by Page, Sophie
‘They’re after the one iconic picture. You hitting a small child for one section of the press. You giving a puppy the kiss of life for another,’ explained Lottie.
‘You’re joking?’
‘No, I’m not. I’ve done my time, spinning these things. It’s part of what I do for a living. I know how it works.’
‘How long are they going to chase me?’
Lottie shrugged. ‘Until somebody more newsworthy comes along. At the moment, there’s a big premium on the Princess-to-Be. Sorry. You’re gonna have to live with it.’
At first Bella’s new employers didn’t like it. They wanted press attention, they said, but not on the celebrity pages. But as their website began to get more hits, they decided that maybe it wasn’t so bad after all and became a lot less frosty.
‘So that’s all right,’ Bella told Richard, when they were in the car going to a charity Ice Show. ‘As for the media, as far as I can see there are two schools of thought. Those who think we’re a lovely couple, wish us well and either don’t care or are positively pleased that I’m not a toff. God bless them. Then there are those hate me because I’m not a toff. They write these nasty articles, pretending it’s about all sorts of other things – I’m too fat; I’m too thin. I’m grumpy; I’m over-familiar. I’m a career woman and no support to you; I fawn on you sickeningly. And a whole raft of other stuff I forget.’
‘Hey, I thought you weren’t reading them,’ said Richard in concern.
‘I’m not now. But I wanted to know what all the noise was about.’
‘And now you do?’
She shrugged. ‘Nothing I can do about it. If someone hates you, they hate you. They’re not going to change their mind.’
There was a pause. Then he nodded soberly. ‘That’s a tough one, isn’t it?’
Bella swallowed. ‘Yes, it is. There’s one blogger who scares me bit, she’s so spiteful.’
Richard was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘LoyalSubjekt101?’
‘Yes. You’ve read it? Do you know who it is?’
‘Not yet,’ he said grimly. ‘I’ve got people looking into it.’
Bella was doubtful. ‘Can you do that? I mean, what about free speech?’
‘I can’t stop her saying anything, unless it’s libellous. But I agree. There’s something about the tone of that one that is disturbing. So we’re digging a bit.’
‘Oh.’ A wisp of cold touched Bella happiness.
‘Hey, don’t look like that. It’s probably some strange person who has fantasies about marrying me herself and wouldn’t actually hurt a fly. Might not even be a woman. It’s just a reasonable precaution to find out who it is.’
‘Yes, of course.’
He gave her a comforting hug. ‘Mostly these things come to nothing. They fall in love with somebody else, or go back on the medication, or win a story-writing contest or something.’
Bella smiled. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’
‘Do that. I’ll keep you safe.’
But if Richard was sympathetic about the nasty blogger, he just laughed when the Daily Despatch, who had run the original falling tiara photographs for several days, called Bella a klutz and commissioned a number of cartoonists to envisage things that she might drop, break or crash into.
‘They’re not as fervent as your father, but the Despatch has never liked us since my father had its editor-in-chief escorted out of the Royal Enclosure at Ascot for pinching a waitress’s bottom.’
‘Did he?’ Bella was fascinated. It didn’t seem in character with what she had seen of the absent-minded King.
‘Don’t get him wrong. He likes to play the old buffer, but when he gets the bit between his teeth, he really goes for it. And he doesn’t like bullies.’
‘I remember you saying your grandfather—’
Richard stared pointedly at the driver’s head and Bella stopped.
‘So, I’m afraid you’ll just have to put with the Despatch. If they weren’t calling you a klutz, it would be something else. Price of joining the family.’
She didn’t care about the family. But it was a price worth paying for loving someone as special as Richard, she thought.
The more she knew of him, the more certain she was that he was right: they were made for each other. Nothing seemed to faze him. She regularly forgot to check out with the Guard House when she stayed overnight at Camelford House and he would receive calls from an irate security officer. He never lost his temper, not with Bella, not with the Guard House. Once she was late for a date because she got absorbed at work and he forgave her; more, he made a joke of it. Yet she knew how tight his schedule was and she could have kicked herself. Especially as she was surrounded by a self-appointed support group. She sometimes wondered who Richard had who was there for him, not just for the Prince of Wales.
