ASSOCIATION / CH. 14:WEDDING DAY

SATURDAY, 13TH JANUARY. 8.45AM

“I hope you approve, Eliza.” Caroline said, indicating the collection of clothes she and the other bridesmaids had picked out as possible going-away outfits.

Eliza did. “They look perfect to me. I guess I need to try them all on, don't I?”

“Could be embarrassing if you pick something which doesn't fit very well.” Caroline agreed.

“OK, how much time have we got for this?”

“Not long. You said your cousins would be coming for you at nine?”

“I did, didn't I?” Eliza checked her wrist unit. “OK, so, I can't try everything with everything...”

“Well try this one. It's the one we're least certain of, but it goes so well with this and this...” Caroline indicated a combination that Eliza had already noticed.

“That if it all fits it'll be a gorgeous combination.” Eliza agreed.

“You agree?”

“Of course I do.”

----------------------------------------

9.30AM, QUY HOUSEHOLD.

Q.Q. finished another maths question and glanced at the clock again. It had been ten minutes since he'd last looked. He had two hours to wait before May's mag-lev arrived. This wasn't going to work very well. Two more maths questions that were probably as long as the one he'd just finished, and he'd be finished with that subject. He'd thought it would take longer, or that he'd had more questions, or something. It looked like he was wrong. Concentrating on maths was one thing, but without that... he was going to be at such a loose end! On the other hand he didn't want to start something that would be too open-ended, like his essay. Firstly because it wasn't likely to grab his attention well enough to make time fly, and secondly because if by some remote chance it did grab his attention then he might lose track of time. Maybe he should do something more practical. Or maybe call May? That sounded a very attractive option. After all he'd told her he thought he'd be working on his maths all morning. What a stupid overestimation. So, he'd call her. But first... maths. Maybe he'd get an unpleasant surprise and the last question would take him an hour.

----------------------------------------

09.50AM, RESTORATION

May looked at the train timetable on her wrist unit. She didn't want to be pushy, or forward, but killing time was so annoying. Q.Q. had said he'd be working on his maths homework all morning. She didn't want to interrupt him; that would be selfish. But if he was going to finish soon, then she could get the earlier train. Assuming she left soon. She had maybe ten minutes. Was calling and suggesting that she come early too... too what? pushy? Was that the right word? Old books would have called it 'forward'. But was he as keen to see her as she was to see him? She stopped short at that thought for a few seconds. What sort of a question was that? Judging by the efforts he'd made to try and spend time with her since they first met, of course he was keen to see her. But was she keen to see him and if so, why? She needed to talk to him, certainly, about the growing feelings she had towards him.

But did that need a face to face meeting? Or was exposing her thoughts and talking about strong emotions face to face and especially at his house, even a good idea? And how could she know?

She slapped herself on the head for trying to solve all this herself. “Mum!”

----------------------------------------

10.10AM

Q.Q. rang the Ngbila home number. “Hello, is May there? It's Q.Q.”

Hannah grinned to herself “Oh, sorry, Q.Q. she's just gone out, well, I say just, it was about five minutes ago. Is there a problem?”

“Uh.” Q.Q. felt like an idiot for not ringing earlier. “Not really, just I was wondering if she'd like to catch the earlier train. My maths was easier than I thought it would be.”

“Oh, well, you left that a bit late, didn't you? She'd probably have missed the train anyway.”

“I know. I'm an idiot; I should have called half an hour ago, but I kept expecting there to be some sort of catch in one of the questions, but there wasn't anything.”

“Oh well. No great harm done. I suggest you talk to your sister, Q.Q.” Hannah said, cryptically.

“Oh? What about?”

“Now, that would be telling, wouldn't it?”

“Mrs Ngbila, are you trying to be cryptic?”

“Of course I am. I wouldn't like to spoil anything. See you some time, Q.Q.”

“Goodbye, Maam.”

Arwood looked up from what he was doing. “What's there to spoil?”

“Q.Q.'s just rung up hoping May could catch an earlier train.”

“I gathered. Why didn't you tell him that she's on her way to the station already?”

“He didn't ask. As long as he talks to Rhianna then he'll find out soon enough.”

----------------------------------------

“Rhi, do you have any idea why Mrs Ngbila would tell me I should talk to you?”

“When was that?” Rhianna asked.

“Just now.”

“She just rang you up and told you to talk to me?” she asked.

“No. I rang to talk to May and she said she'd just left, but I should talk to you.”

“Oh. Well, you should, shouldn't you?” She said, matter of factly. Then she put on her best professional face “So, Mr Quy, tell me all about your hopes, dreams, expectations, plans for the future and uncontrollable urges! Not to mention you homework.”

He pulled a face. “Homework is dead, long live the homework, but not yet.”

“Eh?”

“I've finished my maths, and really don't want to start on my essay.”

“Why not?”

“Would you start writing an essay on the impact of the wool trade in the middle-ages on modern civilisation? When you've got about an hour and a half to kill?”

“Don't be silly, I don't know anything about the wool trade.”

“Nor do I.” Seeing her about to respond he corrected himself “No, that's overstating it. But it seems like one of those silly essays where you could write a dozen books if you researched it enough.”

“And you get low marks if you don't quote lots of sources?”

“Exactly. And I bet the teacher's smuggled some critical volume onto the classroom bookshelf that we'd be absolute fools not to start off with. She does that sort of thing.”

“Oh well. So you're waiting for May to arrive, are you?”

“Yes. And I left calling her too late, but I was so certain there'd be a major complication in one of the maths questions. I should have called and asked if she could come early about half an hour ago. And Mum says everything's under control and I can help best by staying out of the kitchen.”

He looked so gloomy that Rhianna decided to have mercy on him “Good job she's catching the early train then, isn't it?”

“She is?”

“Yes. For some reason she wanted to be here just in case you happened to finish your maths early. Mum said I could meet her at the station, want to come too?”

“Go on, guess.” he said with a massive grin.

“Well, it wouldn't surprise me if you really wanted me to stay at home so you have more chance of stopping somewhere for a private examinations of each other's tonsils.”

“Rhi!” he interrupted in protest as she paused for breath.

“But I'm coming, so there. What?”

“It's not like that at all.”

“What? You've been seeing her almost every day for a fortnight. I'd assumed you'd have had at least one discrete snog.”

“Sarah's banned us from dating, remember? I don't even really know what she feels about me. We haven't even kissed. Until yesterday I'd have said I didn't even know if she thought of me as anything more than a persistent pest.”

“Oh, yeah, she said something about being too reserved. So, what happened yesterday, other than she accepted Mum's invitation to dinner?”

“She wrote me an encouraging message, and said she wanted to tell me what she'd been talking to Sarah about in person.”

“Oh. Right.”

----------------------------------------

11.00AM

Q.Q. hung back a bit as Rhianna ran along the platform to meet May.

“Hi Rhi, did you tempt Q.Q away from his homework?” May asked.

“He claims he's finished it. Actually, he didn't know you were coming until he told me that, so I guess it's true. Should I keep my nose out of what you two say on the way home?”

May quickly reviewed what she wanted to say to Q.Q, and what she needed to not say. Not to mention the urges she needed to suppress.

“Well, actually... I think I'm rather counting on you being around.”

“Oh?”

“There's nothing like a chaperone for keeping unhelpful urges under control.”

Rhianna gaped. “I thought a chaperone was a bitter old lady.”

“No. Just someone to remind us who we are in Christ.” May said, just as Q.Q. arrived.

“Hi, May!”

“Hi Q.Q. I'm just confusing Rhianna by asking her to not leave us in private.”

“Oh. I thought... urm... Can I ask why?”

“Because I used to out-flirt Kara and part of me wants to, especially when I see her fluttering her eyelashes at you, and I see you noticing. But that's not the me who wants to honour God.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” Rhianna asked.

“Don't let me do much more than hold his hand, I guess.” May said, then touching Rhianna's hand she thought [I really don't think it'd help me or him if I act around him the way I used to act around boys before I came back to God.]

[When was that?]

“Q.Q., Rhi's just asked me when I came back to God. Just so you know, it was only about six weeks ago. So I've got bad habits to unlearn too. Hence, no dates for a while.”

“But, urm, you'd like to go on some later?” Q.Q. asked, his heart in his throat.

May looked at his face, the hope in his eyes, his lips that she really wanted to feel on hers. She tore her eyes away and cleared her throat. “Yes, very much so. Don't pay any attention to Kara's eye-lashes, Q.Q., she does that to lots of boys. Urm, which way do we need to go?”

“This way.” Q.Q. said, then he added, in a puzzled tone “I don't get it, May.”

“Me neither.” Rhianna said.

“Rhi first.” May decided. “What don't you get?”

“Why does she get the priority treatment?” Q.Q. asked.

“Because Rhianna's question is probably safer.”

Rhianna pulled a face. “It might not be. I thought the whole girl meets boy thing was all about wanting to sneak off for hugs and kisses and if you're really serious then you start snogging each other's tonsils off.”

May draw her breath, “And then when you've done that for a bit and it doesn't feel daring enough then you start touching each other's clothes in places you shouldn't and then you taking liberties with each other's clothing and so on down the slippery slope. That's the world's attitude, yes. What's the Christian one?”

“True love waits. But...” Rhianna said.

“But you thought that it's OK to play on the top of the slide as long as you don't go down too far?”

“Urm, isn't it?”

“Does playing with temptation honour God?” May challenged her. “Does it help either of us concentrate on whatever is pure and noble and honourable?”

“Not really.” Rhianna answered.

