Tilly Maguire and the Royal Wedding Mess

by Emma Grey

  ‘Ran out of time,’ he finishes gently.

  She looks miserable. He can’t believe she’s been dealing with this all these years on her own.

  ‘I’ve known forever, Reuben. I’m exhausted from the pretence.’

  He can see that. He feels bad that they’ve been flying through their lives beside each other, all this time, and he never even questioned it.

  ‘That wedding headline really felt like one intrusion too far. You didn’t see the aftermath. My parents are clueless. You’re not enough for them, obviously, but this is giving them ideas. They’ve never seen me with a guy, and they’ve started dropping names into conversations. Matchmaking. Other royals have been able to marry commoners for decades, but not me. They’re so conservative, Reuben. They lost Olivia, so now they’re terrified they’ll lose me. It’s like they pour their grief into keeping me safe, and as a consequence I’m completely on edge. All the time.’

  He thinks of Henrietta’s report of a psychologist.

  ‘The endless attention,’ she says, getting up off the chair and pacing the room. ‘The suffocating family pressure. Being gay – well, it’s never going to fit in with the public image they’ve crafted. It will never fit in with their plans. This isn’t going to be possible for me, Reuben.’

  He looks at her. How can something as fundamental as who she is be impossible?

  ‘You’re going to tell them, though. Right?’

  Her eyes fill with tears. ‘I can’t. I can’t tell anyone. I only told you because I had to tell someone. Reuben, I couldn’t breathe with nobody knowing. And I trust you.’

  He catches her wrist as she paces past him. ‘This mad, wild, desperate crush of yours . . .’ he says.

  She takes a very deep breath. ‘It’s Angie,’ she whispers.

  He stares at her until she is brave enough to meet his gaze. Then she nods, as if to reinforce her words.

  ‘Angie,’ he clarifies softly.

  She doesn’t move.

  ‘My Angie?’ he repeats, as if needing to triple-check her meaning.

  She smiles, coming to life again. ‘My Angie. Bubbly, forthright, efficient, make-it-happen, gorgeous Angie. I’ve felt like this for ages.’

  A stream of memories comes to mind. Angie and Belle at school – inseparable until they weren’t suddenly. Angie, constantly annoyed by Belle. Forever criticising. Almost like every interaction between them is a deliberate, open attempt by Angie to push Belle away.

  ‘Does she know?’

  Belle vigorously shakes her head. ‘No, and you must never tell her! I’m not stupid. It’s obvious she doesn’t like me. It doesn’t stop me feeling like this, though. By the time she started backing off, the damage was already done.’

  ‘You’d fallen for her. But, Belle, she started backing off way back when we were at school.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Wow. Angie? All this time?

  ‘You can’t tell anyone, Reuben, I mean it. This can’t get out! I just have to try to . . . I don’t know . . . get over her?’

  He draws her into his arms and kisses the top of her head. ‘I love you, Belle.’ It’s all he can think of to say, since he can’t magically fix this for her, as horribly unfair as it is.

  ‘I love you, too,’ she says, smiling through tears, which he gently wipes away. Then he watches as Belle’s face falls, and he follows her gaze across the room to find out why.

  ‘No!’ she says, breaking Reuben’s embrace. ‘Tilly! This is not what it looks like! Oh, God. How much did you hear?’

  But it’s too late. Tilly is standing there, gobsmacked. ‘Just the bit that mattered.’

  It all mattered!

  ‘I’m begging you, Tilly. Please don’t tell the world.’ Belle is ash white.

  ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt,’ Tilly answers awkwardly. ‘It’s just, I thought you’d want to know . . .’

  ‘What is it?’ Reuben asks.

  ‘There’s a guy outside with a camera.’

  Chapter 23

  Tilly stands still in the kitchen as Reuben and Belle launch into action, pushing right past her and finding somewhere deep inside the house, away from windows, where Belle can hide.

  ‘Pull the blinds, Tilly!’ Reuben orders as he goes to do the same in the lounge room. He’ll find she’s already done that there. Contrary to Belle’s low opinion of her, she would never deliberately go to the media with this. She’d never tell anyone. She’s learned her lesson on that score.

  Tilly had imagined all sorts of scenarios about Reuben and Belle and, in every one of them, there was something not quite ‘right’ about their being in a potential relationship. They were clearly very close, that was obvious. But Tilly just hadn’t been able to picture them like this. Like an actual couple.

  Why hadn’t Reuben just told her? What’s so secretive about it, anyway? They’ve already been seen together in public, a whole lot of times. They went to their end-of-school graduation ball together. Those pictures were dug up a day ago and splattered all over the papers. If they really love each other, why not just own it?

  Then, suddenly, it all falls into place. By posting that photo, Tilly had accidentally exposed the truth. They’d been keeping their real relationship a secret, until she blundered in and ruined that.

  ‘Can you help me in here, Tilly?’ Reuben calls from the study, and she finds herself obeying his request, even though she really doesn’t want to be in the same room as him, right now. ‘Get on the computer,’ he says urgently. ‘Start googling. See what they’ve got – if they’ve got anything. Look for any new stories about Belle.’

  Precious Belle. Of course this is all about her. Not a single thought for how Tilly might feel, dumped in the middle of this, tricked into thinking their charade was for a half-decent reason, only to discover he’s been lying all along to suit himself. And to think she’d come so dangerously close to believing that kiss was real. No wonder Belle is so icy. Who would want to see the love of her life on the evening news kissing another girl, like that?

  ‘Isabelle and Reu—’ she types. She doesn’t even have to finish the word for Google to come up with top results. Even the sight of the search bar makes her sick. There’s nothing immediately apparent from this evening. No images of the house popping up, anyway. She tries another search. Still nothing. Maybe the photographer hasn’t got any shots yet – although she definitely saw the flash from the garden.

  ‘Nothing here,’ she reports as Reuben surfs the iPad, ignoring her.

  ‘Team Matilda,’ she types curiously, and hits ‘enter’.

  Whoa! Page after page of links. Photos. Articles. Videos. Blogs. Even fan fiction! What is wrong with people? Apart from her first name, there isn’t one fact in any of it. Particularly this bit in the first news story she clicks on: ‘A source close to the princess has revealed that Vaughan dumped her, less than an hour after meeting Mystery Matilda, with whom he’s been inseparable ever since. The princess is said to be devastated, having loved him for years . . .’

  ‘Don’t believe everything you read,’ Reuben says. She hadn’t noticed him walk up behind her. She clicks out of the article.

  ‘I don’t,’ she explains, spinning around on the chair to face him. ‘I do believe everything I see with my own eyes, though.’

  ‘We need to talk about that.’

  ‘I don’t care about it anymore. And I’m not going through with this sham, either. Your secret little celebrity romance is nowhere near as important as you think. I don’t care who she is, or who you are. And I’m sure you’ll pick up a new “muse” five seconds after I’m gone!’

  He looks panicked. ‘Tilly . . .’

  He’s doing the hand-through-the-hair thing again, and another fantastic acting job, looking increasingly desperate. She’s done with this conversation. Done.

  ‘Belle was right,’ he says. ‘Back in the kitchen. It really isn’t the way it looked.’

  What other possible way could it have been? Belle loves Reuben. Reuben
loves Belle. Hugs. Kisses. Happy tears. Happily ever after.

  She gets off the chair and crosses her arms. ‘You have thirty seconds, Reuben, to explain to me exactly why what I saw in the kitchen wasn’t what I think it is, or I’m going to bed,’ she announces. ‘And I’ll leave in the morning.’

  He stands in front of her. Speechless. Pain sears across his features. He says nothing. Not a single word.

  Right, then.

  She uses the phone in the study later to phone her parents. For the first several minutes she just listens to her mum’s tirade. Did she know she is all over the internet? She’s famous, but not in the way her mother ever dreamed she’d be! What was she was doing outside the museum at Reuben Vaughan’s feet? And what was she wearing? It was awful! Where is she now? What’s going on? Is she okay? Has he been a gentleman?