She said as much to her grandmother.
Georgia, who had come to the flat for an evening with Bella and Lottie, looked thoughtful. ‘He has you.’
‘Oh, well, yes, obviously. But I meant someone of his own.’
‘His own?’
They were in the kitchen and Bella was peeling potatoes. Georgia had a surprising weakness for English school food and had requested shepherd’s pie for a treat. But at her last observation Bella put the peeler down and turned to face her.
‘What does that mean?’
Georgia tried to dismiss the question. ‘Oh, nothing.’
‘Don’t start with the Forest Wise Woman on me,’ said her granddaughter crisply. ‘I know it meant something. Give.’
‘It’s just that, I suppose this engagement has all happened very fast.’
Bella was nearly dancing with irritation. ‘Don’t be enigmatic. I’ve had a long hard day making sense of an illiterate PhD proposal. I’m in no mood for guessing games. If you think I’m doing something wrong, spit it out.’
Georgia laughed. ‘I think you’re doing just fine, dear.’
And then Lottie came in and they started talking about important things like saving the rain forest and how to get red wine out of a silk blouse.
Later, as they were finishing their coffee, Georgia said, ‘Have you talked about dates for the wedding?’
Lottie cast her eyes to heaven.
Bella said hurriedly, ‘Bit of a sore point, Georgia. The Government wants us to get married in the summer, for the tourists. But the Queen thinks we should wait until after next Christmas. Negotiations, as they say, are ongoing.’
Georgia’s brown eyes were shrewd. ‘And what do you want?’
‘Richard’s diary is the main constraint, really. He says a lot of people will be disappointed if he cancels engagements. So he’s got his office analysing the forward plan.’
Lottie and Georgia exchanged looks.
‘Not Richard,’ said her grandmother. ‘You.’
‘Me? I’ll fit in with … What?’
Both Lottie and Georgia had shrieked in protest.
‘What?’
‘It’s your wedding,’ said Lottie. ‘You know, the thing little girls dream of from the first time someone tells them the Cinderella story. Big white dress, centre of attention, flowers in the hair, walking down the aisle with a dreamy look in your eyes. It’s your day.’
‘Richard says it’s everyone’s day. We have to be … accommodating.’
Lottie snorted.
‘We’ve been through this before, Lotts. It’s a state occasion. There’s no getting away from it. Richard and I aren’t the only ones involved.’
Georgia always sat up straight, she said that was what Southern Belles were taught to do, but suddenly she looked as dignified as the Queen herself. The shabby old armchair could have been a throne.
‘That is true. And you are very right to remember it. I am proud of you.’ She sounded as if she were summing up the case for the prosecution. ‘But saying there are a lot of people to consider does not mean that you are prohibited from saying what you would like.’
Lottie bounced on
the sofa. ‘Right on, Granny.’
Georgia ignored that. She was very fond of Lottie and adored Bella but she never cared to be reminded of her grandmotherly status.
‘Do you know what you would like, Bella?’
‘Richard says …’
Bella found two pairs of beady eyes daring her to go on. She ground to a halt.
‘I haven’t thought about it, OK? There didn’t seem much point.’
Georgia fixed her eyes on her granddaughter with terrifying intensity. ‘Are you saying it doesn’t matter what you want?’
‘Not in the scheme of things, no.’
‘And have you told Richard that you feel like this?’
Bella felt harassed. ‘Well, no. I mean, he’s got a lot on his plate. It’s not such a big deal, after all.’
There was a silence. Even Bella could see that this was probably not an ideal way for a bride to think about her own wedding but she would never admit it. She put up her chin and broadcast dignified Keep Out signals right back at Georgia.
To no effect at all.
