To Marry a Prince (2 page)

‘This is so good. I feel clean for the first time in days. Hell, no. For the first time in
months
. I’m sorry to dump myself on you—’

Lottie waved that away. ‘Garbage,’ she said briskly. ‘Couldn’t be better. The harpy I used to share with moved out last month to be with the Man of Her
Dreams … poor sod. I was thinking I ought to rent out her room. But I don’t really fancy living with another stranger, not after The Harpy. So I didn’t get round to it. And now you’re here.’ She raised her glass in a silent toast. ‘Sometimes the Lord provides.’

Bella laughed and raised her glass in return.

‘Lottie Hendred, you’re a star.’

‘Stay as long as you want.’ Lottie curled up in the armchair and tucked her bare toes under the skirts of her exotic Eastern robe.

‘Lovely idea but I’m not sure I can afford to.’

Lottie raised her perfectly arched eyebrows. ‘Explain?’

‘Well, to be honest, Lottie, I’ve got to get a job. Fast.’

Lottie’s brown eyes were shrewd. ‘Island job didn’t materialise, then?’

Bella shook her head. ‘Go on. Say it. Everyone else will. Say “I told you so”.’

Lottie was indignant. ‘I
never
say I told you so. Anyway, what did I know?’

‘But you never trusted Francis.’

‘I thought,’ said Lottie carefully, ‘that be-my-unpaid-assistant-for-a-year-and-I’ll-give-you-a-job didn’t sound much of a deal. Or, well, terribly reliable.’

‘You were right,’ said Bella gloomily.

‘Want to talk about it?’

Bella shrugged. She swirled her wine, staring into its ruby surface as if she were seeing something very different from reflected firelight and the pleasant room.

‘There wasn’t a job?’ ventured Lottie at last.

Bella came back into the present. ‘Oh, there was a job all right. One job. And about twenty of us that Francis had offered it to.’

Lottie sat bolt upright and her wine spilled. ‘Blimey. The man is a real operator,’ she said with respect. ‘
Twenty?
’

Bella forced a smile. ‘Not all at the same time. They came and went – usually when they found the job was counting fish. I lasted longer than pretty much everyone else.’

‘Um – why?’

‘You know me, Lottie. Never know when I’m beaten.’ There was an edge to Bella’s voice. ‘Besides, they got me teaching the kids in the school a bit. Made me feel like I was doing something real.’

‘Better than counting bloody fish anyway,’ said Lottie with feeling.

Bella drained her glass and reached for the bottle. ‘Ain’t that the truth? Pissed off Francis, too,’ she added with satisfaction. ‘I was supposed to be there to run his errands, not work with the villagers.’ She topped up Lottie’s wine as well. ‘Boils on the bum to Francis Don!’

Lottie’s eyes gleamed. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

They both did, glasses solemnly raised.

‘So what do you do next?’

Bella shook her head. ‘I honestly don’t know.’ She stretched. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad I went. I learned a lot. But – well, I don’t think I’m really a born ecologist. I like people more than fish.’

‘Thank God for that, at least.’

‘I thought I might do a course on teaching English as
a Foreign Language. I seemed to be quite good at it. But I’ve got all these debts and my father will disown me if I don’t start earning. So it’s the temp agency for me tomorrow.’

Lottie looked at her carefully. ‘I thought you said you’d input your last invoice when we left college?’

Bella pulled a face. ‘I know. But needs must. Besides, I have a sentimental desire to see a paycheque again.’

‘Fair enough. But wait until Monday. I’ve got an invitation to a Fab-U-Louse party tomorrow night, and you’ve just gotta come too.’

‘Great,’ said Bella, and suddenly cracked a massive yawn. ‘Oops. Sorry.’

‘I’ll give you a hot water bottle,’ said Lottie. ‘The heating has been off in that room for weeks. Come on, you. Sleepy time.’

And Bella staggered off to clean her teeth before falling into bed and sleeping for fourteen hours straight.

She woke to find Lottie had gone out, leaving two messages on the table in the tiny kitchen.

The first was vintage Lottie Hendred:
V. posh party tonight, pick a dress, any dress
.

The other was a phone message.
Robopop rang in case you were here. He says don’t call your mother too early on Sunday. Pillock
.

Lottie really did not need to add that last word, thought Bella wryly. Lottie had never liked Kevin. Bella was always telling Lottie that her mother’s obsession with climbing the social heights of the Local History Society and the Ladies’ Golf Section was not his fault. Lottie had never believed her but Bella knew her
mother. Turning over Kevin’s message, she could almost hear her mother saying it.

Don’t call too early? Don’t call too
early?
Gee, thanks, Mum.

Suddenly, gloriously, Bella was so angry she knew exactly what she was going to do. She was not going to raid Lottie’s wardrobe, though they had cheerfully borrowed from each other for three years at university and even before that. But today Bella was going to splurge Kevin’s conscience money on a dress and pretty, crazy shoes and she was going to go to that posh party and dance until morning, or possibly the morning after.

Don’t call too early?
She was going to party so hard she wouldn’t be able to call her mother for a
week
.

Of course, it didn’t work out like that. For one thing, she needed more than party wear, as Lottie, returning from the Saturday grocery shop, told her crisply. For ten months Bella had lived in shorts and tee-shirt or diving gear. She had no clothes to wrap herself up in against the chill breezes of a London autumn; and she soon realised that her much-washed underwear was about to disintegrate.

‘Besides,’ said Lottie, sitting on Bella’s bed and surveying the contents of the backpack critically, ‘your hair is like straw. I just have to look at it and I smell seaweed.’

‘Don’t mention seaweed. We had it for dinner twice a week.’

Lottie was appalled. ‘You’re joking, right?’

Bella shook her head, her eyes dancing.

Lottie moaned.

‘It was a very healthy life-style. Out in the fresh air, bags of exercise, healthy diet—’

‘
Seaweed?
’

Bella grinned. ‘I said healthy, not tasty. Seaweed is full of minerals.’

Lottie shuddered. ‘And what does it taste like?’

‘Oh, pants,’ said Bella matter-of-factly. ‘But when you’re hungry you’ll eat anything. And it really is nutritionally good value.’

‘You were hungry?’

‘Um, yes.’

‘Well, no wonder you look so terrible.’

‘Do I?’ Startled, Bella peered at herself in her predecessor’s massive mirror.

What she saw was not
that
bad. OK, the blonde hair was a haystack and her hands were a bit rough by Lottie’s Metropolitan PR Industry standard. But she had a faint golden tan from working under the tropical sun and her eyes sparkled. She’d certainly lost that puffy, pasty look she’d had when she left England last November.

She decided to take a stand. ‘I think I look pretty good, actually. I’ve got cheekbones, for the first time in my life.’

‘Huh. That’s not all you’ve got. I could cut myself on those shoulderblades.’

‘What?’

‘Look at yourself,’ begged Lottie. She took Bella and turned her round, so that she could see over her own
shoulder into the mirror. ‘You’ve got a backbone like a kipper.

‘Bloody, bloody Francis!’ she spat, her eyes bright. ‘He manipulated you, ran you ragged. Then on top of that he went and
starved
you.’

Bella put an arm round her friend’s shoulders and hugged her.

‘Don’t worry, Lotts. Give me a week in the same town as Maison Paul’s chocolate doughnuts and I’ll be back to the pudding you know and love.’

Lottie fished for a tissue but said tartly, ‘Well, I certainly hope so. And I’ll book you an appointment with Carlos, too. He’ll have a heart attack when he sees your hair.’

‘OK,’ said Bella peaceably.

‘
And
you need to reactivate your cellphone. Gotta keep in touch.’

Peaceable was one thing. Doormat was another. ‘You know, you’ve got very bossy.’

‘Bossy? Nonsense. I’m a decisive manager,’ corrected Lottie loftily. She fled as Bella threw a pillow at her. ‘And get your nails done,’ wafted back from the sitting room.

