A Royal Mess (27 page)

‘I don’t have a code name, sir,’ I reminded him.

‘You do now, girl. I told them your name was Princess Jelly Bean.’

‘Princess Jelly Bean? What? Couldn’t you do better than that?’

‘Well, I didn’t want to get you mixed up with any other princesses that might be here. Figured Jelly Bean was safe.’

‘It’s also insane.’

‘Still, the point is, that they didn’t use it. Saboteurs,
see!
I warned you. I’m going up there now to sort this out.
They’ve put you in jeopardy. This Bob will sniff you out now, no trouble.’

That reminded me. I sniffed my pits – just at the point that Freds came over with Malcolm to wish me luck.

‘How’s Billy doing?’ I asked, windmilling my arm as if I were merely exercising rather than pit sniffing.

‘He’s still in. The last bout was close, though.’

‘Got a cigarette, Calypso?’ Malcolm asked.

‘Are you mad?’ I asked him. I was, after all, wearing a skintight white fencing outfit electrically wired and sans pockets. Quite apart from the fact that I wasn’t a smoker, the only thing I could keep on my person was sweat.

‘No? Oh well, Portia? Got any fags?’

Portia continued with her low lunges, not even deigning to answer his absurd request with a look.

‘Bit whiffy in here,’ Malcolm remarked, and then wandered off.

After trouncing my next opponent, I went up to the cafeteria with Portia, as we both had a break. Bob hadn’t approached me so far, but I could feel him watching me, so I took a circuitous route with Portia up the stairs. Sister and Sarah had clearly OD-ed on tea and biscuits and were bouncing about the cafeteria like Ping-Pong balls.

Sarah was wearing the mauve collar that Sister must have finished. ‘Look, look what Sister made me!’ Sarah squealed, dancing about with glee.

The collar was too tragic for words, but I wasn’t going to be the one to pop her bubble. The poor old madre may as
well squeeze in what fun she could before Bob turned up to break her heart.

‘It’s very, erm, fetching,’ I told her, trying to get her to sit and calm down.

‘Oh, darling, I’m glad you like it. Today is such an exciting day, isn’t it?’ she asked with an intensity I put down to the caffeine.

‘Yes, Sarah, it is an exciting day.’

‘I have a special surprise for you too, later,’ she said, bopping about like a wind-up toy.

Oh dear, I thought, fearing she’d commissioned Sister to knit me a collar too. ‘Fabulous,’ I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. ‘I’m really looking forward to it.’

Portia came back with juices, and we sat down and stretched our aching muscles before our names were called again.

Bell End must have worked his magic because when the final bout was called, my name was announced as Princess Jelly Bean.

As I forced my way through the crowd onto the piste, I was aware of Sarah, Sister, Bell End, Malcolm and Freds all together. I shrugged off my concern that Bob may have already seen them, because while people weren’t exactly jeering me, there was the odd bit of tittering and a few snide cries of, ‘Go, Princess Jelly Bean!’

Portia had been knocked out in the semi-finals so she was there to wire me up and give me a few words of
encouragement. ‘Darling, don’t think of anything else. This bout is all that matters to you now. Everything else can wait.’

My opponent was my old foe from the finals in Sheffield, Jenny. I feared for poor Jenny and her fans, with Bell End being as wound up as he was, but I smiled at her kindly, figuring she probably still hadn’t recovered from his horrible abuse at our last match.

But I was wrong. Oh, so wrong. When we tapped one another’s equipment to make sure the electrics were working, she ‘tapped’ my blade clean out of my hand.

I watched as it bounced across the floor beyond the piste. Okay. We were playing nasty.

‘Slay the foul little bitch,’ came Bell End’s echoing roar, audible to everyone in the enormous arena. Sister Regina added, ‘Yes, you go on and slay her, Calypso! Nasty girl, nasty girl.’

Jenny punched the air with her fist. ‘You’re dead meat, Jelly Bean!’ she yelled to the mighty cheer of her fans.

What did she think this was,
Gladiator II?

