Page 14 of The English Queen

The meeting was curious because no staff were present. Staff were always present.

Maggie began, “We won’t beat around this bush. I will need you to do more. I am dreadfully sorry about that, Robert.”

“What? Mother… I am already doing your job at present while you are out ‘taking care of your health’. I will remind you I also have an infant at home and a wife who feels guilted into rushing back to work. She’s not ready—”

“Robbie, I am sorry. I am sorry. I wish I had better news.”

“Your tantrum—”

“It’s not a tantrum. Listen to your mother now, son.” Keir’s voice roared, as it did under serious circumstances.

Robbie sat quietly and listened, like an admonished child.

“I was having all of these horrid headaches–still am. Your father was so fed up with me. You all were. But I must thank Vanna… I have to thank her because she was right about something. She mentioned a concern to Sabine who then, bravely, forced me to go back to my oncologist.”

Oncologist. This was bad news. Robbie gripped his teacup tight.

“Your… cancer?”

“It’s back, Robbie. Well, it’s a new type of cancer–strangely unrelated but if you have one, you’re more likely to have them all. And if Vanna hadn’t told Sabine she was worried… I don’t know if I would have gone. Sabine was so adamant and when I found out later it was Vanna who told her… I was a bit cross. I suspected she was meddling. I am ashamed for that now. I fully intend to thank her–in earnest. She cares about me, even if I don’t deserve her sympathy.”

“What is going on?” Robbie wondered.

“I have Glioblastoma,” Maggie explained. “A brain tumour.”

“So, it’s like last time… you’ll have surgery and chemo and radiation and all’s well. I’ll be in charge and—”

“Robbie, I am sorry. It is not. It is the same thing that killed Vanna’s first husband. Sabine told me that and it hit me hard. The good news? My prognosis is better.”

Robbie reeled. Cancer. Glioblastoma. Death. It all hit him.

Keir said, “They caught it much earlier, I think. And your Mum is a fighter, of course.”

“It’s not like his. It’s operable. It is much better than if it was later stage and inoperable.”

“And then what is your prognosis, mother? Like… what are we talking about here?”

Keir squeezed Maggie’s hand and nodded at her. It was a sign. Tell him. Just tell him.

“It is less than I would like…” Maggie said. “My fear was always to leave you as Mummy did. And, unfortunately, I will. God, I hate this. I… I am so sorry, Robert. I am so sorry to leave you holding this bag as I did for Mummy.”

Robbie pleaded, “Just spit it out, mother. I need to know. Rip the plaster off and—”

“It’s about eighteen months. This type… that’s the average. Of course, I have never been average, and I am hoping to stay on for a long time.”

“A year and a half, mum? A year and a half? That’s ridiculous. Are the doctors right?”

“Darling, we’ve ran all the tests. This is what it is. It is… it is hard, but it will kill me.”

Kill me. The words hit Robbie so hard. He descended into tears. He didn’t even remember what the rest of the conversation was about–plans. Simply plans. He wanted to flee back to KP and Vanna. So, after agreeing to return Beth to London within the week–somehow–he left and went home. There, he was alone. He rang Beth’s personal secretary in Brussels. She had a full day and would ring him upon return in the early evening. He insisted this was a priority while trying not to sound panicked. The goal was to circle the wagons with all of the siblings at Windsor. It was reminiscent of the first time she gave this news. She wanted them all in the room at the same time.

When Vanna returned home with Natalie, she found Robbie crying in the family room. She saw him staring at his phone waiting. She agreed to tuck poor, feverish Natalie into bed and handed Kiersten off to him. Robbie stared at the face of his sweet baby and thought to himself how hard this was going to be and how unfair it all was. It was difficult to imagine Kiersten, the spitting image of her grandmother, would never remember her grandmother. She’d be a toddler by the time he became king. Given his life was about to be exponentially more complicated, would she even know him? It wasn’t fair to Vanna or the kids. He was so angry and so, so sad.

“She’s never going to have a relationship with me,” Robbie stammered.

Vanna settled on the couch by him and handed a bottle for their soon-to-be fussy child. “I don’t understand, Robbie. Do you mean your mother?”

“No. Kiersten,” Robbie answered

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