Working With Cinderella

‘Fertility.’ He almost spat the word out, his mood as dark as it had been the morning she had faced him in his office, and it didn’t improve as they boarded the helicopter for their return to the palace.

The twins were crying as the helicopter took off.

‘They are not to arrive with teary faces. There will be many people gathered to greet them. My people will line the streets.’

‘Then comfort them!’ Amy said, but his face was as hard as granite and he turned to the window. ‘Emir, please.’ Amy spoke when perhaps she should not, but he had been so much better with the girls yesterday, and it worried her that she had made things worse instead of better. ‘Please don’t let last night …’

He looked over to Amy, his eyes silencing her, warning her not to continue, and then he made things exceptionally clear. ‘Do you really think what happened last night might have any bearing on the way I am with my daughters?’ He mocked her with one small incredulous shake of his head. ‘You are the nanny—you are in my country and you have to accept our laws and our ways. They are to be stoic. They are to be strong.’

But he did take Clemira and hold her on his knees, and when Clemira was quiet so too was Nakia.

Amy sat silent, craning her neck as the palace loomed into view, bouncing Nakia on her knee, ready to point out all the people, to tell the little girl that the waving flags were for her sister and herself.

Except the streets were empty.

She looked to Emir. His face was still set in stone and he said nothing.

He strode from the helicopter, which left Amy to struggle with the twins. He was greeted by Patel and whatever was said was clearly not good news, for Emir’s already severe expression hardened even more.

Amy had no idea what was happening.

She took the twins to the nursery and waited for information, to find out what time the party would be, but with each passing hour any hope of celebration faded and again it was left to Amy to amuse the little girls on what should be the happiest of days.

Her heart was heavy in her chest and she fought back tears as she made them cupcakes in the small kitchen annexe. At supper time she sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to them, watched them smile in glee as they opened the presents she had wrapped for them. Amy smiled back—but her face froze when she saw Emir standing in the nursery doorway.

His eyes took in the presents, the teddies and the DVDs. He watched as Amy walked over to him, her face white with fury, and for a second he thought she might spit.

‘They have everything, do they?’ Her eyes challenged him. ‘Some party!’

‘My brother is too busy in Dubai with his horses.’

He walked over to the twins and kissed the two little dark heads. He spoke in his language to them for a few moments. ‘I have their present.’

He called the servants to come in and Amy watched as the delighted twins pulled paper off a huge parcel. She bit on her lip when she saw it was a dolls’ house—an exquisite one—built like the palace, with the stairs, the doors, the bedroom.

‘I thought about what you said. How it helped you. I wanted the same for them.’

‘How?’ Even though it seemed like a lifetime ago, it had only been a couple of days. ‘How on earth did you get this done so quickly?’

‘There are some advantages to being King—though right now …’ Emir almost smiled, almost met her eyes but did not ‘… I can’t think of many.’

He stood from where he’d knelt with the twins and still could not look at her. He just cleared his throat and said what he had to—did what should have been done long ago.

‘Fatima will be sharing in the care of the twins from now on,’ Emir said, and Fatima stepped forward.

Not assisting, not helping, Amy noted.

‘She speaks only a little English and she will speak none to the twins: they need to learn our ways now.’

She did not understand what had happened. For as blissful as last night had been she would give it back, would completely delete it, if it had changed things so badly for the girls.

‘Emir …’ She saw Fatima frown at the familiarity. ‘I mean, Your Highness …’

But he didn’t allow her to speak, to question, just walked from the nursery, not turning as the twins started to cry. Amy rushed to them.

‘Leave them,’ Fatima said.

‘They’re upset.’ Amy stood her ground. ‘It’s been a long day for them.’

‘It’s been a long day for their country,’ Fatima responded. ‘It is not just the twins who will mark today—Queen Natasha gave birth to a son at sunrise.’

For a bizarre moment Amy thought of the screams she had heard last night, the cries she had thought might come from Hannah. Yet Natasha had been screaming too. She felt as if the winds were still tricking her, that the desert was always one step ahead, and watched as Fatima picked up the twins and took them to their cots. Fatima turned to go, happy to leave them to cry.

