The Royal Pineapple Affair
I.
Devil’s Acre is a big pile of poor souls living on the fringe of dignity in Victorian splendor of the English capital. Even the air on the aristocratic Mall is fragrant with the smell of oranges and chocolate as dark as the skin of their obedient slaves. Such was the plight of these people that the devil himself must have been hiding somewhere in plain sight. On the other hand, the air over here smelled like stale piss.
But that couldn’t ruin what was supposed to be the main event of the social season in Devil’s Acre: the impending wedding of Elizabeth Wallory, daughter of carpenter John Vallory, and William Gallant, son of John Gallant, pantry supervisor at Southwark Court, home to the honourable Charles Molehill.
She was six months pregnant and her dowry consisted of a little box which contained her father’s gold tooth pawned to pay rent in the couple’s new home. It was located above a grocery store which stocked leftovers of food from fancy pantries on the Mall. You don’t get engaged every day, so a pauper’s dinner was naturally out of the question. Wallory was adamant to make the occasion memorable. His only daughter, his pride and joy, deserved nothing less than that. Southwark Court was a dilapidated building made of red brick that housed the Molehills and ladies-in-waiting to the family matriarch, who wore a hat with a mosquito net attached to cover her eyebags. It made them look deep and dark just like Victorian sewers unloading their filth into the Thames. Their ladies were in waiting indeed, usually for sailors in need of quick pleasures in one of those dark alleys where no reputable lady dared to show her face in broad daylight.
II.
This would be William’s first legitimate child. The other was a consequence of drunken stupors at The Watering Hole, a nearby joint with a tarty piece who vanished into thin air shortly after the baby was born and he never saw them again. He looked forward to this: a responsibility and an obligation, something to keep him grounded in reality and away from trouble. Apart from that, he wanted Elizabeth to feel special and impress everyone. In order to achieve this, he needed to make a purchase which would add a bit of pomp and circumstance to the festivities. His father told him stories about something that was all the rage in London at the time. A veritable status symbol to display your social credentials and treasure hiding in your gilded coffers. A curious new thing few were truly familiar with, arousing attention. It was called a pineapple.
Allegedly, it’s something edible and imported from an exotic corner far away, far away from Devil’s Acre. Its scent was both overwhelming and refreshing with sticky yellow flesh inside a spiky shell topped by a green crown, its thick leaves as sharp as a knife. For the people in Devil’s Acre, it was almost like something with a supernatural quality. He decided he wouldn’t rest until he finds it. Hopefully, on the wedding day, at least for a moment, they’ll gaze at it on their table, a living embodiment of their dreams for a better future that was yet to come. It was of utmost importance to determine where one could obtain it without having to pay a king’s ransom though it was definitely something you could find in a king’s pantry. All he had to do is to find a way to sneak in and follow his nose. The rest would sort itself out. An idea surfaced in his mind.
III.
Buckingham Palace is the city’s most famous building, with a large balcony facing a square from which the royal family could watch their subjects as if it were a theatre piece at the West End. You’d sooner catch a sight of the palm trees in Burma than the slums in the East End from here. Even though the tears of the kids in Southwark were almost as shiny as the Burmese diamonds around the Queen’s neck. William would sometimes joke they need a new Cromwell to dispose of her with a diamond encrusted noose. Alas, the old girl was so obese that the contraption would probably snap quicker than her neck. These days, she spent most of her days in Balmoral.
There were tales about dinner parties where Victoria would swap her widow’s cap for an elaborate fascinator with a full-size pineapple on top. Her guests were in awe of that novelty, a sign of joy on her otherwise dull daily attire dictated by her loneliness. You might call it a doctor’s order: even her pillows contained small bags filled with dried pineapple pieces. It was still unclear if her friendship with John Brown was at least partially encouraged by the soothing effects of being exposed to pineapples. The Queen’s absence made the whole operation easier.
After having spent the whole day walking around the East End and considering every possibility he could think of, his mouth felt all dry. Needing a pint, he went to The Watering Hole to freshen up. It was fizzing full of people drinking themselves into oblivion after a day of exhausting work which left little to look forward to, both in your wallet and on your plate. Elizabeth was at home, preparing for their special day, daydreaming of their little family gathered around a tasty sponge cake. Just like she used to do when she was a little girl. Her siblings would sit there and behold her mother’s marvelous creation without touching it. Just before the cake would get all mouldy, they would be allowed to eat it. After all, she was taught to let her eyes feast on the food too, not just her palate. Usually by staring at the windows of pastry shops she could never afford, drooling at the sight of gingerbread houses.
IV.
Over at the Hole, William ran into Paul, a friend who had just moved back to London for a job at the Golden Pineapple, a gentlemen’s club renowned for opium and slender belly dancers with tits as sweet as Victorian scones. He worked as a bouncer who made sure that whatever happens inside stays there as well. Due to the shenanigans certain influential people were prone to, it was sometimes easier said than done. A red-haired girl called Belle Beaufort arrived one night with a wealthy club member. She was obviously inexperienced in high society matters but she was pretty enough to entice men who preferred unspoilt scullery maids instead of duchesses with their elaborate getups. Of course, it was probably not her real name but a belle she was indeed, albeit definitely out of place and far above her station.
She was aware that she couldn’t expect a marriage proposal there, so she devoted her attention to the young bouncer. He eventually gathered up courage to ask her out and it worked. Inquisitive by nature, he wanted to know everything. Where she’s coming from, her occupation and if that lush red hair of hers was natural. Astounded by his straightforward attitude, she humored him. Yes, the hair was real and she worked as a scullery maid at Buckingham Palace. But it wasn’t that different than any other palace. Downstairs is always downstairs, no matter where you are. The bouncer’s eyes suddenly lit up and they locked lips in a tender kiss, the first among many to come. There were few true admirers in her life until now and it didn’t take long before he swept her off her feet.
Time flew quickly and they parted ways. Back to the squalor of the slums, the secret he couldn’t bring himself to share with her before they kissed goodbye. Reality hurts when you can’t brag about it. But you’re never the only rat at the bottom of the barrel, so he invited William for a drink the following day. Both of them had a reason to celebrate: a wedding and a promising romance. Life finally felt alright, even if it was only for a day. Like the Queen’s pineapples, just what the doctor ordered. Belle might make a decent wife herself. Pushing things wouldn’t help his pursuit, so he decided to take it easy and enjoy the lovely courtship about to blossom.
V.
The Watering Hole is a small place with a name plate hanging over the entrance door in the black brick wall. In the ground floor equipped with several tables and chairs there was a small bar lit by a single lightbulb hanging by a cable above it. In the hallway behind it a staircase leads into the larger cellar room where people gather in the evenings for drinks and dancing. The downstairs felt like upstairs, high on booze and music that only sounds good if you pass out after too much cheap stout. When the two young men arrived, it was still early in the evening and the party was far from its peak. They bought two drinks and sat down with palpable excitement in their eyes.
William shared his plans about the perfect gift for Elizabeth. It might as well have been a crown jewel, the way he described a pineapple. How ironic that it was also the name of the club where his friend was working. What was he to do? Where would he go? There must be a few at the Buckingham palace. These people like fancy stuff, so there must me a few hidden in their pantries. After all, the very best this city had to offer was between those four walls. No spotted dick there, just the top notch dishes. Even their leftovers must be tastier than anything you could find here.
What’s not good enough for a royal corgi is the stuff of dreams in Devil’s Acre. And then Paul’s eyes lit up again. He had the perfect solution for his friend’s little problem: a royal scullery maid. It involved a crowbar and Belle who made his heart tremble with passion he never knew before. There was no doubt in his mind she would help William to find the thing he’s looking for. Before he could do it, however, Paul had to guarantee the girl knew her way around the kitchen at the Palace, otherwise it would turn into a futile embarassment and potentially losing her position. The two men didn’t know where it was actually located, but there must be a separate entrance since places like that usually have one to avoid too much noise in the main halls. Then they raised their glasses and smiled like two kids who were about to pull a prank on their teacher on the first day of school.
