Page 43 of The English Queen

“Vanna, look at me,” Rita took her friend’s chin in her hand and pulled it up towards her. “She isn’t in charge anymore. You are. You can play Queen. You see how Beth and Louis throw their weight around and ignore Elise? Be like Beth. Don’t give a fuck what she thinks. Let her go. Ignore her. Leave her. Robbie is in charge. Robbie loves you. He’d do anything for you. And right now, you need to ask him for a minute. You deserve that.”

“I need to get over it. I need to be better. I need to suck up and let other people raise my children. All I ever wanted to be in life was a mother. All I wanted. I wanted to be a mum. And I became one even though it was hard. And then it happened again and again and… I never ever got enough time with a baby. Robbie told me he’d have another. He said that. And all I could think of was ‘what, so I could drop the baby off and run away?’ It made me so sad. I won’t fault a woman for going right back to work. Some women are defined by it but… I never had a mum like the one I needed. I didn’t. Like your mum. I always wanted to be like you and like your mum–available, fierce, loving, kind.”

“And you are, Vanna. You are. You have a big job. But, sweetheart, she’s still a baby. Your kids still need you. You are still here for them. You have four adorable, happy, healthy children, which is a testament to you doing the best job. They trust you. They run to you. And no matter what you do, it will probably never be enough time.”

“I think about losing them. Kiersten all the time. It’s probably normal—”

Rita shook her head. “Darling, it’s not. That’s anxiety. It’s not normal. You’re worried about her, yes, but that’s what this is?”

“I don’t… I dunno. I am so worried I am doing everything wrong, and I will lose one of them.”

“Oh, darling, no. No, no, no. You won’t.”

“Or Robbie. I can’t be both places.”

Rita held her sobbing friend. The baby monitor on the table began to light up. The baby was finally awake. Vanna was beside herself. Emotionally, she was in hell.

“I’ll take her,” Rita said. “I’ll get her and make her a bottle, alright?”

Vanna nodded. She curled up in the foetal position as Rita left. Rita walked to the nursery in the other wing. She flipped off the monitor as she entered and scooped up little Kiersten on her hip. Kiersten smiled brightly, knowing Rita well as any of her aunties, and waited while Rita made a bottle. They sat in the glider. Rita rocked the baby. She rang Robbie.

“I don’t have much time,” Rita explained. “I’m feeding the baby. You need to get down here. She’s okay. She’s safe. But… she’s going to need some help. This is anxiety and it’s dreadful. She’s worried something will happen to you or the baby or both and… it’s sending her brain into overdrive.”

“Okay,” Robbie said. “Shit… I am sorry. I’m such a bad husband. I should have—”

“She will mend. She needs some therapy, some medication, lots of love and support, and some time off,” Rita confirmed. “I’ve been here. Trust me.”

“She’d been doing so well, though.”

“She holds it all together so well, but her brain is making her feel a failure. She’s worried you hate her. She needs you here.”

“So, this is something that happens?”

“It’s common but it’s not normal, per se.”

“Okay. Well, I will come. We will get her some help,” Robbie agreed. “Take care of her, okay?”

“I will. I always do.”

Coming Home

Robbie found Vanna asleep in bed at Nefoedd along with little Paul. He was attached to her like an adorable little barnacle. Robbie picked him up, gingerly. He carted him down the hall towards his room with Paul’s gentle, still-chubby little face smushed against his shoulder. He was angelic and quiet. Robbie tucked his son into bed, gave him a kiss on the head, and left back to where Vanna slept. Robbie crawled in bed and held her tight. He’d slept all of one night away from her, but it had been the first time in over a decade he had willingly agreed to let her have space due to something Maggie wrought. After she had nearly left him only weeks before their wedding over something his mother had done, Robbie swore he’d never let her feel that way again.

He had failed. Robbie never felt as forlorn as then, holding her as she slept. Her breathing was calming. The smell of her detangling spray was intoxicating. Vanna was his moon and stars. Without her, Robbie was convinced he’d fall apart. Knowing that even unintentionally, she could ever have felt pointless or useless was too much. He hadn’t talked to his mother about it. He didn’t intend to. He was glad to hold her again and feel the rise and fall of her chest.

The next morning, he woke to the sound of her panic.

“Where is Paul? Where is Paul?!”

“I put him to bed,” Robbie groaned. “I put him to bed. He’s in his room all cuddled up. He’s fine, darling.”

She calmed down a bit, “I… I was…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Robbie assured her.

“When did you get in?”

“Late. And I can’t stay beyond mid-morning. But I am hoping I can convince you to bring the children back with you. Vanna, I need you in London. Desperately.”

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