A Royal Adventure [Ongoing]

Eight

I was soon glad that I was the only member of the group who spoke fluent French – or really any French. We had stopped once already to get some petrol and Saunders had sent me in to pay. I had done this quickly, making sure not to meet anyone's eye and to stay alert.

Something about this whole thing felt uncomfortable and I couldn't explain why. I certainly couldn't express my concerns with my friends, because then I would have to tell them everything and I wasn't ready to do that yet. I knew that I would have to soon and that made me feel even worse.

But soon, the travel euphoria took over and I forgot about being AWOL, about being in a car with a bunch of English kids in France. I forgot about Henrik and Ana. I would be back for their wedding and that was all that mattered.

Saunders had managed to tune into some French radio stations, and was singing along despite not knowing the words. So far, so good. It was now pitch black and it was hard to see anything out the windows apart from the bright headlights of other cars and the road signs whizzing by.

I stopped holding my breath, feeling a lot more comfortable with the whole thing and feeling like we might actually make it in one piece after all.

Saunders had relaxed too, and seemed far more comfortable with driving on the wrong side of the road.

It was strange to be back in France – the last time I had been there, at Christmas, had merely been a stop at the airport, before flying back to the UK. That seemed an incredibly long time ago – a time when my two worlds had still been distinctly separate. I couldn't help but think that I was hurtling towards a collision that was not going to be pleasant at all.

Saunders glanced in his mirror. 'Going to have to stop for coffee soon. And food. Charlie, you be happy to take over driving?'

'Of course.'

'Oh good food – I'm starving,' Pen, who I thought had been fast asleep, announced sitting up.

Eventually we came across a service station and Saunders pulled over, to fill up the car, stretch and get some snacks. While the boys sorted the car, I headed in with Pen to use the toilet and find some food. Pen couldn't stop whispering to me about how everything was just so different and so French. I tried not to laugh, but she was right – it did all feel so different from the UK. It was hard to believe that that morning I had been full of plans for my flights and what I hoped would be a relaxed journey home for a few days, before I returned to what had become my normal.

Pen and I swept several things into our basket, and I lingered a little longer, while she disappeared to look for something to read.

And then it all started to unravel.

She was standing by the newspapers in the services when she called me over. 'Hey Alex. This girl looks weirdly like you.' She pointed at one of the gossipy, tabloid front covers. My heart jolted when I saw my brother's name printed there in big letters, together with his eyes, and his smile beaming at me. My own face - a picture from about four years ago thankfully – added at the bottom. It was all the usual hype, about the wedding, but to see it there, for real, made me want to scream and panic.

Instead, I made myself laugh and then said, 'funny isn't it? I get that all the time.' I glanced over my shoulder. 'Come on, the boys will be waiting.'

'What does it say?' she asked.

I pretended to glance at the headlines, even though I already knew what they said. Why had I not thought that this would be everywhere? Why had I not considered that my brother getting married was a big deal over Europe? Stuck in my little English bubble, I had completely forgotten just what my life really was. My life wasn't one that meant that I could waltz through service stations and go on impromptu road trips through different countries. I had been lured into a false sense of security and reality was now catching up with me. 'Just something about a big event – come on, let's get going, we don't want to waste time.'

Pen pursed her lips, and I knew she didn't really believe me, but luckily for me, she took my arm and didn't say anything more. The heavy feeling in my stomach receded, ever so slightly, but not enough. It was still there. Still very present and I didn't know what I was going to do.

I had hoped that the worst was over – that that was it and I could continue to dart and dive around the issues, but that was not to be the case at all.