Slowly, a crowd started descending down the stairs and soon they could no longer hear each other’s words. There was only one thing left to do in order for their plan to succeed: Belle had to be charmed into participation. Paul was confident she would be and his William kept his fingers crossed that he was right since she was the key link in their chain. William proposed meeting her in person, otherwise it would lead to possible misunderstandings or confusion. His friend agreed to arrange it at the earliest available opportunity. It turned out tomorrow she had the afternoon off. For now, everything was fine. Maybe Belle would really turn out to be what he expected or more. There was only one way to find out.
VI.
The skies refrained from a rainshower for once so Paul and Belle made their way to the Hyde Park where the meeting was arranged. Sitting on a bench, they saw a tall figure approaching them and it turned out to be William. He reached out and shook her hand first, politely introducing himself. His father taught him that it’s the proper thing to do when meeting a lady, though that was the only kind of woman you couldn’t find in the slums. There was a faint smell of carbolic soap on her skin. The good kind, not the brick-sized pieces from shabby little shops. Paul wasn’t lying, the girl’s hair looked as if it belonged to an upstairs lady, underneath a tiara instead of a a plain maid’s cap.
She didn’t want to be an another among mistresses entertaining the Prince of Wales, though some were rewarded with exquisite jewelry for their service. There must be more to life than this, she thought. Working at the Palace isn’t really so exciting though the food and lodgings are better. Due to her position, she was mostly confined to the service area and envied higher ranking staff like butlers who had access to all those rooms where the royal family received their distinguished guests. There were grand crystal chandeliers hanging from ornate ceilings, armchairs, artworks.
Mabel, a sturdy Scottish maid sleeping in the room next to hers was having an affair with one of the footmen. When no one was around, they’d get nasty in an upstairs room full of exquisite china with antique teacups loudly shaking in unison while they were going at it full steam. One time she left her apron there and spent the rest of the day all anxious until he retrieved it before others could find it. It was a secret that Mabel couldn’t bring herself to hide, which robbed it of the allure of a forbidden fruit. It wasn’t really a competition to sleep your way as high up as possible in the establishment, which seemed to be like an unpenetrable fortress of privilege. The two men wanted to know how it worked and if there were pineapples to be found. It’s not called Buckingham Palace for nothing, of course there were.
Smuggling one out was a challenge and William promised to help since it was his idea anyway. There were those left behind after state dinners, occasionally sliced up in little pieces so she’d wait to have a bite before the staff would toss it all away. It was like a lightning bolt of pleasure on her lips, tasting even better than Paul’s kisses. In fact, it was such a prominent part of the pantry inventories that each was assigned a number to keep count on how many were left before ordering a fresh new batch. They agreed to use a code name Henry for the particular one she’d try to smuggle out. And then they made their way to treat Belle with a piece of apple pie, holding each of her hands, as they walked along. It was a place she was familiar with, with custard pies, sponge cakes, lemon tarts and other things that make you drool. She was smitten by the dashing William and his warm, bright eyes. What a man. What a conundrum, suddenly.
VII.
It was a Saturday night and the plan was to be set in motion. The rest of the staff in the kitchen slowly retreated to their quarters and Belle stayed behind to prepare herself a cup of her favourite hot cocoa. Or at least that’s what they were told before the doors closed. She couldn’t afford to waste any time, for it was of the essence that no one hears anything and things go as smooth as possible. They had found a way for William to get into the grounds and wait at the service door to pick it up in a bag he was carrying. The pantry was divided into several areas dedicated to different sorts of food. This was meant to protect the most precious pieces from picking up bad smells or humidity, like meat or pineapples. But as it would turn out, there was a crucial problem the girl had omitted to observe: the pineapple storage room was under lock and key at night, with the sticky and sweet smell of the fruit coming through the frame of the wooden door.
How did she not know this? Frantically, she walked around the kitchen in circles, thinking how to enter inside without a ruckus which was bound to happen if she’s not careful enough. Suddenly, a quick knock on the service door: startled, Belle almost sauntered but managed to compose herself and let William inside. He was wearing a black peacoat and carrying a crowbar in his right hand. For a single moment, she looked at him and smirked in cautious excitement while touching the thick, heavy crowbar. That would have to wait, he thought to himself and smiled back at her.
