A FRENZY OF TEXTING ANDย FaceTiming. Though we were thousands of miles apart, we were never actually apart. Iโd wake up to a text. Instantly reply.
Then: text, text, text. Then, after lunch: FaceTime. Then, throughout the afternoon: text, text, text. Then, late at night, another marathon FaceTime.
And still it wasnโt enough. We were desperate to see each other again. We circled the last days of August, about ten days away, for our next meeting.
We agreed it would be best if she came to London.
On the big day, just after her arrival, she phoned as she was walking into her room at Soho House.
Iโm here. Come see me! I canโt, Iโm in the carโฆ Doing what?
Something for my mum. Your mum? Where?
Althorp.
Whatโs Althorp?
Where my uncle Charles lives.
I told her Iโd explain later. We still hadnโt talked aboutโฆall that.
I felt pretty sure she hadnโt googled me, because she was always asking questions. She seemed to know almost nothingโso refreshing. It showed that she wasnโt impressed by royalty, which I thought the first step to surviving it. More, since she hadnโt done a deep dive into the literature, the public record, her head wasnโt filled with disinformation.
After Willy and I had laid flowers at Mummyโs grave, we drove together back to London. I phoned Meg, told her I was on my way. I tried to keep my voice nonchalant, not wanting to give myself away to Willy.
Thereโs a secret way into the hotel,ย she said.ย Then a freight lift.
Her friend Vanessa, who worked for Soho House, would meet me and usher me in.
All went according to plan. After Iโd met the friend and navigated a sort of maze through the bowels of Soho House, I finally reached Megโs door.
I knocked and suspended breathing while I waited. The door flew open.
That smile.
Her hair was partly covering her eyes. Her arms were reaching for me. She pulled me inside and thanked her friend in one fluid motion, then slammed the door quickly before anyone saw.
I want to say we hung a Do Not Disturb sign on the door. But I donโt think there was time.
