Ingrid’s meeting with her father must have gone well, because Binky was immediately given three days’ leave and allowed to take a transport flight back to Oslo. Ingrid was delighted. Now that her on-again off-again birthday party was definitely on again, she wanted all the help she could get to make it spectacular. Binky was mainly in charge of fetching and carrying things while Melanie and Ingrid organised the more creative details. Friday had no opinions about napkins or taper length, but Ingrid had discovered that Friday was very good at origami, so she was put in charge of folding paper animals to decorate the ballroom.

‘Friday, I’m going into town to pick up some balloons,’ said Binky. ‘Do you think you could help me?’

Friday looked at Binky. She knew, and she knew he knew, that carrying wasn’t her strong suit. Walking without carrying things wasn’t even her strong suit.

‘Are you trying to get me away from Melanie and Ingrid because you have a problem you want to discuss?’ asked Friday.

Binky glanced over to the kitchen, where Melanie and Ingrid were on the phone with the caterer. They were both engrossed in the elaborate description of a profiterole sculpture they wanted to be made in the shape of a Viking ship. There was no chance they had overheard.

‘Yes, please,’ whispered Binky.

‘Okay,’ said Friday, setting aside her 312th origami herring and going with him.

Binky led the way. The palace was a maze of corridors. If you didn’t know where you were going, you could easily stumble into a political meeting when you were trying to find the bathroom. Binky was very familiar with the layout, though, and he confidently wove his way towards the back door. A little too confidently, because as he strode around a corner, Binky slammed into a small man in a grey suit. The man was so much smaller than Binky he was knocked off his feet and the stack of files he was carrying landed in a flutter all around him.

‘Terribly sorry, Sir Eirik,’ said Binky. ‘Didn’t see you there.’ Binky crouched down to help him collect the papers.

‘Din store tull,’ muttered Sir Eirik.

‘In my defence,’ said Binky. ‘You’re not often down this end of the palace.’

‘Store tull? Did he just call you a big fool?’ asked Friday.

‘It’s just his nickname for me,’ said Binky.

‘Those are confidential documents,’ said Sir Eirik. ‘Hand them to me at once.’

‘Of course,’ said Binky, handing over the stack he had. ‘I don’t know anything about money laundering anyway, so I wouldn’t have understood anything if I’d read them.’

‘You read that they are about money laundering!’ exclaimed Sir Eirik.

‘Well, I’m not blind,’ said Binky. ‘Just because my brain doesn’t want to read them doesn’t mean my eyes won’t pick up the odd word.’

‘And who is this girl?’ asked Sir Eirik. ‘You are bringing other girls to the palace! Is this proper? Does the princess know?’

‘Oh yes, Ingrid is fine with it,’ said Binky. ‘Friday isn’t a girl. She’s a friend. My sister’s friend. We’re just popping out to pick up a bit of shopping.’

‘In my day, young men didn’t do such things,’ said Sir Eirik.

‘What?’ asked Binky. ‘They didn’t have sisters with friends?’

‘I have not got time for this,’ muttered Sir Eirik as he bustled away.

‘That was strange,’ said Friday.

‘Oh no, he’s always like that,’ said Binky. ‘More or less. Being private secretary to the king is very stressful. I’m not sure why. My father’s secretary answers the phone and types his letters, and she’s never grumpy like that, but it must be harder working with a king.’

Once Friday and Binky made it out of the palace, they walked down the driveway in silence. Binky evidently did not feel comfortable discussing what was on his mind until they were clear of the palace grounds and the fans of the royal family milling about. When they were finally among the busy shops and blending in with the crowd, Binky opened up.

‘I’ve got a problem,’ said Binky.

‘What is it now?’ asked Friday. ‘You aren’t being court-martialled again, are you?’

‘Oh gosh no,’ said Binky.

‘Then what is it?’ asked Friday. ‘Have you been accused of cheating in an exam or of losing someone else’s homework? That sort of thing used to happen to you a lot.’

‘Oh no,’ said Binky. ‘Things are going pretty well out at Svalbard now that Jonas is in the brig. This is more of a personal problem.’

‘How personal?’ asked Friday. ‘I might know a lot about science, but some things should be discussed with a doctor, or a priest, or Ingrid.’

‘Actually, it’s about Ingrid,’ said Binky.

‘Oh, Binky, I’m not qualified to tell anyone about relationships,’ said Friday. ‘Can’t you talk to Melanie?’

‘No can do,’ said Binky. ‘She’s my sister. Some things are too personal.’

‘If they’re too personal for her,’ said Friday, ‘they are definitely too personal for me!’

‘No, I mean, I want to keep it under my hat,’ said Binky.

‘Your hat?’ asked Friday. She glanced at Binky’s head. He wasn’t wearing one. ‘Now I’m definitely confused.’

‘Melanie might blab,’ said Binky. ‘I know I can rely on you.’

‘What exactly is your problem?’ asked Friday. ‘Because I think I’ve been imagining something entirely different to what you’re going to say.’

Binky leaned in and whispered, ‘I want to propose to Ingrid.’

‘Wow!’ said Friday. She was so shocked she stopped walking and a tourist bumped into her. Binky had to pull her out of the stream of pedestrians. ‘That’s big. But how is it a problem?’

‘I’m a boy,’ said Binky.

‘I think technically you’re a man now,’ said Friday. ‘You’re twenty-two, you’re six foot four and your job requires you to carry a machine gun. That’s all pretty manly.’

‘No, I mean, because I’m a boy, or male generally, I’m totally clueless about how to propose,’ said Binky.