They went downstairs and stared at it in disappointment as if it were the first time he ever saw a door in the first place. He looked at the lock. Then he looked at her, and then back and back again. Her cheeks were blushing in the cold cellar air and he couldn’t help himself no more. Letting go of all reason, she hugged him, sinking into his arms and holding on to them as if they were a life raft. Distracted and overwhelmed by all this, he loudly dropped his crowbar on the floor, barely noticing the noise it made. Like two dogs in heat, they drowned in a tide of lust, throbbing, panting and rubbing against the pineapple storage door with their backs ever more incessantly until the climax. She was about to exhale in orgasmic relief and the already loose hinges finally gave way. The door opened, exposing the shelves lined with that fragrant, exotic fruit he yearned for. Taking it all in, he thought to himself how it was all worth the while.
She went inside and found Henry in the corner of the third shelf. Overcome with a sense of accomplishment, she put it into his bag and kissed him again. It was time to go before anyone picks up on what had happened. Once again, she took his big crowbar into her hands, now all sticky from the tasty juice. No souvenirs tonight, he told her and left. Walkining back home, he caught himself thinking of Elizabeth. When it dawned on him what actually took place moments before he wanted to go to the Tower Bridge instead and end it all. Before his future wife finds out what some men are willing to do for a damn pineapple. An another pearl on the long necklace of secrets. But they’ll get to keep it and what was once a frog will finally become the prince of the slums. She can put it on her head afterwards for all he cares.
VIII.
William woke up the following morning in cheerful anticipation of his marital bliss facilitated by something that will make a difference, make them stand out in that labyrinth paved with dirt and hangover leftovers. That single, glorious symbol making their humble abode feel like a palace. It was a matter of utmost importance to hide it until the right time for the big reveal. In order to avoid any hints of its presence, he wrapped in a trashbag to cover up the its scent. Then he took the bag and pushed it underneath his matress in the bedroom he shared with his brother. Who knows what would happen if it fell into the wrong hands. It might even get cut up! Simpletons don’t see this isn’t meant for eating but admiration. No wonder it’s so rare. If the slums got hold of it, the refined pantries in London would soon run out of exotic stock. Like pearls and swine.
Paul insisted on meeting him to see if it was a success since he considered himself equally crucial for it as the other two. They met in front of the Watering Hole in the evening. William was waiting at the entrance and hugged his friend when he finally showed up, full of merry gratitude. Elisabeth will feel like a princess, he said. William then announced his intention to make Paul best man at the wedding, inviting him to bring Belle Beaufort along with him as a guest of honor due to her help. The slow snowball of impending disaster was about to roll all over the groom’s future but he was still ignorant of the dangerous dice he rolled when he succumbed to avalanche of lust with the scullery maid: the furious falcons of Paul’s retribution were already gathering behind the horizon. Yet for the moment, neither of the two men was aware of the mess they made.
Once again, they raised their glasses, relishing in success that didn’t seem attainable. Maybe it would be the start of something bigger and beautiful. A shared dream that now felt more palpable than ever. After all, London was full of enthusiastic scullery maids. Only the sky was now the limit. He refrained from disclosing the exact location of the royal pineapple. It’s enough to say that’s in a safe place where it’s unlikely to be found. Breaking and entering into Buckingham Palace. If that ain’t a big deal, nothing is. The Queen won’t notice anyway, Balmoral is too far away. They felt like dancing, but it’s no fun without their aproned accomplice. The groom agreed, still feeling her bare thighs pressed against his own. With the last ounce of strength, he managed to conceal it. A small victory for too big of a burden. From now on, his lips would be sealed. He downed a glass of beer to keep them too busy for talking and it worked. Paul, on the other hand, already started musing about what a proper stag night should look like.
IX.
The temptress who turned a robbery into a swift firestorm of passion was going about her daily duties in the royal household, swiping the floors and tables. She was happy: abundantly bestowed with the affections of two men at the same time was something completely new, especially since they were close to each other. It’s as close to playing with fire as it can possibly get. There has to be a way to keep Paul in the dark about what had happened that night. It should be easier to cheat on a man than breaking into Buckingham Palace, her mother said one time. No one from the staff had noticed anything, to her immense relief. Until she overheard one of the butlers talking about a damaged door in the cellar.
