Chapter Eighty-Three
September rolled swiftly into October, bringing cooler weather, stronger winds and wetter days, and Harry and I moved into the new month knowing that it was going to be a busy one for us. An interview and photocall were scheduled for the first week, and in the second we would be kicking off our tour of the UK by travelling to Scotland.
The tour would be dragged out over the next few months, up until May 15th – the day – and while I was nervous about all the people I would have to meet and all the cameras and attention that would be on me, I was reassured by the fact that Lucy, for the further destinations and longer times spent away, would be coming with us.
Her vocabulary was growing rapidly, but her sentences still only consisted of one word, sometimes two. She was a good girl, now sleeping through the night, every night, crying minimally, but she was also a menace when she wanted to be. It seemed that only Harry could control her all the time; his smile always made her giggle and move in for a cuddle, while his frown was enough for her to stop whatever it was she was doing and toddle over, babbling as though to try and justify herself. But other than that, she was a jolly baby, always giggling and smiling.
She was giggling now, a few steps ahead of us down the path that tore through Kensington Gardens, and she ran ahead, her eyes fixed on a pigeon that was perched on the ground a couple of feet away from her.
“Lucy,” I called, and she turned to the sound of her name, her chubby face splitting into a beam as she saw us. Beside me, Kate chuckled lightly.
“Well, she's definitely obedient,” she said sarcastically, her eyes on my daughter, who had resumed her quest to capture the bird. “George! George, don't eat the grass-” She stooped just in time to stop him from stuffing the few tufts of grass he'd picked into his mouth. I couldn't help but laugh at the confusion of his face at his mother's panic.
“Felix, come,” I said, and the tan puppy that was sniffing a few feet away lifted his head, his tail wagging at me before he darted into a sprint, running over to me and jumping up. I laughed, ruffling his ears, as Lupo followed in his wake.
“So,” Kate said, once we were walking once more, Lucy toddling just in front of me, George beside his mother, clutching her hand. “Are you nervous?”
“About the photocall, the tour or the wedding?” I asked, and we shared a light giggle.
“About the interview,” Kate said, and I cursed jokingly at not having referred to that.
“I suppose,” I said. “Okay, yes, I am. Loads. I just keep picturing me swearing or something. Or saying something racist or whatever. Something that I can't take back. It's horrible.”
Kate nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. That's why I've only done one interview since I got engaged.”
I sighed. “I just feel a bit like they're using Harry and I to try and put all this shit right, you know? I mean, you and William didn't do a tour, or a full-on photocall or any of this, and if anything you should have, because you're going to be King and Queen, not us.”
“It's hard,” Kate agreed. “But they're not just using you. God, Lydia, you have no idea how much William and I's workload has gone up and Elizabeth and Philip's gone down. Because the people blame them. They don't blame us, they want to see us, if anything.”
“But it's...so bad,” I answered. “I really hate all of this. I feel as though there's pressure on us to do things right, in case we screw up the family's image even more.”
“Don't feel that way,” Kate said softly, cutting off to quickly grab George's hand and stop him from toddling away. “Look, the family's image is already screwed up. You're the only chance to try and save it. If you do mess up, you won't be screwing it up any more than it already is.”
I smiled slightly, running a hand through my hair. “I guess I'm just nervous.”
“That's normal,” Kate said, laughing. “Tonight you won't be hungry to eat any dinner, and it will take you about five hours to finally get some sleep. Trust me.”
It was unbelievable how right she was.
Almost four hours after I'd gone to bed, three hours after Harry had fallen asleep beside me, my extremely awake brain finally let me fall into unconsciousness, drifting into a disturbing dream involving photographers, cameras, my shoes and a very angry spider. And then, seemingly as soon as I'd fallen asleep, my shrill alarm was blaring.
I groaned, slipping my arm out from under the covers to silence it before pulling it back in and burying my face into my pillow, my head hurting from my lack of sleep. Beside me, I could feel Harry stirring, and his arm wrapped around me, gently pulling me to him as his lips went to the back of my head.
