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Scandal Queen (Tabloid Princess Book 2)

Page 20

by Anna Bloom


  I’d fought for her and I would still.

  I shut off my thoughts from the woman at the flats. This was my birthday and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let anything ruin it.

  Back in the cottage I unclasped Daisy’s hands, so she fell and bounced on the sofa. “Mummy, you need to get changed, everyone will be here soon.” She kicked her legs, her welly boots splattering mud everywhere.

  “How long have you known about this for?” I gave her my ‘tell me all’ look but she clamped her lips together and shook her head.

  Oh, it’s like that is it?

  I lifted my hands into claws. “Uh, oh. You know who this is.”

  Her eyes widened. “No, no tickle monster.” With a screech she launched from the sofa and I gave chase, abandoning the bag Molly had given me.

  “I’m coming to get you.” I chased her up the stairs and launched into her room where a tell-tale giggle escaped from under her bed. Not that I didn’t know where she hid; in Wellington boots Daisy stomped like a T-Rex.

  “Okay, okay, I’m not going to get you. Just come out and give me a birthday cuddle. If you guys are going to make me go into a huge tent and ‘people’ this evening then I definitely need a Daisy cuddle first.”

  A strand of hair poked out first, then her nose. “Promise, no tickling.”

  “I swear on the Girl Guide law.”

  “Like at Rainbows?”

  “Yeah.” I shifted uneasily. Rainbows was yet another thing Daisy had given up, along with ballet and a host of her other pastimes so we could live here in the palace with Ollie.

  “So what did you guys talk about today? You must have been busy for hours.” She rolled out from under the bed and settled on my lap. I squeezed my arms around her tight. “This is a very pretty dress by the way.”

  She kicked her legs, her boots thudding on the floor again. “I know. It was a gift.”

  “From Ollie?”

  “No, from Pops.”

  “Oh, okay.” I tried to school my expression. “So anyway, tell me about your day.”

  I wanted to know if Oliver had spoken to her, I knew he intended to. I guess maybe I hoped he wouldn’t do it while I was face down in some form of late-night sex coma.

  “We talked about whether you would make a good princess.”

  Oh.

  “And what did you think?”

  She thought for a moment, tilting her head and I focused on counting her freckles. “I said I thought you’d make a nice one.”

  “Nice, hey?”

  “Well, you aren’t very good with dresses, and high heels.” She frowned, her nose wrinkling. “But you are very kind, and you care a lot, and I think that’s kind of what the movies are about.”

  Disney. The bane of my existence.

  “I think it’s more complicated than what the movies say, sweetie.”

  “Maybe.” Her bottom lip protruded while she thought even harder. Wow, she really wasn’t sure I should be a princess.

  What would happen if I became queen? We’d all be doomed.

  “What else did you talk about?” My voice tightened; a strange and overwhelming emotion gripping my throat so tight I couldn’t swallow.

  “He said he wanted to marry you. And wanted to know if I liked the idea.”

  “And?”

  She turned in my arms throwing her hands around my neck. “I said you’d be perfect, but that he shouldn’t make you wear high heels otherwise you will fall over in front of everyone.”

  My heart beat fast, tangled with a sob.

  “So you’d be happy?” I met her eyes, holding her face in my hands so I could meet her blue gaze. “Marriage is a different thing to the royal family, to Ollie’s family. I think it’s going to be hard to organise.”

  “We’d better do it right then.”

  “Are you questioning my organisation skills?”

  She chuckled. “Mummy, you are always late for everything.”

  “I am not.”

  She looked out at the darkening sky. “Well you’re late for your birthday.” Little Miss Clever Clogs folded her arms over her chest and I got my fingers into her rib for a good tickle.

  Twenty-One

  I peered up through the car window at the rows of flats. With red-bricked balconies, and coloured front doors it didn’t look much like I remembered.

  “Ma’am, are you sure you want to go in there?” Bill, bless him, had that expression of trepidation mixed with frustration in his face I remembered well from our early acquaintance.