I put my hand out to shake hers. She twisted it behind my back and was about to threaten me, but the president stepped in and handed her a red card, meaning she had already lost herself a valuable point.

Her emotional decrepitude could only work to my advantage, I decided. Even so, there was every chance that the two of us would be asked to join the National Team regardless of who won. Actually, that would make
her my fencing buddy – but I could deal with that. After all, my roommate this term had been Honey, and I’d survived her.

Just the same, my first advance was poor. The spirit of Jerzy Pawlowski seemed to have abandoned me just when I needed him most. For all Portia’s encouragement, my mind wasn’t focused on the game. It was on Bob and Sarah, so I couldn’t believe it when I began to strip points from Jenny. Jenny’s blade was a secondary consideration as I took my eyes off Jenny to search the crowd for my father. I just couldn’t force myself to concentrate the way I knew I should. My brain kept telling me ‘Focus!’ but my heart kept telling me ‘Your family needs you.’

I heard Freds yell my name, and as I turned to look, I inadvertently clipped my blade on Jenny’s glove, earning me yet another undeserved point. Just as the fight was meeting its climax of thirteen, nine in my favour, I spotted Bob making his way towards Sarah.

In my horror, I stumbled backwards, clearing myself of Jenny’s attack and my guard connected with the pit of her stomach. Another point to me. It was ridiculous. I was playing like a random bluffer in a poker game, and yet it was my lack of strategy which seemed to be throwing Jenny off. Then I realised what was really happening. Jenny thought she was in combat with the girl she’d fought in Sheffield and was trying to outwit me by referring to my previous form. But the Calypso Kelly she’d fought in Sheffield was not the Princess Jelly Bean she was up against now.

And then it happened – Bob tapped Sarah on the shoulder, she spun around, he took hold of her shoulders and kissed her.

The president called play again, but I couldn’t drag my eyes away from Bell End, who wasted no time in launching his body into Bob’s, rugby tackling him to the ground. At that moment, Jenny launched into a lethal lunge. I flailed about with my blade impotently, causing her blade to run harmlessly up my left sleeve. Yet even in my emotional turmoil, I was winning. The president was about to call halt for the sake of my arm’s safety, but I brought my blade down on Jenny’s shoulder before he had the chance. The victory was mine.

I tore off my mask as the buzzer blared and the crowd roared its support. Jenny threw her blade across the piste in a fit of fury as I went to shake her hand.

Okay. Fine.

So to Bell End and Bob I flew. The scene that awaited me was not dignified. Bell End was rolling and flailing about the floor on top of Bob with Sarah on top of him, begging him to ‘leave my man alone.’

Sister was getting in the odd kick at Bob’s head, but mostly she was running around the heap, entangling their bodies with her yarn.

Neither my parents nor Sister Regina were the best of fighters, and Bell End was more of a mouthpiece for violence than a physical threat, so no
real
damage was being done. Still, it wasn’t quite the dignified end to my winning the Nationals that I had envisioned.

Freds and Portia helped me pull them all apart.

‘Miss Kelly,’ a be-suited man said as he extended a hand to me. ‘I represent the British National Fencing Team and I wondered –’

‘Is this the blighter?’ yelled Malcolm, suddenly appearing on the scene, fag in mouth.

The BFA rep took a step back, but Malcolm was pointing at Bob, who was now being dusted down lovingly by Sarah. What on earth was she thinking? If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was thrilled to see him. Freds was occupied keeping Bell End in a headlock. Sister was happily rewinding her yarn into a neat ball.

‘Yes, that’s the subversive bastard, git him!’ Bell End yelled to Malcolm, who happily obliged by removing his fag and head-butting my poor father with an effortlessness only a true Scot can carry off.

I was still holding the BFA representative’s hand. ‘Hello, I’m Calypso Kelly. These people have nothing to do with me.’

‘No, I would hope not. Could we go somewhere quiet to speak,’ he suggested.

So I went off with Jim, the BFA representative, and he asked me if I’d join the National Team. It should have been the happiest news of my life, but I couldn’t shake off the image of Bob kissing Sarah, which diluted my joy considerably.

