Chapter Forty-Eight

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

‘A talent show?’ asked Lillian. ‘Yes,’ Grace said comfortably, buttering her toast. She was either horribly sick in the mornings, or ravenous, and was delighted to find today was one of her hungry days. ‘Or not so much a talent show, as a competition, a way of finding a new recording star for Empire Records. Someone local.’

‘I have inspired you,’ Nikolai said comfortably.

‘Yes, you have. Well, you and Ruby. It was that poem she quoted to me.’ She waved her toast in the air as she recited. ‘“Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathom’d caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.” It’s from “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard”. And, well, why should they blush unseen if we have a theatre and a bit of imagination? We could scout for talent across Highbridge ourselves, or hold auditions on Sunday afternoons in the theatre. Then have a proper show at The Empire to select the winner, and showcase a few of the singers we already have.’ She swallowed quickly and waved her hand. ‘Like you two.’

Nikolai looked at Lillian and raised one of his remarkably expressive eyebrows as Grace reached for more toast. ‘I would like to sing with you on stage, Lillian.’

‘We could have a choir to back you, and I think the instrumental section would lend itself to a waltz.’

Lillian leant forward and put her chin in her hand. ‘Who would judge?’

‘Stella. Harold, I think, would come up, and probably do a turn, too, and I did think we might be able to persuade Lance to come. He could duet with Stella. Josie Clarence, too.’

‘I suppose Hewitt is a living example of the fact people have some surprising hidden talents,’ Lillian said slowly, remembering her butler fending off Marakovians with a tea tray. Grace was looking at her hopefully. ‘It will take a push, but why not? You know, there was a girl I knew in the factory, had a voice like an angel, but was too afraid to put herself forward. She might have tried something like this, though.’

‘We’ll have to be clever about how we promote it,’ Grace said.

‘And what does Jack say to this?’

‘He says we’ll be beset by second-grade talent, and reminds me I’m pregnant, as if I hadn’t noticed, but we’ve come to an arrangement.’

‘Well, I think it’s an excellent idea, Grace,’ Lillian said. ‘One thing, might I suggest a date for the final? The twenty-eighth of July. It’s a Thursday, and the week that Twelve Miles Out is playing. If we compensate the company, they will return us the night. Nikolai and I have been planning a concert, but I think your talent show would be perfect.’

‘A concert? Is it for one of your charities?’

‘Something like that, dear.’

‘It’s rather close to the date the baby should be turning up.’ Grace put a hand on her belly. ‘But it would give us time to plan it properly, and if you were thinking of taking back that night anyway, why not?’

Lillian looked at Nikolai again, and he smiled at her. ‘You are going to have to trust us, dear, but I think we will be able to get you in some extra star power.’

‘What – more than Lance?’ Grace’s forehead puckered into a frown.

‘Yes, more even than Lance,’ Lillian replied.

Grace shrugged, borne aloft on a cloud of enjoying her breakfast and a pleasant rush of loving everyone around her very much, which was so much better than the moments when she felt crushed by every breath she took, and consumed by cravings for roast chicken – which, oddly, seemed to come at the same time.

‘In the meantime, Nikolai, I’d very much like your help with my writing.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Really, Grace? Talking about writing in general terms is always most invigorating, but to critique and receive critiques, that is much more difficult.’

‘It’s absolutely what I want, Nikolai.’

‘In that case, we can start today. Prepare your papers and deliver them to me in the morning room by lunchtime.’

‘I really think you must reconsider this impulsive visit to Highbridge,’ Sir Gideon said, waiting till the Prince of Wales had settled into one of the stiff armchairs in the morning room of Windsor Castle, before also lowering himself gratefully into a chair.

‘Highbridge is an important town, there is no reason I shouldn’t add it to my itinerary. And it’s not impulsive. It might look it,’ he added with a yawn, ‘as it shall not be announced until after Stefan has arrived in the country, but it’s not. And Highbridge will still have a couple of weeks to slosh a bit of fresh paint about. They’ve got plenty of factories for me to admire, haven’t they? And the digs sound splendid.’

‘But to go to the theatre, and watch Nikolai Kuznetsov perform, sir. It’s tantamount to an endorsement of his beliefs.’

‘Stefan is trying to introduce some balance, and lower temperatures politically, much as I’ve been attempting to do here,’ the prince said coolly. ‘The newspapers have been particularly unpleasant about Kuznetsov, I understand.’