“Good morning,” he murmured.
“Ugh,” was my answer, and he chuckled.
“Come on,” he said against my hair. “Time to get up. Or didn't you hear your alarm?” His voice was teasing, and I groaned again, rolling onto my side to peer at him. His hair was its usual disheveled mess, the corners of his eyes slightly stuck with sleepy-dust, but he was smiling – his task of trying to calm me of my nerves had already begun, evidently.
“No,” I moaned, pulling the quilt over my head, and I heard his amused chuckles before I felt him try and tug it away. “Don't.”
“Lydia,” he murmured, finally succeeding in removing it and grinning down at me.
“Can't we just stay here?” I muttered, burrowing down deeper into the bed and raising my eyebrows at him. “Don't you want to stay here...in bed...with me?”
He chortled again, this time leaning down to peck the tip of my nose. “No. I want you to get up and go and have a shower while I feed Lucy.”
I pouted. “Well, why don't you get up and have a shower while I feed Lucy?”
“Because you need to be showered and clean for when Lucas and Shannon arrive,” Harry replied. “Not me. They're not doing my makeup and hair.”
“Although they should,” I teased, reaching up to ruffle his ginger spikes, messing them up even more than they already were. “You look a state.”
“You can talk!” he said. “Did you even take your makeup off last night or did you just wipe it with your fingers or something?”
I frowned. “Oh god, it's not smudged?”
“I'd be surprised if your pillow doesn't have a new black pattern on it.”
“Oh no,” I groaned, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and stumbling my way over to the mirror, seeing the monstrosity that was my panda eyes. “Bloody makeup wipes. That's the last time I get some from Tesco's.”
Harry chuckled. “They probably just dried out, you know.”
“Ooh, look at you, Einstein.”
“I know. I'm feeling very experimental today.” He waved his fingers before him, widening his eyes purposely as though to seem mad.
“Well, you've certainly got the mad scientist's hair.” He scowled, running a hand through it as he, too, got up. “You're hair isn't much better, you know.” I giggled, fingering it as though it might help. “If you can't say anything nice don't say anything at all.”
“Okay,” he said simply, grinning playfully at me as he turned away. His silence only lasted around ten seconds, before he sighed. “Fine, I guess I can't not talk to you.”
“Tell me something I don't already know.”
“Are you going to go shower or not?”
“Are you going to go feed Lucy or not?” I mimicked.
“You know,” he said matter of factly, as he pulled his pyjama t-shirt over his head and I slipped on my dressing gown. “I really, really hope Lucy doesn't get your attitude.”
“Well I really, really hope Lucy doesn't get your love for cock-ups and trouble.”
He grinned at me. “Touche.”
If he was trying to help me relax, then it was only partially working. While my mind wasn't concentrating on the photocall nor the interview, both later that day, my body was extremely aware of them, my stomach knotted and my insides somewhat trembling.
But the warm water of the shower was calming, soothing my tensed limbs and loosening my tight muscles. I ran it over me, the sweet scent of my soap and my shampoo filling my nostrils, and as my eyes closed to massage it into my hair, I wearily let my mind rove over the day ahead, the plans, the schedule and, of course, the questions I would be asked.
Lucas and Shannon were arriving in half an hour, and Claire would be arriving nearly an hour after that, just to check that everything is okay and on time. Harry and I would have some time to ourselves – most of which would probably be spent trying to get Lucy into her dress and have her not pull her socks off – and then at half eleven we would go down to the official Kensington Palace drawing room, where a group of photographers – led by a Mr Joseph Sneed – would be waiting for us.
The photocall would be for around half an hour, and then we would have time for a break, to have lunch, to check my hair and makeup, for Lucy to have a play with some of her toys, and for my nerves to finally relax, albeit only for a little while.
After that was the interview, and I had been told the topics that would be discussed: my time in the family so far, entering the family in such a different way, coping with my new status as a royal fiancee and royal mother simultaneously, my feelings on our Spring wedding, Harry and I's engagement so far, and our plans for the future – which would also include my plans as a working member of the royal family, mainly what sort of charities I would like to support.
