To Marry a Prince (10 page)

‘Um, yes.’

He inclined his head to Lottie. ‘Miss Hendred. A great pleasure.’

He left.

The front door closed gently behind him. The two friends stared at each other, Bella hot and confused, Lottie looking as if she’d been sandbagged.

Lottie recovered first. She gave a huge grin and punched the air.

‘Woo-hoo! You pulled the Prince!’

‘Are First Dates Always Difficult?’ –
Tube Talk

It was just as well, Bella thought, that she was starting a new job or she would have spent the day in a fever of ‘what ifs’ and ‘should-I-have-saids’. As it was, she had her first trial of strength with the bullying dentist and forgot for at least an hour that she was going out on a first date with the most unlikely man in the world.

When she arrived, early as she always did, the harassed woman of the day before was waiting for her in the cubby hole they called an office. She presented Bella with notes in a range of handwriting and legibility. And fled.

It did not take her long to work out that the appointments system was a mess, the staff roster worse, and the outstanding queries on bills, orders and even lost property went back months. The filing was laughable. But Bella had not spent the best part of a year counting fish for nothing. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was organise data. She made a list of the jobs to be done and consulted a friendly hygienist on what to do first.

‘Get the appointments straight,’ said Anya with feeling.
‘The best receptionist we ever had used to telephone people the day before to remind them. These days I get at least one missed appointment a day, sometimes more.’

‘Right,’ said Bella, bringing appointments to the top of her list.

Anya leaned over the counter watching her. ‘Nice idea, but you’ll never make it stick. Mulligan the Magnificent will come steaming out and make you drop everything to do something he wants.’

She was right. Between checking patients in, directing them to the waiting room, making out their bills and taking payments, Bella straightened out appointments for the next day. Two patients said they’d changed their appointment; one had a broken leg and was in hospital, the others were grateful. She had two left to go when Mulligan appeared at her desk.

‘You’re not supposed to make phone calls,’ he told her disagreeably.

‘They’re phone calls to patients.’

‘Well, you should ask me first.’

Bella just looked at him.

He started to bluster. She sat there with her hands folded and listened.

When he finished she said, ‘I have established that you have three appointments tomorrow where patients will be unable to turn up, Anya has two cancellations and Mr Page has one.’

‘What?’

Silently she swung the screen round so he could see.

‘Ridiculous! Patients are so irresponsible. Bill them anyway.’

‘Difficult to do that when it’s our fault. Two have already rebooked, but someone here forgot to take out the original appointment.’

There was a stand-off.

‘Then book someone else in,’ he snapped at last.

Bella gave him a sweet smile. ‘You mean, you give me permission to make a phone call or two?’

If he’d been a horse he would have thrown back his head and neighed with frustration.

‘Bastard,’ said Anya with satisfaction, emerging from the hygienist’s suite. ‘Well done, you.’

So Bella went home, cautiously pleased, and when Lottie asked, ‘How was your day?’ said, ‘First round to me.’

‘First round?’

‘There will be others. I’ve worked for the Mulligans of this world before.’

‘You’ll handle it,’ said Lottie. ‘Now what are you wearing tonight?’

Bella had been thinking about that and had worked out a strategy. ‘Nothing too fancy,’ she said firmly. ‘First dates are a minefield. I want to feel comfortable. I did buy some shoes at lunch-time though.’

Lottie approved the cute patent T-bars she had picked up but was disappointed by her refusal to dress up in full party fig. But in the end she sighed and agreed that Bella was probably right.

‘But no jeans,’ she warned. ‘You don’t know where he’s taking you and some places don’t let in people wearing jeans.’

Bella raised an eyebrow.

‘OK, they’d probably let the Prince of Wales in. But you’d have everyone staring, like one of those horrible Bateman cartoons.
The Woman Who Wore Jeans at Club Exclusive
. You’d hate it.’

So when Richard arrived, Bella was ready in a pair of waist-hugging cigarette pants over an old silk camisole top of Lottie’s. She had found a short, fitted blazer on her Oxfam trawl. It was covered in a spray of small black beads and was one of those classic vintage numbers that managed to look both chic and casual all at once.

‘Actually, I like it,’ said Lottie, inspecting her critically. ‘Not coming from a charity shop would have been a real bonus. But you’ll definitely do.’

She even allowed Bella out with only the minimum of make-up, on the grounds that her Indian Ocean tan was as good as anything that came in a bottle.

‘Jewellery?’

But Bella had none. She’d not taken any to the island with her and she was still living out of her backpack, with a few supplements. ‘I’ll pick up all my stuff at the weekend,’ she promised.

Lottie was desperate to lend her some pearl earrings but Bella hooted with laughter and told her to get real.

‘I’m not a Jane Austen heroine. Pearls are for historical novels and grandmothers.’

‘Well, you need something. Otherwise you’ll look as if you’re going for a working lunch or something.’

‘In this jacket?’

Lottie admitted it would be a bit sparkly for the office but they settled on a pair of golden chandelier earrings
from Lottie’s extensive bauble collection, just to add a sparkle or two more.

First dates always have their awkward moments and Bella braced herself. But Richard was perfectly at ease from the moment she opened the door to him. He kissed her on both cheeks, quite naturally, and flapped a cheerful hand at a hovering Lottie, saying, ‘Do you mind if we push off now? I’ve parked a bit adventurously.’

‘Sure,’ said Bella, surprised but obliging. ‘’Bye, Lotts.’

He held the door open for her and grinned at Lottie. ‘See you later.’

Which very neatly established that he would be back tonight and so would Bella.

She told him so as they went down the stairs. ‘God, you’re smooth.’

He looked down at her, one eyebrow raised. ‘That sounds as if you don’t approve.’

She shook her head. ‘Not at all. It will be a new experience.’

He was right about his parking. He was nearly blocking a garage entrance and the front wheels were definitely on a double yellow line.

‘Anti-social,’ he said ruefully. ‘But I’d been round three times and there was nowhere else. And I didn’t expect to be long. Thank you for being ready to go.’

‘You’re welcome.

The car was an unremarkable saloon. No Royal Standard, no fancy number plates, Bella was relieved to see. Richard held the door open for her and she got
in. He slid into the driving seat and they were off.

He drove down to the Embankment and turned west along the river. So he wasn’t taking her into town then.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Small restaurant, run by a man I know. I hope you like it. Later you shall tell me all the things you like to eat, where you like to go, what you enjoy doing. But tonight I had to guess.’

‘Great. I love surprises.’

She was taken aback all the same. When he passed up on Mayfair, she braced herself for some Michelin-starred foodie’s paradise in a smart village. But the restaurant was in an outer suburb, in a set of arches under a railway line. It had candles set on old sherry barrels in the bar area, and red-checked tablecloths.

The greeter at the door seemed to know him. ‘Mr Clark. Table for two. This way.’

‘Mr Clark?’ said Bella, when they were seated.

He pulled a face. ‘My brother George’s idea of a joke. Kent Clark. Superman backwards.’

‘So are you always Mr Clark when you go out on the razz?’

‘Sometimes.’

The waiter brought them two menu cards and Bella saw the food was Spanish.

‘What would you like to drink? Sherry is the house speciality but you can have a cocktail or proper champagne, not just Spanish fizz, if you’d rather.’

‘My grandmother drinks sherry. I don’t think I’ve ever tried it. Deal me in.’

It was the start of a wonderful evening, low-key and
very friendly. Maybe first dates didn’t have to be so fraught after all, she thought. Plate after plate of exotic tapas was put on the table, along with wonderful crusty bread. She and Richard swapped tastes and dipped their bread in the same earthenware dishes of sardines, and oil and olives, and wonderful oniony potato cakes, and, of course, paella. She got olive oil on her chin. Richard blotted it for her, and it was like a caress. The food was so delicious that when the patron chef emerged from the kitchen to tour the tables, Bella could genuinely tell him the paella was the best she’d ever tasted. He beamed.

Richard was equally pleased. ‘OK. That’s a good start. You like Spanish food. What else? Thai? Italian? Tell me.’

Bella thought about it. ‘I’m pretty much of an omnivore. I don’t like squid because of the idea of it or okra because it’s slimy. Oh, and I wouldn’t want to eat hare because they dance. But that’s about it, I think.’

He nodded gravely. ‘I’ll bear that in mind. And where are your favourite places?’

‘Depends. I like the Downs in the early morning when the sun’s coming up, you know, and the dew is sparkling on the fields. And I like ruins like Minster Lovell and Warkworth Castle.’

He stared.

‘What?’

‘Ruins.’ He shook his head.

‘
What?
’

His shoulders began to shake. ‘I meant,’ he said when he could speak, ‘where do you like to go for entertainment?
I was thinking of where we go next. Along the lines of clubbing and so forth. Food. Dancing. Maybe ten-pin bowling at a pinch. Ruins is a new one.’

‘Oh, I
see
.’ Bella was rueful. ‘Well, I’ve never been much of dancer. I’ve got two left feet and I tend to flail with drink taken.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of competitive ballroom activity,’ he assured her.

‘Oh, well, in that case,’ she said, relieved, ‘I can stomp around on the dance floor like anyone else, I suppose. Before I went away, I used to go clubbing with the girls every few weeks or so.’

He stared at her, fascinated. ‘But you prefer ruins really?’

‘I think I do,’ she said reflectively. ‘Is that odd?’

‘You’re a romantic,’ he said on a note of discovery. ‘Who’d have guessed?’

‘No,’ she said, revolted. ‘Practical twenty-first-century woman, me.’

And started telling him about her new job. He laughed at the idea of her being paid a Pig’s Premium because the boss was so vile.

She shrugged. ‘I can handle him.’

‘I don’t doubt it.’

‘Well, I’ve handled worse. And if I stuck the island for ten months, I can manage Dentist Hell. At least there’s a going home time when I can see friends and read books.’

‘The island was real hell, then?’

‘Not all of it. But I went because I was sort of stuck on the guy who was running it and he turned out to be—’

‘A pig?’

She thought about Francis, noble and disorganised and just a bit too sure of his charm.

‘No not a pig. But, well, shallow. You know? With an enormous appetite for being waited on, preferably well-larded with breathless admiration. I got tired of saying, “Francis, you’re so clever.”’

He winced. ‘Poor guy.’

‘Not poor guy at all,’ said Bella robustly. ‘He keeps sending me texts saying he can understand why I’ve had a crisis. But when I come to my senses I’m welcome back, and anyway he will always be there for me.’

‘There’s something wrong with that?’ said Richard cautiously

Bella was scornful. ‘It’s code for, “Come back and sort out the files.” I told you, Francis is high-maintenance. Never logged any data himself since the day he found he could get his devoted students to do it for him.’

‘Ah.’

‘What?’

‘You’re very clear-sighted, aren’t you? Not quite so much a dyed-in-the-wool romantic as I thought.’

‘I told you, I’m not romantic.’

‘Wanna bet?’

But Bella backed away from that one. This might be the most relaxed first date she had ever been on, but there was a look in his eyes that was not relaxed at all. And if there was one thing an unromantic, sensible woman did
not
want to do, it was mess up her life by falling for an unavailable man. And they didn’t come
much more unavailable than the heir to the throne.

She said lightly, ‘You’d lose your money. Don’t forget, I lived on a tropical island – and counted fish.’