Wanted: Royal Wife and Mother

CHAPTER NINE

KELLY had spent the last five years on the goldfields. She’d panned for gold and she’d dug. Sure she’d been a research historian, she’d spent hours at her desk, but she could handle a spade with the best of the men.

She also knew the basics of mining. She’d researched every shaft dug back at the theme park and they were authentic. She knew what the miners had done to make themselves safe a hundred and fifty years ago, and she knew what they’d had to do to make the tourist mines even safer now.

She handed Matty to the care of the women. She took a deep, steadying breath, looked at the heap of sludge they were facing and decided they risked more people being buried alive the way they were going.

The school house was built against a cliff face. The sludge had washed down the mountain from the other direction. In most places it had swept over and onward, but here the cliff face had stopped it, so it had mounded up in a vast heap, completely obscuring the school buildings.

It was one vast, unstable mass. To dig in without shoring it up as they went was the way of disaster. She rolled up her sleeves and started issuing orders.

Amazingly, the men listened. Amazingly, they did what she said.

Matty couldn’t dig but he wouldn’t shift from where he was. The older people in the town would have taken him into one of the undamaged homes but Matty refused. He stayed, taking care of the horses. Wanting desperately to dig himself if only his elders would let him.

The damage in the town was awful, Kelly learned as she worked, but not as catastrophic as she’d first thought. Yes, houses were crushed, but the landslip had started high up. The tremors had been felt before it had hit, and most people had been outside. The mass had moved slowly, giving people time to run to higher ground.

Two elderly couples had been killed instantly when their houses had crashed around them. There were injuries-people had been hit by the sliding mud-but the worst of the rush of earth had been over before it had hit the town.

But the school…It was on the outskirts, which meant it had been one of the first buildings to be hit. To have the children run to higher ground would have been impossible.

‘There’s a basement underneath,’ Kelly was told by the grim-faced mayor. ‘We’re thinking the teacher panicked and had everyone head for the basement. Then the mud hit the front, blocking the exit. When we got here, we could hear screaming. Prince Rafael…he took a torch in. He could just make it in through a gap in the debris and we thought we could get everyone out that way. Only then the whole lot shifted and the roof came down. And now…’

‘You can’t hear?’

‘Muffled stuff when everything’s still,’ the mayor told her. ‘We’re hoping against hope they’re all down there. Twenty kids and their teacher and our Prince. And all we can do is dig.’

‘Is help coming?’ she asked, trying not to sound terrified.

‘The roads are all blocked,’ the mayor told her. ‘The tremors have been felt all the way to the border so outside help isn’t going to happen. We can’t get equipment in.’

So they dug. It sounded simple. Moving a small mountain of mud from over a basement. Trying not to do any more damage. Working from the outside in, so no more weight would go on to the basement roof-if indeed it had held.

There were people alive in there. When the mayor held up his hand for silence they could hear faint cries but the mass of mud stifled everything.

‘If Rafael’s down there…he has a radio,’ Kelly said as she dug and the men around her looked at each other and didn’t respond.

If he had a radio then he’d be able to communicate. He wasn’t communicating. He wasn’t…he couldn’t be…

She dug.

It was mind-numbing work, with nothing to alleviate the fact that tons of mud had to be shifted by hand. No one thought of bringing in machinery-to cause vibrations on top of the basement would be crazy. Care was taken to distribute diggers so no further pressure was on the mass, making the risk of further falls as small as possible.

Fatalities elsewhere had been accounted for-the injured were being cared for. This was the only area where people had yet to be found.

There were twenty children missing, one schoolteacher-and Rafael.

The workers who’d been here when Rafael had gone in were grim-faced. They’d cleared an area around the stairway into the basement. What they thought had happened was that the front of the building had collapsed. The rear of the building was set hard against the cliff face, leaving no form of exit. So the children must have fled for safety downstairs.

They’d heard them calling clearly when they’d first arrived. They were safe, they were okay. So they’d hauled the mass of timber blocking the path away. As it had cleared, the teacher below had wanted to send children up, but Rafael had stopped them.

‘Let me try it first,’ he’d growled. ‘I don’t want a child halfway up if that mass above decides it’s unstable.’

Which was pretty much what had happened. Armed with a torch, Rafael had disappeared into the gloom. And then another tremor had struck and the entire building and some of the cliff face behind had subsided, leaving a mountain of debris with no one knew what underneath.

Had Rafael reached the safety of the basement? Was the basement still safe? They could hear muffled cries through the rubble but it was too thick to decipher words.

Please…

Please.

Kelly dug as she’d never dug in her life before. But all around…

People were deferring to her.

‘What should we do?’

‘Should we send for bulldozers?’

‘It doesn’t seem safe but if you think we should…’

It didn’t seem safe and no, she didn’t think they should but that they deferred to her was astonishing. She was a historian.

A historian who knew about mine management, she conceded, but they didn’t know that. She found herself snapping orders-sending people to find shoring timbers, assessing load strengths, standing back from digging every few moments to see the whole picture…

She did know what to do. The history of gold-mining was littered with tragedy and she knew enough now to prevent mindless tunnelling from parents desperate to reach their children at any cost.

