A chance meeting on a granite city street saving a life was the Cupid dart, on her side if not his, and the gay young prince began to believe in happy ever after for himself. For it was all about him, he had learnt this in childhood, how to survive when the chips were down. And he liked money so it was a perfect match from his point of view and any irregularities could be ironed out, he was sure of it, being such a charmer, as well as a chancer.
Everything went swimmingly until the cracks began to appear and the storyteller isn't party to this breakdown or what led to it. But the prince did desire a cushy job, undertaking training in the great outdoors where he could swan around in a garden with privet hedges, super hiding places when playing games with friends. (storyteller can understand this, having played hide and seek games in the bushes with friends when a child)
The breakdown seemed to be traumatic for the not so young gay prince, according to his reports, and he got a shock at the treatment he received, broke a tooth, ouch. However he managed to make more friends being so charming and this helped to pass the time away from his devoted family in the big house, now in a village, not so far distant from her rich parents who had left their homeland years before, to make more money and be more comfortable.
And so his beautiful, rich family grew up and got used to his snapping, pictures and home movies, acting the part of a devoted, rich, beautiful family in a grand house within a picturesque village which had choice emporiums, including a drugstore where he could pick up the potions his wife had organised for him. For by this time she had grown up quite a bit being a mother with her own large income and rich parents nearby.
And all the time their children were also growing up, spreading their wings, getting ready to fly the nest, having had a very privileged upbringing, moneywise and a very good schooling without having to pay for it. More money in the coffers for the future, whatever that might be, for the story hasn't happened yet and this storyteller isn't a part of it, in any way whatsover. She was only an onlooker and unpaid confidante, under no obligation to keep secrets, whatsoever, unlike these rich professionals who have made their money from hearing the secrets of others.
This is a story about honesty, transparency, ethics, morality, family matters and confidentiality. And how a professional can preach these standards but may not be practising them personally. A double life, double standards, double entendres and a ménage à trois (quatre, cinq, six, sept ...).
I don't know how it ends, I'm only the storyteller. And this is just a fairy tale.
Listened to The Beatles songs when writing this fairy tale: