by Page, Sophie
‘Oh, I see.’ Bella was rueful. ‘Well, I’ve never been much of dancer. I’ve got two left feet and I tend to flail with drink taken.’
‘I wasn’t thinking of competitive ballroom activity,’ he assured her.
‘Oh, well, in that case,’ she said, relieved, ‘I can stomp around on the dance floor like anyone else, I suppose. Before I went away, I used to go clubbing with the girls every few weeks or so.’
He stared at her, fascinated. ‘But you prefer ruins really?’
‘I think I do,’ she said reflectively. ‘Is that odd?’
‘You’re a romantic,’ he said on a note of discovery. ‘Who’d have guessed?’
‘No,’ she said, revolted. ‘Practical twenty-first-century woman, me.’
And started telling him about her new job. He laughed at the idea of her being paid a Pig’s Premium because the boss was so vile.
She shrugged. ‘I can handle him.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’
‘Well, I’ve handled worse. And if I stuck the island for ten months, I can manage Dentist Hell. At least there’s a going home time when I can see friends and read books.’
‘The island was real hell, then?’
‘Not all of it. But I went because I was sort of stuck on the guy who was running it and he turned out to be—’
‘A pig?’
She thought about Francis, noble and disorganised and just a bit too sure of his charm.
‘No not a pig. But, well, shallow. You know? With an enormous appetite for being waited on, preferably well-larded with breathless admiration. I got tired of saying, “Francis, you’re so clever.”’
He winced. ‘Poor guy.’
‘Not poor guy at all,’ said Bella robustly. ‘He keeps sending me texts saying he can understand why I’ve had a crisis. But when I come to my senses I’m welcome back, and anyway he will always be there for me.’
‘There’s something wrong with that?’ said Richard cautiously
Bella was scornful. ‘It’s code for, “Come back and sort out the files.” I told you, Francis is high-maintenance. Never logged any data himself since the day he found he could get his devoted students to do it for him.’
‘Ah.’
‘What?’
‘You’re very clear-sighted, aren’t you? Not quite so much a dyed-in-the-wool romantic as I thought.’
‘I told you, I’m not romantic.’
‘Wanna bet?’
But Bella backed away from that one. This might be the most relaxed first date she had ever been on, but there was a look in his eyes that was not relaxed at all. And if there was one thing an unromantic, sensible woman did not want to do, it was mess up her life by falling for an unavailable man. And they didn’t come much more unavailable than the heir to the throne.
She said lightly, ‘You’d lose your money. Don’t forget, I lived on a tropical island – and counted fish.’
‘There is that.’ He leaned forward. ‘So what next for you? I assume Frankenstein the Dentist is only a – er – stop gap.’
Bella was drinking Rioja at the time and nearly choked. ‘That is a very bad pun,’ she said reproachfully, when she got her breath back.
He looked wounded. ‘I thought it was rather good for the spur of the moment.’
‘Well, maybe,’ she allowed. ‘And, yes, I’m looking for a proper job, too. But that will take time.’
‘What sort of job? Something adventurous?’
She sighed. ‘I think I’m off adventure. I like being clean too much. And keeping in touch with people. My father will drum me out of the Greenwood family.’
‘Really? Why?’
‘He’s an explorer. Arctic wastes, deserts, Mongol plains. As long as it’s remote, uncomfortable and deserted, he’s in seventh heaven. His mother, my Granny Georgia, is an ecologist, who keeps popping off up the Amazon to save the rain forest.’
Richard was not interested in Georgia, though. He sat bolt upright. ‘Greenwood? You’re not H. T. Greenwood’s daughter?’
‘Yes,’ said Bella sadly.
Hitherto Richard had seemed quite perfect. But she had seen that look before on the keen-eyed groupies who came to her father’s lectures. Who would have thought the Prince of Wales was a fan of old Finn’s?
‘He’s an inspiration,’ said Richard in hushed tones, confirming it.
Bella sighed, torn between pride, loyalty, and a bedrock desire not to lie to this man. ‘Hector Toby Greenwood. Known as Phineas, because he ran away and went round the world when he was supposed to be at school. Yes, that’s the Daddy. He has his moments.’
Richard studied her for a moment. And then he surprised her. ‘Hard act to live up to?’
She felt warmed. ‘Yes, that’s it exactly. My brother Neill refused to try. Told everyone he was a homebody and wanted to teach. Finn never argued, to be fair. Never tried to talk him out of it, not even when he said he didn’t want an exciting gap year travelling, just wanted to get on with his life.’
‘So you were the one left carrying the Greenwood banner?’
Bella was struck by this. ‘I’ve never thought of it like that. You could be right.’
‘I know I’m right. Welcome to the club.’
But Bella was still thinking about the Greenwood inheritance. ‘Do you know, I was even named after a nineteenth-century explorer.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t believe it. There was never an explorer called Bella. What’s your real name? Augustus?’
‘You’re wrong there. Isabella Bird was the first female fellow of the Royal Geographical Society.
‘Never heard of her.’
‘You’ve missed a good thing,’ said Bella with enthusiasm. ‘She was a phenomenon. Half the time she reclined on a couch or stayed at home with Mama and did good works. And the other half she would pack her bags and go travelling. After Mama died, she went round the world. She was passionate about horses and rode all through the Wild West in the days when it still was wild. Possibly had an affair with a Davy Crockett type and maybe another one in Japan with her translator, who was less than half her age. She went to Persia, Ladakh, Tibet, Hawaii, all round the States. Wrote some pretty good books. My father always says she was an anti-colonialist and bent Gladstone’s ear about it.’
Bella stopped dead, suddenly realising where her enthusiasm had led her.
‘Er … I probably ought to tell you. I mean, it’s not going to matter, you’ll probably never meet him, but my father is a conviction Republican. Doesn’t hold with monarchy. Or empire. But mostly he just hates kings and queens.’
Richard stared at her for an unnerving minute. She had the impression of his brain working very fast to process a lot of new information. He said slowly, ‘You mean, he wouldn’t approve of me.’
‘Probably not. No.’
‘I see.’
‘Nothing personal,’ she added hurriedly.
He nodded. She could still sense his brain racing. ‘So you’re not going to tell him you’re seeing me?’
That sounded underhand somehow. ‘Well, I don’t see him very often, and he’s not a great one for writing. The subject probably won’t come up.’
‘Don’t see him? How come?’
She explained about her parents’ divorce and moving to Hampshire with stepfather Kevin.
‘But you still try to keep up the Greenwood traditions?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. I was sort of always Daddy’s girl.’
‘Ah. Do you ever travel with your father?’
She was shocked. ‘Good heavens, no. He wouldn’t have me. You need full survival training to go anywhere with Finn. Not to mention the patience of a saint, an orderly mind, and a determination to Stick to the Plan. Finn tends to be impetuous.’
Suddenly Richard was amused. ‘Very clear-sighted,’ he murmured.
She was conscience-stricken. ‘Do I sound mean?’
He shook his head. ‘Beautifully honest.’
‘Oh. Good. I think.’
Bella looked down at her plate. This was the crunch then. The point in each first date when you had to decide whether there was going to be a second one.
She swallowed. ‘I’ve been away a long time and I’m still a bit disoriented. I need to find my feet again. Get a job, see where I’m going. I’m not looking for a full on relationship—’
He sat very still. ‘So thank you for a nice evening and goodbye?’
NO, screamed something inside her.
‘Does it have to be so black-and-white? Can’t we just enjoy each other’s company and see where it goes?’
He looked at her for a long, unnerving minute.
‘I mean, do you usually rush off to tell your parents every time you meet a new girlfriend?’
‘I’m twenty-nine years old. I don’t often tell my parents anything. Anyway, there are plenty of people to do it for me. Starting with the Press.’
‘Oh.’ She hadn’t thought of that. ‘Of course. Like that piece in the Despatch on Monday. That’s when I first recognised you, actually.’
He pulled a face. ‘Well, at least we had two days when I was just me.’
‘Hmm.’ She was remembering the blonde in the backless dress. ‘Who was the girl you left with?’
‘Chloe Lenane. Our families have known each other for ever. Her aunt is one of my mother’s ladies-in-waiting. She’s like another sister.’
He raised a hand and a waiter materialised beside them. ‘Would you like anything more? A brandy? Coffee? Something sticky?’
She didn’t care. But she knew the evening wasn’t ending yet. ‘Anything.’
‘Madeira for my guest,’ he said to the waiter. ‘Black coffee for me.’
When the man had gone Richard leaned back. ‘Do you know what has been really different about tonight?’
She shook her head.
‘You haven’t once said, “So what is it like being Royal?”’
‘I’ve talked all about myself,’ said Bella, instantly conscience-stricken.
‘You’re missing the point. You answered my questions. You asked some of your own. As if this was just like any other date you’ve ever been on.’
She was puzzled. ‘So? How else—?’
‘Don’t get me wrong. I like it. I just don’t think it’s ever happened to me before. But there’s this bloody great elephant in the room and you’re refusing to see it.’
‘What?’
He leaned forward. His voice was low and intense when he answered. ‘OK. Tonight’s an ordinary date for you. Do you know how much management and sheer fucking ingenuity went into delivering it?’
She shook her head, open-mouthed.
He ticked off the points on his fingers. ‘Rented car. Not rented by me, obviously. A friend of my security guy is the name on the ticket. I left wearing his jacket and flat cap.’
Suddenly Bella remembered the man in the park, with his all-weather coat and cap, standing in the cold sun.
‘You brought him to Battersea Park with you, didn’t you?’
‘Strictly speaking, he brought me. Drove me there and back. Kept an eye out for the paparazzi all the time we were there.’
‘Oh.’
‘You wanted to know why I was togged up like a Hollywood assassin on Monday. Well, that’s the answer. So there wouldn’t be any pictorial evidence.’
Suddenly she felt completely out of her depth.
‘Look, Bella, people recognise me. They take photos of me on their cellphones. I don’t have a private life.
And if you and I try to have a let’s-see-where-this-takes-us deal, you won’t either.’
The waiter brought their drinks.
At once Richard sat back, smiling again and talking about a movie.
But the moment the waiter had gone, he said in a low voice. ‘I could only take you out this evening because there was nothing in the diary. I’ve given the staff the night off. Ian is sitting in my flat, watching my television and pretending he’s me. But if anything blows up and someone comes to find me, he’s toast. His career’s gone. And the Press and possibly the security forces will start looking for the woman I spent the evening with. Do you see?’
‘I – never thought,’ she answered in a small voice.
‘Well, think now.’
Bella stared at him, all the lovely laughter and intimacy gone. She didn’t know what to say.
He gave a tired smile. ‘It’s OK. You don’t have to say anything. I can see you’re not a paparazzi sort of girl. I always knew it really. Don’t worry about it. No harm done.’
She could have cried.
He drove her home in silence.
When they got there she said, ‘Why don’t I just jump out here? You’ll never find a parking place and—’
‘I took you out, I’ll see you home.’
Bella recognised finality when she heard it. She didn’t argue.
It was chilly now, with autumn taking hold. She was shaking so much, she couldn’t get the key in the lock. For a while he stood beside her on the front steps, hands in the pockets of his coat. But eventually he took the keys from her gently and unlocked the door himself.
She thought he would say goodbye then. She even turned to him for a good-night kiss. But he held on to the keys and they both went upstairs.
The flat had that indefinable air of being deserted. It was silent and not quite in darkness. There was a low light from the sitting room and, when they went in, they found the fire glowing and a tray of unlit candles on the mantelpiece.
‘Oh, Lottie!’ said Bella.
But Richard knelt and lit the candles, then put the tray on the table beside the armchair. He added another log to the fire, for good measure. Bella took his coat and discarded her own jacket.
