Princess - A Love Story

Chapter 2

1 year ago

Bangkok

Emily Stylianou was not having a good day. She glared at the man who currently had his head stuck under her kitchen sink, humming a happy tune to himself.

"Are you almost done Uncle Phassakorn?" She asked through gritted teeth.

The old man clucked hi tongue and said from under the sink, "Almost done. Now if you had a husband to look after you, you wouldn't have to bother an old man with such things."

Emily glared at him even though he couldn't see. "I'm barely twenty Uncle. What I need is a better paying job, not a husband!"

"Paid your rent yet?"

"No."

"Tuition for night school?"

"No."

"Malee's medicines...."

"You know I haven't." she snapped. The old man harrumphed to himself. "Then you need a husband"

Emily sighed. And all her troubles began and ended with money. And then plumbing gave out. Since she didn't have the money to get it fixed by a professional, she had to allow Uncle to make a mess, which she would be left to clean up. Her elderly neighbor prided himself on his handyman skills, and while he got the job done well enough he always left a trail of destruction behind him.

"Ugh!" she said a while later peering under her sink and taking in the gross stuff that had clogged her sink and which Uncle had left as he found it. Sighing in resignation, she hauled on her rubber gloves and knelt in the mess. She was wearing shorts; it was easier to clean her knees than wash a pair of pants, but it was still disgusting. "I can do this. I'm a grown up damn it!" Chanting thus to herself, she put her back in the scrubbing and soon she stopped cringing. She had just got into the groove and stopped retching at the grossness of it all, when her doorbell rang. Sighing she sat back on her haunches, "Who is it?" she yelled in Thai. There was a pause then the bell rang again. "Who is it?" she snapped in irritation. Nothing again. She was about to shout again, then there was a voice, "Excuse me, I'm searching for a Miss Emily Stylianou." Emily frowned. Whoever it was spoke English. Heavily accented English. European she thought. She got up and grimaced as the gunk she was kneeling in started to trickle down her shin. She opened the door.

"Miss Stylianou?" At her nod, "My name is Mr Morris" he held out his hand.

She held up her rubber clad hands. "Can I help you?"

"My name is Mr Morris. Secretary to the Queen." He announced grandly.

"Of England?" she goggled at him.

"Of...no of course not." She shrugged. With his clipped accent where else would she think. "Of Miionis."

"Oh." She was struck dumb.

"You didn't get my letter?"

"What letter?"

"The one requesting an appointment?"

Thoroughly irritated by now, "Do I look like I'm preparing for a visit to 'the Queen'?" The man looked thoroughly disconcerted. "Oh dear. But they are waiting."

Stifling her impatience, she said as politely as she could manage, "Old man, I have no idea who you are or what you want from me. As you can see I'm busy, so would you please state your business and go away."

"I am from Miioni. Does that not mean anything to you?"

Slowly she said, "It was where my father came from. But they cut ties when he wanted to marry my mother. What's anything got to do with me?"