A Royal Match (34 page)

Our adrenaline was pumping at the possible repercussions, so we were trying to keep utterly silent, muffling even our panting breaths as we raced into the main building. My clothes were clinging to me, and I had only one thing on my mind – a hot shower – so I was a bit irritated when Star slowed me down as we were entering
the main building and started whispering to me. ‘Why are you wasting your time on a royal snob like Freddie, Calypso? Billy is nicer, fitter and a better fencer.’

I didn’t respond. Partly because I was too desperate to get indoors to get embroiled in an argument in a cold corridor and partly because I was starting to agree that Billy would be a lot less trouble. And then my txt-alert rang.

So how short is this little skirt precisely? Freds

I showed the txt to Star. ‘Don’t you think that’s weird that after not txt-ing me all week and accusing me of not txt-ing him, he suddenly sends this?’ I asked, which was another way of saying my life wasn’t worth living now that Freddie wasn’t going to the ball.

‘How pervy! Let me have that,’ she demanded.

I waited impatiently as she turned her back and typed in a message, and then she held out the mobile to show me what she’d written.

Bugger off x C

Before I could stop her, she pressed SEND.

‘Why did you do that?’ I asked in horror.

She kissed me on my wet cheek. ‘Because you’re worth it,’ she teased in a piss-take of a famous hair commercial.

I understood that she’d never forgiven Freddie for believing Honey over me during the whole tabloid debacle, but he
was
in a really difficult position, and he had apologised grovellingly. As far as I was concerned it was water under the bridge (along with my aloof demeanour), and to quote Star, he was worth it!

I quickly sent a counter txt.

That was Star, seriously short indeed x C

As soon as we got to the dorms, the other girls charged straight off to their room while I crept into mine, hoping against hope that Miss Bibsmore hadn’t done her rounds. I was incredulous when Honey greeted me looking freakishly chirpy and pleased to see me. She was posing in front of the mirror as if Mario Testino was in the room with his camera.

I was surprised to see Portia’s phone lying on her bed. I presumed I’d made it back before her, as Freddie had told me that Tarquin was bringing her back in a bit.

‘Hello, darling, how was it?’ Honey squeaked with over-friendliness. She was even smiling at me – well, smiling as best she could through her collagen-enhanced bauble-shaped lips.

‘Yaah, fine,’ I lied as I started to peel off my wet clothes and dry my hair. ‘How was your day?’

‘Terrific, actually. I went down to the pet shed and gave Absinthe and Dorothy a run. I hope you don’t mind; they
just looked so sweet together. Here, look at this,’ she insisted as she grabbed her mobile, the same one she’d used to take the fateful shot she’d sold to the tabloids. The screen showed me a picture of Absinthe and Dorothy in the pet run together, looking like the best of friends.

I had just pulled on a dry pair of jeans and a t-shirt when we heard the now-familiar
tap, tap, tap
of Miss Bibsmore’s stick on the stone stairwell and gave one another one of those ‘Aaaaghhh! Here she comes!’ looks. As Miss Bibsmore surveyed our room from the doorway, Portia’s message alarm went.

‘And where might Miss Briggs be?’ she asked, looking at the vibrating phone. ‘Curfew was over an hour ago.’

‘She’s in the loo,’ Honey told her without even turning around, brushing her hair nonchalantly. ‘Slight case of the runs,’ she added, elaborating unnecessarily as she wrinkled up her nose job.

Seemingly satisfied, Miss Bibsmore hobbled out and continued her rounds.

I flopped on my bed, still dazed and confused. On the one hand Freddie had seemed really pleased to see me, but on the other I hated the thought of going to my very first ball without him. And there was still the issue of Billy. So much for my gut feeling that I’d know which one I fancied the most after seeing them. If anything I was more in the dark than ever.

Portia’s message alarm kept going off, but just as I was about to ask Honey how long she’d been in the loo, Honey
spoke to me. Not in a piss-take of my accent or a spiteful way, just in a normal friendly voice. When I say ‘friendly,’ of course I mean friendly in that special menacing feline way that Honey has.

‘So, darling, did you manage to catch up with your two paramours, Billy and Freddie?’

Before I could answer and explain that actually I didn’t, strictly speaking, have
two
paramours (and who calls boys paramours anyway?), Portia came panting through the door, drenched to the skin. ‘Has Miss Bibsmore done her rounds yet?’ she asked anxiously.