  He was as loyal to Oliver as any man could be. That’s why I trusted him and knew he would be loyal to me.

  So this morning when I woke and decided that I couldn’t face a day of my future without knowing, Bill was the man I found myself going to.

  Christmas shopping. Not Christmas shopping at all, but a legitimate reason for me to leave Daisy and Oliver at home.

  Although I knew I’d have to go to some shops later otherwise the press wouldn’t write about it and therefore my cover would be blown.

  Who knew that I’d eventually have to shop to keep myself in the papers?

  It seemed utterly ironic.

  “I think I have to go in there, Bill. I can’t get into Christmas knowing this is hanging over my head.”

  He nodded but didn’t say anything else.

  “You think I’m crazy don’t you?”

  “It’s not my place to have an opinion, Ma’am.”

  I chuckled softly. “Well Oliver values your unsaid opinion.”

  “That he does.”

  Bill turned from the driver’s seat. “I think, and it is only my humble opinion, that you have enough going on at the moment. The family are leaving in a matter of hours for Christmas and you don’t want to be the underprepared one scurrying around trying to get everything together.”

  I inclined my head. He had a very valid point. The King had overruled Christmas. We would all be going to Wales to support Bella.

  I’d spoken up to say that I thought she should stay here with Janine and start rehab regardless of Christmas, but my efforts had been ignored.

  I glanced up at the flats again.

  Had my entire life been a journey back to this place? Maybe I’d never truly escaped.

  My fingers slipped with sweat as I pulled on the handle to the car door. Bill made to move to get out, but I called out to stop him. “Don’t let anyone see you. It’s best I slip in and out as unseen as possible.”

  If Oliver knew where I’d been, he’d be furious. He wanted to find out the test results first. He wanted to deal with the issue in a methodical and manageable manner. I knew what the crown wanted us to do. I swallowed hard at the thought.

  But I couldn’t. This was Daisy. But more than that, it was another woman’s life.

  “I’ve got my phone; I’ll ring if I need you.” I patted my bag and then pulled out the piece of paper Janine had given me with the address on.

  Bloody address. Like I needed to be reminded where to go.

  The stairwell still stunk, but not as bad as I remembered. Acrid and cloying, the lingering scent seemed to be more bleach than urine now.

  On the top floor I paused. The external balcony, exposed to the chilled air, didn’t look like anyone had woken and walked along it yet. I turned and glanced down at the car, black but not that discreet, it parked in a curve of the road.

  I couldn’t stay long.

  I just needed to know.

  With a heavy heart, I pulled my ring from my left hand and slipped it into the pocket of my coat. I’d promised not to take it off, but then I’d also promised we would do this the right way.

  My knuckles seemed to make the door shake as I knocked. But then maybe that was my hand shaking. Definitely that.

  My heart pounded.

  What if this was all a lie?

  What if this Jacob man wasn’t dead? What if this was a trap?

  Too late, I realised all the many reasons why the royals lived behind layers and layers
of protocols.

  I’d been an idiot.

  The rattle of a chain jingled from inside, but I couldn’t get my feet to move; couldn’t run away. The collision course was set, and I couldn’t get off the ride.

  A greying head poked out from behind the door; a thin face, eyes quick and darting. With hair pulled back, and sallow cheeks, she looked like a ghost from my past.

  And I judged.

  I judged like all the bastards before me.

  I judged like all the people I hated with all my soul.

  I judged.

  Curse me to hell for it.

  Pale blue eyes widened as they stared at my face, along my body, down to the brown leather boots on my legs, and then all the way back up again.

  “Mrs Patten?” My voice shook. My knees knocked.

  “Leia Lawrence?” The door widened and for one drawn out and painful moment I expected to find a man leaning against the wall, loitering with a sneer on his face as they laughed at the fact they’d entrapped me.