That was why there had been no celebrations, no crowds gathering in the streets. It had been a silent protest from the people—a reminder to their King that he must give them a son. Fatima confirmed it as she switched out the light.

‘Unlike Alzan, the future of Alzirz is assured.’

CHAPTER NINE

‘THEY won’t stay quiet for that length of time unless you are holding them.’

It had been a long morning for Amy. They were practising the formalities for the new Prince’s naming ceremony tomorrow, and as it was Fatima who would be travelling with the King and the Princesses, Amy had been tidying the nursery. The windows were open and she had heard their little protests, their cries to be held by their father and eventually, reluctantly, Emir had asked for Amy to be sent down.

‘Fatima will be the one holding them.’

‘They want you.’

‘They cannot have me,’ Emir said. She caught his eye then and he saw her lips tighten, because, yes, she knew how that felt. ‘I will be in military uniform. I have to salute.’ He stopped explaining then—not just because he’d remembered that he didn’t have to, but because Nakia, who had been begging for his arms, now held her arms out to Amy. They both knew that there would be no problem if it was Amy who was travelling with him.

Not that Emir would admit it.

Not that she wanted to go.

She could not stand to be around him—could not bear to see the man she loved so cold and distant, not just with her but with the babies who craved his love.

‘Can you hold one?’ She tried to keep the exasperation from her voice as she hugged a tearful Clemira.

‘I’ve tried that. Clemira was jealous,’ he explained as Fatima sloped off with Nakia to get her a drink.

‘If you can hold one then it needs to be Clemira. Keep Clemira happy and then usually Nakia is fine.’ She saw him frown and she could not check her temper because he didn’t know something so basic about his own daughters. ‘Just hold Clemira,’ she said, handing the little girl to him. ‘God, it’s like I’m speaking in a foreign language.’

‘It is one to me!’ Emir hissed, and she knew they were not talking about words.

Amy walked off, back to the palace, so she could listen to more tears from the window and do nothing, back to a role that was being eroded by the minute. She looked at the dolls’ house and felt like kicking it, felt like ripping down the palace walls, but she stifled a laugh rather than turn into psycho-nanny. She polished the tables in the nursery and changed the sheets, tried to pretend she was working.

‘It worked.’

She turned around at the sound of him, stood and stared. He held the twins, both asleep, their heads resting on his shoulders. She waited for Fatima to appear, except she didn’t.

‘Fatima is getting a headache tablet.’ Emir gave a wry smile. ‘I said I would bring them up.’

How sad that this was so rare, Amy reminded herself. How sad that something so normal merited an explanation—and, no, she told herself, she did not want him.

He went to put Clemira down and she moved to help him.

‘I don’t know how …’ It was almost an apology.

‘No.’ She took one child from his arms. ‘I can’t put them down together now either,’ she said. ‘They’re far too big for that.’ She lowered Clemira to the mattress as Emir did the same with Nakia. ‘It was easier when they were little.’ She was jabbering now. ‘But I’ve had to lower the mattress now they’re standing.’ She could feel him watching her mouth; she feared to look at him—just wanted Fatima to come.

‘Amy …’

‘They’re enjoying the dolls’ house.’

She kept her head down because she knew what would happen if she lifted it. She knew because it had almost happened the day before, and the day before that—moments when it had been impossible to deny, when it had almost killed not to touch, when it would have been easier to give in. But if she kissed him now this was what they would be reduced to—furtive snogs when Fatima wasn’t around, a quick shag when no one was watching, perhaps? And she was better than that, Amy told herself.

But the tears were coming. She reminded herself that, even if she was crying she was strong.

It was Amy who walked out. Amy who left him watching his children as she headed to her room,

‘You need to come home.’

Rather than cry she rang home, desperate for normality, for advice. Though Amy’s mum didn’t know all that had gone on, even if she did, Amy realised, her advice would be the same.

‘Amy, you’re not going to change things there. I told you that when you accepted the job.’

‘But Queen Hannah …’

‘Is dead.’

The harsh words hit home.