I thought back to my last – and first – interview. It had been in May 2013, when Harry and I had announced our engagement – engagement that had come across because Lucy wouldn't be entitled to any title or royal protection without it. I remembered how nervous and shy and heavily pregnant I had been at the time, my hands folding protectively over my huge bump as we answered question after question concerning our relationship and our hopes for the baby and for the future.
All too soon, my hair was free of shampoo, my body free of soap, and it was time to turn off the shower and step outside. The absence of the warm water immediately made me tense, and whether it be because of the cold or because of the nerves I didn't know – all I knew was that I had to work to calm my breathing and thumping heart.
Harry was sat on the floor with Lucy in the living room when I entered, gently smoothing Felix's soft ears as he watched the news headlines that were on the TV. Lucy was perched on her padded bottom, playing with her wooden blocks, trying to fit them all into place, a crease forming between her eyebrows whenever it didn't match.
“Hey,” I said gently, attracting Harry's attention, and Lucy turned round at the sound of my voice, her face splitting into a beam at the sight of me.
“Mama!” she said, pushing herself to her feet, her toys falling off her lap as she did so, and then she stooped to grab her In The Night Garden doll laying nearby. “Magga Pagga!”
I laughed lightly at her (Makka Pakka was the character's name) and crouched down, holding out my arms and cuddling her. “Have you had your breakfast? Have you had your milk?”
“Meelk!” she said. “Yah!”
Harry chuckled from where he was sat a few feet away, his eyes on her. “I swear, she understands so many words now.”
I nodded, smiling adoringly at her as I leant forward to rub the tip of my nose against hers. Eskimo kisses were a favourite of hers, and she squealed in delight, giggling as I, too, laughed at her reaction.
“Eskimo kisses,” I said, gently stroking a strand of her hair. “Kisses?”
“Keesees!” she said, beaming at me, one of her hands going to my cheek, and I leant down, knowing what she wanted. She pouted her lips slightly and pressed them to my face, before pulling away and giggling.
“Oh, that was a lovely kiss!” I said. “Mwuah!”
Lucy giggled once more, her arms flailing out as she tried to copy me. “Mah!”
“Okay, Lucy-loo,” I sang, scooping her into my arms and blowing a raspberry against her chubby cheek, making her squeal. “Time to get you ready while I wait for Lucas and Shannon to arrive.”
“You're going to get her ready now?” Harry asked, also getting to his feet. Then he grinned. “Good luck with that.”
Lucy had a problem, where she hated putting clothes on and she hated taking them off, and then she hated putting more clothes on again. Harry was usually the one to dress her, and he knew exactly how much trouble she could be.
I scoffed. “Oh, pur-lease. Lucy will behave for me because I'm her favourite.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Harry teased. “Keep telling yourself that.”
He was right to wish me luck, because I was pulling on all the luck I could get as Lucy squirmed and wriggled, trying to get out of my hold, trying to escape from what I was trying to do. Removing her of her sleepsuit wasn't too difficult – mainly because she actually crawled out of it herself without meaning to – but putting her in her dress was harder.
She annoyed wails very quickly turned into cries, and by the time she was full dressed – cardigan, shoes and all – she was very, very angry at me.
“Oh, are you angry with me?” I asked, tickling under her chin. She scowled at me, making me laugh. “Oh, Lucy, don't be mad.”
“Ah goo ya too lay,” she said miserably, and I smiled, endeared, as ever, by her incomprehensible language.
The doorbell rang not long later, and I sat her on my hip, letting Felix lead me out into the hallway, his barks sounding the arrival of a visitor. It was, as expected, Lucas and Shannon, Lucas holding a very large bag full of hair equipment, Shannon also lugging a big case of makeup.
“Lucas!” I said, smiling. “Shannon!”
“Goodness, Lydia, how long has it been?!” Lucas said, his enthusiasm and smile as infectous as ever. “Long time no see! Have you lost weight?”