“So, though I'm feeling rather tempted to wear clothes that would make your brother putty in my hands, and to out-flirt my cousin to make sure that he's not going to give her a second glance when I'm within a hundred kilometres, I don't think any of that would help either of us stay close to God.”

“Why do I get the feeling I'm being thought of like a piece of meat that you and Kara are fighting over?” Q.Q. asked, a bit offended.

“Because under the old regime that's what you would be. Just bear that in mind when she flutters at you; she's just trying to score points. It's an old unhelpful game we used to play. Sorry.”

“So... not flirting means you're more serious about me?” Q.Q. asked.

“Not flirting means that I'm trying to honour God now. Kara never went as deep into rebellion as I was and hasn't repented of it quite as much.”

Quentin began to have uncomfortable thoughts. Just how far down that slippery slope had May slipped? He wanted to ask but how could he? He decided he couldn't.

May heard and reached for his hand. [What can't you ask?]

[It's too... I can't ask something that private.]

[How deep was my rebellion and stupidity?] May supplied.

[Yes.]

[I did a lot of flirting. My idea of a good party was to see how many boys I could have focussed on me.]

[And then?] the thought escaped his mind. [Sorry. I didn't want to ask that. I'm too curious for my own good.]

[It's OK. Q.Q. Some of them got kisses, maybe a squeeze or two. No more, if that's what you're worried about.]

[Urm, thanks.] he had been worried, he realised. Then he asked [Does that mean kisses are rebellion and so are out of the question?]

[I don't really think I should start kissing you, Q.Q. Not yet, not until I've got more self control. Otherwise I'd be back in the bad place, I think. But maybe just a quick one as a goodbye? I hope I can clear that with my conscience. It probably depends what it's doing.]

[What do you mean, depends what what's doing?]

[Sarah was saying some stuff about God not wanting us to be neuter, but not wanting us to lead each other to sin either. Things we need to work out between ourselves. Do kisses just express who we are, with a clear conscience, or do they lead to temptation and sin? I think a so-called 'good lusty snog' is out, but is a kiss out because it might lead to tonsil hockey, or is it OK because we clearly make a difference. You probably kiss your gran, but you'd never snog her, I hope.]

[Wow.{stunned amazement}]

[Your thoughts on the matter are welcome.]

[Urm, I'll let you know.]

[?]

[Sorry. New areas of thought. My gran's dead by the way, but yeah, I get it. But you're saying that me finding some women extremely attractive is how God made me, sin comes from when I don't do the right thing with those hormones and sensory input?]

[And I presume that you know that thinking about the attractive women you know and what you find attractive about them would be a good way of getting shunned for a long time.]

[Even if her name is May Ngbila?]

[It ought to, I don't need that pride-food.]

[You know, it's very nice holding hands like this.]

[I think your sister might suspect something of the sort.]

[Why do you say that?]

[She just asked you if you'd notice the world ending.]

“Pardon, Rhi?” Quentin asked.

“I'd say the correct answer is 'no', Rhi.” May replied.

Rhianna laughed “I understand that the male ability to focus on one thing to the exclusion of all others was very useful to stone-age hunter-gatherers.”

“You're calling him a cave-man, aren't you, Rhi?” May asked, with a grin.

“Only partially.”

“Well, he must be a civilised cave-man: he hasn't hit me over the head and dragged me anywhere by the hair yet.”

“Should I?” Q.Q. offered.

“No.”

“Has he told you what he doesn't get yet?” Rhi asked. “I'm curious.”

“No. What was it, Q.Q?”

“I know I said I didn't get something, but I... Oh, yeah. I know.”

“Well?” Rhianna asked.

Q.Q. looked into May's eyes “It was just, I was wondering why telling me not to pay attention to Kara's eyelashes needed a face to face meeting, and why you wanted to come early if we weren't going to spend time alone. I'm glad you came.”

“And now you know?”

“Would have been hard to say those things over a phone.”

“Exactly.”

“What things?” Rhianna asked.

“Things we've been talking about.” Quentin said, evasively.

“One was that Sarah pointed out that God made us, biochemistry and all, and said 'be holy'. Those two don't need to be contradictory: we don't need to stamp out every aspect of biochemistry in order to be holy, but of course we don't let biochemistry rule, either.”

“What does that end up meaning, practically speaking?” Rhianna asked, full of curiosity.

“That's one of the things we were thinking about, yes.”

“May, can I be incredibly rude and ask if you're in love with my brother or not? I know he's besotted with you, of course.”

“I don't really know.” May said, with total honesty. “I've been trying really hard to keep it just at friendship, since falling in love just makes things complicated when dating is off the cards. But Kara keeps fluttering her impressive eyelashes and I'm not really succeeding. I miss him when he doesn't come around every day and I think that if anyone else dares to get close to him then it might end in bloodshed unless she can run away fast.”

“For the record.” Quentin said quietly, “I'm very glad you decided to say something, I was starting to interpret your self-control as meaning you weren't really interested. And yes, Kara was making it clear she was.”

“Hmm. Would it help you if she stopped doing that, Q.Q?”

“After today? Now I know I've got a real chance with you, and she knows it? I think it's might even be annoying.”

“You've always had a real chance with me, Q.Q. Didn't I tell you that when you asked me to teach you about the clan?”

“Not really. You said falling in love didn't matter.”

“But I also said you were asking for real friendship, and I'm pretty sure I said something like them considering you mine until I told them I didn't want you. And if we had that sort of deep friendship that would survive not falling in love, don't you think I'd discuss that with you?”

“So what's Kara doing if she knows I'm yours?” Quentin asked.

“Partly, she's letting you know she'd like to be first in the line if it doesn't work out between us.”

“I got that message.”

“She's also playing on your ignorance and hoping to steal you from me, which she shouldn't be doing.”

“And since I wasn't getting any message about it working out between us...”

“And you were ignorant and you don't know me well enough, or how the clan works.” May drew a deep breath “And because I was trying to keep unemotional about you, I didn't explain things very well, I guess. To make it clear, Quentin....”

“Yes?”

“You asked me to teach you about the clan. I sought the approval of my elders and they accepted the idea, as did I. What we all accepted was that I'd be spending a lot of time building a close friendship with you. We weren't expecting you to take up permanent residence in the living room, but, hey, why not? That's a good place to get to know one another. But we've been concentrating on other things so I haven't done much telling you about the clan. What you asked for is not quite the same as dating, because this friendship you've asked for is supposed to not be about romance. But since we've both got hormones.... we're almost certainly on a path that will lead to marriage unless as friends we decide that it's better if it stays friendship. In other words, I'm more committed to you than I would be if we were just dating. If we were just dating and we broke up, then goodbye. With this... I'd still expect to see you around, talk to you, and the like.”

“So, really you're saying 'we'll probably marry, why rush off on dates that'll just lead to temptation?'”

“I guess so.”

“But although we'll probably marry, it's too early for me to propose?”

“Certainly! We don't know each other well enough for that, Q.Q.”

“Just checking.” he said with a grin.

“You never know, when we know each other better we might decide that Mandy's actually a better match for you and I ought to just let go of my feelings for you.”

“Mandy 'no-boyfriend, not much faith, no future'?”

“Mandy who is mega-smart on an international level, apparently, and has now got a future in Security.”

“But doesn't have the power.”

“OK, well you could always wait for Holly to grow up.”

“Why should I, when you're gorgeous, intelligent, full of faith and developing feelings for me?”

“I don't know. You probably shouldn't. I'd get jealous.”

“So, now that's settled...”

“Yes?”

“Am I allowed to call you my girlfriend?”

“What, when we're not dating, not even planning to date in the near future, and we've not kissed either?” May stopped and asked, with her thoughts hidden.

“Oh, yeah. That's tricky, isn't it?” he agreed.

“But otherwise, it's not a bad description of what's between us.” She added in her best dispassionate, analytical manner. “Of course, I could call you my suitor, which isn't a bad description either, but it's a bit archaic, so I guess we'll have to stick with girlfriend-boyfriend. Hold still.” She moved a little closer to him and brushed some imagined dust off his shoulder, then quickly moved in to kiss his shocked lips. She didn't linger very long, just long enough to be a proper, undeniable, kiss.

“There. That's that problem solved.” she said, matter of factly.

“Hey! Wasn't I supposed to stop you doing that sort of thing?” Rhianna protested.

“May, you see that woman coming down the road towards us?” Quentin asked.

“Oh, go on, please tell me that's not your mother.” May said, embarrassed.

“That's mum.” Rhianna confirmed, waving.

“Good job we've decided we're boyfriend and girlfriend then.”

“Good job we're not going to kiss.” he retorted.

“It solved a problem. It won't happen too often. Hold hands?”

“In a communicating way or just because you want to?” Rhianna challenged, deciding she needed to make her presence felt.

“Communicating.” May replied.

“OK.” Rhianna agreed.

[Q.Q. I couldn't ask you about that beforehand. But is it OK?]

[It's fine, I was surprised, I've no idea what Mum's going to say, but I love you, May, and I don't mind us kissing. Why couldn't you ask?]

[Because I was afraid it'd turn into an ethical discussion, and that it'd become more of a temptation than otherwise. As it was, it solved several problems, it was almost spontaneous, not very emotion-filled, and now we can decide if it's a good idea or not.]

[I'm not sure I understand.]

[I'm not going to flirt with you; I don't want to feed your hormones or mine. But I did want you to know I've feelings for you, with more than just confusing words.]

[Um, yeah. It was sort of convincing.]

[Good. Now we just need to decide if we ought to do it again. I think the answer is probably not very often.] she thought, then said “Hello, Mrs Quy.”

“Hi Mum.” Rhianna and Quentin greeted their mother. “Everything all right?”

