The morning started out like any other; I got up, fed the animals, showered and had breakfast. It was still dark and cold outside, and I wasn't relishing the idea of stepping out into that cold darkness to get the old Beetle started. But someone had to earn the money in this house, and since my grandmother was now getting on a bit, it fell on my shoulders to earn the dough to keep the lights on. Ever since Mum had run off with that insurance salesman two years ago, poor Grandma had been shuffled from home to home, until I'd finally stepped in and taken her in. Luckily my grocer's job was enough to pay for a live-in nurse, plus I'd inherited all of my grandfather's stocks, after he'd disowned Mum in disgust following her affair and subsequent re-marriage to Larry the insurance salesman. Mum had fought, of course, but had failed to win after various shady details came out about her treatment of her ageing parents, and the court had ruled overwhelmingly in my favour.
Sarah, the nurse who now lived with us, came into the kitchen with a slightly befuddled expression on her face. "Have you seen the news?" she asked.
I sighed as I finished my coffee. "I don't watch the news," I reminded her with a faint grin. "It's all doom and gloom, and Grandma hates it."
"I think you might need to come look," Sarah urged, and something in her tone suggested this wasn't the usual run of car crashes, petty theft and the occasional bout of fisticuffs. I disposed of my breakfast leavings and hurried into the lounge.
Grandma was just settled down in her favourite chair, and her eyes were as wide and round as dinner plates as she stared at the telly. Sarah gestured for me to sit down, and I hurriedly texted my boss to warn him I might be late for work. He wouldn't care too much; it was only a small shop, and he was more than capable of handling the minimal patrons who frequented it.
But I still felt a courtesy text was in order.
In any case, the news on the telly soon diverted my attention good and proper, and I stared in puzzled and growing disbelief. The news was ghastly, to say the least; the entire royal family had passed on following several bizarre and quite horrifying accidents, and all 6,491 of the queen's descendants in the line of succession had also kicked the bucket and bought the farm. Now the hunt was on for the lucky (or unlucky) sod who stood in 6,492nd place, and retrieve them before another bizarre accident claimed them. "Well, shoot," I said, stunned, but not stunned enough to forget myself and swear in front of my grandmother. She was going on eighty, but she had a mean arm with a cane, and the temper to match, being from Glasgow and all. "That's a right mess, if ever there was one. I wonder who the unlucky sod is who gets to inherit the throne?"
I got my answer soon enough when my phone rang, and I excused myself to answer it. "Hello?"
"Is this Anna?" a cool, slightly worried voice on the other end asked.
"Uh, yeah," I said, feeling confused and a bit alarmed myself.
"Oh good." The caller went from worried to relieved, but there was still an undercurrent of concern in her words. "Listen, I know you're going to be a bit shocked by this, but you've seen the news, correct?"
"I have," I confirmed, getting a sudden crawling sensation at the base of my skull. "Why?"
The caller topk a deep breath. "You're the 6,492nd in line for the throne. And as of a few moments ago, you just became first in line."
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