‘While I do not agree with your father in all his antimonarchical barnstorming, I am coming to feel that, in this case, he has a point,’ announced Georgia. ‘I don’t know if it is the fault of the Royal Family, the Court or Richard himself. But I am very sorry to say,’ she didn’t sound sorry, she sounded brutal, ‘that they have done a number on you, child.’
Lottie drew in a little hissing breath. ‘Have at you, foul courtier!’
Bella sent her an impatient glance but Georgia ignored her. ‘Marriage is a partnership, not a corporate venture, Bella. You and Richard need to talk about this. And soon.’
‘I love you, Georgia,’ said Lottie with fervour.
‘When you have done so, you may bring him to dinner. I will telephone you tomorrow with dates when I am free.’
Bella gulped.
Georgia stood up and turned gracefully to Lottie. ‘It is always delightful to see you again, Lottie. I so enjoy our talks. Goodbye. Thank you for a lovely evening.’
Subdued, Lottie stood up and they air-kissed.
Bella said, ‘I’ll call you a cab.’
‘No need. I can always find one round here. If necessary I’ll go to Victoria Station. There are always cabs there.’
‘I’ll walk with you,’ said Bella firmly.
She helped Georgia into her warm coat – a chocolate brown, waisted, full-skirted thing, with a discreet fur collar and military buttons. Georgia set her big Russian hat at just the right angle and pulled on fur-lined leather gloves. It was all very warm and practical but, thought Bella, even for a domestic evening of shepherd’s pie with the girls, her grandmother was catwalk elegant.
Bella shrugged on her own coat, stuffed her keys in her pocket and they went out into the night air. The street was deserted. Not a cab in sight.
They began to walk.
Georgia said, ‘Honey, I know you’re getting a lot of advice, from all over the place, and most of it is frankly crap. I don’t want to add to that, I really don’t. But I am certain that you and Richard need to work out what you want before everybody else gets to have their say. It’s just so easy to be taken over by the rest of the world. I was. And it took me half a lifetime to get myself straight.’
This was news to Bella.
‘I didn’t know that,’ she said cautiously.
‘When you’ve made your bed, you lie on it,’ said Georgia dryly. ‘Old saying. No reason for you or anyone else to know. But, believe me, when I say talk to the man, I speak from experience. Oh, look, there’s a taxi with its light on. I do so love London taxis! They’re so big and solid and uncompromising, and you have room to spread out the skirts of your dance dress. Heaven. Just heaven. I have great hopes for you, Bella.’
On which gnomic utterance she raised an arm to hail the cab, kissed her granddaughter quickly, jumped in and was gone.
17
‘The Date!’ – Royal Watchers Magazine
Bella did not act immediately on her grandmother’s advice, not even when Georgia sent her a list of possible dates for bringing Richard to dinner. But she did think about it.
Richard was on a brief tour of middle European capitals, in support of trade promotion. After that he was going on to a ski-ing holiday in Andorra. He had asked Bella to go too, but hadn’t argued when she said that she couldn’t start a new job and take a holiday after only a month.
‘I can’t duck out of this,’ he said apologetically. ‘It’s a family tradition. We go every year. We stay with my mother’s cousins and take friends. Including, this year, my goddaughter, who has a birthday that week. I can’t disappoint her.’
‘Of course you mustn’t cancel,’ said Bella, shocked. ‘Include me when you book the next one.’
‘You got it.’
But later he rang and said, ‘How would you feel about coming for just the weekend? I’d like you to meet everyone.’
So she left work at lunch-time on Friday and flew to Barcelona. She wondered if Richard would meet her there himself. She remembered how they had fallen into each other’s arms that first time at Waterloo Station. But a uniformed airport official picked her out while she was walking from the plane and led her off through silent corridors to a waiting limousine, having her passport stamped en route.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
The official bowed. ‘Our pleasure. We hope that you will be very happy, you and Prince Richard.’
‘Good heavens! I mean, thank you for your good wishes.’ I’m starting to sound like Georgia, she thought.