Allegedly, something was missing and there would be an internal investigation into the matter, to avoid bothering those upstairs about it. It was no longer a game and her mind went into overdrive trying to remember what might have had happened that led the butler to such a conclusion as the two were very careful to cover their tracks. There was a flashback in her mind, her head banging against the pantry door as William eagerly humped and pumped her until she almost fainted and left it hanging on a single hinge in the wooden frame. Afraid she might have left something behind, maybe a piece of her uniform or underwear, Belle fled into a small broom closet and took a few deep breaths. An inner voice told her, calm yourself girl, there was no incriminating material left and they won’t find anything to accuse you of theft or trespassing. And that long and thick tool of his was gone as well, so no harm done. There was no way around it, she had to see him again, needed that reassuring hug.
Now they were partners in crime, but she longed for more. After all, the fabled fruit was meant for someone else. It was at the same place, in a slightly hidden corner of the Hyde as she wanted to make sure no one could hear them. William was already waiting for her and once again, she sought refuge in his arms. When she came back to her senses, slowly they started recounting their movements one by one. He had made sure to pick up everything and then felt up her skirt to check if her undergarments were in place, tickling her private parts. That was all they could do, and now it was fingers crossed that her name doesn’t get mentioned in the inquest. The guy in charge of it was James Strathern, a tall grey-haired butler that probably smiled the last time at the Queen’s coronation. Like an evil twin of the Grim Reaper, you wouldn’t want to run into him in one of those long corridors in the middle of the night.
One of the upsides of staying in a house as big as this one was the availability of enough space to avoid people you don’t want to see. Both of them fell silent and stared at the tree crowns that slowly danced to the melody of the light winter breeze. His hand touched hers and she firmly held on to it. He told her of his meeting with Paul and the wedding plans. Belle was happy for him and accepted the invitation. She never met Elizabeth, but at least judging by her taste in partners, they already had something in common. How unfortunate that was the one thing she couldn’t tell her. She will come up with a present too, maybe an almond and toffee pudding that Mrs Crabbell, a royal pattisier was famous for. After a couple of failed attempts, she learned how to make a neat one as well which had made her teacher quite proud.
Now that the challenge of the pineapple was seemingly solved, there remained a challenge of the heart. It was hard to let go even if she knew their effort was ultimately futile, and Paul was madly devoted to her. He didn’t deserve to be taken for granted so this would have to remain a brief temptation, however they yearned for it to last. But there was too much at stake and only one right thing to do. If only, she whispered and loudly sighed. If only. There was despair in her voice but nothing more she could do. His soft palm felt like a dove clutching her fingers with its wings.
Their paths led in two different directions yet they were reluctantly stuck at the crossing. Inevitably, there would be Paul and the distant memory of two days with William. Don’t waste all your love on a brief affair when the other could be for life, the inner voice chirped again. And what if she did? No. Real life doesn’t work this way and there’s someone else waiting for her. I’m a lucky girl, she thought. On the way back, she passed by a wedding dress parlor and couldn’t look away. In spite of everything, there was no doubt if he proposed tomorrow, she’d gladly say yes.
X.
Things between Paul and Belle were getting increasingly serious and he decided it was the right time to take it to the next level. It was an another Saturday when he took her again to the apple pie place aptly called The Apple Pie with a happy swing in his stride. She felt it in her bones it would be more than just a piece of cake. Her feelings dangled between flattery and bewilderment. Could it be a proposition of a certain kind? Oh my, that would be enough to blow a bonnet off any girl’s head. Let’s not jump to conclusions, Belle Beaufort thought to herself. If she could afford pearls, she’d have clutched them. Once inside, they sought out a corner table, away from the bar. Both were eager to start the conversation first but a gentleman always lets the lady to lead the way.
The main subject of it, naturally, was a detailed account of their pineapple coup. She embellished it in slightly dramatic fashion to sound like a true adventure, while carefully omitting certain parts that are better left unsaid. Although embellishing wasn’t necessary as the undertaking was risky enough as it is. Getting inside could have easily turned into a disaster but sometimes luck strikes in the most unlikely situation. He felt very proud for her own contribution to William’s little scheme. Few people are prepared for something so daring just to impress their girlfriends. Why should they be deprived of something just because they can’t afford it?