‘Ages ago; but don’t worry, I covered for you. Said you were in the lav, darling – with the runs,’ Honey smarm-ed.

‘Oh, thanks,’ Portia replied. Then she spotted her phone. ‘Oh, thank goodness, my phone. I’ve been running around Windsor looking everywhere for it. I had Freddie ringing and ringing it for me.’

What? I screamed, although thankfully the word didn’t actually make it out of my voice box, which had fallen to my stomach along with my heart. I watched her open the back of her mobile. ‘Odd, I could have sworn I’d left it off.’ She checked her SIM card.

Honey said, ‘Perhaps your mind was on other things, darling.’

All I was thinking was, Why was Portia with Freddie?

How did they meet up?

He’d given me the impression that he was heading back to Eades … well, maybe he didn’t actually give me an
impression, but I’d presumed that he’d leave Windsor when I did.

‘I thought you were with your brother?’ I said, trying to keep the jealousy I was starting to feel out of my tone.

She answered lightly, ‘Oh I was, but he had to go off and so I had some pizza with Freddie. I was absolutely famished.’ She smiled at me.

How much pizza can one boy eat? I thought to myself – only I must have said it out loud because Portia replied, ‘An infinite amount, believe me. Tarquin frequently eats two large pizzas on his own in one sitting.’

‘Oh, so Tarquin was there as well,’ I said with relief.

‘No, just Freddie and me,’ she replied, turning to face the mirror as she rubbed at her long hair with a towel.

‘Just you and Freddie!’ Honey repeated, only she said it suggestively, looking at me pointedly while raising one perfectly sculptured eyebrow.

‘That’s right, Honey. Freddie and I, me and Freddie, we ate some pizza.’

Honey looked stung by Portia’s tone, which, while not nasty, was definitely warning, especially for Portia, who was always so calm and regal in her demeanour.

‘I was just saying …’

Portia turned around and faced Honey directly. ‘I’d much rather you didn’t trouble yourself in my affairs, Honey.’

‘Whatever,’ Honey replied sulkily.

‘Oh, and by the way Freddie asked me to give you a message,’ Portia said to me.

‘What, are you his carrier pigeon now?’ Honey said in a bad attempt at sarcasm.

Portia didn’t deign to acknowledge her rudeness with a response.

I sat there mute, desperate to hear what message Freddie had sent me through Portia, but Honey added, ‘She might be American but she does own a mobile, Portia. I’m sure Freddie is perfectly capable of sending her his own messages.’

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. Portia looked at me meaningfully, but then the dinner bell rang, and Star and the others came in on their way to the refectory. Star surprised me by throwing her arms around me and crying out melodramatically. ‘My best friend, Calypso! Navel buddies forever!’ Georgina and Indie giggled, but I didn’t know what to think. Had she told Indie that I’d had to take mine out and made me sound tragically under the thumb of Sarah and Bob? Indie and Georgina joined the group hug. Oh, how I wished I was alone with Portia so she could give me Freddie’s message.

‘So did you get away with it, then?’ Star asked as we walked arm in arm down the narrow stairs.

‘Completely fine. Miss Bibsmore came in after I’d already changed. And you?’

‘Same. The old dear hadn’t a clue.’

‘By the way, thanks for covering for me, Calypso,’ Portia added.

‘Thank Honey. I actually thought you were back,’ I replied, still feeling mixed up about her chumming around with Freddie in Windsor, and more importantly wanting to know what my message was.

Star snorted. ‘Saint Honey, covering for her dear roommate. Who would have thought?’

Honey, who was walking behind her on the narrow stairs, gave Star a little shove. Not hard enough to make her fall or anything, just enough to take the wind out of her sails. Probably because she couldn’t think of a cutting enough retort.

‘You’re not still upset about Freddie not going to the La Fiesta Ball, are you, darling?’ Star asked me as we waited for our plates to be piled with grey slops.

Yes! Of course I’m upset; I’ve waited for this ball all my boarding school life, and now Freddie isn’t even going to be there! And Billy doesn’t seem to fancy me anymore and Freddie’s sent me a message and I still don’t know what it is and you’ve dropped fencing and have become inseparable from Indie and … well, the list of my vexations was endless
.

‘No, I’m totally fine,’ I told her with faux insouciance.