‘A drink? More coffee?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m fine.’
But he didn’t go. And Bella didn’t want him to. She went over and put her arms round his waist, leaning her head against his shoulder. He put his arms round her.
She did not know how long they stood there in the semi-darkness, just holding each other. How could it hurt this much to say goodbye, when they’d only just met? It was ridiculous. But Bella still didn’t let him go.
It was he who moved first.
‘Bella—’
‘Don’t go.’
She was nearly voiceless but he heard.
‘Oh, love.’ He sounded shaken.
She kissed him with a sort of fury. For a moment, just a moment, he responded totally. Then he let her go and stepped away.
She could not believe it. Reached for him. ‘Why not? What does it matter, one night, in the scheme of things …’
‘Don’t.’ It came out like a pistol shot.
And stopped her dead
He ran a hand through his hair. He was breathing like a marathon runner, she saw.
‘You made a good decision tonight, Bella. Don’t complicate it.’
He was going, reaching blindly for his coat as he went, not looking back. She said his name in a disbelieving whisper. But all she heard was the front door opening and closing behind him.
6
‘Friends, Parents and the Art of Breaking Up’ – Girl About Town
It was not a good week. A dozen times a day Bella was on the brink of calling Richard. A dozen times a day she cut the call just before it started to ring. One day she would be too late, she thought. And where would that leave her? Would he even answer?
Meanwhile she seemed to see his picture everywhere – in a new batch of glossy magazines that came into the surgery, in the free paper Tube Talk which she bought on the way to work in the morning, in the Daily Despatch and other newspapers. From hardly noticing the Royal Family, she seemed to be reading about them all the time.
Queen Jane launched a ship; King Henry opened an exhibition of early machinery in a waterworks dating from the Industr
ial Revolution; Prince Richard gave a speech at a degree ceremony in a college of further education. On Thursday all three of them went to the opera. It was Wagner. The King looked as if he had been dragged there and was suffering, but Queen Jane was graciousness itself, not a hair out of place and her regal tiara glittering. Richard, in the regulation tuxedo, looked quiet and a little tired. Bella found herself stroking his face on the printed page.
As soon as she realised, she snatched her hand away. Fool. Fool.
From Richard himself there was no word. Well, she didn’t expect it.
Lottie was an angel. She must have taken a change of clothes for the morning when she left the flat on the night of the date because she did not come back for breakfast. But she did ring the next morning.
‘How are you? Hung over?’
‘A bit.’ Bella wasn’t, but it was as good an excuse as any. She had not slept much and she had dark circles under her eyes. Make-up had been a major undertaking that morning and she had stopped off on the way to work to buy herself a new phial of Touche Éclat.
‘Where did he take you?’
‘Oh, a little place he knew. You won’t know it.’
‘Did people recognise him?’
‘Not that I noticed.’
‘Bella, are you OK?’
She started to say, ‘I’m fine,’ then thought better of it. ‘No, I’m not actually, Lotts. But can we talk about it later?’
Lottie drew in a sharp breath. ‘What did the bastard do?’
She was always ready to go to war for a friend, Bella remembered. It was kind of comforting. But she had to be stopped.
‘Nothing. He didn’t do anything. Look, Lotts, I can’t talk about it. Not now. Please?’ Her voice cracked on the last word.
‘Ah. All right. See you tonight then?’
‘Yes.’
Lottie must have left work early because she was waiting when Bella got home, with the fire blazing and a delicious smell wafting from the kitchen along with the mellow tones of Christian Tabouré.
‘Moroccan stew,’ said Lottie. ‘It won’t be done for ages. Have a bath. Soak away the day. Help yourself to the Roman bath oil. Then come and have a drink.’
Bella did. When she emerged, she found that Lottie had left a package on her bed, wrapped in silver tissue paper. She ripped it open and discovered a floor-length kimono in softest sapphire silk. She put it on at once and went out to the sitting room, feeling distinctly weepy.