It’s silly that a piece of fruit should be a status symbol. Allegedly, it was Christopher Columbus who first brought it to Europe. That’s what you’d call a world trip: from South America, over the ocean all the way to Devil’s Acre. What happened afterwards? No idea, he must have hidden it somewhere at home, she didn’t ask. The waitress brought them two cakes and she pushed her fork inside, cutting through the cinnamon-infused pastry which tickled her nostrils and teased her palate. Together with it, they had some tea served in cheap looking cups. Paul took a bite off her fork, mischievously looking into her brown eyes. He took her palm and gently held it until she could feel he had put something inside. Just like she assumed, it was a proposal and the thing inside her palm was a ring.
Relieved, they shared a kiss before he put it on her finger. Belle couldn’t take her eyes off it, it seems it was only yesterday they ran into each other by chance at that posh club. Now it was a full circle, the first step towards a different future she didn’t know she wanted or needed. Who knew that a bouncer would turn out to be her companion on this journey called life with all of its perils and joys, holding her hand all the way through it. In the end, he shared the good news about being Will’s best man and a special invitation for her as well. It high time for a new dress anyway, and there’s finally an excuse.
Now that it was no longer a distant dream, the wedding parlor looked more and more inviting. Just as she was about to grab its door handle, there was a flashback to the events of that fateful night. And then Belle anxiously bit her tongue, turned around and went back home. Her lips still pursed stiff, she couldn’t fight the guilt but decided to do all she could to keep the promise she made that day. Her mind was made up. If only her heart could follow too. Raised to be a good and humble girl, she’ll try and learn how to behave like one. If your apron is too short, your flame will attract the wrong kind of moths. Especially in a place where courtly manners are as common as pink flamingos.
XI.
At the Golden Pineapple, Arthur Conan Doyle invited a group of his friends to enjoy an evening of cigars and whiskey with the new conductor at the Covent Garden as his special guest. Paul was again in his usual post, guarding the entrance with the jet set in complete disarray after one too many. By default, it was more of a rule than an exception. Two went outside with their glasses on the terrace. One of them turned out to be a distant cousin of the Earl of Rochester whose antics were still unsurpassed though it wasn’t for a lack of trying as the members of the club did their best to ruin their reputation while keeping their face intact. Sipping his whiskey, the young man boasted about having seduced a maid from Scotland working at Buckingham palace. She knew all the saucy details about the goings on downstairs, like a recent fling between a scullery maid and some guy who broke into the royal pantry but never got caught. It wasn’t even the first time. Angel face smelled fresh like a tart but behaved as a real pross.
No one poked the parrots upstairs, you got to stick together. The walls are never as thick as you’d think. There was a thud and Mabel went down to check the kitchen: the ooohs and ahhhs were coming from the storage in the cellar,loud and clear. The couple was so busy with their play they hardly noticed witnesses. Paul couldn’t believe his ears: is it true? How can this be? William and Belle in cahoots, backstabbers on the run. Right there and then, he coined a plan. Waterfalls of tears will be spilled when he’s done with the two traitors. Disappointed, his face sank into his palms, sobbing and breathing heavily. But there was no time for self-pity. Before he knew it the clock had struck midnight yet there was still no end in sight. The conductor took to the piano to play a tune and others flocked around.
Most of them were no child prodigies and the closest a member of the group, who shall not be named, ever came to it was relieving himself in the piano after a night full of mescal and booze. The piece was later replaced with a new one, paid from the culprit’s trust fund. Naturally, he was banned from attending after the incident, but it didn’t affect Doyle’s standing with the establishment open even to the likes like Alfred Douglas. Our betrayed bouncer had other priorities on his mind, like doing his best to hide the fact that he was in on the joke and observing their behavior around him.