But it wasn’t her role as historian that these people were reaching out to, though, she thought as she dug. It was her role as royal.

Like Matty, standing white-faced and grim just out of reach of the diggings. Every other small child had been hauled away, well out of danger. Matty had a right to be here.

Matty’s duty was to be here. He knew it. It’d been instilled from birth by those around him. Today he’d acted with a gut instinct that seemed almost inbred.

‘My people need me.’

Royalty might be anachronistic, totally outdated, unfair. But right now it was what these people needed.

She dug on, and the picture came to her again of the young King during the Second World War, touring the diggings. Winston Churchill with his cigar, standing on a heap of bomb site rubble with King George beside him. The King and the Prime Minister, with the people they represented.

If she left now…if she took Matty, as was her right, and left this place, left the digging to others…

It could be done. She could give orders as to how to shore up the tunnel they were working on. She could take Matty home, cuddle him until the colour came back into his face, maybe play with Rafael’s toys until he forgot…

She could never do such a thing. Because Rafael was under there? Because Rafael had kissed her?

Yes, but more than that.

Because there were twenty children and their teacher trapped?

Yes, but more than that too.

Matty was right. What he had was an age-old heritage-the leadership of his people. And, by marrying Kass, she’d inherited it as well.

Sure, she could walk away. Royals had done that since time immemorial-had walked away from their royal duties, had elected to live a normal life.

But…But…

But the good ones stayed.

‘The sounds are getting clearer,’ someone yelled. ‘There’s more’n one alive.’

‘That’s great. So slow down,’ she yelled. ‘And let’s increase the rate of supports. No unnecessary risks.’

‘No, ma’am.’

The good ones stayed. Queen Elizabeth, taking on the throne as a young mother, a young bride. Overseeing change in the monarchy so the people had a say in the government, so monarchy wasn’t an absolute.

Doing what she saw as her duty, no matter what. And in times of crisis…

Giving a focus. A sense of leadership. A sense of continuity, regardless of personal grief.

Kelly’s hands had blisters on blisters. She could stop. Men were taking turns. But the fact that she was beside them was driving them forward with renewed energy. She didn’t understand it, but the fact was that monarchies had endured for century after century and here she was, a princess…fighting for her two princes. One behind her, staring at his mother as if he’d like to be part of her. He’d be digging in a heartbeat, she knew, if she let him. Matty. Mathieu. Her own little prince.

And below ground…

Rafael.

They weren’t digging indiscriminately. As every layer was worked through they probed cautiously before they dug, just in case…just in case…

In case Rafael hadn’t made it. In case he was trapped before the entrance to the basement. In case his body was caught up in this mass of mud and sludge and mess.

The thought had her choking and fiercely hauling her arm across eyes that welled with tears before she could stop them. She paused, fighting for breath.

‘Are you okay, Your Highness?’ a man asked beside her and she turned and saw his eyes were red and swollen.

‘You have a child down there?’ she whispered.

‘Two,’ he muttered. ‘Heidi. She’s eight. And Sophie, who’s six.’

‘Then we have no time for tears,’ Kelly managed and wiped her face again, this time with a savage determination she knew would stay with her to the end. ‘We only have time to dig.’

And in the end…

In the end it happened so fast she could scarcely believe it. One minute they were digging, the next they’d reached what seemed a vast, solid door. Six feet across, eight feet long. Mounded with debris.

They’d dug across and down, but not tunnelling. They were open cut mining, completely removing the mass of dirt above and shoring the sides. It made things slower but surely safer. To tunnel in these unstable conditions would be madness, Kelly had decreed, and the red-eyed men and women around her had agreed.

So now they had a trench thirty feet long, starting at the edge of the mass of debris and working in, dropping fast, so the sides were twelve, fourteen feet high. The trench was big enough for two men to work side by side, while those behind cleared and passed the rubble back.

And now…The last few spadefuls had exposed the slab. The men in front edged shovels sideways, exploring.

Hitting wood.

‘It’s holding the whole mess off us,’ a man’s voice called weakly from below, and Kelly’s heart seemed to almost stop. The voice was muffled but finally they could make out words. And the voice…the voice was surely Rafael’s.

‘Your Highness…’ someone called.

‘We’re okay. Take your time. Get it right,’ he called.

‘Madame Henry?’ The man beside Kelly-Heidi and Sophie’s dad-could barely speak through tears as he called down to the schoolteacher they hoped was still safe.

‘The children are all here.’ The teacher must be elderly, Kelly thought. She sounded little and acerbic and frightened-and also just a wee bit bossy. ‘Prince Rafael got down here just in time before the mess came down. When it started moving he blocked the door so it couldn’t crash through but then the stuff moved again and he was caught…’

‘Rafael was caught?’ Kelly demanded, tugging loose debris free with her hands. They were so close…

‘I’m fine,’ Rafael called from through the rubble but she knew from his muffled voice that he wasn’t.

‘We have to get this free.’