My eyes automatically dropped to my body and I made an unconvinced face before grinning. “Hey, I have a wedding to diet for now.”
“So I heard!” he cried, laughing as I led them into the apartment. “Shannon and I were just discussing who we think is designing the dress.” He dropped his voice. “If you're going to tell anyone, tell me. We're betting against each other, see...”
I laughed. “To be honest, I don't know yet. Kate's going to take me to a few other designers that she considered next month to see if I'm interesting in asking any of them to do it.”
Lucas was the only person after Harry who could put me at ease within a few seconds, and his delighted and non-stop babble calmed me as he let Shannon sort my makeup. He sat on the spare chair in my dressing room, playing with Lucy and often making her dissolve into giggles as he made her Winnie the Pooh teddy dance around.
Nearly an hour later, I could hide from my fears no longer. Lucas stepped back, gently fluffing my hair back into place, and looking slightly nervous as she checked his work.
“What do you think?” he asked, and to show my appreciation, my approval, I smiled.
“Amazing,” I said, moving my head from side to side, feeling the softness brush against my ears. “I swear, you must have godly powers or something to get my hair like this.”
He chuckled. “Well, I'm very glad you're happy with it.”
I rose from my seat, taking a deep breath as I turned to my dress, hanging on the back of my wardrobe door. “You'll both be staying, won't you?”
“We'll be here to top up your makeup before your interview, yes,” Shannon said, smiling. “Nervous?”
I shook my head, summoning some false courage, and then I bit my lip, nodding. “Very.”
“Oh, you'll be fine,” she replied, laughing reassuringly. “Really, Lydia, you'll be great. You look great, so you're half way there.”
They left me to get dressed, and as I rolled on my opaque tights, smoothing them up my legs, I noticed how my hands were trembling. My stomach was knotted once more, my heart pounding nervously, and I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, trying to calm myself before I pulled my dress on.
“You look beautiful.”
Harry's voice startled me, and my head snapped round to see him leaning against the opposite wall, smart in a tailored suit and bunny-covered tie. He was long and lean, a small smile on his face as he looked at me, his hands in his pockets.
I felt myself blush slightly, my heart swelling at his compliment despite my nerves. “Thank you,” I murmured. “I see you've sorted your hair out.”
“Yes,” he said, chuckling. “Just so you wouldn't keep on.”
“Me? Keep on?” I gasped in mock confusion. “Do you know me at all?”
His hands went to my waist, wrapping around me, and mine in turn went to the back of his neck, my head tipping back to gaze up at him. It was strange, how safe I felt in his hold, even though he was scanning my face, trying to read my emotions.
“How are you feeling?”
“Nervous,” I said, without hesitation. “Scared. Petrified.”
“That gradually got worse.”
“I've gradually got worse.”
He sighed, leaning down to nuzzle his nose into my neck, and I hugged him back, cuddling into him. “I'm so sorry.”
“Don't be,” I said against the fabric of his suit. “Harry, don't. I know that you feel responsible and all that, but this isn't your fault. Besides, you've got enough on your mind.”
“But-”
“No buts!” I said, pulling back to place a finger to his lips. He grinned slightly.
“Oh, but yours is so nice.”
I rolled my eyes, leaning up to kiss him before crossing the room to slip into my heels. “Where's Lucy?”
“In the lounge, with Lucas,” Harry explained. “Watching In the Night Garden.”
“I don't want her to do this today,” I said.
“Neither do I,” he replied. “But it's part of her life. It will always be, the same way that it was for me. And look how I turned out.”
He meant to reassure me, but I made a face. “Screwed up, you mean?”
“Oh ha ha.”
I giggled, sitting down on the chair and reaching out to him; his hands entwined with mine easily, and he moved to stand before me, a smile on his face.
“Lucy will be fine,” he said, stroking a strand of hair off my face. “And so will you. You hear me? You'll be fine.”
Before I could answer or nod or accept his words, he'd leant down, his soft lips capturing mine, reassuring me not only that everything would be okay but that he loved me and trusted me. One of my hands gently clutched at his jaw, and his tongue tenderly teased my mouth open.
