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His first year living in America, The 4th of July was frankly, a holiday Henry completely forgot about. In London, St. George’s Day was barely celebrated by anybody, and if it was, there was the fun game of ‘are they patriotic or racist?’.
Sure, England had things to be celebrated: it’s national parks, museums, scientific discoveries, and contributions to every art form you could think of. But English people, for the most part were entirely self-deprecating, it went against the entire national psyche to stand up and shout ‘look at how great we are!’. England thinking they were so great, was the reason why so many countries even had Independence Days.
The United States on the other hand, proudly proclaimed how great they were, even if there was much evidence to the contrary. They had flags everywhere, all of the time, so there wasn’t any noticeable difference as the holiday approached. Until the fireworks started going off.
Henry had long since honed a firework plan for David. Classic FM on, many treats available, a blanket to curl up under, beside Henry on the sofa, or buried deep under the duvet on his bed. Henry knows Kensington Palace wasn’t exactly the epicentre of disruptive fireworks, but they were close enough to Central London, that they still heard enough of them.
The major nights for fireworks in London were all in winter: Diwali, Bonfire Night, New Year’s Eve, and Chinese New Year, that on an evening in late June in Brooklyn, when he first hears them, Henry thinks it’s for a personal celebration. But then, they keep happening, amping up and up, and for an intelligent man, it isn’t until July 2nd, that Henry has a jolt of realisation.
It is, after all, his first summer living in New York, having only lived in the States for roughly four months, and those months had still included obligatory trips to the UK. He’s still acclimatising, thinks he may spend the rest of his life acclimatising. He would do gladly do so, if it meant spending the rest of his life with Alex, but that doesn’t stop it being a lot. The UK and the US were so fundamentally different in culture, and in language, despite the latter supposedly being the same one.
So that first year, after a failed attempt at baking an apple pie, Henry orders in a bunch of American classics. June and Nora come to stay for the weekend, and the four of them attend the shelter’s celebrations during the day.
That evening, they all go out to dinner, and after, Henry leaves the other three to go out and celebrate their Americanness, while he goes home to hide from the fireworks with David.
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Their 4th of July stays relatively the same each year. Sometimes Henry is in London, or they’re away together, or Alex is in DC, but for the most part they go to the shelter during the day, and in the evening Alex goes out to celebrate with friends, and Henry stays happily at home with their dog.
The first year in Austin, is the most subdued, as they’re still making friends, and Ellen and Leo are at an event far from Texas. Alex comes with Henry to the shelter, during the day, where there’s a small celebration and fun games to play. But in the evening, they both curl up on the sofa with David.
The year after, given they have two ten-month-olds, Henry is back to completely forgetting about it. That is until, he sees what Alex has dressed the girls in. Having got David sorted, Henry’s come back upstairs to help carry the girls down, and finds Alex, beaming and taking pictures of the girls on the floor of the not-really-a-nursery nursery.
Henry sits down on the floor beside him—mostly amused—and he smiles at their babies, with their chunky limbs and their hair in the tiniest pigtails. Then he sees Alex open Instagram. He puts his hand on Alex’s knee, causing Alex to look over at Henry, confusion crossing his face at Henry’s cautious expression.
‘Alex, love, you can’t post that.’
‘Don’t worry’ he smiles with what he thinks is realisation ‘their faces aren’t in it.’
‘They’re wearing stars and stripes onesies.’
‘Of course they are’ Alex says frankly ‘it’s the 4th of July.’
‘Which is?’ Henry says patiently.
‘Independence Day.’
‘Independence Day from?’
‘England.’
‘And the girls are…’
With a looking of dawning comprehension on his face, Alex says slowly ‘… members of the British Royal Family.’
Alex’s mouth gapes like a fish for a moment as Victoria crawls forward and reaches with determined little grunts for Alex’s phone. Henry picks her up, and sits her at his sock-covered feet, where she immediately tries to eat his toes. Eleanor crinkles a pack of wipes in her hands, looking fascinated.
Alex looks down at his phone, swiping at it, and Henry leans over, and looks at the photo on the screen: the girls sitting up and smiling, looking utterly adorable in their onesies.
‘People’ Alex says, in a voice Henry knows too well: his ‘I’m about to present evidence’ voice, ‘will surely understand that the girls are American? I’m from here, you’ve lived here seven years, they were born here, we all literally live here together. Their grandmother used to be President.’