‘Don’t you just ask?’ said Friday. ‘It’s not really my area of expertise either. I think kneeling is traditional, but optional. Although it might be a good idea for you because you’re so much taller than her.’

‘Yes, I’ve been practising that,’ said Binky as they turned into a less busy street. ‘They actually train us in how to kneel in the army, so you can have maximum stability when you fire an automatic rifle. But I guess it’s handy to know for proposing too.’

‘Useful skill crossover,’ said Friday.

‘The hard part is knowing what to say,’ said Binky. ‘I’m terrible at that sort of thing.’

‘So am I!’ said Friday.

‘That’s why you’re the perfect person to ask,’ said Binky. ‘You put your foot in your mouth more than I do, and yet somehow that just makes Wainscott love you even more. What’s your secret?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Friday. ‘Maybe he enjoys being in a relationship based on schadenfreude.’

‘I don’t know what schadenfreude is,’ said Binky.

‘Taking pleasure from the suffering of others,’ said Friday.

‘You don’t believe that,’ said Binky.

‘Exactly,’ said Friday. ‘I’m so uncomfortable with the subject I’m saying things I don’t believe. I don’t know what to say for myself, let alone anybody else.’

‘You’ve got a good point,’ said Binky.

‘I do?’ said Friday.

‘I’m not good at words,’ said Binky. ‘So I just won’t bother with them. I’m better at action. I’ll just give her a ring. She’ll probably figure out what that means. Then I don’t have to say anything.’

‘That’s actually a sound plan,’ said Friday.

‘It is? Excellent!’ said Binky proudly. ‘Now, what sort of ring should I get?’

‘I believe most women usually prefer big ones,’ said Friday.

‘Yes, but Ingrid is a princess. She already has lots of big jewellery,’ said Binky. ‘I can’t compete with that. She’s got a tiara that’s studded with diamonds the size of golf balls.’

‘True,’ conceded Friday.

‘But once I give it to her, then what do I say?’ asked Binky. ‘Do I start by apologising for not being able to afford a diamond the size of her nose? I can’t list the reasons why she should marry me. It would be a very short list.’

‘You really shouldn’t be asking me for romantic advice,’ said Friday. ‘I’m in the world’s most dysfunctional relationship with a boy whose father I put in jail. And I’ve got no idea how I got into it. Or why I’m not out of it. I have absolutely no idea.’

‘That’s why you’re the perfect person to ask,’ said Binky. ‘You got Wainscott to fall in love with you in spite of your personality. That’s what I want to do.’

‘Make Ian fall in love with you?’ asked Friday.

‘No,’ said Binky. ‘You can keep him. Not my cup of tea. I want to marry Ingrid. In spite of the fact that marrying a dim-witted klutz, like me, really would be a terrible idea for someone with all the diplomatic responsibilities of a royal princess.’

‘Binky, you’re not dim-witted. Well . . . maybe you are a little bit,’ said Friday. ‘But you’re more than that. You’re pure of heart. You’re a good man. Do you have any idea how incredibly rare that is? Ingrid would be lucky to have you.’

‘Gosh,’ said Binky. ‘Could you write that down? Better yet, why don’t you come to the proposal and say that for me?’

‘I’m not proposing for you, Binky,’ said Friday.

‘No, I suppose that would be unromantic,’ said Binky. ‘It was just a thought. Here we are.’

‘Where?’ asked Friday. Although as soon as she looked in the direction Binky was pointing, she could see for herself. It was a jewellery shop.

‘Can you help me pick out a ring?’ asked Binky.

‘I suppose so,’ said Friday. ‘I realise that my sense of aesthetics may not align with most females, but if it’s just a question of which one is the shiniest, I can do that.’

Twenty-five minutes later, Friday and Binky were thrown out of the jewellery shop. Friday had taken the task of helping Binky find a ring a little too seriously. She had produced a jewellers’ eyepiece from her pocket and inspected each ring so closely that she discovered two were mislabelled. They were supposed to be 2 carat diamonds, but Friday proved they were, in fact, only 1.8 carat diamonds. Then she found that one diamond had a microscopic flaw in its cut that made its value ninety per cent less than its marked price. At that point the owner had asked them, not terribly politely, to leave.

‘That didn’t go well,’ said Binky.

‘It’s ridiculous,’ said Friday. ‘Diamonds are just compressed carbon. There is no reason they should be so excessively expensive.’

‘They are very shiny compressed carbon,’ said Binky.

‘They wouldn’t match her necklace anyway,’ said Friday.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Binky.

‘Well, most days Ingrid only wears one piece of jewellery,’ said Friday. ‘The Haakon Stone. And that just looks like a rock. If you were going to get her a ring that matched, you could get a ring custom-made with a stone from her driveway.’

‘That’s brilliant!’ exclaimed Binky. He grabbed Friday and kissed her. Which was alarming, because to do so he had to lift her several inches off her feet. Her hat tumbled off her head as their lips met. The next second she had been dropped back on the footpath again. ‘That’s what I’ll do!’

‘Okay,’ said Friday, wiping the kiss off her mouth, in much the same way a second grader does when they’ve just been caught in a game of catch-and-kiss.

‘Thank you for all the advice,’ said Binky. ‘I’m going to do it right now!’

Binky hugged her again and ran off.

Friday was left standing on the Oslo footpath, the owner of the jewellery store still glaring at her through the window, feeling very bewildered. She was used to helping people, but usually she had a sense of how she had helped them after she had done it.