  Only an empty hallway stood behind her, but it didn’t stop my heart pounding. The hallway replicated the one I’d run down as a child; the one I’d walked in and slung my bags on when I’d got home from school; the one my unanswered greetings always echoed back at me from.

  Ten years unwound themselves from my memory, transporting me back to that dim space with the yellowed walls and the single light bulb hanging naked from its chord.

  “You should come in.” The thin woman stepped back, her gaze quickly evaluating the balcony behind me. “Why did you come? They will sell you out for being here quicker than I can make you a cup of tea.”

  My shaking took on new levels. “I couldn’t not. I had to see you.”

  She folded her arms and I glanced down. In build and colouring she reminded me so much of my own mother it hurt. But her arms were track free, her skin naturally pale, not poisoned almost from life.

  “You’ve changed.” She swept another astute gaze over my clothes. “But I can still see the hungry girl who lived here.”

  A tear trickled down my cheek and she unfolded her arms, stepping up and brushing at my cheek. “I’ve always wanted to see you again, Leia. To tell you how sorry I was. I’ll never forgive myself for not helping.” Her tone tightened. “In those days though, we used to live scared around here. The dealers and pimps, they ruled these flats. I should have called for help though.”

  “And Jacob?”

  Her eyes misted over. “He came back early one morning a couple of weeks before your mum died. He said he’d had the best night. He’d always had a soft spot for you. He was crowing like a cockerel that he’d finally spoken to you.”

  I nodded but I couldn’t contradict her words. Black remained painted across my memories.

  “What happened? He didn’t speak to me again. I’m guessing he didn’t try to make any contact with me?”

  Her face dropped and her mouth tightened, pulling into a line, holding her bottom lip that trembled firmer. “He’d been high. I could tell. I lost it, packed a bag and sent him off to stay with my mother.” She rubbed at her face, her own fingers shaking. “I didn’t want him falling into the pit we all lived here, didn’t want him falling prey to some dealer who’d ruin his life. So I sent him away, just for a few weeks.” She shook her head. “I mean I never expected that when he said he’d talked to you what he really meant was…” she trailed off. “Then when I saw on the news you had a daughter and I did the sums. I mean, I could be wrong, couldn’t I?”

  I cringed under her watchful gaze. “No, until Olli—I mean, Prince Oliver, I…”

  “I knew it. I could see it. Come and look.” Her lips curved into a smile, light lifting back into her eyes. She led me into the small lounge; my stomach dropped at the aching memories it brought back. I’d lived just two floors below for fifteen years.

  Being this close, knowing how far away it all was, hurt in deep and dark places.

  She drew me alongside a small bookshelf that held a few tattered paperbacks, corners dogeared, the spines well cracked. In front of the books were picture frames. I reached a trembling hand for the closest one. A man in a soldier’s uniform sat in front of one of those cloud covered photographer back drops. He grinned with pride at the camera.

  Daisy stared back at me from under the plain glass.

  “He’s very handsome.” He actually was: nice teeth, bright blue eyes, his fair hair on the edge of strawberry under his Army cap.

  “He was.” She nodded, her voice tightening.

  “What happened?”

  “It was a mortar attack, none of his team survived.” She paused for a moment. “I don’t know if that makes it better or not.”

  I placed the frame back on the shelf and turned for the woman. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  The words I needed to say stung my tongue. “I’m sorry for your loss. I truly am. And he looks like a good guy who got out of this hell. But, Mrs Patten, what do you want from me? I’m not supposed to be here. I’ve broken all sorts of rules because I didn’t want you to think I don’t care.”

  Her eyes clouded for a moment and she glanced at the pictures of her son. “I wanted to tell you I was sorry. Sorry you lived through what you did, sorry I didn’t help. And I’m sorry that my son never got a chance to know that his little talk with you might have made something quite perfect.”