‘Which we already celebrated on the weird holiday that is President’s Day’ Henry says with a raised eyebrow.
‘Oh, we’re going to be talk about weird holidays, are we? Mr. my evil grandmother has two birthdays.’
Victoria lets out a loud screech, and Eleanor pauses, looking startled at her sister before she babbles in response. Victoria leans over to reach for the wipes and Alex swipes her into his lap and hands her an activity cube.
‘See,’ Alex says, gesturing his hand at their daughters ‘the girls agree with me.’
Henry rolls his eyes and picks up Eleanor under her arms, holding her in front of his face. Eleanor beams at him and tilts her head. Henry—his heart melting—kisses her forehead before he holds her out again.
‘Do you understand anything about independence days since you’re only ten months old?’
Eleanor lets out a little gurgly laugh and Henry can’t help it, he kisses all over her face, blowing a raspberry into her neck, as she continues to laugh, her fists coming to grasp at Henry’s hair.
‘Ah, no, sweetie.’
He feels Alex reach over and rub at her hands so she lets go, and Henry gratefully puts her sitting back down in front of him.
‘So…’ Alex says ‘was Eleanor laughing a yes or a no?’
Henry rolls his eyes again in response, as Victoria grapples to get out of Alex’s lap and Alex sits her down facing him, before he holds her little hands and helps her stand. Victoria scrunches her face with happiness, and bops up and down while clinging onto her Papa’s hands.
Henry looks at them, smiles wide on both of their faces, before he looks at Eleanor who is scooting on her bum to grab at an open bag of nappies. Once she reaches her target, she waves one in her hand triumphantly.
Most days Henry forgets any of them are connected to a country at all. He feels more connected to his little family, to their love and their wonderful wholesome life, than he does to any nation. Henry can’t deny how British he is, with his love of tea and Austen, soft cashmere and rainy days. But he had always felt it was a circumstance of his surroundings. Of course he loved Jaffa Cakes, and Bowie, and the V&A when he had grown up with them. It felt different, to how Alex felt connected to the country(well, countries) he belonged to.
For a long time, more than anything else, Henry felt a duty to his country, being one of the beloved faces, of it’s most well known institution. It had been instilled in him for so many years, that the Royal Family illustrated the best of British, and he had to uphold that reputation, and show pride and love for the country they represented.
But, as uplifting as Hugh Grant’s speech about how great Britain was, in ‘Love, Actually’, it was difficult to just scrub their blood-soaked history and colonialism away, and that hypocrisy had sat with Henry for years. The thing Henry had learnt after so many hundreds of royal visits, was that it was ultimately the people who made the UK great, and he had no problem believing and upholding that at all.
When he had been so weighed down by the responsibility of the Crown, it wasn’t the institution itself he was thinking of, it was the British people, their warmth and humour and generosity. Henry had met so many charity workers, NHS employees, and local business people to ever doubt the goodness in the British population. And there was the fact that the royal households themselves gave hundreds of people a livelihood.
Henry had thought Alex’s relationship with America was different, but he thinks of the speech Alex had given after they were outed: about how much of the country he had travelled around, and how many wonderful people he had met. Henry realises now, that’s the main thing: Alex is proud of the people his country has produced, proud of the people he and his family have helped, and that includes their daughters.
Alex loves raising them to love the best of America, loves teaching them things about it, and introducing them to its’ traditions and culture. Henry, looks at his radiant husband, and their two beautiful daughters, and finds it hard to deny him that.
‘Hen?’ Alex says and Henry looks up, to see Alex looking at him questioningly.
‘Sorry, love, lost in my own world.’
He indicates Alex’s phone and says ‘let me see the photo you were going to post.’
Alex beams, releasing Victoria’s hands gently—where she promptly crawls towards her sister—and opens his phone.
An Instagram post by @theagcd and @princehenry
Photo: A colour photo of Eleanor and Victoria from behind, sitting on a tan coloured carpet, a plain white wall in the foreground. Both are wearing red, white, and blue star and stripes onesies, with their hair in miniscule pigtails.
Caption: Our daughters, like their Papa, belong to two countries. They are half English, and members of the Royal Family. Their grandmother will one day be Queen, and they will grow up visiting their Daddy’s country often, and learning all about it. But they are also half American, born and bred little Texans, just like their Papa. They will be raised here, go to school here, and know fundamentally what it is, to be citizens and residents of the USA.
It’s a funny thing for us, there is no precedent for celebrating a holiday with our daughters that is essentially their Papa’s country, celebrating their independence from their Daddy’s country. We are the first to do so, continuing to make history, in ways we never even thought about.
Today, is their first 4th of July, which celebrates the best of America, which they are now a part of. And so, Happy 4th of July, from our family to yours, as we celebrate what makes America great. For us most especially, that very importantly includes the vast diversity within it.
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The following year, Alex and Henry decide to attend a parade, which is next to a carnival like event in the park. They ring up the security firm they keep on call, and a plains clothes security guard follows close behind them as they explore.
The air is filled with joyful screams, the ding of the games, and the smell of everything from corn dogs to popcorn, a giant Ferris Wheel looming overhead. With the girls sniffing the air like airport dogs, they head for a stand selling candyfloss and candy apples. Worried about the apples yanking out their teeth, they get a small candyfloss each for the girls.
Victoria, dressed in denim shorts, and a blue t-shirt with a big red apple on, declaring ‘I love The Big Apple’, almost shoves her head straight in it. Henry takes over, much to Victoria’s chagrin, and rips smaller pieces off for her. Eleanor, dressed in a blue dress pattered with red and white stars, nibbles at hers like a hamster, as Alex holds her other hand.
Alex, looks radiant, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, wearing a pair of ripped denim shorts, and a worn white tank top with a faded USA flag on it. Henry, still weary of the perception of him celebrating this holiday, is wearing a short sleeved light blue shirt, and white linen trousers, the only possible red coming from his flushed face in the heat. He has slathered himself in suncream, but it doesn’t stop him feeling overheated under the hot July sun.
‘Hey baby’ Alex says ‘you having a good time?’
‘Hey baby’ Victoria repeats joyfully.
‘Yes’ Henry chuckles ‘I am, though it is very very hot.’
‘Hot hot’ Eleanor says, almost to herself.
‘It is hot’ Alex affirms ‘let’s go get a drink before the parade starts.’
They all get glasses of cold apple cider, pouring the girls’ into their sippy cups, and go to find a shaded place to watch the parade from. Henry hoists Victoria onto his shoulders, as Alex does the same with Eleanor. The parade is similar to so many Henry has witnessed before, but the rapturous looks on all of his family’s faces, and the little ‘woahs’ coming from above his head, makes it one of the best Henry has ever seen.
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When the girls are two, Henry finds he has a warming affection for the 4th of July. It is still too loud and extravagant for his taste, but it is hard not to love it, when it brings his little family such joy. As Victoria runs around, waving a glittery pom pom, declaring ‘Merica, yay!’. As Eleanor sits in the corner of the kitchen with David, where one of his many beds are, and the pair of them watch in awe as the sparkles on her USA flag patterned dress, make lights on the wall. As Alex fires up the barbecue for their small back garden gathering, grinning and singing along to his carefully curated playlist.
When the girls are three, they have full blown American accents, and immerse themselves entirely in helping their Daddy bake apple pies, and their Papa cook the hot dogs and burgers. They want bunting in the house, like there is at their nursery, and Victoria waves a little flag around everywhere she goes. Henry learns to play the USA national anthem on the piano, and Alex, wide eyed and beaming, shows Henry his appreciation for this, on said piano later on that evening.
By the time the girls are four, they are in London for the 4th of July. Henry, so much it takes him entirely by surprise, actually misses the holiday. That night, with the girls being looked after, he and Alex go to a pub full of USA immigrants celebrating. They welcome Alex and Henry(and their PPOs), warmly, pulling them into their fold.
As Alex and Henry kiss in a corner, tasting of hot dogs, and beer, Henry finds he has a whole new appreciation for the holiday. It is after all, celebrating the place he has made home, the place he and Alex were raising their little family, with their quiet, blissful, domestic life. The USA had cradled him in it’s palms when Henry had left the repression of his title behind.
It had given him the life he had never imagined possible, given him hope, happiness, the love of his life, their two precious daughters, the home they all made together. His favourite three people in the whole world are American, he but the odd Brit out.
In his hometown, surrounded by people who are the very opposite type of immigrant to him, he grins into his husband’s kiss, fizzy and tipsy, and light. He reckons, as long as he never posts about it, he can enjoy this holiday—his love for it having crept up on him unsuspected—as much as he likes.