The jig is up and the fun is about to begin. If they only knew. But soon, they will and there will be no turning back. The gloom of deception was soon to be replaced by the excitement of sweet revenge. For the start, he needed a proper suit. Attending a wedding without proper dresscode is almost as vulgar as a rotten pineapple centerpiece. There were places where you could rent a decent suit. That would be a first time. Revenge is a dish best served with poise and style. Fortunately, he still had the receit for the ring. Not as a foreboding, though it hardly matters now. It turns out you’re more likely to find love at The Apple Pie than an exclusive gentlemen’s club. Paul headed home with borrowed attire for the wedding, befitting the best man of an exemplary kind. Along the way, he dropped by a local police station, telephoned James Strathern and left, feeling the profound weight of sadness hanging like a noose around his neck.
XII.
From early in the morning, kids gathered in the street around the house anticipating the party and hoping for a few cookies to supplement their modest diet devoid of any sweets. The bride woke up with a shimmer in her eyes that showed it was a day that would change her life forever and a ticket straight to that proverbial happy ending with her knight in a shining armor. Little did she know just how life-changing this day would turn out to be indeed. On her head was a wreath of white flowers and a veil covering her face. The white, hand-made dress looked like a tarpaulin covering her barrel-sized belly as she was getting closer to delivery each day. William looked the part as well, with a proper Victorian bow tie around his neck.
He could hardly wait to put that ring on her finger. Even the clouds went out of their way to let the sun light up the streets. Paul and Belle were all dressed up as if they were on their way to Ascot instead of Devil’s Acre. When they finally arrived, the happy couple waited for them in front of the local church. The parents, relatives and friends were also done up nicely and joined them in the church, seated behind and staring at the bride from behind as if she were a fresh piece of spotted dick in a soup kitchen.
It ended with the usual handshakes, hugs and kisses, before the festivities commenced at The Watering Hole. There was a table with food and the shiny pineapple that shocked Elizabeth since she never held one in her hands before and now it was in front of her very eyes. From now on it will be the image of their eternal bond, extracted from the deepest depths of her grateful heart. The band played something romantic for their first dance after which the others joined them. Belle’s cake was quite tasty according to the bride’s own words after she had some. Everything seemed exactly as she wanted it to be, after dreaming so much about each and every detail: the dress, the food, the music. The best man got on his feet and climbed on a chair to salute the groom with the band:
…and he’s a jolly good fellow, and he’s a jolly good fellow, and he’s under arrest.
Three bobbies stormed the room and pulled William out in front of the whole speechless assembly. He was accused of breaking and entering into Buckingham Palace where he removed a pineapple with the help of an accomplice called Belle Beaufort, a former royal scullery maid. Before they got to her, she grabbed the pineapple and threatened she would cut it into pieces if they don’t let William go. A young policeman implored her to not to do anything stupid and hand it over otherwise she’ll have to face serious charges too. Cornered into a situation without escape, there was hardly anything she could do to save herself, nothing but spite and anger when she looked at the people around her, as if desperately pleading them for help.
The pregnant bride jumped on her, pulling the new hat off her head and the pineapple from her arms. After the initial shock, Belle kicked her butt and they both fell on the floor, screaming and rolling like a piece of dough. The situation escalated so much the police had to intervene to separate them while making sure the royal pineapple was safe and as intact as possible. William’s mother, a portly brunette, started screaming as well, charging towards her. Beyond self-control, she threw obscenities and accusations at the arrested accomplice who ruined her son’s life and ran their family’s honor into the ground. Elizabeth started squeaking loudly as if she was about to go into labor but no one paid attention. Just before the police took culprit away, the bride’s mother approached Belle with a grin and the almond toffee pudding, throwing it straight into her face.
You forgot something, darling. Have yourself a good day.
It ended with a prison sentence for Belle Beaufort and William Gallant. The following day was concluded with an exciting cover story in the Times: The Royal Pineapple Affair. Mabel went back to Scotland and Paul developed an allergy to exotic fruit. After losing his position at the Club, he is allegedly currently employed by Scotland Yard as a part of the royal security service. Elizabeth lives in Southwark and works as a charwoman. She is divorced and cut off contact with her former husband although their son’s name is a special tribute to the most valuable gift she ever received from him. Henry.
And what about the Devil’s Acre? Nothing ever changes there. The devil is currently looking for a new home.
THE END