“Mostly. I presume that this young woman I witnessed kissing you on the street is May?” May heard the lack of approval in her voice.

“Yes, Mum.” Quentin admitted.

“We were thinking it would be difficult for Quentin to call me his girlfriend if we're not going to be dating for the foreseeable future and have never kissed.” May said. “So I rather impulsively solved that latter one.”

“Not dating?” Quentin's mother was surprised.

“Not in the way most people use the word, no.” May said. “No getting away from people for time alone, anyway.”

“That's an unusual approach.”

“Quentin asked to learn about my clan, Mrs Quy, maybe even to join it. I've also promised to teach him more about his power. That means we need to spend a lot of time together, become friends. Given how he claims to feel about me and I'm starting to feel about him we could well end up marrying. But it might not happen, and really it's a bit early to be kissing each other.”

“So why did you do it?”

“Because calling Q.Q my suitor is too archaic and calling him my student or my apprentice is too distant, and we are getting emotional about each other. But we don't exactly fit in the normal boyfriend/girlfriend category.”

“So you decided to leap into it with both lips?” Mrs Quy asked.

“Urm, sort of.” May admitted.

“So, why aren't you going to be dating?”

“Because that's about romance and opportunities to test our resistance to temptation. If I'm going to educate him properly then we need to be first and foremost friends, without encouraging the romance side of things, and I'd rather avoid temptation, thank-you very much.”

“You really think you can be friends without romance if you're already kissing?” Mrs Quy asked archly.

“Not really, but we don't need to concentrate on that aspect of things, surely?”

“Mum, why have you come to meet us?” Rhianna asked. “I mean, it's not exactly a nice day for a walk.”

“Oh, I don't know.” she looked up at the grey sky. Sleet was starting to fall. “Sleet has its good points.” she said with a wry smile.

“Really? What are they?”

“Not so many people about.”

“Meaning Dad?” Quentin asked.

“Basically I came to warn you, May. My husband's not in the best mood at the moment.”

“As in, I shouldn't come?”

“No, it should be OK. It's just that he's had today circled for months, looking forward to watching his team play their arch-rivals. Because of the royal wedding they moved the match to this morning. I guess it was a last minute announcement, or at least, he didn't know or had forgotten. So, anyway, he went to check the exact start time, only to see the final whistle blown and the final score all over the screen.”

“Did his team win?” May asked.

“No, it was a draw. Nil-nil. So, to quote him, 'There's not even any point to watching the highlights, unless there were some excellent tackles or fouls, and I don't like fouls.'”

“Oh. So his long anticipated pleasure has been ruined?”

“Exactly.”

“So... how unhappy is he?” Rhianna asked.

“I expect he's going to behave himself. He does know May's coming.”

An idea struck May. “Mrs Quy, I'm just a teenager talking about something she knows nothing about ... but I know my dad sometimes recommends married couples go on a date together, with all kids out of the house entirely.”

“Oh, does he?”

“I've heard him say it. I expect Mum and Dad would be OK with the idea of Rhi and Q.Q. staying over.”

“Well it's a big request, but maybe I could talk to your parents about it sometime.”

“I was actually thinking of tonight. You know... meet a potential future daughter-in-law and then have an evening to celebrate the thought that eventually you'll be able to pass on the responsibility of doing all Q.Q's thinking for him?” May said with a wicked grin.

“Hey!” Q.Q. protested.

His mother laughed though, and said “May Ngbila you've clearly been listening to too many adults talking behind closed doors.”

“I've got cousins, Maam. Lots of cousins, and while the parents talk in the kitchen and we talk in the living room, sometimes a girl needs to get a drink of water, doesn't she?”

“Hmm.” was all Quentin's mother said.

“It is ages since you've been out together Mum.” Quentin pointed out.

“Babysitters are hard to find.” she replied.

“Could we go to May's house, Mum? Please?” Rhianna asked.

“I'll talk to your Dad about it.”

“Should I check with my parents?” May asked.

“I think that might be politer than presenting them with a fait accompli, yes. There's some sheltered spots just round the corner, if you want the option of not calling when the whole family's in earshot.”

----------------------------------------

May and Q.Q. stopped in the first sheltered spot, Rhianna and her mother continued another hundred metres. May didn't bother waiting for them to stop before she make the call; She didn't think she'd be saying anything that private.

“Hi, Mum, quick question.” May said.

“Oh yes? Everything OK?”

“Mostly. I was just wondering if Rhianna and Q.Q. could come over for the night. It struck me that their parents might like some time together.”

“Oh? How did you reach that conclusion?”

“Q.Q's dad's been waiting for weeks or even months to watch a big match and they moved it earlier so he missed it. Apparently he turned on just in time to see the final score. Serious disappointment.”

“He might not want to celebrate then.”

“No. Not unless he sees anything to celebrate in Q.Q. pulling me.”

“May! That's a horrible term!” Q.Q. protested, loudly enough for Hannah to hear.

“I'm with Q.Q.” Hannah agreed.

“Would you prefer the way I said it to his Mum? Q.Q. didn't like that one either, but she did.”

“What did you say to her?”

“I said something like they might like to celebrate the thought that eventually they won't need to keep making all Q.Q's decisions for him, but could pass that task on to someone else.”

“Are you saying you're going to marry him?” Hannah asked, “That's fast work girl! Too fast!”

“No! But you must admit it's a pretty strong possibility, though, and if not me then Kara's been fluttering her eyelashes at him enough to make an impression on the poor ignorant lad.”

“Why aren't I surprised? And what impression are you making on him?”

“We've talked things through a bit. I think he understands where things stand a bit better. Then I surprised him with a kiss to help the thought stick. Plus that makes it easier for us to claim boyfriend-girlfriend status even while we're not dating. The embarrassing bit was his mum came round the corner just as our lips met.”

“Well, you deserve that, young woman, kissing unsuspecting young men in public.”

“I know. So, can we give their parents a night off duty?”

“Well, Rhianna can sleep in your room, I suppose, and Q.Q. can go in Ruben's room. Tell you what, Why don't you invite their parents over for lunch tomorrow? We might as well get to know them sometime.”

“Thanks, Mum! I'll suggest it.”

“Now, go and make a good impression.”

“I'll do my best, Mum!”

“Well? All approved?” Rhianna asked May, when she and Quentin had caught up.

“All OK.” She reported. “Mrs Quy, you and your husband are also invited for lunch tomorrow, Mum thought you ought to get to know each other sometime. And of course you'd be welcome at Church, too.”

“Thank you, May.” Mrs Quy looked speculatively at May, and said “But if you can persuade my husband to accept that last, then I'd be entirely shocked.”

----------------------------------------

“Dad, I'd like to introduce my girlfriend, May.” Q.Q. said.

“He said you had a lovely personality.”

“That might have just been a first impression, Mr Quy. You know how often those are wrong.”

“I'll tell you one thing, Francis. She speaks her mind, and you might like her sense of humour. It might even make up for this morning.”

“Oh yes? How does she plan to brighten up my day?”

“Well, she suggested that the kids could all haul themselves off to her parents for the night, so we could have a hot date with no worries. If I remember correctly, she suggested we could 'Meet potential future daughter-in-law at lunch and then have an evening to celebrate the thought that eventually we'll be able to pass on the responsibility of doing all Q.Q's thinking for him.'”

Francis smiled and turned to his son, “Quentin, don't ever say you haven't been warned.”

“Of what, Dad? That she's got wit, intelligence, beauty and a very unusual family background? Her clan is matriarchal, after all.”

“I thought Quentin said your dad was a pastor?” Francis' curiosity was stirred.

“He is.”

“So is he what I used to call a woolly-thinking liberal, or how does he square the circle of being head of his family, according to the Bible, but under his wife's control?”

“Oh, Mum isn't the matriarch! And Quentin's simplifying it a bit. We're not fully matriarchal. But most significant and final voice in clan decisions is the matriarch's. But family decisions aren't the same as clan decisions.”

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

“That sounds suitably convoluted.” Francis replied.

“It used to be my gran who was matriarch, before she died, OK If I talk about how it worked then?”

“Fine.”

“So, she set the tone, she had full rights to clobber us grand-kids and great-grand-kids if we dared lie to her, and her sons weren't about to cross their mother, not if they knew what was good for them. But on the other hand, she didn't rule the adults with an iron fist. She just... set limits.”

“Such as?”

“When one of my uncles was thinking of moving cities, I guess ten years ago, she said 'That's fine dear, just make sure you're no more than an hour away, I'm not getting any younger, and I want to see you before I go.' So when she knew she was dying, his family jumped on the hypersonic and got to see her before she went home to glory. He made the decision to move, I guess after discussion with his wife, but he didn't cross her either.”

“So, it's more of a matriarchal tribal rule with patriarchal family life?” Quentin asked.

“Yes, but really, I'd say pretty normal family life really. I've not noticed much difference to my friends' families, but we've got a few extra layers.”

“How did the change come about? You told us your tribe got decimated, but it was patriarchal before that.” Rhianna asked. “How did the switch happen?”

“Oh, that's easy. Famous first Mr Ngbila married his beloved, heard there was a war on, kept his wife and new-born kid out of it and then her parents were killed in the war. Everyone had expected her father to name her son as heir when he came of age, but no one was prepared for him to die so young. Since she was their only child it meant Mr Smith — now Ngbila — should have become the tribal chief. He said 'I don't know anything about running a tribe, I grew up in London, and I don't even speak your language very well yet!' She said 'I'll help, but it's very easy, what you say goes. No one can overrule you. But of course they'll moan and groan, so it's good to listen to people first.' He replied 'Oh, that's smashin' that is! No sacred rules I mustn't break? Really anything I decide goes?' 'Yes, my husband, that's right. You are our ruler, no-one can gain-say you.' says she. 'Wonderful, luv. My decision is that people with problems come to you, and the people need to listen to you.' 'You can't do that!' she protested. 'You said anything I say goes, and that's what I say. They can moan if they want to but I'm not having anyone disobeying you or thinking they can ignore your advice.' And that rather set the pattern ever since.”