The doorbell rang.
“Ugh,” Harry groaned, stepping back and scowling in the direction of the door. “Bloody hell, Claire, good timing or what?”
I giggled, getting to my feet and pressing a last kiss to his cheek. “Time to go?”
He nodded once, his hands finding mine and his mouth pulling up into a reassuring smile. “Time to go.”
Claire's heeled foot was tapping impatiently when I finally opened the door, and she scowled. “Do you know what time it is?”
I tried to look as innocent as possible. “Chico time?”
Her scowl somehow deepened, and I recoiled slightly. “Well, the photographers are about to arrive, and they've requested twenty minutes to set up and get ready, so you have twenty minutes until I come to get you.”
“Twenty? Okay.” I ignored the nervous drop of my stomach, nodding.
“Oh, and be ready,” she added, her eyes narrowing slightly, and I nodded, intimidated, as ever, by my fiances private secretary.
“God, she's in a great mood,” I said, as I entered the lounge. Lucas and Shannon had already left to wait downstairs, and Harry was sat on the sofa, Lucy bouncing on his lap in her sleepsuit.
“Who? Claire?”
“Yep, although I don't think she's Claire any more. Maybe the devil in disguise or something.”
He chuckled as I perched on the seti beside him, careful not to crease my dress nor mess my hair. “Did she say how long we have?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Twenty?” Harry hissed, his eyebrows rising, and then he sighed, scooping Lucy into his arms and getting to his feet. “Come on then, Lucy. Time to go get you dressed.”
“No!” she babbled, trying to push at him. It hadn't taken her long to realise that 'get dressed' meant taking her clothes off and putting others back on, something that she detested intensely. I laughed lightly at her reaction.
“Do you want some help?” I asked him, getting to my feet and following him into her nursery; her tiny dress was hanging gracefully on the door of her miniature wardrobe. He grinned at me as he set her down on the changing mat.
“It's okay,” he said. “Don't mess up your hair.”
I watched him dress her, smiling at the way she squirmed and calming her with soothing words whenever she cried for her. Finally, she was ready, her fluffy ginger hair combed back and kept in place with a white bow, and Harry scooped her into his arms, sitting her on his hip before turning to me.
“What time is it?”
“Time to go,” I answered reluctantly, and he moved to grab my hand, his fingers softly caressing mine.
“I love you,” he murmured. “And I know that you'll be amazing.”
“I don't know about that,” I said, closing my eyes as he kissed my temple.
“You will,” he said. “Just take deep breaths and stay calm. And you'll be great.”
I managed a smile just as there was a knock on the door, and I did just as Harry had said. I sucked a large breath in through my nostrils, and let it flood out of my mouth before following him.
Harry
“She's a gorgeous little girl, sir.”
I smiled, bouncing the toddler in my arms up and down as I nodded my agreement. “She really is. Although she's a little rascal most of them time.”
The main photographer, Joseph, chuckled lightly as Lucy began to babble incoherently. “Takes after her father?”
“Lydia would have you believe so,” I replied, glancing over my shoulder where Lydia was sat on the sofa, her back straight and legs crossed. She raised an eyebrow.
“You better not be talking about me,” she said, grinning. I chuckled.
The photo shoot was over. Lucy very quickly got bored of sitting still, resorting to toddling around the room playing with equipment – nearly knocking a camera of a tripod in the process – and the Joseph didn't hesitate to snap picture after picture of her. I could tell that Lydia was uncomfortable with how much attention was being placed on our daughter, so I quickly pulled Lucy back over to us, bouncing her on my knee to draw an adorable giggle.
“Thank you so much for your time,” I said, shaking Joseph's hand, and he smiled.
“Thank you for asking me to do this,” he replied. “It's been an honour.”
Lydia also rose to shake his hand, smiling warmly at him, and then we were led from the room, Claire babbling things to me.