The car took her to a substantial villa behind an even more substantial wall. There were a few sightseers and the inevitable photographers waiting in the country lane that led to it. Bella had learned the form now. She leaned forward, so they could see her face, and gave everyone her best smile.
No waving, Lady Pansy had warned. Not unless she was accompanying the Prince. People wouldn’t like her pretending she was Royal before she was. So Bella kept her hands locked tight in her lap and beamed for Britain as gates swung silently open and the limo drove out of their sight. The people in the road waved like mad. It was a real physical effort not to wave back.
Richard did come to meet her as the car arrived, though. He ran down the steps and kissed her, with a slight air of restraint.
‘Lady P been getting at you too, huh?’ muttered Bella.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ She slipped her hand into his and they went into the house. ‘Tell me who’s here.’
‘My mother is resting at the moment. Nell is on the slopes with the whole Lenane family and our cousins. George is sprawled in the rumpus room getting over a hangover.’
‘Still?’
Richard grinned. ‘He and the younger ones went into town last night. Most of them came back around midnight, but Chloe tells me that George got into some heavy salsa action. Don’t ask me when he got home. I don’t want to know.’
Bella smiled but said slowly, ‘Chloe Lenane’s here?’ So the ditzy blonde who had looked at her with such hatred on New Year’s Eve was included in the family party. Just great!
Richard was saying, ‘She’s a fellow godparent to The Monster, Tilly, which isn’t really fair as she’s a cousin and should cough up for a birthday present anyway. That’s why I’m so important, The Monster tells me. All her godparents are relatives except me.’
‘I look forward to meeting her.’
‘You won’t enjoy it unless you’ve brought her something,’ Richard warned. ‘But she’s very entertaining.’
He was right on both counts. In fact, Bella was surprised to see how cool, courteous, dignified Richard got down and dirty with the make-up kit of Tilly Lenane’s Suki doll.
‘There is an irresistible appeal to a grown man sitting on the floor wearing pink lipstick and gold dust,’ she told him. ‘Do you think perhaps some rouge on his cheeks, Tilly? Nice round spots, about the size of a tenpence piece.’
His eyes p
romised vengeance but he sat calmly while the small girl polished his face to a shining carmine. The child’s mother, coming in with the Queen to put Tilly to bed, was taken aback. Queen Jane, however, was as charmed as Bella.
‘Very nice, Tilly. I think he looks very handsome. Don’t you, Bella?’
‘Stunning,’ she said gravely.
His lips twitched. ‘Do you think I ought to stay like this for dinner then?’
Even the Queen did a double take at that.
Bella, however, considered the suggestion, ‘Could be a bit rococo for a simple family meal?’
He allowed his shoulders to droop. ‘I’m really sorry, Tilly,’ he told his goddaughter mournfully. ‘You’re an artist but supper is no place for your art.’
But she didn’t mind at all. ‘I can do it again tomorrow,’ she offered generously.
Bella swallowed hard. ‘Maybe it’s time I changed for dinner,’ she said unsteadily.
‘Good idea, I’ll come with you. See you later, Mother, Nicola. Goodnight, Tilly.’
They escaped together. ‘How do you get this stuff off?’ hissed Richard as they ran up the stairs.
Bella was bubbling over. ‘No idea. That make-up is toy stuff, intended for dolls. They’re plastic. I don’t know whether ordinary make-up remover will take it off skin. You might have to use a blow torch.’
‘Alternatively, a good long session in the shower with an expert might do the trick,’ he said, whisking her inside their bedroom and locking the door. ‘Let’s go to it.’
They came down to dinner a little late but very, very clean.
The next day everyone went off to the slopes. Bella didn’t really like ski-ing and had only done it a couple of times, so she was glad to see that there were lots of easy runs and a relaxed family atmosphere to the place. The cousins, a dispossessed Grand Duke turned industrialist and his wife, were hospitable and the Lenanes jolly. Prince George treated Bella in exactly the same way as he treated his sister, giving her his spare stuff to hold while he shot off to buy a burger to fill the gap between mid-morning coffee and late lunch.