‘We take our time.’ It was Sophie and Heidi’s dad, pulling her back, putting both hands on her shoulders and setting her aside. ‘We don’t undo Prince Rafael’s work-your work-by moving that slab until we’re sure the land will hold.’

‘Y-yes.’

‘You’ve done enough,’ he said gently and then looked at the seemingly impenetrable slab and sighed. ‘And so have I. Everyone behind us is willing. We let those whose hearts aren’t behind the slab make the decisions from now on.’

He was right. It nearly killed her but he was right. She was ushered out of the trench. Matty was waiting, staring at the entrance to the trench as if by will alone he could bring them out alive. She hugged him close. She was soaked to the skin, coated in thick, oozing mud. Women came forward carrying blankets. They would have ushered her away but she’d have none of it.

Rafael…Rafael…

But finally her prayers were answered. Finally the slab was moved. They inched it from its resting place with almost ludicrous caution, moving with so much care that it took them three long hours-hours when Matty and Kelly seemed to turn to stone.

But finally it was done. There was a growl of satisfaction as the trench stayed intact, that the shoring timbers held. And then the first child-a tiny girl, coated with thick, oozing clay, was handed up through the gap. She was grabbed by willing hands. A faint scream sounded behind them as the child was handed back, hand over hand, until she reached the end of the trench.

The last hands to reach her were her parents.

‘Evaline,’ a woman’s voice said brokenly, and there was the sound of a man’s hoarse sobs.

But those in the trench weren’t hearing. Already more children were being handed out. Speed was of the essence here. This mass of mud and debris was unstable to say the least. It only needed one more earth tremor…

They had a chain operating. The children were being lifted out. There was no talking-just solid effort.

They seemed okay, Kelly thought, dazed. She’d left Matty with the women again and was at the neck of the trench where it narrowed down into the cavity under the slab. But she wasn’t strong enough to be part of the chain handing back the children, so she slipped back to lean against the shoring timber and simply watched. Every face appearing at the hole under the slab she watched with terror. She’d forgotten to breathe. She’d forgotten to do anything.

So few injuries…There were cuts and bruises, but most of the children could put their arms up to be lifted. Most could cling to their rescuers. Most could reach out to their parents and sob and hold and sink into their parents’ embrace as if they’d never let go.

One or two were hurt. There was one small boy with what looked like a broken arm. He whimpered as he was pulled out, but he still managed a smile when his mother whispered his name. There was an older boy with a nasty laceration to his cheek. ‘I had to help Prince Rafael move the door,’ he said with weak bravado, and it looked doubtful that he’d let such a wound be stitched. His parents were clasping him with pride and there was a shining pride in his own eyes. This was clearly a hero’s wound. He’d helped his prince save the children.

Rafael…

Her heart was whispering the word, over and over. She glanced back along the line and saw Matty. His face was as white as hers. He was seeing all these happy endings but, like Kelly, he wanted his own.

She should ask. She should say to the boy with the cut face, What of Rafael?

She couldn’t.

‘That’s twenty,’ someone said in a gruff voice that wasn’t quite concealing tears. ‘Just the schoolteacher and the Prince to go.’

‘You,’ said a fierce woman’s voice from under the slab, and the weary voice came in reply.

‘When you’re all out I’ll be out but not before. Stop wasting time.’

‘You’re hurt.’

‘Go!’

He was hurt. She’d known it. Dear God…

Hands were reaching up, small woman’s hands. The schoolteacher was grasped and tugged free and hugged fiercely by the man who’d pulled her up.

‘Romain, I have my dignity,’ the little lady managed in between hugs and the men laughed and ignored her dignity and handed her back along the line as if she was also a child. As if she were made of the most precious porcelain…

And then…And then…

One hand came through the gap under the slab. A man’s hand with a signet ring she recognized.

‘Both hands,’ the man at the front said, in a voice that was none too steady. ‘We need a grip.’

‘One hand.’ Rafael’s voice was muffled and pain-filled.

‘You want us to come under and help?’

‘No one comes under this slab. Get me out of here.’

‘Rafael,’ Kelly cried before she could help herself.

‘Kelly,’ Rafael muttered. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Come out and find out,’ she whispered.

‘Will we hurt you pulling you out?’ someone asked him.

‘A lot less than if this whole thing collapses.’ His one hand was the only thing in sight and he pushed it higher. ‘Pull.’

Each of the children and the schoolteacher too, had been lifted. But there was no one to lift Rafael. They were tugging him up by his one arm, holding his entire weight as they pulled.

He was hurt-badly hurt, Kelly thought, listening to his voice. But unless he’d let someone in to him…And he wouldn’t. Their torches showed little-his mud-slicked face and blackness.

‘Pull,’ he ordered again and there was nothing to do but obey. And he came. He emerged into daylight with a savage groan, sliding out on to the floor of the trench and lying there, gasping for breath.

Kelly was in there, scrambling through the mud, on her knees, touching his face, scarcely able to breathe.

‘Rafael.’

‘Kell…’ he gasped as she wiped mud from his eyes with her shirt, as she wept. ‘Our magnificent Princess Kellyn. Of course. A mine manager. I knew you’d make a magnificent princess.’

And then he passed out.