“How does the matriarch get chosen?” Quentin asked.

“Old matriarch's choice. Normally it's a daughter or the long-established wife of someone born to the clan — not necessarily a daughter-in-law, but obviously not this time round. I must say, I'm very glad nan nominated Sarah.”

“Why?” Rhianna asked.

“Because last year I heard nan talking to Dad once. He asked her what happened if she died before she named a successor. She said it'd be up to him and her other sons of course, but that maybe I'd grow into the job. Can you imagine? Me?”

“Telling your Dad what to do? That'd be awkward.” Quentin thought.

“Dad wouldn't cause many problems, he's a sensible guy. I was thinking of how I'd ever be able to keep my crazy cousins in line. Let alone myself.”

“You seem to be doing OK on that front.” Mrs Quy said.

May shook her head. “Sorry Mrs Quy, with all respect, you're wrong. My nan was a firm believer in intervening, so I got used to her dropping into my head to tell me I was thinking stupid thoughts. When she died... I didn't have much self control.”

“Dropping into your head?” Francis asked, “What do you mean?”

“I'm sure Quentin's told you, Mr Quy, I'm registered truthsayer number one. That's not for public dissemination, but I think you need to know it. I have the thought hearing power; my nan had that power and the Gift too. She didn't need to be anywhere near us to check up on us. And to her the phrase 'mental privacy' just meant that she didn't tell other people about what she'd seen going on in your mind. It's a struggle not having that.”

“May, learning self control is always a struggle. I used to be a bit wild myself.”

“Cleopatra, queen of parties, they used to call you when we were at school.” Francis reminisced.

“You? Mum?”

“Yes, me. We were all young once, and some of us were more stupid than others. Your Dad was always serious, of course. I had to calm down a lot until I could get him to show any interest in me.”

“I thought you told me you met Dad at Church, Mum?” Quentin said.

“I did. It was a youth group praise party. Dad's friend Jim invited me, telling me it was a party. And since I was Cleo, party queen, I couldn't refuse. It wasn't quite the party I'd expected.”

“So, she turned up in her dancing gear, late as usual, but just in time for the evangelistic message, and asked me, 'Is this a party? When does the music start?'”

“And your Dad, all handsome and serious, said, 'You've missed some of it, there'll be more after this guy's told us what we've all heard loads of times before.' But I hadn't heard it before, and God spoke into my empty heart. Since Francis had said he'd heard it all before loads of times, I hijacked him and spent the evening wheedling every bit of gospel knowledge out of him that I could.”

“And the next day, Jim accused me of stealing his date, and he didn't speak to me for a month.”

“I was never his date.” Cleo replied, then corrected herself. “Well, just the once, when I got him to lead me to Christ.”

“But the praise party had been his idea, and he later told me he'd been after you for months and it'd all been in order to get you.”

“Really?” Cleo hadn't heard that before.

“I don't think he ever forgave me.”

“But I chased you, not the other way round.”

“He knew that, it didn't help. He was pretty bitter about being the one to get you into church, and lead you to Christ, and you only being interested in me.”

“But he was going to be your best man, Francis! He must have forgiven you.”

Francis drew a deep breath. “Confession time, Cleo.” He paused and then continued. “I never told you: he told me he'd thought it over and decided he'd rather stay away from the wedding. That was about two days before he was killed. His last words to me were 'Why do the committed Christians loose the pretty girls, eh? I lead her to the Lord, but she decides to marry you, even though you've always lived on other people's faith not your own.'”

Francis took another long breath and bitterly carried on. “He said 'You've fooled lots of people, but not me. You shouldn't marry her, you're not a Christian and she is. I'd have to say that if I was at the church, but I'm too much of a coward. So, I'm not coming.' Two days later he was dead. He was my best fried, but my first thought when I heard it was I was glad he wasn't going to be able to say that to anyone else, or our wedding might be cancelled. So, Cleo, you tell me: do you think he forgave me or not? Did I deserve you? Would he have been right to stop our marriage? It was built on a lie, after all. Do you want to set things right with a divorce?”

Cleo closed her eyes, thinking for a moment, and reached for his hand. “Francis, you're forgetting something. You tried to tell me before the wedding, even wrote me a letter, but I didn't want to listen, I didn't want to believe you, but I knew most of what you've just said. I do not want a divorce. Rather, I want to accept May's parents' offer and for you to take me on a date tonight. And by the way, if Jim hadn't forgiven you, don't you think he'd have told someone else? He had forgiven you, and he cared about your happiness too much to even do what he thought was right.”

Francis was looking at his wife in incredulity. “But I never sent that letter, Cleo.”

“No, you just left it unsent on your account. And I was always borrowing your account to send messages in preparation for the wedding, wasn't I? I saw something addressed to me and read it. I refused to believe it, because I wanted you too much. I do still wish it wasn't true.”

“But you've finally accepted that I'm not a Christian, that I never was, not really?”

“Yes, Francis.” Cleopatra said, sadly.

He grunted, “Took you long enough.”

“So, you've finally shared your big secret, I've finally admitted reading that letter and told you that I accepted the truth about you. Where do we go from here?”

“I've made one suggestion,” he said, “divorce court.”

“I've rejected that one, remember? I still love you, and I want to stay married to you as long as we're both alive.”

“That's nice.” he said, and the youngsters began to breath again. “So, your choice then.”

She thought a long moment, and then had an idea. “I want to see if Mrs Perry still makes her 'Death by Chocolate' with extra chocolate sauce, and if it's still as good.” she said, naming the desert they'd both enjoyed far too often as a courting couple.

He raised his eyebrows. “It's been twenty years, Cleo.”

“But I think she's still the cook. I think I'll put in a special request.”

“Dad,” Rhianna asked, siezing the moment “please can you and Mum come to Church tomorrow? Otherwise I'm going to be on my own in a strange church trying to keep these two from holding hands during the sermon.”

“What's wrong with them holding hands?” He asked, “They're in love, aren't they?”

Rhianna pulled a face. “May claims she's not in love, and doesn't really want to be in love, and that there's plenty of time for that later. But when they hold hands they start chatting mind to mind and they're off in a world of their own and you need a bucket of cold water to bring them back to the real world. You should have seen them on the way here!”

“Plenty of time for that later?” Francis asked, obviously confused.

“If you're not in love with Quentin, then what were you doing kissing him?” Cleo asked.

“Rhianna overstated it, Mrs Quy. I probably am falling for him. But, with clan approval, I've committed myself to teach him enough about how the clan works so that he can join if he wants to. That means that even if romance doesn't work, by the end of it he'll be a good friend, an adopted cousin, if you like, unless he runs away. So in that way, like I told him earlier, I'm more committed to him than someone he might date and then never see again if they break up. But he seems like a nice boy, so at the moment I'd like to keep him. That's what the kiss was about.”

“And what about your cousin Kara?” Cleo asked.

“Kara's going to get her eyelashes plucked if she doesn't respect clan rules better. Quentin's off limits until I say otherwise.”

“What about if he says otherwise?” Rhianna asked.

“He needs to tell me, and we'll talk it through.” May grinned, viciously, “If he's convincing and not very polite, then I tell my cousins it's open season and if I know them then he doesn't stand much chance. If he's very polite about it then I might not announce it until he's safely engaged to someone else.”

“What happens if Quentin's still serenading your balcony but you fall for someone else?” Rhianna asked.

“Then I tell him, and Kara and the others get to try to help nurse his broken heart back to health if they like.”

“So it's matriarchal in that respect too? The woman chooses?” Francis asked.

“When we're talking about a boy telling a girl he wants to join her clan, yes. But if it was the other way round, then it'd all be the other way round. I guess it's really just a rule to say that you don't go getting into the clan on false pretenses; if he was really interested in Mandy, then he can't get me to apprentice him to the clan.”

“Mandy's really shy.” Quentin supplied to his parents. “But that makes me wonder, May. What if there was someone who was interested in Mandy, but she was so shy she ran away every time he got near?”

“Tricky one, I agree. If he knew how the clan worked then he could ask Sarah to get Mandy to apprentice him.”

“And if Sarah said so, then Mandy'd have to do it?” Q.Q. asked.

“Not if she couldn't stand him, or really couldn't stand the thought of talking to him until she knew him better. I guess he could come in unattached, if he passes the interview with Sarah.”

“What does that one mean?” Cleo asked.

“If he gets taught about the clan by someone who's clearly not a romantic possibility, then he's not off limits, is he? But he's going to join the clan. That combination is a bit like wearing a sign saying 'Suitable marriage prospect, who'll have me?'”

“Ahh. Has it happened that no one did pick them?” Cleo asked.

“In the past, yes.”

“May, I've been meaning to ask you.” Q.Q. asked. “I think everyone I've met in your clan was a descendant of your gran or married to a descendant. By the sound of it you should have other clan members.”

“We should, yes.” May agreed.

“But?” Rhianna prompted.

“One of Grandpa Ngbila's brothers didn't marry, the other died young. I don't know what happened to his sister, I suspect some sort of falling out. But yes, there ought to be cousins out there. I think some moved away or cut themselves off. Dad's actually met one person who's probably a second or third cousin, but doesn't know anything about the clan.” she shrugged “It's not like there's any law that says you have to stay under the matriarch's watchful gaze if you're a relative. I guess we're the traditionalist remnant or something.”

