What do you think you're doing?!

Part 2

Margaret coughed and sighed noisily. There were many things she hated in her life, but chief among them were the changes in the weather (even above receptions and small talk). The woman couldn't go out without catching the flu, while the rest of us would get away with a runny nose.

"Why am I always so lucky?" she thought melancholically, looking up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

Margaret was running a fever. The fever had been running for three days and even the doctor did not know what to do. Every remedy was used: antibiotics, compresses, inhalation, but nothing worked. Even the Queen seemed concerned about her sister's condition, which meant the number of phone calls increased exponentially. Margaret was so fed up with these awkward displays of concern that she ordered the phone removed from her room.

Now she could lie in silence all day, but she did not feel any better. She could not listen to the radio or read in this condition. Cigarettes remained, of course, but it was too painful to breathe, and her throat was so scratchy that smoking would not be any fun.

"When will it all end?" asked Margaret to herself, referring either to illness or life.

Slowly she rolled over onto her side and wanted to try to sleep, but then something happened that could not have been expected.

The door to the princess's room burst open with such a crash that several books fell from the shelves and a vase on the table shook. A flushed and panting Ann Glenconner stood on the threshold. She wore a gray coat, worn only on her left arm. A scarf, or what should have been a scarf, had by some miracle not fallen from her neck. One boot was unbuttoned. The maid of honour made an unusual impression, to say the least.

- Your butler is a bastard! - without saying hello, Ann announced, slamming the door just as loudly. Margaret grimaced, "He wouldn't let me in. Can you imagine?

- Anne, when the psychiatric clinic comes for you, I won't hide you," said the princess quietly.

The royal friend did not react to the remark. She simply took off her coat and scarf, deftly tossing them aside, and strode confidently to Margaret's bedside.

- Why didn't you answer my calls?

- I have a secret crush on you, and I don't want to hurt your feelings," Margaret tried to joke.

Anne didn't immediately understand what her friend had said, and then she laughed heartily. However, when she turned her gaze to the medicines, bottles of potions and a thermometer on the bedside table, the smile slowly disappeared from the maid of honour's face.

- What is the matter with you, ma'am? - Ann asked with ill-concealed fear.

- What about me? - Margaret asked hoarsely.

- It's as if you don't understand, ma'am," said Lady Glenconner.

- No," the princess replied insistently, but still quietly.

- You lie there surrounded by tinctures, like you've robbed a drugstore, barely whispering, wheezing. I don't know, ma'am, I guess I don't like your hair," Anne replied with sad sarcasm.

- What's wrong with your hair? - Margaret asked with a faint smile.

- Is it pneumonia again, ma'am? - asked the maid of honour, clearly worried.

Margaret hesitated. She hated talking about her illnesses and hated complaining. Other people had problems without her, and she didn't want to look weak or helpless. But Ann was not an idiot. It was impossible to deceive her, they had known each other too long, so Margaret sighed heavily and confessed: