Just The Way I'm Not (Prince Harry Fanfiction)

Chapter Two

“What’s going on guys?” I ask my parents as I enter the kitchen. My mother slides the letter towards me and smiles sweetly “It’s for you” she says “It has her majesty’s symbol on it.” I furrow my eyebrows at her, what the hell? That’s it. I was right. She’s barking mad. I snatch the letter off her and see what she means; the envelope is sealed with the Queen’s emblem. Still utterly confused I tear open the letter and pull the paper out, reading like my life depended on it. It read:

Miss Holly Longford of Seashore House, Craster Village, Northumberland, NR4 S16,

You have been invited to meet her majesty the Queen at Buckingham Palace on August 1st 2012.

Details are enclosed.

Signed, the owner of the household.

Suddenly this began to make sense. I’d heard about this type of thing before. Every few months or so the Queen meets a whole group of people, celebrities and the nations heroes, she walks into a room and shakes hands with them and that’s it. I guess it’s meant to be some kind of honour, I never saw the point myself. So what, I’ve been invited to be one of those people? But what have I ever done?! The Queen meets people who have contributed to society, like written a book or survived cancer or done something amazing in the army. I’m just some girl who hardly ever leaves her village, let alone does something amazing. I don’t even like the Queen. My Royal Family love stretches as far as Kate, Wills and Harry. Why would they want me? Suddenly it all falls into place. I get a horrible feeling as I slowly realise why I’ve been chosen. The charity. I’m some sort of fake local hero around here and I therefore deserve I handshake with the Queen? Okay this whole charity work has been blown so far out of proportion. I suddenly feel sick knowing I can’t turn it down, knowing I have to go. I throw the letter down on the table and let my parents read it; unsurprisingly my mother begins to scream. “This is amazing!” she gasps, pulling me into a big hug and starts rambling about buying my a nice dress for the occasion and how she’s going to tell the entire family. Thankfully Dad is seeing sense “We can’t just let her go” he says bluntly. Mum’s face falls angrily “Oh for god’s sake Richard!” she says “It’s the Queen! THE QUEEN!”

“So we’re just going to let her travel to London and go into this Palace all on her own?” he says. Though his argument is poor, I’m glad he’s not for it, maybe this way I don’t have to go. “She’s eighteen” My Mum persists, perusing her lips together “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and she’s more than old enough to London on her own or a day or two.”

“I’m aware of that, but every charity is entitled to its Royal Visit and we’re getting ours next month, why does she need to go to London as well?” Dan puts his hands on the table firmly, he doesn’t look like he’s backing down.

“Because” Mum almost shouts “This isn’t about the charity. It’s about Holly getting the credit she deserves, besides imagine what it will look like on her CV!” Slowly I was beginning to warm to Mum’s perspective. Yes, I was being a total fraud by going but it would do me good for the future and, more importantly it will get me out of Craster Village for a few days. It will most certainly abide by my new rule too. This could be what I was praying for. “And how are we meant to be paying for this?” Dad asks, looking smug whilst he waits for Mum to think of an answer. She snaps back almost immediately “I have savings” she spins round and glares at me “Holly, you’re going to London.”

*

I stand in front of the mirror and brush my hair. Studying my face I realise, that if I really tried, I could be pretty. I have long blonde, curly hair and bright blue eyes, I have a few cute freckles and I’ve never had spots. I guess that’s why I never worn makeup. Unlike most girls, I’ve never thought a lot about my looks before, but I’m going to the Palace today and appearance has never been more important. But now I’m beginning to realise that I’m not bad looking, it’s given me a boost of confidence. I’m wearing a short red dress that comes out at the bottom so when I spin it goes flying everywhere. The top of it and the sleeves are entirely made out of lace and look amazing, I’m glad I didn’t ask Mum how much it was, I don’t want to know. I slip into my matching red heels and make for the door. Even though I’ve never been that bothered about the Royals I had to admit I was getting kind of nervous. After all I was about to meet the Queen. This was a big deal. I walk down the hall of the Hotel and out the door, the London air hits my face straight away and I’m taken away by how busy it is, I’ve only ever been to a city once before and I wasn’t used to it. I slide into the car that was sent for me and am driven through the streets. All the while I’m getting more and more worried about it, my palms are sweating and I panic that the Queen isn’t going to shake my hand. Ridiculous thoughts swarm my head, like whether I’ll trip over or not. When we reach the Palace we go in through I side gate and round the back of it. I have to show my invitation and passport to about a million different people before I’m eventually let inside. Me, along with several other people, some of whom I recognise, like a footballer I’m vaguely aware of and an author of a book I’ve read, are all guided along a plush, red corridor, which is just about the poshest place I’ve ever seen in my life. The paintings look so delicate and I almost feel rude walking on their carpet. One thing’s for sure I feeling totally out of place. I could only dream of living somewhere like here. We walk for a good fifteen minutes, up the stairs and around the house, we’re presumably being led somewhere but it feels like it’s taking forever. I’m just thinking how impractical my heels are when they open two double doors into a massive empty room. It’s kitted out with the curtains, carpet, wallpaper and paintings but there’s no furniture. Even so, it’s still ten times nicer then my whole house. We stay in this room for a while, our guide rambles on for half an hour about how to shake the Queen’s hand and how to address her. I can’t help but think this is a little stupid, I doubt she’d care or notice either way. It’s when they’ve got us lining up against the wall that my nerves come back. The guide and a guard are talking in hushed voices by the door and look frustrated. I wonder if something has gone wrong but then we’re all told to be quiet and stand up straight. The guard on the door, does some kind of weird action then says “Here on behalf of Her Majesty The Queen, The Prince Of Wales.” I freeze. The Queen isn’t here? Harry’s here?! The guard opens the door and a tall red head strides in. He’s in a black tie suit with his hands behind his back. I have to gulp slightly, noticing he looks so attractive. He slowly approaches the line and starts making his way down it. His greeting is a lot more informal then I thought it would be. I just can’t believe he’s here. I didn’t have enough time to comprehend this. Yes, I know The Prince’s always turn up instead of the Queen to places all the time I just didn’t see it happening today. I’m still gawping in shock when it’s my turn. I don’t notice he’s standing there at first, but when the guide coughs from behind Prince Harry I come back down to earth. “Oh shit” I breathe, realising I’d just ignored the Prince Of Wales. Harry smirks at me slightly, as if he wants to laugh. “I can’t believe I just said that” I blurt “Err Sorry.” I’m frowning at myself; my mouth and brain don’t seem to be in contact with each other, I want to vomit and cry at the same time, I want to flee from the building. The guide acts as the Prince’s queue and introduces. “This is Holly Longford, Charity Worker.” Harry smiles and holds his hand out and I shake it fiercely. I gasp and roll my eyes at myself realising I didn’t even get the shake right “Sorry!” I exclaim “I’m really fucking up here!” I must have the most horrified look on my face right now. I wasn’t meant to say anything more to Harry then ‘Sir’ and instead I’ve cursed and rambled on. It’s a wonder security hasn’t thrown me out. The people around me are shuffling slightly, looking disapproving, but Harry’s face has turned in to a grin. He’s looking at me as if he’s suppressing a laugh, as if he wants to say something back, but he doesn’t. He remains professional and moves on to the next person. But I notice that even when he leaves the room, he’s still smiling.

I don’t have time to enjoy this, as in my head I have one awful thought, he’s going to be coming to the charity visit.