‘Even Queen Hannah knew that the country would have little time for her daughters. That was why she wanted them to be educated in England.’

‘I can’t leave them.’

‘You have no choice,’ her mum said. ‘Can you really stand another three years of this?’

No, Amy could not. She knew that as she hung up the phone. The last ten days had been hell. With the anniversary of Queen Hannah’s death approaching the palace was subdued, but more than that, worse was to come, for there would be a wedding in a few weeks and how could she be here for that?

She couldn’t.

Rather than being upset, Amy had actually been relieved that Fatima had been selected to travel with the King. She had decided that the time she would spend alone must be used wisely, but really her decision was made.

Her mother was right: she had no choice but to go home.

She had to, she told herself as she made it through another night.

By morning, she was already wavering.

She walked into the nursery where two beaming girls stood in their cots and blew kisses. They wriggled and blew bubbles as she bathed them, spat out their food and hated their new dresses, pulled out the little hair ribbons faster than Fatima could tie them.

Amy knew every new tooth in their heads, every smile was a gift for her, and she could not stand to walk away.

Except she had to.

Amy packed cases for the little girls, putting in their swimming costumes, because she knew there were several pools at the Alzirz palace.

‘They won’t be needing those,’ Fatima said. ‘I shall not be swimming with them.’

And their father certainly wouldn’t, Amy thought, biting down on her lip as she struggled to maintain her composure.

She helped Fatima bring them down to wait for the King and board the helicopter.

‘Be good!’ Amy smiled at the girls when she wanted to kiss them and hold them. She was terribly aware that this might be the last time she would see them, that perhaps it would be kinder to all of them for her simply to leave while they were away.

As Emir strode across the palace he barely glanced at his daughters, and certainly he did not look in Amy’s direction. He was dressed in military uniform as this was to be a formal event and she loathed the fact that this man still moved her. His long leather boots rang out as he walked briskly across the marble floor, only halting when Patel called out to him.

‘La.’ He shook his head, his reply instant, and carried on walking, but Patel called to him again and there was a brief, rather urgent discussion. Then Emir headed into his study, with Patel following closely behind.

‘I’ll say goodbye now!’ Amy spoke to the girls, for they were getting increasingly fretful and so too was she. She must remember that they were not her babies, that they would be fine with Fatima, that they were not hers to love. But it killed her to turn around and walk up the grand staircase. It was almost impossible not to look around and respond to their tears, but she did her level best—freezing on the spot when she heard Patel’s voice.

‘The King wishes to speak with you.’

‘Me?’ Slowly Amy turned around.

‘Now,’ Patel informed her. ‘He is busy—do not keep him waiting.’

It felt like the longest walk of her life. Amy could feel eyes on her as she walked back down the stairs, trying to quieten her mind, trying not to pre-empt what Emir wanted though her heart surely knew. She had never been summoned to speak to him before, and could only conclude that his thoughts were the same as hers—while he was gone, perhaps it was better that she leave.

It was terribly awkward to face him. Not since their night together had it been just them, for Fatima was always around, her silent criticism following Amy’s every move. There was no discomfort in Emir, she noted. He looked as uninterested and as imposing as he had the last time that she had stood there, and his voice was flat.

‘You are to accompany the children to the naming ceremony of the new Prince of Alzirz.’

‘Me?’ Amy swallowed. This was so not what she had been expecting. ‘But I thought it was considered more suitable for Fatima to travel with them? She is more well-versed—’

‘This is not a discussion,’ Emir interrupted. ‘You are to go now and to pack quickly. The helicopter is waiting and I have no intention of arriving late.’

‘But—’ She didn’t understand the change of plan. She needed this time alone and was nervous about travelling with him.

‘That will be all,’ Emir broke in. ‘As I said, I did not call you in here for a discussion.’

It was Patel who offered a brief explanation as she left the office. ‘Queen Natasha wishes to discuss English nannies and has said she is looking forward to speaking with you.’

This made sense, because of course a request from Queen Natasha during the new Prince’s naming ceremony must be accommodated.

It mattered not that it would break her heart.

