Princess in Training (Prince Harry #3)

Chapter Thirty-Six

"You're wasting time in the Highlands, Harry," Meredith called as she walked back into their room. Her red rain boots squeaked against the hard wood floor. At least they weren't dirty. "We still have daylight, and we should go." A smile never left her face. "Why are you just standing there?"

"Mere." Harry leaned against the window. His hands were placed behind his back, and his mouth was turned into a frown.

The smile fell off her face. "Oh, I see something shit has happened. We can't have anything nice, can we?" She sighed. "Lay it on me."

"Mere, maybe you should sit down."

"I'm not going to fucking sit down. I'm assuming since you're talking to me this way that it's about me. And it's not anger and I'm not going to get a talking to, apparently." She eyed him. "Someone's dead." Meredith knew it well enough. "Who is it?"

"Your mum."

She scoffed. After realizing that was the wrong response by Harry's face, Meredith stopped. "Well, we should probably go back to Minnesota, then."

"Jessica is already making arrangements."

"Hmm." Walking over to her suitcase, she started to throw things in it.

"Mere, I can do that for--"

"Harry, I'm an adult. I can do this." She put more things into the suitcase. "Who called you?"

"You left your mobile here."

"Okay so who called my phone that you picked up?" Coming back from the bathroom, Meredith put her things into her bag.

"Your father. I mean, it was unfortunate that I picked up because I didn't know some of the words, so the translation was bad," Harry rambled. "But I got the most of it, and then he just texted it to me."

Pausing, Meredith asked, "How did he seem?"

"Um... upset but stoic."

"It was probably the first time you've seen him without a smile."

"I did assume his face didn't change from a smile, yes." He tried to keep his tone light, but it was impossible. His own pain shone through. Harry didn't know Meredith's mother well, not that he a chance with how much Meredith and her mother didn't get along well, but Harry thought of his own mother. He knew the pain of losing a mother. Blue eyes focusing on Meredith, he tried to read her. She just put more things into the suitcase.

"Does she have a flight for us?" Meredith asked, referring to Jessica.

"She's working on it."

"How long until the media find out?" Meredith knew it would only take a few moments.

"I'm not sure," Harry answered honestly.

"Did Jessica say something about pushing the wedding back?" It was three months away.

"No. Is it something you'd like to do?" Harry asked, concerned.

"No." Meredith's voice strong and steady. Her eyes focused ahead of the green of the Highlands, not even looking what she did but doing it perfectly. "Good. Then it won't be pushed back. I might just get bored out of my mind." She sighed. "Harry, what do you want to take to Minnesota? I assume William or whoever will take everything else back to London for us."

Harry moved and started to put things in the suitcase. "I should tell you now, Jessica and Bill and Bella are coming with us too. Jessica will make things easier, and we'll need protection. There will be paparazzi around--"

"As expected."

"And there be a lot of people coming and going, just to see us. I can imagine it is hard and it will only get harder--"

Rolling her eyes, Meredith faced him. "My mom just died Harry, and to be honest, I wasn't very close to her. All the happy memories that I have with her are outnumbered by all the times that I wasn't good enough or pretty enough. And really, I didn't ever think about her much. When this is all over, I don't know how much I'll think about her." Meredith knew she sounded terrible. "The hardest part of this will be pretending to be sad because people expect it, and since we're in the public light, I must act like people expect." She went back to packing.

Harry swallowed. "Aren't you sad at all, Mere?"

"I think so." It was so simple, like she would deal with it later.

"Mere, what do you feel?" Harry had some of his own fear because when his grandfather died, it had put a strain on the relationship. This strain might grow because of Meredith's mum's death. "Can I get you anything?"

"Alcohol. I wouldn't mind a stiff drink."

"Mere, I don't think--"

She went and did it herself, grabbing the scotch bottle off the stand and glancing the glass to her lips. Chugging, Meredith's throat burned. Her stomach twisted. Setting the bottle down again, Meredith went back to work. "What do you want for Minnesota, Harry? We don't have time. We need to get down to the airport."

"We'll take the royal train. We have enough time." He kept his voice even.

"Harry, stop looking at me like I'm going to break. I know the five stages of grief. She's dead, and it's time to move on."

"Do you want to know how she died?"

Meredith laughed, deep and gutter. It sounded wrong, even to her own ears, but it was her only response. Everyone grieved in their own ways. "Oh I know how she died. It doesn't take a genius in my family to know."

"Aren't you upset about it?"

"No. Some people see it as selfish, but I don't see it that way. People who see it as selfish have never felt the pain of hating yourself so much that it was just easier to end it. They've never felt the pain that never leaves, and you try to fight it-- but no, it doesn't go."

"She is your mum."

"She was my mum," Meredith corrected. "And that is why I know better than anyone. People will tell me how to feel. People think that they know. They know nothing. They see what's on the outside, and I'm sure they'll be many tears. But I grew up with this woman.

"I felt her anger and her sadness. None of it was fair. I was a child, and she took things out on me. There were times where I would be so happy because I had done so well, and suddenly she'd come in and tell me it was shit. When the attention was on me, she brought it back to herself. We would go somewhere as a family, and she wouldn't leave her room because of anxiety.

"I grew up to have some of the issues that she did, and I tried to kill myself when I was fourteen." There wasn't a need for an explanation because Harry already knew, and Meredith continued, "I was so angry at her for doing this for me. There's research that says depression and anxiety and bipolar disorder and all the other health defects can be passed down generation through generation, so I blamed her for making me like her.

"No one wants to hear they're like their mom. People always told me I looked like her."

Harry agreed with that. While the noses were different and the eyes were different colors, the faces were similar. Meredith had her dad's chin, but the rest of it really was her mother's. As for the anxiety, sometimes it came in waves with Meredith, where it was the smallest things that she got worked up about. Meredith didn't dare go to cinemas because she always had anxiety about them, being trapped inside and not being able to escape in case of fire, as well as all the mass shootings that took place in movie theaters in the United States. It was fourteen when she had depression, and thankfully Harry hadn't seen it hit her again.

"I'm not happy she's gone, and I'm not relieved. But I'm not sad. If there's an afterlife, she's there. If there isn't, it doesn't matter. The world doesn't stop for anyone. So I'm going to go home and be with my dad. I'm going to see what he needs. We'll do the funeral." Meredith put the suitcase on the ground. "And then we come home again."

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