The next few weeks fell into a predictable pattern; I'd get up, shower, dress, have breakfast, and then go for a walk down the hall. I never once looked at the false wall, nor did I linger at the two doors. One of them now had a heavy chain and lock on it, but I didn't allow myself to wonder what was going on.
After lunch, I sat by the window and people watched until dinner time, after which I went for another walk, before returning to my room and doing more people watching until I grew tired.
Then I went to bed, and in the morning, I got up and did it all again.
It was growing quite boring, but in a way, it was also comforting to have a routine of sorts. To be sure, the winter was inclement enough at times to keep the foot and vehicular traffic to a minimum, but it was better than staring at four walls all day.
And the questions continued to buzz around in my mind. What did Gerry's boss want with me? Why was I being kept hostage in a house in Preston?
But I knew better than to ask questions. They'd never get answered, and I'd likely get in trouble for asking. So I kept my mouth shut and entertained myself as best I could within the limitations imposed on me.
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Then came a day at the start of May where things changed. After breakfast, Gerry came into my room and gathered up my tray. "Stay put," he warned me. He gave me no further instructions, but left, this time forgetting to lock the door. I was reminded of "the incident" at the end of last year, but I knew better than to hope things would change this time.
However, ten minutes after Gerry had left, the downstairs door crashed open, and heavy boots pounded up the stairs. I heard gunshots, cries, curses, and then Gerry burst into my room again, gun in hand. He dragged me to my feet and pressed the gun against my temple. "One wrong move and she dies!" he screamed, just as black clad men came barrelling into the room in his wake. They didn't hesitate; one well placed bullet slammed into the hand holding the gun to my head, and I managed to break clear. Gerry was swiftly overpowered after that, swearing as he nursed his injured wrist, and the special ops team led me out.
One nerve-wracking car ride later, during which several of Gerry's cronies chased us, until we finally lost them, and we arrived in Manchester. A safe house in the center of town gave me a chance to recover my breath following my rescue, but while I was given the run of the place, I was told not to set foot outside. Gerry's cronies would now be searching for me again, and until all of them, including their boss, were scooped out, I was in danger of being kidnapped once more.
I didn't care much for this latest confinement; I knew it was for my own safety, and the people in the safe house were very kind to me. I was allowed to wander wherever I wished, and I busied myself for hours in the modest, but beautiful library. It was, in essence, heaven after the last harrowing few months.
Gerry's boss didn't take kindly to losing me, however. Two days after my rescue, an ultimatum was issued; I was to be returned to Preston, or all of Manchester would go up the way London had. However, this time, the boss made a foolish mistake, and twenty-four hours later, he was arrested. Faced with many hefty charges, he buckled and gave up the keys to his network, which was more vast than anyone had imagined. One by one they were scooped up, a process that took all of spring and half of summer. By the time July drew to a close, all of the conspirators had been scooped up, and a thorough sweep made to ensure there were no sleeper agents left behind. No one wanted to take any chances of me going missing on the one day I was allowed to leave the safe house.
Once all the checks were done, the owner of the safe house called me in to her study. "How are you feeling, dear?" she asked, indicating I should take a seat.
"Rattled," I admitted. "But I'm glad it's finally over."
Henrietta nodded her understanding. "I know you feel a bit shaken," she said. "I don't blame you for feeling that way; those wretches were horrible. And blowing up an entire city!"
I shivered. I still had nightmares about that, and it was going to be a very long time before I could even think about approaching the site where London had once stood. "Doesn't make sense to try and set up shop anywhere near the place," I said.
"No, dear," Henrietta agreed. "It's a no-go zone in any case, at least until work can be done to rebuild. But we were fortunate to save all the items we need for your coronation. I presume you still wish to take up the mantle so unexpectedly bequeathed to you? No one would blame you if you gave it up now, of course."
I took a deep breath. "I'm the last one left," I said firmly. "There's no one else after me, and to be honest, I can't leave the United Kingdom without a leader. I've no clue how to go about fixing all this, but I know I've got helpful hands nearby. And I've a whole Commonwealth I can call on too."
"That's the spirit," Henrietta approved. "You've been through the wringer, dear, and I'm glad you're forging ahead despite it all. You're going to make a wonderful queen, I think."
I had to smile at that. "So I've been told," I teased, feeling a bit better despite the shaken nerves and sore heart left in the wake of my captivity. It was going to take quite a few years of therapy to help me work through those issues, but again, I knew I'd have all the help I needed to get me on the track to healing.
And what better way to start than to take the throne and help the nation heal?
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