The doorbell rang at dinner time.
Margaret hobbled to the door and peered through the screen. “Is that you Henry?”
“Good evening,” the man on the other side said. “I’m Charles, the Prince of Wales.”
“Prince of Wa...” Margaret unlatched and opened the door. “What is it I can do for you, Prince Charles?”
The man tugged on the bow tie of his suit. “I was in the neighbourhood and decided to drop by.”
“I’m about to have dinner.”
“I haven’t eaten all day...”
“Well, you better come in.”
Charles stepped across the threshold.
Margaret squinted at him. “You don’t look much like your pictures in those magazines.”
“The Paparazzi take those pictures to make me look stupid and big eared.”
Margaret guided him towards the kitchen. “It’s this way, Prince Charles.”
“Please, call me Chuck.”
Chuck took a seat at the table.
“My husband will be along soon, Prince Chuck.”
“I hoped we might eat soon, if that is all right with you.”
“I don’t have enough for all three of us. Henry and I will have half shares I guess.” Margaret set to dishing up dinner. Lamb chops and mash, Henry’s favourite. “I hope lamb chops are good enough for you.”
“Delightful.”
Margaret put the plate in front of Chuck, who already had Henry’s knife and fork in hand. Chuck set to as if it were his last meal.
Margaret ate her own meal at a more sedate pace. When the silence grew too much, she even had time to make conversation.
“My daughter always says, ‘Dad’s gone Mum, he’s never coming back’. Of course, I don’t believe her.”
Chuck nodded, his jaws stripping the meat from a chop.
“She says I got to stop giving leftovers to the homeless men around here. They just take advantage of me, she says.”
Chuck swallowed. “No one likes being taken advantage of.”
Margaret took another mouthful and chewed. “What are you doing in Australia?”
“Ah...world tour for my engagement to Camilla Parker Bowles.”
“Bowls hey? Is that lawn bowls or that hideous ten pin sort?”
“No, no. Her name is Bowles.”
“I thought you were married to that pretty blond girl. Donna I think her name was.”
“Unfortunately that didn’t work out.”
Chuck popped the last of the mash into his mouth. Margaret stood and cleared away the dishes, leaving her meal half eaten.
“Would you like a cup of tea, Prince Chuck?”
“No thankyou. I don’t drink tea,” Chuck said. “I will have some brandy if you have any.”
“I do have a bottle in the cupboard for emergencies.”
Margaret poured some brandy into Henry’s favourite sherry glass. The door rang before she could give the glass to Chuck.
Margaret answered and found two uniformed police on her doorstep.
“Good evening ma’am. We’re looking for a man, around fifty, wearing a suit. Have you seen or heard anything unusual tonight?”
“You mean Prince Charles? He’s in my kitchen. We just ate —”
One of the policemen pushed past Margaret, gun drawn, and ran towards the kitchen.
Margaret followed as well as she was able. By the time her gummy leg allowed her to catch up, the second policeman had run all the way around the house and come in through the back door.
“Missed him.”
Margaret looked around the kitchen. “Henry’s sherry glass. That cunt pretending to be Prince Charles stole Henry’s sherry glass.”
Margaret fell to her knees. “My God, he’s never coming home, is he?”