“Okay, so now you have ten minutes to eat the lunch that Annalise has prepared for you, and then you must go and see Lucas and Shannon, Lydia. They have ten minutes to top up your makeup and hair, and then you'll-”
“Claire-” I said, cutting her off. “It's okay. We know. Stop stressing.”
She paused, staring at me for a moment, and then she nodded. “Okay. Yes, yes. Your lunch is down the hall, in the dining room.”
“We know, Claire. Stop worrying.” She left us then, finally letting me turn to Lydia and press a loving kiss to her lips. “You were amazing.” “Pfft, please,” she said, smiling slightly. Then she sighed. “That was horrible.”
“Horrible?” I quoted, frowning.
“Did you see how many pictures of Lucy they took?” she said, giving our daughter a light tickle, making her giggle.
“It's only natural that they want to picture her,” I said, and I grinned. “Have you seen how better looking she is than us?”
Lydia giggled lightly then rolled her eyes. “I just felt like...I don't know. Like I was a model, and it was my job to just sit still and do as they say. I didn't like it.”
“I understand,” I said, taking her hand. “Anyway, that bit's over now. Just the interview left.”
“Whoop-de-doo.”
“Ha ha.”
I could tell she was scared. She didn't talk through lunch, barely touching the food as I helped Lucy munch on some sandwiches, and when she disappeared to have her hair and makeup checked, she gave me a nervous smile. I sighed, pressing my lips to Lucy's head as her mother left.
“Why is Mummy nervous?” I murmured to her. “Do you want to do the interview for Mummy?”
“Yah,” she said, playing with her toes, and I chuckled.
“Are you still hungry Lucy?” I asked.
“No,” she replied, pushing the plate before me away. “Bottle!”
“You want your bottle?” I said. “Come on then, I'm sure Nanny can get you your bottle.”
Nanny Rose had just arrived, and as Lucy's eyes fell on her babysitter, her mouth split into a beam. “Nannee!”
Nanny Rose laughed lightly, taking the toddler in her arms. “Goodness, Lucy, don't you look pretty today. That's a very pretty bow in your hair.”
I chuckled. “Took us a lifetime to get it on.”
“I bet it did,” she replied. “How did the photo shoot go? Did she behave?”
“Who? Lucy or Lydia?”
She laughed, rolling her eyes slightly. “Lucy, of course. But how was Lydia? Was she nervous?”
“I think she's more nervous about the interview,” I said.
I was right. As soon as Lydia reapeared, I took her hand and pressed it to my lips. “You okay?”
“No.”
“Please don't be nervous,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her into a hug. “Please don't. I just want you to be happy, you know.”
“I can't help it,” she replied, snuggling into me. “Let's just go get this thing over with.”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
“So, why have you suddenly decided to get married? You kept putting it off, saying that you wanted Lucy to be older. But why now?”
The interview had just begun. Lydia was sat beside me on the sofa, her hand in my lap as I gently stroked her fingers. The interviewer, a journalist from BBC, sat before us, and he was a jolly man with a nice smile.
“Well, I think we just realised that there is never going to be perfect time to get ready,” I said. “I mean, I love Lydia. I have for a few years now and I will for many, many more, and I don't think there's going to be a moment when I love her more than I usually do. So we decided that a wedding would mean just as much now as it would in ten years.”
“Also, I think we realised that a wedding isn't about pleasing our families and everyone around us, but it's solely do to with our happiness and our love,” Lydia said quietly.
“So when is the wedding?”
“May 15th,” I answered. “So get your bunting ready.”
The interviewer chuckled. “We've been told that the buildup to this wedding is a little different to your brother's. You'll be travelling around the UK?”
“We will, yes,” I said. “A lot of people wanted to see William and Catherine before their wedding, but they didn't get the chance to, so we've decided that this way we can meet more of the public and they can meet us.”
“Now, Lydia, how do you feel about the wedding? Are you nervous? You've always coped very well with the attention, but this will throw you into a very different kind of spotlight.”