‘Balance! This play of his. They were like revolutionaries off to storm the Bastille, sir! That is what the reports say. And led by the sworn enemy of Marakovia, Nikolai Kuznetsov!

The Prince of Wales was dressed for golf, and Colonel Osman had noticed him glancing at his watch twice already. He finished his tea, and set down the cup and saucer on the table next to him, still half looking over his shoulder at the view into the palace gardens.

‘Osman, what do you think? Stefan went through some convoluted back channels to ask me to do this, and to attend the theatre. They are putting on some sort of concert, and Nikolai and his wife will be singing “The Sunrise Song”.’

‘Well, Sir—’ Gideon began.

‘Are you deaf? I asked Osman. You brought him here and told me he’s an expert on Marakovia. Lord knows, I could do with one, the briefing books from the Foreign Office have been terribly slim. Then let him “expert” me.’

Neither Osman nor Sir Gideon had been offered tea. Osman cleared his throat. ‘On Kuznetsov’s play, sir . . . it’s an unusual piece. Very innovative staging, a cast drawn from the local populace, but I’d say its general thrust is against tyranny and pro justice for all.’

‘Last time I looked, we’re rather against tyranny ourselves, aren’t we?’

‘That’s still official policy, I believe,’ Osman replied, tempted into a grin. Sir Gideon huffed. ‘There is no doubt that Crown Prince Stefan going to the theatre, listening to Nikolai sing “The Sunrise Song” and publicly applauding it, will be seen as a strong rebuke to the king’s brother, Andrei, and his policies. I have to assume that is the plan.’

‘What is this Andrei up to anyway?’ the prince said, exasperated. ‘They are obviously as divided as any family, but that is their problem.’ He took a cigarette from the box on the table and lit it. ‘The request came through private channels, and was agreed to. I shan’t go back on my word because a very well-reviewed piece of theatre is making you uncomfortable, Sir Gideon.’

‘Sir, I think you are right to refuse to change the itinerary, particularly over this play,’ Osman said quietly. ‘But I don’t want to pretend there aren’t some risks involved on this tour, and in Highbridge in particular.’

‘Risks?’

Osman felt Sir Gideon’s disapproving gaze on him. He decided to make an effort. ‘As I said, this will be seen as a strong rebuke to Prince Andrei. Marakovia is a pivot point in Europe, sir. A small country of great importance, and now Crown Prince Stefan, as heir to an elderly king, is the pivot point of power in that country. His wish to visit the town where his cousin Nikolai is living, suggests he shares that man’s liberal leanings. Prince Andrei is much more in sympathy with the leaders of Italy, and he has increased his power exponentially in the last few months.’

‘You know, I think Mussolini makes a lot of sense sometimes. My people don’t need a strong guiding hand. We’re British, for goodness’s sake, but those Italians! And who’s to say that the Marakovians aren’t the same?’

Osman sat forward. ‘I disagree with you, sir.’ The prince raised an eyebrow, and turned his attention from the view to Osman. ‘The Marakovians do not have the experience with a constitutional monarchy we do, but under an enlightened monarch, they could become a stable democracy in time.’

‘But you think there are risks?’ the prince asked.

‘I do not know how far Prince Andrei’s allies will go if they fear they have lost control of Stefan. If he is killed, Andrei is next in line. That means a possible risk to yourself.’

‘A possible assassination? That would spice things up. Well, there’s a risk to me from the moment I get up in the morning, Osman. We hold the line. Stefan asked to go to Highbridge, so we’ll go there.’ The prince ground out his cigarette in his tea saucer. ‘And you can come.’

‘Me, sir?’ Osman said.

‘Yes, you, Colonel. I’m hereby appointing you one of my equerries. You know these fellows, their lingo and their country. I’ve learnt more about the place in the last five minutes than I have in the last five months. Come with me. Sir Gideon, you can remain in London.’

‘But sir, royal protocol and so on, I have very little experience.’

‘Then let me make this very simple for you, Colonel Osman. I am the Prince of Wales. You are not. When I tell you you are coming on this tour with me, you say “What a pleasure, sir”. You then do everything you can to prevent me or my guest from being assassinated, manhandled, or, to be honest, bothered in any way. Are we clear?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Splendid.’ The prince smiled at him. He had a generous smile when he wanted to employ it, and to his annoyance, Osman felt a patriotic pulse in his bloodstream. ‘And remember that bit about assassinations. Key point.’