Spare

Euge and Jack were near Granny and they almost seemed to pretend not to know Meg. They were very quiet, very proper. Each gave Meg a quick kiss on the cheek, but it was pure royal. Pure British.

There was some bloke standing to the other side of Granny and I thought: Bogey at twelve o’clock. Meg looked to me for a clue as to his identity, but I couldn’t help—I’d never seen him before. Euge whispered into my ear that he was a friend of her mum’s. Ah, OK. I looked at him hard: Brilliant. Congratulations on being present for one of the most consequential moments of my life.

Granny was dressed for church: a brightly colored dress and matching hat. I can’t recall the color, I wish I could, but it was bright. Fancy. I could see Meg regretting her jeans and black sweater.

I was also regretting my shabby trousers. We didn’t plan, I wanted to tell Granny, but she was busy asking about Meg’s visit.

Great, we said. Wonderful.

We asked about the church service.

Lovely.

It was all very pleasant. Granny even asked Meg what she thought of Donald Trump. (This was just before the November 2016 election, so everyone in the world seemed to be thinking and talking about the Republican candidate.) Meg thought politics a no-win game, so she changed the subject to Canada.

Granny squinted. I thought you were American.

I am, but I’ve been living in Canada for seven years for work.

Granny looked pleased. Commonwealth. Good, fine.

After twenty minutes Granny announced she had to be going. My uncle Andrew, seated beside her, holding her handbag, began to escort her out. Euge went with her too. Before reaching the door Granny looked back to say goodbye to Jack, and to Fergie’s friend.

She locked eyes with Meg, gave a wave and a warm smile. Bye.

Bye. Lovely to meet you, Ma’am, as she dipped into a curtsy again.

Everyone flooded into the room after she’d driven away. The whole vibe changed. Euge and Jack were their old selves, and someone suggested drinks.

Yes, please.

Everyone complimented Meg on her curtsy. So good! So deep!

After a moment Meg asked me something about the Queen’s assistant.

I asked who she was talking about.

That man holding the purse. That man who walked her to the door.

That wasn’t her assistant.

Who was it?

That was her second son. Andrew.

She definitely hadn’t googled us.

16.

Next was Willy. I knew he’d kill me if I let it go another minute. So Meg and I popped over one afternoon, shortly before he and I were due to leave on a shooting trip. Walking up to apartment 1A, under the huge arch, through the courtyard, I felt more nervous than I had before the meeting with Granny.

I asked myself why.

No answer came to mind.

We climbed the gray stone steps, rang the bell.

No reply.

After a wait the door opened and there was my big brother, a bit dressed up. Nice trousers, nice shirt, open collar. I introduced Meg, who leaned in and gave him a hug, which completely freaked him out.

He recoiled.

Willy didn’t hug many strangers. Whereas Meg hugged most strangers. The moment was a classic collision of cultures, like flashlight-torch, which felt to me both funny and charming. Later, however, looking back, I wondered if it was more than that. Maybe Willy expected Meg to curtsy? It would’ve been protocol when meeting a member of the Royal Family for the first time, but she didn’t know, and I didn’t tell her. When meeting my grandmother, I’d made it clear—this is the Queen. But when meeting my brother, it was just Willy, who loved Suits.

Whatever, Willy got over it. He exchanged a few warm words with Meg, just inside the door, on the checkered floor of their hall. We were then interrupted by his spaniel, Lupo, barking as if we were burglars. Willy hushed Lupo.

Where’s Kate?

Out with the kids.

Ah, too bad. Next time.

Then it was time to say goodbye. Willy needed to finish packing and we needed to go. Meg gave me a kiss and told us both to have fun on our shooting weekend, and off she went to spend her first night alone at Nott Cott.

Over the next few days I couldn’t stop talking about her. Now that she and Granny had met, now that she and Willy had met, now that she was no longer a secret within the family, I had so much to say. My brother listened, attentive, always smiling thinly. Boring to hear someone besotted go on and on, I know, but I couldn’t stop myself.

To his credit, he didn’t tease, didn’t tell me to shut up. On the contrary, he said what I’d hoped he’d say, even needed him to say.

Happy for you, Harold.

17.

Weeks later, Meg and I drove through the gate, into the lush gardens of Clarence House, which made Meg gasp.