“I don't know whether I've coped well, I just hide my nerves pretty good,” Lydia explained. “But I'm excited. Marrying the man I love – I don't know what woman wouldn't be.”
“What about Lucy? Does she know yet? Is she old enough to be excited?”
I chuckled. “Well, she's going to be a bridesmaid for my friend next month, and she adores the dress she'll have to wear for that, but I think we've still got quite a bit to go yet. By the time of the wedding, she'll be a two weeks away from turning two.”
“She'll be more excited then,” Lydia agreed.
“How do you feel about entering the family permanently, Lydia?” he asked. “Of course, up until now you've only been engaged, so you could get out if you needed to.”
“I don't think I could ever 'get out',” Lydia said. “I have Lucy, and Harry is Lucy's father, so even if Harry and I split up there'll always be her linking me to his family. But I'm very excited to be joining the family. They're all extremely lovely and welcoming that I already feel like a part.”
“Why don't you tell us a little bit about entering the family the way you did? I mean, pregnant with an illegitimate child? It's a reality that a lot of young women deal with nowadays.”
“It is, yes,” Lydia agreed. “I was very scared that they would disapprove of me, for having fallen pregnant the way that I did. Especially Harry's grandmother, because I find that the older generations have a harder time accepting...you know...sex out of marriage. But Elizabeth was very kind and understanding – she's very up to date on what's happening in the country – and she was very willing to help me if I ever needed any help.”
“I think, because of Lydia's situation, my family were all the more eager to welcome her,” I said. “It's a very hard situation for a young woman to be in, and they all wanted to make sure she was as happy as she could be and that she had everything she needed.”
“Of course, a lot of women have children out of marriage nowadays,” the interviewer continued. “But none of them have to deal with becoming a new mother and a new royal at the same time. How was that?”
“Well, it was hard, because a lot of the early engagements I did were done on not a lot of sleep,” Lydia said. “But I got used to it. I think having Lucy just made me realise how worth it this whole life is. Having Harry and Lucy makes all the hard tasks of being a member of the royal family worth it.”
“Now, we've spoken of the wedding,” he said. “But what are your plans for after the wedding? Should we expect a little playmate for Lucy?”
Lydia and I glanced at each other as we laughed lightly.
“Lucy has a playmate in George,” I said, grinning. “But no, we haven't really thought about any of that yet. It's still a long way off.”
“We have to survive the wedding yet,” Lydia said, drawing more laughter.
It was only a quick little interview, and it ended soon, the interviewer shaking our hands and smiling warmly at us, thanking us for our time. I could feel how relaxed Lydia now was beside me, her smiled warm and relieved as she bid goodbye to him, and then her hand found mine as I led her from the room.
“See?” I said. “That wasn't so bad.”
“No, it wasn't,” she said, giggling. “Lucy!”
Lucy was standing at the other end of the corridor with Nanny Rose, and at the sight of us she cried out.
“Mama! Dada!” her lisp sounded, and she ran down the hall towards us, her arms flung out as Lydia stooped, scooping her up into her arms.
“Were you a good girl for Nanny Rose?”
“Yah,” she said. “Good good!”
I chuckled. “She behaved?”
“Oh yes,” Rose said, smiling affectionately at her. “I swear she's learning words fast. She asked me for some orange while we were in the kitchen. And I thought 'did she just say orange or am I hearing things'.” She laughed. “She's definitely growing.”
Lydia bounced her up and down, pressing her lips to her temple. “Lucy's growing up big and strong, aren't you Lucy?”
“Beeg and stwong!”
Lydia's face split into the adoring smile that always graced her whenever Lucy repeated her words. “Big and strong!”
I laughed lightly at the two of them. “Thanks for your time, Rose.”
“Oh, don't be silly,” she said, bidding us goodbye before heading off home. I glanced at Lydia.
“So, that's over with,” I said. “What's our next task?”
She giggled. “Um...Visit to Scotland and then Remembrance Sunday.”
I made a face. “Well, at least there's no more interviews, eh?”
She grinned. “No more interviews.” And her eyes were full of relief.