Chapter 11

As George was walking towards the nearest taxi-rank to be driven home, he wondered why he had referred to Hannah as 'a young lady' and not 'my niece'. 'A psychiatrist would get a lot out of that', he thought. 'Perhaps I ought to work it out myself.'

In a parallel development, Hannah had been debating with herself if she ought to say 'George' from now on, not 'Uncle George'. True, she had never thought of him in any other way, but perhaps that was a part of the problem. 'If I want an adult relationship with him, I have to act like an adult, ' she thought.

Whatever her thoughts had been, suddenly and unexpectedly he was there. It was her wrapping her arms around him, and she was neither saying 'George' or 'Uncle George' - she was too busy kissing him.

"That is by far the nicest thing that has happened to me all day," George exclaimed. "Not that improvements were hard to come by, but still," he added and shook his head.

"Bad huh?" she asked.

"Worse," he replied. "I really don't want to think about it - let's go out somewhere."

"Like where?" Hannah asked.

"Oh, I dunno," he said. "An art gallery, the Zoo, anything. No, drop that. Not the Zoo - I spent the day in one."

"I shan't ask you what happened today," she said. "But what happens next? Over the next few days, I mean."

"Oh, I guess there will be another inconclusive meeting tomorrow - could turn out fairly long, but then you are away all day, aren't you?" he said.

She nodded and felt pleased he had taken note of, and cared about, when she would be there.

"And there just may be another meeting on Wednesday - make or break, really," he continued. "I have to go back Wednesday night. Beth has texted me that Colin's unspeakable teacher is on the war-path again and wants a meeting Thursday morning."

"So you won't be here Wednesday evening?" she asked with clear disappointment in her voice.

"Oh yes I will," he replied. "I could only get a late flight home."

"Fine," Hannah said. "Don't make any plans," she added with a mysterious smile.

They ended up at the National Gallery. George showed her Hans Holbein's divine portrait of Princess Christina - daughter of the last Catholic King of Denmark and Norway and painted at the instigation of Henry VIII. Henry had been smitten, but Christina was not. "She is reported to have said 'If I had two heads, one should be at the King of England's disposal'," George chuckled.

Hannah was spooked over how the princess' eyes seemed to be following her around the gallery. "Cool girl. How old was she?" she asked

"Christina? Barely 16 I believe," George replied.

"She looks much older!" Hannah said without thinking.

"Yes. Girls have been known to pull that trick for a long time," George said in a teasing voice.

"Touché," Hannah conceded. "Anyway, why is she dressed all in black?"

"She was widowed 3 years earlier and still in mourning," George replied.

"WHAT?" Hannah spat. "She was married at 13?"

"11 actually," George replied. "But her aunt and guardian, the regent of the Netherlands, had stipulated that the marriage could not be consummated before Christina started menstruating. By then her elderly husband was too sick, so she was reputedly still a virgin when she was widowed."

"One small mercy in an altogether gross and revolting setup!" Hannah said.

"Yes, times were very different," George replied.

"Did she eventually remarry?" Hannah asked - still spooked by Christina's gaze through the archway.

"Yes she did - a few years later," George replied. "You'll love this," he added with a chuckle. "She married one Francis, Duke of Bar."

"Never heard of him," Hannah said.

"No one has," George replied. "Except that Francis had been betrothed to Anne of Cleves."

Hannah was stunned. "As in that Anne of Cleves?" she asked.

"Yup," George said. "The one whom Henry VIII married when Christina kept turning him down!"

"The one who was so ugly that Henry wouldn't fuck her?" Hannah asked - causing a middle-aged couple also in the gallery to look up, scandalised.

"Cruel, but apt. Yes, that one," George replied. "Hans Holbein was a touch too flattering in that portrait it is said. But Christina was every bit as beautiful as this picture suggests contemporary sources agree. And prettier still when not in heavy blacks."

Hannah smiled. Then her face changed. "I suppose, compared to that girl, that I am already really old - nearing 23 and still not married. But then again, life-expectancy was much shorter then - I bet she was dead before 40."

"No no," George said. "Christina lived until she was nearly 70. A great schemer and manipulator until the day she died. She never reclaimed the Danish/Norwegian throne though. Henry could possibly have accomplished that for her, but the risk was too great."

"You seem to know a lot about her?" Hannah said.

"Yes, I read a very good book years ago. Sort of a fictionalised biography," George replied. "Very well written."

"What was it called?" Hannah asked, now genuinely interested in this head strong renaissance girl.

"I don't know the English title," George said. "I read the original Danish. The title was simply her name."

"How come a Norwegian would be interested in a Danish book about a Danish princess?" Hannah teased. "I thought you hated having been ruled by the Danes."

"Oh, we do, but not nearly as much as we hated the Swedes," George replied. "Besides, both Danes and Norwegians are pretty schizophrenic about their shared past. Danes are quite ready to claim a Norwegian naval hero as their own. And Norwegians are proud of the pretty girl in here even if she never set foot in Norway."

"What do you want to do for dinner?" Hannah asked as they were leaving the Gallery when it closed at six. "I haven't done any shopping. I know it is slack, but I was slightly under the weather all day!"

"Dunno, something simple," George replied. "I had lunch at a gentlemen's club."

"Sounds interesting," Hannah said.

"Not really - food wise, I mean," George said. "Very traditional and heavy. But it was an interesting cultural experience! I readily admit that."