A Royal Match (23 page)

Last term she laced my dinner with laxatives and as I
mentioned sold a photograph of me kissing Prince Freddie to the press, which almost destroyed my life. It created such an international brouhaha that my parents flew over from LA to be by my side. Actually it was Sarah and Bob who discovered that Honey was the culprit, for which Sister Constance had her rusticated for a week.

Even when she returned to school and realised how evil everyone thought she was, she was totally unrepentant. All she said was ‘Soz,’ which is Sloane for ‘sorry’ and translated in Honey’s case to ‘So sorry your misery has impacted my life.’ Because you see, horribleness comes naturally to Honey, a bit like photosynthesis comes naturally to plants.

The other name on my room list was Lady Portia Herrington Briggs. Of course she didn’t go about referring to herself as
Lady Herrington Briggs
. That would be considered vulgar at Saint Augustine’s. Naturally all the girls and teachers were fully aware she was the daughter of an earl and treated her accordingly – apart from the nuns, that is, because they think the only title of merit is ‘Saint.’

I
sort
of knew Portia, but not as well as I should, given that she was on the sabre team and I was the captain. I suppose ‘enigmatic’ would be the word for Portia. I love the word ‘enigmatic.’ I’ve tried to be enigmatic all my life but I can’t seem to stop this awful habit I have of blurting things out. Portia would never blurt something, in fact the word ‘blurt’ probably isn’t even in her vocabulary.

In the past I’d been more interested in her talent on the piste than in her grand ancestors, and to be fair she’d never
pointed those out to me. But I could well imagine that with Honey in our room, my American-ness and lack of pedigree would go against me.

Honey isn’t titled – well, she is an Hon., thanks to her new stepfather, but not a real one. It really grates on her that of all the men her society It Girl mother has married, none of them has done his duty in bringing a truly grand title to the marriage table. Her latest stepfather is a lord but he’s only a life peer, so while she gets to be an Hon., she’ll never assume the title she
really
covets, that of Lady. However, on the plus side, her new father gave her Oopa, a manservant to fetch and carry after her.

At Saint Augustine’s School for Ladies you get to request the girls you want to share a room with. I’d opted for Clemmie and Arabella. But as our head nun, Sister Constance, is always remarking, ‘There are no guarantees in life, girls!’ I’m cynical about that too because there
is
one guarantee; if you share with someone one term, you won’t be sharing with them the next. This policy is meant to tackle bitchiness but all it really does is stick you with people who have the capacity to make your life miserable. I wished I was sharing with
exactly
the same girls as last term, my best friends Georgina and Star.

The people you share a room with at boarding school define your term. Popular, fun people = popular, fun term. Anything else is
merde
, as our ghoulish French teacher would say. If she hears us say how
merde
her French class is, though, she showers us in blues.

Most of my terms at Saint Augustine’s have been
merde
, but last term was the exception and I honestly thought my popularity had turned a corner. I was finally out of the cul-de-sac of loneliness and isolation that had marred my previous years in England.

The reason my school life got so much better during that term of Year Ten was that I’d been roomed with my best friend, Star, who is rock royalty, and the Honourable Georgina Castle Orpington and her opinionated teddy bear, Tobias. Yes, we are talking about a teddy with his own custom-made miniature Louis Vuitton trunk in which he stores his designer teddy bear wardrobe. Even madder, Georgina’s father actually pays full fees for Tobias to attend Saint Augustine’s! I used to think it was just a rumour, but it soon became clear that it was true, which is probably why the school adores Georgina so much.

Despite being friends with Honey, Georgina turned out to be far less grand than I’d always imagined. Star and Georgina and Tobias had even come to Los Angeles and spent two weeks of the summer holidays with me – although Tobias couldn’t go out in the sun because he burns easily.

My parents were horrified when Georgina told them about Tobias being a full fee-paying student. My mother declared it tantamount to a bribe. Georgina told her not to be so mad and explained that Tobias happened to be exceedingly bright and what’s more did ALL his course work
and
hers. She said it with such conviction that Bob and Sarah didn’t know how to respond. Even living in LA,
they’d never met anyone as self-possessed and truly grand as Georgina before.

‘Besides, Sarah,’ Georgina had added sweetly. ‘You’ve been lovely enough to set a place for Tobias at dinner every evening during our stay so you must see how special he is.’ This was true, and Sarah and Bob were forced to acknowledge that Tobias was no ordinary bear.

Sarah and Bob were completely different people when Star and Georgina came to stay. Despite threatening to wear love beads and show my nudie baby photographs, they behaved themselves beautifully. Well, as beautifully as parents can be expected to behave.

Basically, they let us hang out at the mall, just like real teenagers, and drive ourselves recklessly about the studio lot where my mom works on those little golf cart thingamees.

They even agreed to allow me to go to my very first ball, the La Fiesta Ball, this term. La Fiesta is one of the Capital VIP balls that the posh schools all attend. Capital VIP run several balls and parties a year, including the Mistletoe Ball and the Valentine’s Ball. They have really cool bands and famous DJs and pop stars perform. All the boys go in black tie (Americans call them tuxes), which makes them look even
more
distressingly fit, and girls get to wear achingly cool clothes.