“But you think your clan's going to continue?”

“I expect so. There's certainly enough of us at the moment.”

“You keep talking about cousins. How many do you actually have?” Cleo asked.

“First cousins, or people about my age? Mandy's a second cousin.”

“Both!” Rhianna demanded.

“Eleven first cousins, four of them married, and there are twelve of us unmarried and over fourteen, four boys and eight girls.”

Francis murmured: “That is quite a crowd. And they're all like you?”

“No.” Quentin replied. “I don't think you'd hold onto that conclusion more than about thirty seconds if you walked into one of the gatherings like I did.”

May smiled her agreement. “We're quite different from each other, I think.”

“Well, it's been nice getting to know you a bit, May, but I've got to do some more work on lunch.”

“I'll help.” Francis volunteered.

“Dad, can you come and help me, tomorrow? Please!”

“What are you, their self-appointed chaperone?” He asked.

“No, May appointed me.”

“I really don't think they're going to get up to much in Church, Rhi.”

“Please Dad?” Rhianna persisted.

“What is this? A campaign to get me into church?”

“Well, it would be nice, now that you've made your point, Francis.”

“Crazy persistent Christians!” he accused them. “Oh all right, I'll come and keep someone more deserving out of their favourite pew, and you can keep an eye on this pair of party animals, Cleo. Hold on!” he fixed May with a glare, “It's not some kind of special service it it?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“What's the topic?” He demanded further.

“Pass. Dad makes it a policy not to tell us ahead of time. I can look up the passage if you like, it might give us some kind of idea. I wouldn't bet on it, though.”

“Hmm. So, is he one of those preachers who'd turn Samson killing Philistines so he could give their clothes away into a gospel presentation?”

“How would you do that?” May asked.

“Personally, I wouldn't. But he doesn't do that?”

“No. I mean, he goes off on a tangent sometimes, but he doesn't force everything to be be about Jesus.”

“And he doesn't call people to the front in some big emotional display?”

“No.”

“Or claim that God's told him there's someone there with a headache, and it'll go away if they confess their secret sin?”

“No.”

“And how many mind readers are going to be there?”

The question caught her off-guard, and left her floundering. “Mind-readers? Gifted people? Or do you mean thought-hearers?”

“May, don't answer. Dad, you can't ask either of those!” Quentin protested.

“Well, I can ask, but I suppose if you answer then you get arrested, don't you?” Francis said.

“Exactly.”

“It's just something I wondered. My cousin Myra interviewed a multi-millionariess called Sarah, your employer, and somehow Quentin's headaches came up, you got sent to talk to them both, and it turns out your mind-reading grandmother met someone called Sarah and made her take her place.”

“Well, yes, Sarah my employer is also my matriarch, and my grandmother used to get pain like Rhianna gets, so she avoided crowds and I know about it. That's not really secret stuff. What's it got to do with mind readers?”

“I don't know. What was so special about Sarah if it's not that she hears thoughts too?”

“Beside the strong faith, contacts to royalty, working at... Oops I didn't say that.” May turned bright red.

“Working at somewhere you can't talk about? Interesting I can guess where that might be.”

May quickly gathered her thoughts while she drew her breath, and gave an answer she'd thought up before. “Please don't pass your guesses on, Mr Quy, they may be wrong. Sarah has publicly stated that she has a job she wants to keep, and I know where it is. But, for various reasons including her privacy she does not publicise it. I haven't actually told you anything, all I did was prevent myself from seriously embarrassing myself by accidentally breaking faith with my employer.”

He raised his eyebrows at her professional tone. “Well, Miss Ngbila, that was very professionally said, and I certainly wouldn't want to embarrass you. That might not be good for family relationships.” he looked at Quentin, and gave a half smile. Then he added “I'm sure that Quentin or Rhianna would be only too happy to forward me the address of your church, if you'll tell them, please. I think I'm wanted in the kitchen.”

----------------------------------------

“You just reminded me about crowds.” Rhianna said, pulling a face.

“I did.” May agreed.

“Will there be much of a crowd at your church?”

“How about we sit up on the balcony, with Sarah?” May suggested.

“She won't mind?” Rhianna asked.

“I'm sure she won't.”

“But... given what Dad was just asking...” Rhianna prompted further.

“OK, I've got two options for you.” May said “We don't mention the pain, and I just ask your Mum if she wants to meet Sarah, who's normal seat is on the balcony. I think that actually gives more away. Number two: I say that's where I always sit, which is true these days, and John says something about keeping an eye on the young people, I point out that Sarah's much closer to Q.Q's age than his and make a play about him being a cradle snatcher?”

“Isn't it weird? I mean, you must have known him all your life, practically, as an adult, and then he marries someone barely older than your big sister?” Q.Q. asked.

“What do you mean older?” May challenged, “Sarah's younger. But, hey, Martha's five and a half years older than me; that's ancient already. Some of my aunts had two kids by her age. But yeah, OK, it's a bit odd.”

“May, what do you think?” Q.Q. asked. “Are we going to get married and have kids before you turn twenty two?”

“Too early to tell. But I hope not.” she said. “That was about kids before I'm out of university, by the way; that's not a good thing to do.”

Rhianna looked curiously at the two of them “Was that a proposal, Q.Q?”

“Urm.” Quentin said, turning red, wondering how he'd got into this.

“It better not have been.” May growled, realising that she could have taken it as one.

“No it wasn't. I was just... thinking aloud.”

“Don't do that sort of thinking.” May advised. “It's too soon.”

“I really didn't mean it as one. But I do like you a lot, May.”

“Fine. That's allowed. Now get to know me better before you go assuming we know each other well enough to make life-long commitments. Otherwise I'll start to think you're even dumber than most boys.”

“And you wouldn't go out with someone that dumb?” Rhianna asked.

“Would you?”

“Of course not. Do you know what time the wedding is, by the way?”

“Pretty soon, I think.” May replied.

“I presume you want to watch?” Quentin asked, without any enthusiasm.

“You don't?” May asked.

“Sure, if you are.”

----------------------------------------

SATURDAY, 13TH JANUARY. 12.30PM

It was a stupid thought, Albert decided, but he was seriously wondering just why they'd decided to have the wedding this late in the morning. Did Eliza really need that long to get ready? Maybe she did, but he hadn't. But he'd still woken up early, full of nerves or excitement or something. And of course he'd then only had a light breakfast. So here he was, about to enter into the holy state of matrimony before the assembled masses, with an empty stomach. He really hoped that his stomach wouldn't be rumbling on the live international broadcast. It felt really empty, or maybe it was just his nerves.

“You're not nervous are you, Albert?” his father asked.

“I don't really want to trip over, stutter or otherwise embarrass everyone.”

“He's nervous.” William Short, Albert's best man, long returned from Mongolia, confirmed.

“As long as you've got the ring safe, Shorty, then I don't have too much to worry about.” Albert responded.

“Safe and sound in the hotel's safe, don't worry.”

“That's not funny.”

“It's almost wasn't, but Jemimah's got a good memory, as have the guys from Security who met us.” Shorty admitted.

“Speaking of your wife, I hope the pregnancy's going well?” the King asked.

“Yes, thank-you, sir. She's into the second trimester now, and not feeling nearly as bad as she was a month ago.”

“And you're both determined that you want to be surprised about whether baby's a he or she?” Albert asked.

“Yes. What's the point in knowing?” Shorty asked.

The king responded with a smile “Well, you only need have half as many names ready.”

“That's true. But neither of us really feel comfortable naming the baby until she or he is born anyway.”

“So, you're not even thinking of names yet?” Albert asked.

“Oh, we're thinking, just not deciding.”

There was a stirring in the church, as all the camera-men got silent messages and pointed their cameras towards the entrance.

“Well Albert?” Shorty prompted “Technically there's still time to change your mind.”

“Why would I do that?”

----------------------------------------

QUY HOUSEHOLD

“Did the reporter just get it wrong?” Cleo asked.

“Yes. Sarah's on the left, Karen's on the right from our perspective.” May replied.

“I wonder how embarrassed he'll be when someone tells him.” Q.Q. asked.

“And they both went to the same university? That's nice.”

May shook her head “I don't think they knew they were related until this summer.”

“They never met?” Cleo asked.

“Karen grew up abroad, and Sarah was brought up by her father's sister. For all I know her aunt never knew Sarah had any relatives on her mother's side.”

“What about Sarah's grandparents?”

“Urm, I've never asked. I guess they died a while ago. Sarah's never mentioned them. I think she said something about her dad being far younger than his sister, like, twenty or thirty years. It can't have been thirty, surely?”

“That's not very likely, no.” Francis agreed.

“Oh, they're going in.”

“It's a shame no one's walking Eliza in.” Cleo said.

“Well, her Dad is safely behind bars, we hope.” Francis pointed out.

“Yes, but...”

“And lots of women don't get walked up the aisle by their fathers now, anyway.”

“I know, but... just the symbolism of it...”

“He didn't even send her a card at Christmas, let alone her birthday.”

Rhianna pointed out “I think the symbolism is quite fine. She walks to meet her prince alone.”

“With five bridesmaids.” Q.Q. added.

“Well, yes.”

“So, what do you think is going round their minds, May?” Rhianna asked.

“'Please God, don't let me trip over or let it slip out of my hand!' At least, that was all I was thinking. That fabric is slippery. And then of course you need to keep up with the bride, but not get too close.”

“So you had a nerve-racking time?” Cleo asked.

“Yes. There's a reason she's going slowly. It gives everyone more time to avoid accidents.”

