet for the baby. Pare must have my room because he cannot share with anyone since he started snoring after his sixtieth, and I shall sleep on the sofa. Oh! But then where shall we put Beauchamp?”
He turned his head on the pillow.
Beauchamp had stepped a foot closer to the bed somewhere during his mother’s news, though his hands were still clasped loosely in front of him at parade rest.
“Sir. You must let me know what you require by way of itineraries. I’ll need flight numbers, arrival times, and any preferred routings from the airports. I’ll arrange the cars and rooms at the Connaught for your family.”
Vidal’s mother nodded. “I’ll have my secretary send everything across to you this afternoon, Major. Thank you.”
“Ma’am.”
Vidal had begun the calming work of cataloguing logistics in his head.
“There’s one other thing, sir.” Beauchamp’s voice had gone clipped. Vidal’s head came off the pillow so he could look at the man directly. “I rang David Wallis this morning. He’s in agreement that he and his team can step into overseeing your security within the week. He’ll fly down on Tuesday for the handover. By the end of next week he will have taken over theprincipal protection role from me in full, and his team will be in place.”
The room shifted on its axis.
“He’s an excellent man, sir. He ran personal protection for two members of the Cabinet before going independant. His team is the best in the country at this kind of work. I’ll spend the next several days walking him through your routines, your preferences, the security arrangements at the flat. He’ll handle the family’s movements alongside me from Thursday onwards, so there will be a full overlap during the visit, which I think will be the least disruptive way of doing this.”
Vidal heard the words. He understood them individually, but he couldn’t get them to assemble into meaning. “Beauchamp, I do not — ”
“I’ll continue in the role until Friday week. After that, I’ll be available by mobile if Captain Wallis has any handover questions, but the day-to-day will be his from then on.”
Vidal’s mother had gone very still beside him. Her hand remained on top of his, but her thumb had stopped moving. “And where will you be moving on to, Major?” she asked, her voice mild.
“Ma’am, there’s a posting for me with Princess Caroline that will become available in a few weeks.”
“Princess Caroline.” Vidal’s tone sounded shrill, even to his own ears.