Amy packed quickly. She selected three pale blue robes and her nightwear, and threw a few toiletries into her bag. Even if there was the helicopter, the King and his entourage waiting, still she took a moment to pack the twins’ swimming costumes and her own bikini—because, unlike Fatima, she would swim with the girls.

Emir was at the helicopter, and she felt his air of impatience as she stepped in. He had already strapped in the girls and Fatima gave Amy a long, cool look as she left the aircraft, for it was an honour indeed to travel with the King.

It was not the easiest of journeys, though Emir did hold Nakia as they neared their destination. Again Amy watched his features harden and, looking out of the window, thought perhaps she understood why. Alzirz was celebrating as Alzan should have been on the day of the twins’ birthday. The streets around the palace were lined with excited people waving flags. They all watched in excitement as dignitaries arrived for the naming of their new Prince.

How it must kill him to be so polite, Amy mused as they arrived at the palace and the two men kissed on both cheeks. She could feel the simmering hatred between them that went back generations.

Queen Natasha didn’t seem to notice it. She was incredibly informal and greeted both Amy and the twins as if they were visiting relatives, rather than a nanny and two young princesses. ‘They’ve grown!’ she said.

She looked amazing, Amy noted, wearing a loose fitting white robe embroidered with flowers. She certainly didn’t look like a woman who had given birth just a few days ago, and Amy felt drab beside her.

‘Come through!’ Natasha offered, seeing the twins were more than a little overawed by the large formal gathering. ‘I’ll take you to the nursery. I have to get the baby ready.’ She chatted easily as they walked through the palace. ‘I’ll introduce you to my nanny, Kuma. She’s just delightful, but I really want him to learn English.’ She smiled over to Amy. ‘You’re not looking for a job, by any chance?’ she asked shamelessly.

‘I’m very happy where I am,’ came Amy’s appropriate response, though she was tempted to joke that Natasha might find her on the palace doorstep in a couple of days. But, no, Amy realised, even if Natasha was nice, even if she was easy to talk to, in Alzirz as in Alzan the Royal Nanny would have to be obedient to royal command. She could never put her heart through this again.

Kuma really was delightful. She was far more effusive and loving than Fatima. She smiled widely when she saw the twins, put a finger up to her lips to tell them to hush, and then beckoned them over to admire the new prince. Nakia wasn’t particularly interested, but Clemira clapped her hands in delight and nearly jumped out of Amy’s arms in an effort to get to the baby. She was clearly totally infatuated with the young Prince.

‘He’s beautiful,’ Amy said. His skin was as dark as Rakhal’s, but his hair was blonde like Natasha’s, and Amy was suddenly filled with hopeless wonder as to what her babies might have been like if Emir was their father. She was consumed again with all she had lost, but then she held Clemira tighter and qualified that—all that she was losing by walking away.

‘Would you like to hold him?’ Natasha offered.

‘He’s asleep,’ Amy said, because she was terrified if she did that she might break down.

‘He has to get up, I’m afraid,’ Natasha said. ‘I want to feed him before the naming ceremony.’ She scooped the sleeping infant out of his crib and, as Kuma took Clemira, handed him to Amy.

Sometimes it had hurt to hold Clemira and Nakia in those early days, to know that she would never hold her own newborn, and the pain was back now, as acute as it had been then, perhaps more so—especially when the two Kings came in. Rakhal was proud and smiling down at his son. Emir was polite as he admired the new Prince. But there was grief in his eyes and Amy could see it. She was angry on behalf of his girls, yet she understood it too—for the laws in this land, like in the desert, could be cruel.

‘Come,’ Emir told her, ‘we should take our places.’

Her place was beside him—for the last time.

She stood where in the future she would not: holding his daughters. She held Clemira and sometimes swapped. Sometimes he held both, when he did not have to salute, so he could give Amy a rest and once, when they girls got restless, she set them on the ground, for it was a long and complicated ceremony.

‘They did well,’ Emir said as they walked back to the nursery with the weary twins.

‘Of course they did!’ Amy smiled. ‘And if they’d cried would it really have mattered? Tariq screamed the whole ceremony.’

