Taylor pranced ahead of her, swishing her hips as she looked around the shop, while Emmy struggled with a dozen bags clutched in her hands and bashing into her legs. She groaned in despair, glaring at Taylor.
"Taylor, could you help me with these?"
"Sure, sure," Taylor said, reaching for one of the smaller looking bags before returning her attention to the clothes hanging on racks. "I'm just looking for a dress for my sister."
"Okay," Emmy said breathlessly.
"Have you bought for everyone you had to buy for?"
It had been a long day. Taylor had been a huge help in giving Emmy ideas as to what she should buy Harry's family – Emmy had gotten so worried to the point that she had freaked out in the middle of John Lewis – but, as ever, she was oblivious to other people and was completely absorbed in shopping. Emmy rebalanced the bags on her arms before sighing.
"No," she said. "Just for Harry now."
"Ooh, what're you going to get him?"
"I have no idea," Emmy said, then laughed. "Guess I'll just get him a shirt or something."
"Get him some lingerie," Taylor teased.
"Somehow I don't think he wears lingerie," Emmy answered dryly.
"Not for him." Taylor rolled her eyes. "For you."
"Somehow I don't think I wear lingerie," Emmy said. "At least, not the skimpy kind that you're thinking of."
"He'd love it though," Taylor sang.
Emmy glared. "No."
Taylor huffed, then muttered, "One day you guys'll have to do it."
"And that day is not any day soon," Emmy said dismissively. "No, I don't know what to get him. Maybe tickets to go see Arsenal."
"Ooh, that would be good," Taylor said. "You could go and kiss and-"
"Taylor, are you obsessed with me and Harry's love life or something?" Emmy asked irritably, as she followed Taylor to the till to pay for her sister's present.
"I just ship you, that's all," she replied with a shrug. "There's nothing wrong with that."
"You 'ship' us?"
"Oh my god, Em, catch up," Taylor said, eyes wide with disbelief. "This is the twenty-first century we're in and you don't know what 'ship' means!"
"Well, hang me," Emmy answered, somewhat bitterly, then she tried to act interested. "What does ship mean?"
"It's when you support a relationship between two people," Taylor explained, then giggled. "I ship you and Harry big time."
Emmy rolled her eyes. "I ship myself and my bed, does that count?"
Taylor scowled. "No."
They paid for Taylor's gift before making their way up to the fourth floor where all the food outlets were. Taylor ordered a sandwich from Subway while Emmy simply settled for a salad – her wedding diet was already kicking in. As they lunched, Taylor questioned Emmy about her plans for Christmas.
"We're arriving on Tuesday," Emmy explained. "I think mid-afternoon. Then the next day it's Christmas Eve, of course, and we're there until Saturday."
"So you go home the day after Boxing Day?"
"Yeah."
"Boring," Taylor said. "What's Christmas Day going to be for you then? Church?"
"Two church services," Emmy said, with a sad nod. "And then dinner and cocktails after that."
"What about presents?"
"Christmas Eve," she said. "It's a German tradition or something."
"They're German?"
"Apparently." Emmy shrugged. "I'm nervous."
"Don't worry, Emmy, Hitler's been dead for years."
She stared at her best friend, blinked once, muttered 'oh my god' then said, "I meant because they're royalty. Not because they're German, Taylor."
"Oh, right." Taylor giggled. "Easy mistake to make."
"Hardly."
"But why are you nervous? Harry's royal, it doesn't bother you."
"Not anymore," Emmy said. "But they're all there, and I've never met most of them. I've only met the Queen and Prince Philip once. William and Kate twice. And the others..." She trailed off, then let out her breath suddenly. "I don't even know what they're going to think of me. What if they hate me? What if they hate me and they exclude me for the whole four days-?!"
"Emmy, relax," Taylor said. "Honestly, you get so worked up over nothing-"
"Nothing?!" Emmy nearly screeched.
"Look, you felt the exact same way before you met the Queen, remember? And that went fine. Like you said before, they need you a hell of a lot more than you need them." Taylor smiled reassuringly. "Trust me, you'll be amazing. They'll all love you. How could they not?"
"Because I'm so young, maybe?"
"Who cares?" Taylor said. "Fuck them. The age difference between you and Harry is less than the age difference between Charles and Diana."
"Is that so?" Emmy said sceptically.
"It actually is," Taylor said. "I saw it on the news yesterday. They were talking about your engagement, a few people were kicking off because of the age difference and one of those royal experts said it. I thought it was a really good point."
"What were they saying about the age difference?"
"Just things about how you're too young to have that much power and how on Earth will you be able to do any good when you're nineteen!" She gasped to mock the shock that the statement implied. "And then this royal woman brought up Diana and how she revolutionised the monarchy and bam! That shut them bitches up."
Emmy tried to smile, but now she was worrying about something else. "I hope they don't expect me to revolutionise the monarchy. I can barely even keep my room tidy-"
"Don't worry about that," Taylor said. "Nobody expects you to. Everyone just wants to see what you're going to bring to the table. Quite a few people are disappointed with Kate, so you're pretty popular actually."
Emmy nibbled on her bottom lip. "No way I can live up to Kate."
"You can," Taylor said. "You can be better than Kate."
"Ha!" Emmy laughed incredulously. "You know this is Kate Middleton we're talking about? The Kate."
Taylor waved her words off dismissively. "Stop thinking like that. On Tuesday, you're going to arrive with Harry and you're going to smile and be the lovely, funny, sweet, beautiful person that you always are and they're all going to fall in love with you." She reached for her hand, and gave it a squeeze, a small smile playing at her mouth. "Trust me."
