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78.

Lloyde was pleading with his superiors at home, trying to get them at least to postpone the date

when he and his team pulled out. He showed me the emails. He wrote: We can’t just…leave them

here!

The person at the other end wrote: The decision has been made. As of March 31 they’re by

themselves.

I scrambled to find new security. I spoke to consultants, gathered estimates. I filled a notebook

with research. The Palace directed me to a firm, which quoted me a price. Six million a year.

I slowly hung up.

In the midst of all this darkness came the horrible news that my old friend Caroline Flack had

taken her life. She couldn’t stand it anymore, apparently. The relentless abuse at the hands of the

press, year after year, had finally broken her. I felt so awful for her family. I remembered how

they’d all suffered for her mortal sin of going out with me.

She’d been so light and funny that night we met. The definition of carefree.

It would’ve been impossible then to imagine this outcome.

I told myself it was an important reminder. I wasn’t being overdramatic, I wasn’t warning

about things that would never happen. What Meg and I were dealing with was indeed a question

of life and death.

And time was running out.

In March 2020 the World Health Organization declared a global pandemic, and Canada began

to discuss the possibility of closing its borders.

But Meg had zero doubt. They’re definitely going to close those borders, so we need to figure

out somewhere else to go…and get there.