Previously, Bob and Sarah had barred me from attending any of the balls, despite the fact that
Tatler
declared them ‘the most exclusive teenage parties in the world.’ I had even smugly directed them to the parent section of the
Web site where it states: ‘For £40 ($70) we promise you that your daughter will be followed by jailors all night, besides which, we hardly let any boys in anyway unless they’re royalty or arrive by helicopter. Also, we totally guarantee to shoot on sight anyone caught with alcohol or drugs or attempting lip-attachment manoeuvres.’

I’m paraphrasing, but you get the idea.

Bob and Sarah said they thought these balls sounded ‘a bit too risky.’ Then again, brightly coloured cereal is ‘a bit too risky’ for my parents. It’s granola all the way with them. But even that all changed when Star and Georgina were staying. We had Oreo O’s cereal (miniature chocolate biscuits) and Lucky Charms. The Lucky Charms were a favourite with Georgina and Star, who thought the cereal shapes were madly rude – actually comparisons with testicles were made – and even then all Bob and Sarah did was laugh.

So there it was. In two weeks Georgina and Star triumphed with my parents where I had failed for the past fourteen years. Everything they spoke of or suggested was met with delight. ‘What super fun these VIP balls all sound!’ Sarah announced one evening as we were drinking wine in the courtyard. Yes, even alcohol (in moderation) was given the green light by S and B while my friends were staying.

‘But you always said …,’ I began.

But Sarah dismissed my interruption. ‘Of course you must go, Calypso, don’t be such a stick in the mud!’

My eyes almost sprung out of their sockets. They even
gave me extra money so we could all buy our outfits together at a trendy shop on Robertson Boulevard. We were all going to wear sleeveless cashmere tops with beading and sequins, tiny, tiny mini-skirts and pointy-toed kitten heels – in different colours, of course.

I was soooo excited, though obviously I acted madly blaseé about attending my first ball. Prince Freddie often attends them. I’d already txt-ed Freddie and Billy to say I would be there, which meant I would have to choose which of them I fancied the most because I didn’t want them to think I was a slut. Besides, I’m not a slut. Honestly.

I was certain that as soon as I laid eyes on them at fencing I’d instantly know which of them I fancied properly, but at the time all I could think of was the excitement of it all. I’d been listening enviously to the other girls going on and on about these balls and all the fit boys they’ve pulled for the past three years. This time I would be going to the ball myself! Thanks to the influence of my two best friends on my parents.

Star and Georgina kept saying, ‘Your parents are soooo cool, Calypso,’ and by the time we waved my friends off at LAX I had even started to believe it myself. Maybe my parents really
were
cool?

Thank goodness I am cynical because my parents went back to their Draconian ways as soon as the plane was out of LA airspace and they noticed that I’d had my navel pierced. Being cynical and capable of harbouring secret disappointment doesn’t help you avoid crop-tops in the heat.

The three of us had decided to have it done in a shop near the Beverly Center in Beverly Hills. Star said it was like having friendship rings, only more painful. But actually it was all madly hygienic, and the guy who did it was, like,
soooo
fit, we were all swooning so much that we didn’t even feel the pain.

It’s true that mine
had
gone slightly septic and pussy, which admittedly was fairly nasty, but Bob and Sarah
totally
overeacted the way only Liberal Parents can. First
they made me take it out, and then they marched me, yes
marched
me (I blame all the Save Our Environment marches they went on before I was born) to the shop where I’d had it done. There’s nothing Bob and Sarah like more than a good march.

Everyone in Los Angeles – give or take a few million people – were staring at us as we entered the shop, which also did a bit of tattooing. I hadn’t noticed that on the sign, but Bob and Sarah did. Initially I refused to get out of the car, but of course that failed and S & B made this hugely embarrassing scene, which I am so ashamed about that I haven’t even told Star.

Star has no idea what American parents are like because her dad is usually so stoned he doesn’t even remember who she is. She claims the reason he calls her ‘darling’ all the time is because he forgot her name in the early nineties. Her mom is just really chilled. She even has a pierced navel herself.

Anyhow, Sarah and Bob kept asking the poor guy (who’d been really, really, really, really nice to us and was so fit it was untrue) questions that they’d then answer themselves.

Bob asked, ‘Do you know how old she is?’

The guy went to open his mouth, but Sarah replied for him, ‘A minor!’

To which Bob added, ‘Do you know what would happen to you if we were to get the police involved?’

I went bright red and tried to shrink so I could hide
behind Sarah’s skirt as she answered, ‘You’d be closed down, and very possibly incarcerated, that’s what.’

For a couple of old hippies, Sarah and Bob can be quite quick to call in the forces of law and order. All in all it was possibly the most embarrassing scene in Sarah and Bob’s long history of embarrassing scenes.

But that’s okay because I had my outfit. I was going to the ball.

I came across Oopa a second time as I was lugging my trunk up the damp, narrow, winding, dimly lit stone stairwell of the main building. The main building is the oldest building at Saint Augustine’s, apart from the chapel and the convent, of course. I’m not big on manservants myself, but I felt sorry for Oopa when I heard one of the vertebrae in my own spine cracking as I struggled under the strain of the steamer trunk on my back. I was also carrying my wheelie hand luggage, and sabre kits aren’t exactly light.

The main building is so ancient, there is always a renovation program in progress, which means the place is always covered in scaffolding. This provides a handy escape route at night, according to the Upper Sixth girls who’d been housed here the year before, but it also makes it very dark and dingy. The only light filters through a stained glass window depicting Our Lady of Perpetual Succour.