‘He did.’ Emir had been thinking the same, knew he must not be so rigid. Except his country expected so little from his daughters and somehow he wanted to show them all they could be. ‘Just so you know, the Alzirz nanny will be looking after the twins tonight. They are to make a brief appearance at the party, but she will dress them and take care of that.’

‘Why?’ Amy asked, and she watched his lips tighten as she questioned him.

‘Because.’ Emir answered, and he almost hissed in irritation as he felt her blue eyes still questioning him. He refused to admit that he did not know why.

‘Because what?’

He wanted to turn around and tell her that he was new to this, that the intricacies of parenthood and royal protocol confused him at times too. Hannah would have been the one handling such things. It was on days like today that the duty of being a single parent was the hardest. Yet he could not say all this, so his voice was brusque when he conceded to respond. ‘Sheikha Queen Natasha wants them to be close. It is how things are done. If Prince Tariq comes to stay in Alzan you will look after him for the night.’

‘I thought you were rivals?’

‘Of course,’ Emir said. ‘But Queen Natasha is new to this. She does not understand how deep the rivalry is, that though we speak and laugh and attend each other’s celebrations there is no affection there.’

‘None?’

‘None.’ His face was dark. ‘The twins will be looked after by their nanny tonight. They will be brought back to you in the morning and you will all join me at the formal breakfast tomorrow.’

‘But the girls will be unsettled in a new …’

He looked at her. He must have been mad to even have considered it—crazy even to think it. For she would not make a good sheikha queen. There was not one sentence he uttered that went unquestioned, not a thought in her head that she did not voice.

‘You keep requesting a night off. Why then, do you complain when you get one?’

Amy reminded herself of her place.

‘I’m not complaining.’ She gave him a wide smile. ‘I’m delighted to have a night off work. I just wasn’t expecting it.’

‘You can ring down for dinner to be sent to you.’

‘Room service?’ Amy kept that smile, remembered her place. ‘And I’ve got my own pool … Enjoy the party.’

Of course he did not.

He was less than happy as he took his place at the gathering. He could see the changes Natasha had brought to the rather staid palace, heard laughter in the air and the hum of pleasant, relaxed conversation, and it only served to make him more tense. He held his daughters along with Kuma, and Natasha held her son. He saw Kuma being so good with them and thought perhaps Fatima was not so suitable.

Maybe a gentler nanny would suit the children best, Emir thought. For he knew that Amy was leaving—had seen it in her eyes—and he held Clemira just a touch tighter before he handed her back to Kuma. His heart twisted again, for they should not be in this world without their mother, and a king should not be worrying about hiring a new nanny.

There was the one big decision that weighed heavily, but there were others that must be made too: their nanny, their schooling, their language, their tears, their grief, their future. He must fathom it all unshared with another who loved them. As a single father he did not know how to be.

Black was his mind as the babies were taken upstairs to the nursery, and he looked over to Rakhal, who stood with his wife by his side. Never had he felt more alone. Tonight he grieved the loss of both Hannah and Amy, and he was so distracted that he did not notice Natasha had made her way over.

‘I’m sorry. This must be so difficult for you.’

He shot her a look of scorn. How dared she suggest to his face such a thing? How dared she so blatantly disrespect his girls?

But just as his mouth formed a scathing retort she continued. ‘It’s Hannah’s anniversary soon?’

He closed his eyes for a second. Grief consumed him.

He nodded. ‘She is missed.’

Natasha looked at this King with grief in his eyes, who stood apart and polite but alone. ‘Where’s Amy?’

‘She is enjoying a night off,’ he clipped, for he did not like to think about her when he wanted her here at his side.

‘I didn’t mean for her to stay in her room.’ Natasha laughed. ‘When I said that my nanny would look after the girls I was hoping that she would join us.’

‘She is the nanny,’ Emir said curtly. ‘She is here only to look after the children.’

‘Ah, but she’s English,’ Natasha sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Have you any idea how nice it feels to have someone here who is from home? I was so looking forward to speaking with her—we never really got a chance earlier.’