“And there I was thinking it was just giving everyone a chance to see her.”

----------------------------------------

[Nervous, Albert?] Eliza asked from part-way down the nave of the church.

[Not very. Do you need to walk that slowly?]

[Yes. Too many terrified bridesmaids behind me.]

[Who are you calling terrified?] Sarah asked [And concentrate on a nice even pace please, Eliza, not on chatting. We wouldn't want to tear the train.]

[Sorry, Mrs Williams.] Eliza sent, in her best school-girl impression.

[Don't try to make us laugh, Eliza, please.] Karen asked.

[Here comes the steps.] Eliza thought to them a little later

“One, two, three, stop.” Sarah whispered to the others.

----------------------------------------

“I wonder how many times they'd practiced that? It was very well coordinated.” Cleo said.

“Sarah was going to whisper a countdown to the others.” May said. “Lesson learned from Karen's wedding.”

“All the usual assembled dignitaries, I see.”

“Oh, there's Deborah, too! I didn't know she'd be there.”

“Who's that?” Rhianna asked.

“Friend of Karen. In the green dress, next to the old guy with all the military medals.”

“And that's Karen's parents beside him?” Q.Q. asked.

“Yes. He's the hereditary president-for-life of I can't remember where, and he's planning to get her elected queen after him.”

“That sounds entirely confused to me.” Francis responded.

“I know. But she's nice, anyway.”

“You've spoken to her?” Rhianna asked.

“She ahh... knows quite a lot about truthsayers. It's her country where they're normal. She helped come up with the idea of the mask.”

“Are you saying she's one of you?” Francis asked.

“I'm not saying anything.” May said.

“So, a truthsayer head of state?” Francis pondered “That could make for interesting international negotiations.”

May hid her thoughts, just in case.

“Not to mention conspiracy theories.” Cleo replied. “Now, stop talking, Francis, I want to hear the commentary.”

“Why, when we've got a much better informed commentator here?”

“I don't think I know very much else.” May said, adding “I'd like to hear the commentary too, if that's all right.”

----------------------------------------

The sermon was a little unusual for a wedding sermon, but Eliza thought it was quite appropriate. It had been her idea to suggest Bob McDaniel to give it, but Albert and his parents had been more than happy to agree. He spoke about marriage being portrayed in the media as a conflict or happily-ever-after, but that it was foolish to hope for the latter and displaying an un-Christian lack of hope and trust to think of it as the former. He also spoke about how prayer had played such a point in bringing them together and how it should be a significant part of their lives together. Then he turned to duty, and how both the royal couple and the press had different duties to perform, and limits on their behaviour, and how either stepping beyond their limits would bring conflict. Looking briefly in the direction of Catherine and Dan from the Free Republican Post, he mentioned about how certain elements of the press were here who weren't normally present at Royal events and spoke about the way that openness, honesty and truthfulness could break down seemingly unsurmountable barriers, and that that ought to be a model Albert and Eliza should continue in their lives together. There were other points as well, but somehow Bob managed the timing exactly correctly, and after a hymn Albert and Eliza exchanged vows at exactly the scheduled time, in front of the palace chaplain, the congregation, and of course the cameras.

----------------------------------------

“Some unusual points, but a good sermon. And didn't she look lovely!” Cleo observed, with a smile. “Francis, do you realise that's a first for our married life?”

“What is?”

“You've just listened to an entire sermon.”

“It was an interesting choice, having a reporter give the sermon. I imagine he's seen quite a bit more life than then average pastor,” he replied. “But don't get your hopes up.”

“Why not, you're going to sit through another tomorrow too, aren't you?”

“Yes, I suppose I am. That doesn't mean I'm going to make a habit of it though. Like I told you a long time ago, I'm through with pretending to be a Christian.”

“I'm not asking you to pretend, Francis.” Cleo said gently, warning the others with her eyes not to press him further.

----------------------------------------

“No photographer at all?” Sarah had asked, earlier in the week, shocked.

“It's only fair.” Eliza had pointed out, “We're going to get hassled by photographers for the whole of our lives, why should we be bossed around by one on our wedding day too? We'll just pick the best of the press photos, plus Caroline is going to do an official painting. That's plenty.”

“Good point.” Sarah had agreed. “So the train stays on until you've both stood for her?”

“Yes. It'll only be about ten minutes to quarter of an hour, she says. She'll be taking some pictures of course, and arranging us to a suitable posture. Then we'll go to the reception, and being without the train would be better.”

----------------------------------------

“I'm surprised they're risking an open carriage.” Q.Q. commented. “Aren't they afraid of assassins?”

“I expect that someone with the gift has made sure there aren't any.” Rhianna pointed out.

“Well that takes care of snipers, but not remote controlled missiles or some sort of bomb or booby-trap.”

“Nor does it take care of sharks with lasers strapped to their fins, stray packs of rabid dogs, or flying pigs. But I expect that Security can deal with those threats too.” Rhianna retorted.

“Children!” Francis warned.

“It's traditional, and romantic.” Cleo said. “And I seem to remember hearing that there's a forcefield generator under the seats of the carriage if a threat does appear.”

----------------------------------------

Caroline had got everything ready before they left for the church, so once they'd arrived at the palace it didn't take her long to arrange Albert and Eliza as she had earlier in the preparatory sittings and get ready to take some pictures. She'd do the actual painting later, of course.

“Now, do us non-relatives need to leave you four in private to undo the train?”

“I hope not.” Sarah replied.

“Albert, would you like to undo the loops from the little buttons, just under your palms?” Eliza asked.

“What happens then?”

“If all goes to plan, the train comes off. What happens otherwise, Sarah?”

“We probably give it a little gentle help.”

“What, just yank it off?” Albert was aghast at the thought of tugging at the ancient fabric.

“No, I was more thinking of Eliza giving a little jump or two.”

“Oh, thanks, Sarah. Good job I'm not in high heels.”

“Hey, where did that loop go? And the other one?” Albert asked.

“Where it was supposed to.” Eliza said, stepping away from the train as it fell to the floor. “Ta-da! No jumping necessary.”

“What a shame.” Karen said, with a grin. “Now, fellow bridesmaids, we have to fold up one beautiful, irreplaceable and as you know, slippery train.”

“It is rather, isn't it?” Tamula agreed.

“It's the dirt-resistant coating.”

“I don't care. It's still slippery.” Victoria declared.

“Oh, I've been meaning to ask, Victoria.” Albert said, “Are you really planning to waltz with my dad?”

“If it's not going to spark some sort of crisis. It's OK?”

“Yes it's happened before, but my mother says she's going to steal him back from you about eight bars before the end of the dance, so be prepared. Apparently that's got precedence too.”

“OK. I can live with that. And after that I can just sit the rest out.”

“You mean you're going to refuse all the eligible young men begging you for a dance?”

“I'm not going to dump one non-Christian I like then start dancing with another one I don't even know.” Victoria said.

“I see your point.” Eliza said. “Still hurting?”

“Not too much.”

“You could quiz them first.” Karen suggested.

“Pardon?”

“When they ask you to dance, say you're not really interested in dancing, especially with a non-Christian. Get any who claim to be one to name their favourite verse of Scripture, or something like that.”

“And then get them to tell you their testimony.” Sarah added.

“I can do that?”

“Of course.” Albert agreed.

“Just how many boys my age are we talking about?”

“Not many, actually.” Albert said, “But all the ambassadors coming have been invited with their whole families. I don't know exactly how many have sons in the right age range.”

“Our ambassadors, or ambassadors to here?” Victoria asked, out of curiosity.

“Both.” Albert replied.

“And I invited some people you might not have met from the Christian union at Uni.” Eliza said. “The younger ones aren't that much older than you. You never know...”

“But they're all guys you rejected?”

“Vic, that makes it sound like I've got a whole list of heart-broken guys I've left behind!” Eliza protested.

“I presume at least some of them showed an interest.”

“Victoria.” Sarah said, “Bringing up the question of which young men at a wedding reception ever showed an interest in going out with the bride isn't exactly appropriate, you know? We're here to celebrate a lasting commitment, not to regurgitate might have beens.”

“Urm, yeah. Sorry. I was just thinking if Eliza thought they were bad news, then...”

“Then I'd tell you, Vic. And I wouldn't have invited them.”

----------------------------------------

“Well, Catherine, what does fame feel like?” Dan asked.

“I just wonder where he found out.”

“List of accredited reporters, freely available on the palace website in the interests of transparency. I didn't give it a moment's thought.”

“And now everyone's looking at it to see who he was talking about?”

“Probably.” Dan agreed.

“I hope our readers aren't going to be upset.”

“Depends how we write it up, I expect.”

“Hmm. Notice any excessive spending?” Catherine asked.

“Beyond the obvious security presence? Not really.”

“Well there's always the lavish reception to snark on about.”

“Maybe. I think an analysis of his sermon might be in order too.”

“I really didn't expect we'd get an invitation to the reception. Did you?”

“No. We're going to be open to all sorts of accusations if we say anything positive, you know, and accusations of ungratefulness if we say anything negative.”

“I wonder who we'll be seated with.”

“That could make all the difference.”

----------------------------------------

“Glad you could make it Dan, Catherine.” Albert said, as they filed in to shake hands with the happy couple. “I thought you wouldn't mind, we've put you on the most constitutionally interesting table.”

“Do I dare ask what you mean?” Catherine asked.

“Karen, can you give them a quick briefing and make the introductions?”

Karen smiled. “Of course. You're the reporters from the Post?”

“Yes. What have we got ourselves into now?” Dan asked.

“I hope you're going to have an interesting discussion with a family friend: the honourable President and supreme commander of the armed forces of the country I grew up in. Let's go chat in a corner for a bit before I introduce you.”