Of course I said how excited I was to be invited onto the National Team, but after we’d gone over the formalities
and I’d given him my details, I immediately rushed back to the aid of my parents. I had half an hour at most to sort their marital problems out before I would have to go on the stage to collect my cup.

Sarah grabbed me in cuddle. ‘Oh, Boojems, we’re soooo proud of our baby, aren’t we, darling?’

Darling?

‘Bob has sold his Big One for two million pounds – that’s sterling, not dollars – isn’t that marvellous, Calypso?’ Sarah cooed like a dove. We reconciled last night. It was heaven.’

Sister Regina agreed it was a lot of money but I silenced her with a glare.

Two million pounds was a lot of money (well, to me it was – even if it would seemed chump change to girls like Star and my other friends), but that wasn’t the point. There were principles at stake and I was nothing if not a girl jam-packed with principles.

‘You don’t just reconcile with someone because they sell a script for a lot of money, Sarah,’ I lectured. ‘And you well know it! After everything that’s happened, I think you might have consulted me or at least Bunny. I’m sure she won’t be too thrilled to learn that you are back with your oppressor merely because he’s come into some loot,’ I scolded.

‘Nice to see you too, Princess Jelly Bean,’ my father said.

Naturally I ignored him and turned to my boyfriend for backup. ‘Don’t you agree, Freddie?’

‘Sorry, what was that, Calypso?’ he asked, his eyes darting about the room as he took a step backwards. ‘I might just go and see what Billy’s up to. Coming McHamish?’ he asked, pulling on his friend’s shirt.

‘No, this is interesting. Might come in handy with my ethics paper. Go on, Bob, go on, Sarah and Calypso,’ urged Malcolm eagerly.

‘Yes,’ agreed Bell End, who looked like he wanted another go at Bob. ‘Go on,
Bob.’
He spat my father’s name out as if it were a gob of mucus.

All Sarah and Bob did was laugh. Yes, laugh. And what was more sickening is that they looked into one another’s eyes as they laughed. After all I’d been through, trying to support Sarah, make my father see sense and deal personally with their breakup, their laughter felt like a betrayal.

‘I don’t see what’s so funny,’ I told them imperiously, standing upright in my sweaty white fencing outfit, my mask under one arm, leaning on my sabre to add a bit of authority, if not menace, to my speech.

‘Oh, darling, we’re not laughing at you, it’s just the situation. We’re happy. Truly happy. And it’s not the money. Well, we’re very pleased with that aspect, obviously.’ Sarah giggled like a teenager.

‘I really think you should consult with Bunny,’ I hissed to her.

‘We both spoke to Bunny after you came to stay with me in Clapham with your friends. In fact it was Bunny who felt that it was time for Bob and me to talk.’ See what I
mean about parents being drama queens and hypocrites? I should have listened to Star all along.

‘What do you mean, Bunny thought it was time? Time to throw your principles over and return to an oppressive man who can’t pour his own granola, just because he’s sold his horrible old stupid script?’

‘No, we spoke because Honey had a bit too much to drink that weekend, and while you were all asleep she let slip about the fight with the drug dealers.’

‘I knew Honey was behind this,’ I shrieked, turning to Portia. ‘I knew she’d try something like this! I knew it,’ I railed.

‘Knew what?’ Portia asked, looking at me like I was crazed. ‘That she’d be instrumental in getting your parents back together?’

Sarah said, ‘Darling, she wasn’t being mean. She’d had a bit to drink and started opening up to me about her own parents’ split. She told me how it had destroyed her life. She can be a really lovely girl when she’s –’

‘Drunk,’ I spat.

‘Please don’t be bitter. It’s a long story, but basically Bob and I are going to marriage guidance. We even talked about him going back to work –’

‘I offered,’ Bob added in his defence.

‘Good man,’ interjected Malcolm.

‘Shut up, Malcolm,’ I told him before turning to Bob. ‘Oh, I bet you offered,’ I said sarcastically. ‘Offered in an emotionally blackmailing sort of way.’