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘You need to come home, Tilly. You’re not cut out for this level of pressure! Just admit defeat and get out of there. There’s “them”, you know? Famous people. Royalty. High achievers . . . And there’s “us”. You’re one of us. You always have been.’

  Tilly looks at the framed awards and platinum albums hanging on the wall of the study all around her. Them and us. High achievers and . . . what? What exactly did her mother mean by that?

  This is why she avoids these calls.

  Chapter 24

  Reuben lies in bed with both hands behind his head, contemplating what he’s just given up and why. He can see exactly how this must look to Tilly, but he isn’t going to breach his friend’s trust. Not with this.

  Belle’s news at the ball came from way out of left field until he really thought about it. He’d been so absorbed in his boy band–fangirl outlook over the last few years he’d totally missed it. Thought she’d just shied away from relationships because of her royal status and the unrelenting spotlight that came with it. Thought she just hadn’t met ‘the one’. He is ashamed of the assumptions he’d made that had no doubt made it harder for her to tell him. And he is very glad she has.

  But Angie? He tosses the blanket off his chest and rolls over. He’s nervous about what will happen there. Unless she’s a brilliant actor, he’d be astonished if Angie has any interest in Belle at all, other than to loathe her. In the two years Angie has been working with him, and for several years before that since they were all at neighbouring schools together, she’s been increasingly uncomplimentary about his friendship with Belle. She hates the way he panders to her. Finds the whole thing nauseating, but has never given a decent reason why. Sometimes, she physically recoils when Reuben even mentions Belle . . .

  He feels sick at the idea of Belle getting hurt. It was why he’d stood there, wordlessly, when Tilly very rightly demanded an answer from him. It’s why he hadn’t given Tilly the one piece of information that would put all of this in a completely different light. Put him in a different light. It would have been so easy to fix. She’s gay. We’re just friends.

  He sighs and slides his hand under the pillow to find something cold. The laptop. He’d forgotten she’d stashed it there during their nervous hunt through the house earlier. He pulls it out and props himself up against the wooden bedhead, which is cold against his bare back.

  The computer lights up when he opens the lid. It bathes the room in blue light. He hopes she can’t hear it chime and mutes the volume. Her document is still open on the screen. ‘I Didn’t See You Fall, a novel, by Matilda Maguire.’

  He re-reads the opening chapter. The imagery is just as vivid the second time around. She’s good.

  Reuben hits the ‘save’ button again, even though he’s made no changes. He’s paranoid she’ll lose this work. The band has recording gear and tech all over the house for times when inspiration strikes, which is often at three or four in the morning, for Reuben. He doesn’t want to risk uploading something into his own cloud. These things get hacked. He rummages in the drawer of his bedside table and finds an old USB and an attachment with a port, plugs them in and makes a copy of her story. You can’t be too careful.

  He’s about to shut down the computer, when he has another idea. But does he dare? He’s messed everything up as it is, so there’s nothing to lose at this point. He opens a new document and starts writing.

  After a few minutes, there’s a tentative knock at the door. ‘You awake?’ Belle whispers.

  He hurriedly saves his work and returns the computer under the pillow.

  ‘Put a shirt on!’ she demands, nearly tripping over his clothes on the floor. ‘I’ve seen enough of your six-pack to last a lifetime! And what are you hiding on that computer? What’s on the USB?’

  ‘It’s nothing. Just . . . something Tilly wrote.’

  ‘As long as it’s not something Tilly wrote about me.’ She sits on the end of the bed. She hadn’t planned to stay at the house overnight, but she couldn’t leave either, with the risk of paparazzi prowling outside. They’d organised extra security, of course, but they weren’t taking any chances. The photos would look so much worse if she was seen leaving here in the early hours.

  ‘I’m worried about her,’ she says matter-of-factly.

  He sits up straighter. ‘Me too.’

  ‘I think she’s going to out me to the media. This is why I’ve never told anyone. Of all the people to overhear it . . .’

  Oh. That’s what she meant.

  ‘She’s not like that, Belle, seriously. We can trust her.’

  Belle lets out a strained laugh. ‘Come on.’

  He gets out of bed and sits beside her. If only Belle would trust her with this secret, he might be able to convince Tilly to stay.