“President as in dictator or as in democratically elected?”

“Oh they have elections. Every adult who's not in prison for treason gets to vote, too. The ballot says something like 'I agree that our honourable President is doing his best for the country.' then you can tick yes or no. They even took people's names and addresses off the back last time round.”

“But ticking no gets you sent to prison for treason?”

“Actually, no.” Karen said “Though it used to, a few generations ago. The presidency is hereditary, by the way.”

“So there's no other candidate.” Catherine stated.

“Well, there was someone who wanted to be, but he wasn't planning to get in by popular vote. Praise God, we managed to arrest him on a UN warrant. He was the nasty piece of work that kidnapped Eliza.”

“So, he's a dictator but almost a good guy?”

“Oh, I'd say there's no almost about it. A very honourable man. I wasn't being sarcastic when I called him a family friend. Please try not to insult him, that could get tricky. His heir and her husband will be on the table with you, I think. Constitutional change is planned... I'll let you discuss that with them.”

“Anything else we should know?”

“Urm.. the first estimate of the impact had it hitting their capital, which they've only just finished repairing — they had a pretty bad war over the succession, just under thirty years ago, which left its scars on just about everyone and everything. The other guy had less claim to the presidency, less honour, and less popular support, but more money and he thought he could make up for all of that by hiring mercenaries.”

“Topics to avoid?” Dan asked.

“Probably best to avoid asking for details about that war, since he lost his fiancée in it. Oh, and don't be dismissive about the supernatural.”

“I wasn't planning to, but why not?” Dan prompted.

“You might end up implicitly calling someone a liar.”

“They've seen things with no other explanation?” Dan asked.

“Exactly.” Karen agreed.

“But we can ask about truth-sayers?” Catherine asked, as her brain cells finally managing to get a message through to her.

Karen smiled “Yes, that might be an interesting discussion. But they might be more interested in discussing your article. I think Deborah's read it.”

This was going too fast for Dan. “Deborah?”

“The president's first cousin once removed, by way of her father being secretly adopted by the president's uncle. Since the president's nephew has a death sentence waiting for him if he ever gets out of prison, that makes her heir to the presidency, or maybe even the throne by then.”

“Hold on, you're saying that someone pointed out my article to her?” Catherine asked.

“I think a hard copy went in the diplomatic bag.”

“Who'd do that?” Catherine asked.

“Well... Eliza mentioned it, I suggested she pass it on to Ralph, who's head of diplomatic services, he agreed it might be useful for them, and I think I heard my Dad say that he'd handed it to her in person, so I presume their majesties agreed too.”

“But.... Why?” Catherine was still confused.

“It contains a discussion about why we have the sort of monarchy we do, and what it's like, without using too many complicated words. Deborah's learning English but I'm pretty sure she's not up to reading constitutional law yet. I'm not sure I am for that matter. Shall I introduce you?”

“Urm, I guess so.” Dan agreed.

----------------------------------------

“Catherine, you wrote the newspaper thing? About needing to change the carpet?” Deborah asked after Karen had introduced them and left.

“Yes. I did. I never knew it would be circulated internationally.”

“You show very little respect to your king and his family.” the president said.

“Honourable president, most people who read our paper think that a presidency is better than a king, so say we show too much respect to them.” Dan said. “We try very hard to write only the truth. Though perhaps not the whole truth. We do not tell of things told us in confidence, for example. But nor do we write things to flatter or that will make us popular.”

“So... you claim to be honest, trustworthy journalists, never swayed by politics, family pressure or bribe?”

“Yes, sir.” Catherine said.

“You have chosen to walk a hard path.” the president said. “But maybe it is easier here. Don't try to live in our country: you would upset someone with connections and a week later... well perhaps you would find that no one will sell you any food.”

“Or perhaps your car would not have tires, or your house windows, or worse.” Adam added.

“Adam!” Deborah protested, “You cannot say such things!”

“It is truth, and these people value truth, my cousin. Family, connections, honour, these things matter too much. Wisdom and truth, not enough.” the president said. “I came here to university; it was very strange to begin with, but perhaps now I can see more clearly.”

“Honour is important everywhere, surely.” Dan asserted.

“Of course. But you derive your honour from what you do, do you not? You do not expect honour to be paid do you because your father is rich, or important. But if Adam opened his mouth like he did just now at home, showing disrespect to our culture, he would bring dishonour on Deborah for choosing such a husband, and on me for allowing such a wedding. And he would have to suffer for the shame he caused. But here, he can get away with it, and I can agree it is truth. But please do not put it in your paper.”

“Sir, you mentioned connections.” Catherine asked, “May I ask, is nepotism a problem in your country also?”

“No, nepotism is not a problem; it is a solution. If I employ you and you do a bad job, who can I talk to? No one but you! But if the cleaning girl at the palace does a bad job, well, I can talk to her cousin who works in the kitchen, or her uncle who drives my car. And they will tell her, 'You have your job because of us, and you are not doing it right! Why are you doing this? You bring us shame, you must do your job properly!' And if she does not listen they will tell me, Mr President we are ashamed of our lazy relative, she is a bad girl, we have sent her to our relatives in the country where she will learn what it means to work hard. While she learns this, my cousin's wife is a very hard working woman and keeps his house spotless, but my cousin cannot work because he has broken his leg. Can she clean here so that his family does not hunger?' And of course, I agree.”

“Here, it is something we try to avoid.” Dan said.

“I know. Our cultures are different, of course. I learned this at university; you are more individualistic, and have little respect within families. Here the relatives would say 'We're sorry, if she won't listen to you, her employer, she's certainly not going to listen to us, we're just her relatives.”

“You know us well, Mr President.”

“In some things, I know you well. But I was surprised to hear that there are republicans in your country.”

“There are not very many of us.” Catherine said.

“But enough people read your paper that you can eat.”

“That is true.” Dan agreed, and laughed “But today we eat at the royal family's expense, yet again.”

“And you are not ashamed to do take what is offered, and yet show so little respect in return?” Adam asked.

“The royal family ask us to be honest, to say that things are wrong when we see them as wrong, and right when we see them as right. We respect their wishes.”

“Ah, so, because you do not flatter, and are willing to say uncomfortable things, you can be tolerated?”

“I think, sir, it is beyond tolerated. I think there is friendship and I know there is trust. Too often people say what people want to hear, they want to flatter people. Their majesties have asked us not to do that.”

“You know there is trust?” Deborah asked.

“Yes, maam. I know that his majesty trusted us not to speak or write about his father, although he spoke of it to us when we visited. And there were other things said which have not been made public.”

“So... in your unflattering honesty... a head of state with the power of a truthsayer. What do you think?” Deborah asked.

“I think his majesty's father could not say anything, people would not have believed him.” Catherine started.

“No, I mean now.”

“It has happened, and it will happen again, I am sure. We have a law now that says it is forbidden to publish if another person has that power or not. Perhaps the question is whether the person should choose to reveal they have the power? I imagine it would be undiplomatic to tell an ambassador they are lying, but I am told that diplomacy often involves pretending not to know things.”

“But you are not worried that I am the president's truthsayer and heir?” Deborah asked.

“I did not know, Maam.” Catherine said.

“Ah, a diplomatic answer?” the president asked.

“Honest, sir.”

“I assumed Karen would tell you.” Deborah said.

“She knows? She said nothing.” Dan said “But then, if it is not public knowledge, she could not tell reporters, and we cannot publish it. Is it public knowledge, Maam?”

“It is... semi-public. I will not hide it, that is the way of a thought-stealer, but when I am working as truthsayer, it is best that the people do not know it is me.”

“So if we write anything about this, maam, it would be better for us to write that the president's heir can hear thoughts than the president's truthsayer is his heir?”

“Yes. That would be far better.”

“But of course we do not necessarily write about it at all.”

“No?”

“Firstly, it is illegal for us to publish it without your permission, but even without the law, we are not a gossip paper, which prints every rumour it hears about celebrities.”

“So you claim your personal honour and the honour of your newspaper would prevent you.” the president said.

“Yes, sir.” Dan said.

“Unfortunately, in my culture, such a claim is worth little.” the president said. “But on the other hand, Karen said you were honourable and trustworthy people, and I have known her and her family for a very long time. Such a recommendation is worth a great deal. A great great deal.”

“I think I understand, sir.”

“Do you? Have you known her a long time?”

“Ah, no, actually.”

“So how can she give such a recommendation?”

“Because someone she trusts gave it?” Catherine suggested.

“Exactly. Her cousin Eliza and your future king, to be precise. So if you show yourselves to not be trustworthy and honourable then it causes a great deal of political difficulty, as I would have less trust in the word of your royal family, and they are our close allies.”

“Deborah, I have never met a truthsayer before you. Would it be improper, or rude, to ask you to take my hand as truthsayer?” Catherine asked.

“Not improper. But why?”

“Because I wish to make a promise to the honourable president.”

“Then I will take your hand.” And she did.

“Mr President, I promise you that I will not deliberately cause you to regret our conversation in any way. I will seek to be honest, to answer questions that I may answer as fully as I am able, and to say that I am unable to answer fully when that is the case. I promise that I will ask before I publish anything about our conversation, and I will do all that I can to protect any confidences that I learn.”

“And do you swear this by your faith?” The president asked.

“I... I do not have very much faith, I am still learning about God. But by what faith I have, I will swear it, if this is what you demand.” Catherine said, hesitantly.