  My chest pushed with the weight of a double decker bus. “You know, I don’t even remember that night. It’s one of the reasons I never came back after Daisy was born and I’d decided to keep her.” I could have left it there, but I didn’t want to live with half truths. They only led to destruction and they exacted a heavy price on your soul, one I no longer wanted to pay. “And I was worried that someone would take her away from me, that they would see a fifteen-year-old girl who knew nothing about being a mother, didn’t really know very much about being a daughter, and they would think they could do it better.”

  Her cool and thin fingers reached for my hand. “It looks like you’ve done okay.”

  “I tried. It was hard.”

  “First rule of parenting, never expect it to get better.” She looked with longing at a picture of Jacob. Stood in front of a bright blue sky, on a cliff, his arms thrown around friends he looked young and carefree. A smile I saw every day. “Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked.

  I nodded, my throat thick. “I’d love one.”

  By the time the palace gates opened, and Bill’s black car crunched over the gravel, snow had started to throw itself from the sky.

  A white Christmas?

  I expected there to be a hive of activity as the family got ready to leave for Wales, but the courtyard was empty, just wintery white blasts sheeting across the open space.

  The car cruised around to Fenmore and Ollie must have heard the approach of the tyres because he opened the cottage door and stamped his boots outside, wedging his hands under his armpits to keep them warm; well that or it was a new dance he’d decided to invent.

  For one painful moment I welded myself to the seat of the car. When he realised I wasn’t getting out he ran through the snow, white flakes landing in his hair. He ducked down to pull open the door, his eyelashes wet with blobs of slush, his top secret freckles standing in stark contrast to his wet black hair. “It’s freezing.”

  I still couldn’t move.

  Crouching down, his navy jumper turning white, he reached in to the warm recesses of the car and grabbed my hand. “Leia.” His voice rumbled, deep and reassuring. “I know where you’ve been. You don’t have to hide.”

  “You do?” I flicked my gaze at Bill who met my stare in the rear-view mirror and gave me a shrug.

  “Sorry, Ma’am, but your safety is paramount. I’d have been foolish to take you somewhere that His Highness didn’t agree to.”

  I pulled a face. “Remind me to take you off the Christmas card list.”

  Bill’s shoulders lifted with a
chuckle. “It already arrived yesterday. My wife was touched by your note.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Leia, come on.” Oliver grasped my hand. “I might not approve of you skulking around, but I understand it. Can we get in before we catch our death? I’d like to be able to eat my dinner on Christmas Day, not be in bed with the flu.”

  Sighing I shuffled out of the car. He was being kind. There would be repercussions for me breaking the protocol the King had insisted on.

  “Where is everyone? I thought we’d be heading back out now.” I could hardly keep the sour expression off my face; talk about spoiled little princess. But the thought of Christmas with the royal family on their estate in Wales instead of with my nana and her friends, my friends, filled me with despair.

  “Have you not seen the news while you’ve been out gallivanting?”

  “I wasn’t gallivanting.” I had been. I’d waltzed down Kensington High Street like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman just so people would see me. All of that effort, and he’d known where I was the whole time. I felt like a dick. I was a dick.

  As usual at the mention of the news, I shuddered. What had I done wrong today? “Not yet.”

  He arched an eyebrow, the impact of which was seriously undermined by a snowflake darting in his eye. “They’ve called a weather warning.”

  “Who, the palace?”

  He snorted and his breath plumed with mist. “No, Leia. The Met office.”

  “Oh.”

  “Looks like Christmas is in London after all.”

  “Really?”

  Smiling, he reached for me, his fingers slipping into the collar of my coat, running against my warm throat. “Really.”

  “I get to see Nana?”

  “Weather allowing?”

  “We get to do all the things we planned?”

  He chuckled, drawing me closer, his nose brushing my hair. “Weather allowing.”

  “Wow. I was excited for a white Christmas, but now it looks like it’s the snow of dreams too.”

  I cringed. The snow of dreams… Was I bloody five? Even Daisy wouldn’t say something as shit as that.

  He bent at the waist, laughing while one of his hands still gripped the collar of my coat. “You are so incredibly profound.”

 

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