When we sat down, Star sat beside me on one side and Georgina on the other. Star was even making sarcastic remarks to Honey again. All was just as it should be. Maybe I’d been reading too much into everything, I tried to tell myself. Princes have commitments, and he had sent
me a txt and a message via Portia. I still had to find out what Freddie had said. I took a deep breath and attempted to tap back into my aloof demeanour, but it didn’t work. It didn’t feel normal at all, really. Things
had
changed between Star and me now that Indie was here, and I knew it wasn’t Indie’s fault. In fact, she was actually really, really nice.

I looked across at Portia, who was sitting too far away to talk to directly. Bugger.

Georgina reminded me kindly that Indie wasn’t going to the La Fiesta Ball either, as if
that
might make me feel better, and then Star announced that perhaps none of us should go to the ball.

‘Think about it,’ Star enthused, swirling her slops. ‘We could have a house party at my estate. My parents are always so stoned they’d probably think it was
their
party.’

‘Oh my god, darling, you’re a genius. That sounds soooo perfect!’ Georgina gushed.

‘Oh my god, a proper party with champagne and caviar, you mean?’ Clemmie chimed. Clemmie had taken to reading
House and Garden
and other domestic design magazines. She’d decided she wanted to be an events coordinator, which is a fancy way of saying party planner.

‘Vintage all the way at Chez Dirge, darling,’ Star joked. ‘Well, Jim Beam and Coke anyway,’ she added. ‘Actually, guess what! Daddy’s installed a Jim Beam water feature in the chill room.’

‘Oh my god, how cool! Is it actually a fountain that spurts out Jim Beam?’ Georgina asked.

‘Better. It’s this amazing statue of the Black Angel of Death that pees out Jim Beam into this Japanese black rock pool. Soooo typically Daddy.’ She shook her head at her mad father the way most fathers shake their heads over their mad daughters.

‘Oh, I adore Jim Beam,’ Georgina moaned rapturously. ‘It’s so rock and roll. Like caviar.’

‘Jim Beam, caviar, and boys on ice,’ Arabella sang in a sultry accent.

Star added, ‘We could even invite some fit boys from the local village. It could be really wild, actually. Maybe Daddy will buy some more quad bikes – think how cool that would be! We could have an all-week-long mad party screaming about in the mud.’

Everyone looked so thrilled at the prospect of not going to the ball that I wanted to be sick. Then there was an almighty crash of pots and pans in the kitchen, and for minute I thought it was the sound of my dreams crashing around my feet.

‘But what about our outfits?’ I asked, trying not to sound hysterical. ‘Our cashmere tops?’ I reminded the girls. ‘Our shoes!’ My voice was beginning to screech.

Star threw a pea at me. ‘What about them, silly? We can wear them at our house party. Actually I’m kind of bored by the whole ball thing anyway, it’s soooo Year Nine – even the Year Eights go now.’

So Year Nine
. Her words seemed to sum up my life. It was all right for Star and Georgina to be blasé about the ball; they’d been to squillions of them. And Indie had her own royal ball to go to so of course she wasn’t fussed. But I’d been waiting all my school life for this.

As I looked around the table at the excited faces of my friends, the only person who looked as underwhelmed as me by the whole idea of Star’s party was Honey, who definitely wouldn’t be invited as Star unashamedly loathed her.

I never imagined the day would come when Honey and I would feel as one about anything, but then again she had covered for Portia. And, she had also taken Dorothy out for a little run. Maybe Honey had changed?

‘Of course you’re invited too, Portia,’ Star called down to her end of the table.

‘Thanks so much, Star, but unfortunately I have a prior engagement,’ Portia called back.

‘A prior engagement?’ I repeated. She had used the exact same phrase as Freddie had used, in the exact same casual, it’s-so-not-a-big-deal tone.

‘You too?’ Indie asked. ‘The Annual Euro Royal Bash Thingamee?’

Portia groaned as she nodded. ‘Don’t you just loathe them?’

‘What can you do, though?’ Indie groaned. ‘I’ve got to go too. Daddy said there’s no way I can get out of it.’

‘At least Freddie will be there,’ Portia added, looking at me as she said it. And I decided then what his message
must have been. He must be taking Portia to the ball, I told myself as I listened to these girls chat about the horrors of attending balls I would never in my wildest dreams get a chance to go to.

‘What about your brother?’ I asked.

‘Of course Tarkie will be there, but he’ll never dance with me.’