Deborah spoke to the president, at first in English. “Honoured cousin, I believe she speaks truth. She was thinking about how to not promise too much, so she did not promise what she could not keep, what she would do in any situation where she must protect the source. I think that means to protect the person she talks to? This is important to her. But she does not want to displease God.” Then she switched to her mother tongue. “She has read that Jesus said it is not right to swear, but she does not know if that means ever or if there are exceptions. I ask you do not demand it, because I am certain it is not right to swear in many circumstances.”

“Ah, so she is learning your faith?”

“Yes.”

“And Dan, you also promise these things?” The president asked.

He offered his hand to Deborah, who took it.

“Yes, Mr President.

“And what of your faith?”

“It is much stronger since... ah... since we had a long talk with their majesties about God.” Dan corrected his line of thought, too late.

Deborah dropped his hand, looked at his worried face in compassion, and said “Yes, your thoughts did get away from you. But I am a truthsayer, I keep secrets. That one... is not entirely a surprise to me.” She turned to the president “Honoured cousin, these two honourable people can be trusted with great secrets.”

“And you will tell me what secrets later?” he asked.

“No, honoured cousin!” Deborah said, in a shocked tone, “It would be entirely without honour to tell what I heard by accident, and it is beneath your honour to even think to ask me this.”

“My cousin, you see, has wisdom, honour and steel in her soul.” the president said, “There are not many women in my country who would ever answer any elder male in such strong rejection, and even fewer men who would say it to me. My cousin, it is not beneath my honour to ask for what I know will be refused, so that my wisdom in choice of heir will be made clear.”

“I will forgive you this once, cousin.” Deborah said, obviously still angry.

“Does your holy book not say you must forgive me the same offence seventy times seven times?” he jibed.

“If you ask for forgiveness, yes.” she grudgingly admitted.

“I perceive that your honourable cousin also asked in order to reassure Dan and Catherine, beloved wife.” Adam said. “I am sure he did not desire to undermine your word to Dan, but rather to show how honestly it was given.”

“I have upset you more than I thought I would, cousin Deborah. I am sorry.” The president said.

Deborah inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Let us move to safer topics. Catherine, you have written that you hate dictatorships and monarchy, detest corruption and reject a concept of presidency which only leads to serial rape of the country.”

“This is a safer topic?” Catherine asked in surprise. “You use stronger words than I did in my article.”

“I also read some of your comments and other articles. But I am right that these are things you have said?”

“You are right. I have said all of those things.”

“Our country is riddled with corruption, we have a dictatorship in all but name. Although my honourable cousin is not a harsh dictator and has made changes so that his power is not exercised without restraint, another man could easily undo those changes. What would you suggest? Karen's father has long been suggesting that we do away with the elections forced on us some centuries ago and admit we are a monarchy, and write my cousin's reforms into the constitution. You may speak freely, because it is beneath the honour of a president to take notice of the gossip of two young women over a meal. Dan however should be more careful in what he says.”

“Your country is so male dominated?” Catherine asked.

“Oh yes. The patriarch's word is law, almost.” The president butted in. “If Adam had said what his wife has said, it would be a very difficult situation. Such harsh words! But as she says, the meal-time gossip of two young women? Who would ever credit that with affecting the future of a country? Speak freely, while we men consider matters of great importance, like what exactly is in this soup. It is not pork, I hope, Dan?”

So it was that while the president considered such matters of real substance, Catherine and Deborah spoke freely over `trivial' matters like which constitutional, legal and judicial reforms were most urgent.

----------------------------------------

Victoria was somewhat relieved to see her majesty approaching. It was just... intensely embarrassing, she decided, to dance with your monarch.

Especially when he was asking her things like what career she wanted to follow. "May I have my husband back, Victoria?” the queen asked.

“Of course, maam.” she willingly agreed. Perhaps a bit too willingly.

“I think you might have embarrassed her, dear.” the queen said, as they started dancing.

“She's young, she'll have to cope with having old people ask her about her plans for the future for a few more years.”

“Oh, yes? And what do you want to do when you grow up, husband?”

“Dance with you, of course.”

“Good answer.”

Victoria watched them swirl away. The queen was a much better dancer than she was, that was obvious. She made her way off the dance floor, fully intending to stay seated for the rest of the time.

“Excuse me?” a young man asked. “I saw what just happened...”

“It was pre-arranged.” Victoria replied. “One can't have a whole dance with the king, that'd be greedy.”

“Oh. I wondered if there were some emergency.”

He didn't look old enough to be in Security, and Victoria said as much.

“Me? I'm not security!”

She tried to guess which category of people he was with. “OK... so that leaves friend of the bride or groom, official visitor or family thereof, or some other category of wedding guest I've not heard about.

"Somehow I don't think you're in the third category.”

“Urm, friend of the bride, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Well, I don't know her that well. I was really surprised to be invited, actually.”

“You know her from university?”

“Yes. Oh, the music's stopped. I was going to ask you if you'd like to dance.”

“Not really.”

“Oh. Sorry, you're with someone else? I just thought, you dancing with his majesty, and then getting your partner taken away...”

“That I might not have anyone else and I might want to keep on dancing?”

“Yes.”

“Very generous of you.” she said, then thought that sounded really nasty, and he didn't seem nasty. “Thank you, you're right about the first bit, actually.”

He chirped up at that, but seemed at a loss of what to say.

“So, why do you think Eliza invited you?”

“I was in her Bible study group last year.”

“And she invited the whole group of you?”

He looked around “I guess she did, yes. The groups get rearranged every year, so I didn't think of that.”

“Well, there you are then.” Victoria said. There was another lull as if they'd run out of things to say, so Victoria added “I was actually pretty glad her Majesty came when she did.”

“Oh?”

“His Majesty was just asking me what I wanted to be when I finish university. I've not even started yet, and my first choice is an impact target at the moment.”

“Tricky. So you need to pick somewhere else?”

“It's harder than that. They're offering me a life-long discount on course fees if I don't pick anywhere else.”

“How much?”

“Ten percent, rising to fifteen if they're closed for a year and thirty percent if the impact means me putting my life on hold for two years, with that being relative to whatever is cheapest: the current fees or post-impact fee scale.”

“Wow, that'd save you almost a year's fees!”

“Yeah, it gets even better: If I take them up on it, and decide to go on to do further studies, ever, I'd get the same discount.”

“They really want some guaranteed students when they reopen, don't they?”

“I guess so. But, there's room for some cynicism too. Like they say, they can drop the course fees post-impact if they need to. And it's not like they're promising me a fifty percent discount. So they don't want me that much.”

“How much would the further study fees really benefit you? Most people doing postgrad work get some kind of sponsorship.”

“In which case the reduction doesn't apply, yeah. That's in the small print.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Keep on praying about it, I guess. Maybe go on some kind of mission trip or something. Or get a job.”

“You are a Christian, then. I'd thought you probably were.”

“I am.”

“And you're sure you don't want to dance? The music's starting.”

“I'm not very good at dancing. You might have noticed.”

“I thought you did very well. But then I've only been learning since I got the invitation, so who am I to judge?”

She glanced around. “My parents are watching us, by the way, along with a large portion of the church.”

He gulped, “Is that going to be a big problem? If we just talk a bit or dance, I mean?”

“No, but Mum's going to ask me what your name is.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn't think of it. I'm really nervous, I guess.”

“That's an unusual name.” she teased.

“Jason.” He said, bright red, “Jason Stammers.”

“I'm Victoria Thomas.”

“Oh... Fred Thomas is your Dad?”

“Yes. You've met him?”

“He's spoken at C.U. a few times.”

“Oh. Right, yeah, he does that. Your turn.”

“Pardon?”

“Tell me about yourself. If you're serious about wanting to dance with me. I don't waltz with strangers.”

“Oh, right. Urm. I'm Jason.”

“You've said.”

“I'm officially a dumb genius, got into Uni at sixteen, joined the chess club and the swimming club and the astronomy society and didn't study enough, almost failed, then I met God, and I'm doing better.” he stopped, as though he'd said it all.

“And?” she prompted.

“And I'm not good at social skills.”

“What are you studying?”

“Pure maths.”

“Is it fun?”

“Err.”

“That was supposed to be either a yes-no question or an opportunity to express something about your subject.”

“Sorry.”

“Well, do you enjoy it?”

“It's hard. But... it's beautiful. The symmetry, the equations, I can make them dance and sing for me.”

“O.K. So it's not quite fun, but you like it.”

“Yeah.”

“And you're a second year?”

“No, third year.”

“And do you like dancing?”

“I don't know. It looks... intricate. I like intricate.”

“But it sounds like you've never done it?”

“Not, you know, with someone else.”

“Or talked with many people?” she guessed.

“Not quite like this.” He gulped again.

“Quite like what?”

“Off the map, without a topic. I like a topic, it helps me organise my thoughts.”

“So, why did you come and talk to me?”

“Because... Eliza told me if I came I'd have to dance, and you're not older than me like most women here, and you're really pretty, and I guessed you were single, dancing with the king when Eliza said the bridesmaids could dance with anyone they wanted to. And I thought, when the queen stopped you, hey that's not fair, and maybe you'd be you'd feel cheated out of your dance. It seemed like an ideal opportunity — assuming I wanted to dance with anyone, and I thought if I don't ask her then I'll probably not ask anyone.”

“So, a little bit of cold hard calculating, a little moral outrage, and a little bit of bravery?”

“Yes. Lots of bravery, actually. Even with the outrage, I nearly didn't get up.”

“You did that calculating very quickly then.”

“I can do that. Draw conclusions, analyse facts. But not people, really. People are complicated.”

“I know. Come on.”

“Where?”

“Let's see how intricate dancing really needs to be. Intricate might be pretty, but embarrassing yourself or falling over isn't fun.”