  ‘What does she want?’ Belle asks.

  ‘She wants a publishing contract,’ Reuben says, mainly to himself, except Belle takes the idea and runs with it.

  ‘Easy!’ she says.

  ‘Belle, look. Tilly didn’t overhear the bit you thought she did,’ he explains. ‘She only walked in at the end. It’s me she thinks you’re in love with. That’s the secret she thinks we’re trying to protect, and she’s furious. She thinks I took a convenient chance, moved the spotlight onto her and am putting her through all this just so you and I can be together secretly, without the media hounding us. She thinks I’ve used her, and I don’t blame her. So she’s calling it off. Tomorrow.’

  ‘Reuben —’

  ‘She asked if there was any better reason for us to continue, and I wouldn’t tell her. I won’t tell her, Belle. It’s your life.’

  ‘Coming out, as the first openly gay princess? This is actually pretty huge.’

  ‘I know.’ He squeezes her hand. ‘Belle, if Tilly knew – I think she’d stay. I understand why you’re nervous, but that thing at the ball was a big mistake. Don’t let it cloud your opinion of her. Back at the restaurant, she could have left, or done more damage – I’d effectively led her into a media trap and she stuck by me, without any knowledge why. If she leaves now . . .’

  Belle is watching him closely.

  He swallows. ‘If she leaves . . .’

  Belle leans towards him. ‘Do you need some help finishing that sentence, Reuben?’

  This conversation is not going to proceed in the direction Belle is trying to nudge it. He’s known Tilly, what? Just over twenty-four hours? It feels more like . . .

  ‘This isn’t just an inconvenient deception to you anymore. Is it?’ Belle prompts.

  He’s not going to answer that. Belle might have felt comfortable exposing the deepest recesses of her heart to him tonight, but this is not a quid pro quo situation.

  She wraps a blanket around herself. ‘I want to help you here, Reuben. I really do. But can you see what you’re asking? You want me to come out to a perfect stranger. Someone we’ve known a day, who, in that time, implicated us both in one of the most ill-thought-through PR scandals either of us has ever experienced. That’s the person you want me to trust with a secret I’ve never told anyone else until now?’

  He knows it’s asking too much
. Of course it is. It isn’t fair to ask Belle for this lifeline.

  Reuben glances at the bedside clock. Nearly two am.

  ‘You know, there is one last option,’ she says sleepily. ‘For you and Tilly.’

  He has no idea what she’s talking about. ‘Belle, give up. The fake relationship thing is over.’

  ‘I know. So, in its place . . .’ Belle yawns and rests her head on his shoulder for a second.

  In its place, what?

  ‘Come on, Reuben. You’re smart. Work it out! What else could you do that would achieve the same result as pretending to fall for Tilly?’

  ‘Go back to bed, Belle.’ This is not happening. Having a wild, spine-tingling, mad crush is one thing. It’s hard enough admitting it to himself. Reuben does not go any further than this. Not ever.

  ‘Fall in love for real for once, Reuben,’ Belle whispers as she creeps towards the door. ‘Take a risk.’

  Chapter 25

  Tilly plans on borrowing one of the three cars she saw in the garage earlier and arranging with Angie to have it picked up later. The conversation with her mum has sunk in. She’s not cut out for any of this. She’ll find a hotel somewhere, and she will cry.

  No. She will write.

  The one thing holding her to this house at the moment is her story. It’s still on Reuben’s laptop – and she definitely isn’t taking that with her, now. But she does need the words. She’ll borrow the laptop and return it with the car.

  Except it’s still in Reuben’s bed. And it’s five o’clock in the morning.

  She wonders how deeply he sleeps. Perhaps she can sneak in quietly and retrieve it, then sneak out and be back in London before he even wakes up. Desperate times . . .

  It’s cool in bare feet on the wooden floor and just the flannelette shirt she’s slept in. Her hair, undone ever since Reuben wrecked Angie’s perfect chignon during that kiss, is still mostly straight, falling in soft curls below her shoulders, instead of the usual frizz. Not that it matters now that she is having her first Good Hair Day in months, if not ever.