Finding the Fourth Hill

The Prince and Princess of Great Heshire

I am dead, I know this because an angel comes to collect me... A strong, handsome one...

I rub the sleep from my eyes but only find they've glued themselves together with my tears. Brilliant!

I finally manage to pry them apart without to much damage when I figure out what's so wrong.

This isn't my home, this place has a damp feel and lacking light.

The bed I'm lying on is not filled with feathers and layered with silk blankets, like usual. But filled with straw and the blankets are moth eaten with cigarette burn holes.

All the surroundings are unfamiliar, were are my double French doors and personal balcony? The veiw out of the tiny window on the far wall isn't registered in my memory. It's most definitely not the one that overlooks the stream and my horses paddock!

Ah ha! A whiff of smoke, that smell that I've known and loved my whole life. Thomas. And suddenly my bearings come flooding back to me.

I am at the Munfreu cottage, I haven't visited this place since I was, like, 14? I think. I turn over and all the memory's flood back.

The entire wall is coated in paintings of animals, castles and blue sky's ...

Ethel never minded that we drew on the walls, but only ever in this room, she was very house proud. This room is like our 'secret hideout'. Come to think of it, this was our club house! We called it Sox, and sure enough I look over and they're all still there. A pile of old, holey socks gone hard over time lay discarded in the corner of the room in front of our cardboard fortress.

I crawl out of bed and pick one of the stinky, stiff socks up. I mull it over in my hands feeling the brown fabric, it had poorly sewn buttons for eyes. These little beauty's were our dolls.

We'd play the hours away and sometimes, on those clear nights that followed those warm summer days. I'd sneek out, and Thomas and I'd continue our game of The Prince and Princess of Great Heshire.

"Why good morning Princess Cynthia!" He startled me.

I whip round to see Prince Edward II, Thomas. And let out a squeal of joy. Just like I use to when we were kids, after he'd surprised me with a delightful butterfly. Which we'd stuck to our wall with all the other unlucky captured butterflies.

"Prince Ed II!" I chuck him a his old sock, Prince Ed, dressed in a tiny red suit jacked made by Ethel's magic sewing hand and he sits down cross legged next to me. "Thank you Princess Cynthia, here you are." He hands me my sock, my sock has a pink dress made from the bottom of Ethel's silk drapes. That are now a foot to short. Dear Ethel, she really worked hard for our happiness.

And we hit it off, just like old times. According to the old notes we use to write to keep ourselves up to date with everything, the Prince and Princess were supposed to get married.

We spend half the morning rebuilding what had collapsed under all the dust that the kingdom had collected over those years of absentee.

We laughed twice as hard and talked twice as fast to make up for all the lose conversations we hadn't had for only God knows how long. It was just as easy, if not easyer! But there was the slightest difference and a little something forced in his smile.

Lunch came and went, Ethel delivered us freshly squeezed orange juice and hot out of the oven chocolate muffins, just like old times.

Everything was as close to perfect as life could ever get when, 'that' subject came up.

Thomas stops in the middle of christening baby Annabel, the new princess of Great Heshire.

"Why did he hit you?" He whispers. At first I'm reluctant to answer but he is my best friend and he'll find out sooner or later.

"I was out." I'm hit with that moment of doubt before you start something risky, this could damage our already rocky friendship ...

"I met a young gentleman, and I spent the day with him. When I returned 'HE' hit me."

"Can I ask who the gentleman was?" Thomas's face is solemn but curiosity burns in his eyes.

I know what I'm about to say will hurt him, the way he use to talk about the royals, the tone he use to use.

The royals live in town, in a palace. They're powerful and rich, and Thomas hates them. Ever since we were kids he has bad mouthed them but I think it's just because of what they didn't do to help his mother when she was abused. Thomas loves his mother, even when he hates her. Which is never.

"The youngest prince. But before you judge! He is very sweet so please, please don't be angry!" I closed my eyes and faced away waiting for the rage that I knew would follow.

But it didn't come. "I'm not angry Jose, I'm just disappointed. He's trouble Jose, just remember that." Then he walked out. Just like that.

Personally I would of proffer it if he'd yelled and screamed, this calm Thomas was new. It was intimidating and made me feel childish. I hate him for it.

***

I lie in the straw bed and stare at the yellow walls. When did life get so complicated? What happened to those days of scribbling, carelessly the on walls? The bed beside me sags. "Hey." He says.

I twist round to see the same face I saw. years ago. The same bronze curls and blue eyes. Those eyes, there was something missing in them. Like a jigsaw puzzle missing the middle piece, you know what it is but you just can't draw it when you need to.

"I'm sorry." He whispers. "Ss'k." I whisper back. I close my eyes, only for a second. But before I even know it I'm fast asleep.

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Kwl chapter? Lemme know what you think! Especially about Thomas! :) + Vote if you like what you read!