So Bella went out and bought everything from the skin up, including a party dress for tonight, and a woolly hat, scarf and gloves for immediate use. A nice guy in the phone shop tried hard to get her mobile working again but in the end he had to give up. He wanted to sell her the latest one but her credit card was still in suspension until she rang them up and told them she
was back in the country and her mother’s maiden name. So she reluctantly shook her head at an all-singing, all-dancing Formula 1 of a phone and settled for a plain old replacement. The shop guy sympathised with her credit card hiccup and threw in a pink and glittery clip-on cover for the new phone, as consolation. He even transferred the SIM card for her, and handed it over with a flourish.

Bella went back to the flat in triumph.

She found Lottie wedged into a corner of the kitchen, waiting for the microwave to ping while leafing through a thick, glossy magazine. She looked up as Bella came in.

‘Hi there. Did you buy this copy of
Mondaine?
’

Bella put down her carrier bags and unwound the new woolly scarf. ‘Yup. I had to break into a fifty-pound note at Waterloo last night. It was the most expensive mag I could find.’

Lottie nodded enthusiastically. ‘I’ll bet. We take it at work, but I never get to see it. People pounce on it as soon as it comes in. Have you looked at this piece on the Top Ten Eligibles? Just gorgeous.’

‘The men or the article?’

‘Both.’ The microwave pinged and Lottie removed a frothing mug of hot chocolate. ‘Do you want one?’

Bella didn’t really, but she said yes to be sociable. She looked at
Mondaine’s
gallery of gorgeous guys for the same reason. Shedding the cherry red hat and gloves, she fluffed out her hair and peered over Lottie’s shoulder.

‘Who’s that?’

‘Milo Crane. From
Si Fy the Movie
.’

Bella looked blank.

‘You must have heard of him. He’s the newest hottie on the block, ever since the movie came out.’

‘Haven’t seen it. Don’t forget, I was fifty miles away from the nearest internet connection, Lottie. TV and films didn’t figure at all.’

Lottie shuddered. ‘Unbelievable. Well, who
do
you know out of this lot?’

The photographs were works of art: a lithe fast bowler stretching up to a cloudless sky; the newest software billionaire, endearingly scruffy, staring blankly at a screen where his company’s share price was rocketing; Richard, Prince of Wales at some ceremony, looking startlingly handsome in a scarlet uniform that any one of his ancestors of the last three centuries could have worn, gleaming gold-embellished sword and all.

‘All of them except Milo,’ said Bella, somewhat reassured.

Lottie put her head on one side. ‘Fabulous photo of the Prince, don’t you think?’

Bella considered. He looked eager and determined. ‘Full of va-va-voom,’ she conceded. ‘But you’d want to stand well clear of that sword.’

Lottie choked. ‘I suppose so. But he’s still mega-fanciable.’

‘If you say so.’ The microwave pinged and Bella took out her own hot chocolate.

‘Don’t you think so?’

Bella shrugged. ‘Royals in military fancy dress don’t
do it for me. I overdosed on
The Prisoner of Zenda
when I was a kid. Sorry. Don’t forget, I’m the daughter of a fully paid up anti-monarchist.’

‘Oh, but—’ Lottie started to say, then changed her mind.

‘What?’

‘Oh, nothing.’

‘I know that look. It isn’t nothing. Spit it out.’

‘You wouldn’t actually be nasty to Prince Richard, would you, Bella? I mean, if you came across him somewhere?’

She sounded so worried that Bella was touched. ‘Don’t worry, Lotts. I’m not that far gone. I wasn’t nasty to Francis and, as you pointed out, he starved me. Quite apart from breaking his promises, the toad. Hell, I won’t even swear at Carlos if he turns my hair green again.’

At that, Lottie looked really alarmed. ‘No, don’t. You have no idea the favour he’s doing you, fitting you in at all. He said it was for old times’ sake but, make no mistake, Carlos can pick and choose his clients these days. So play nice, Bella, please. For me?’

So, an hour later, Bella was siting in a very smart grey-and-lavender-decorated salon and not so much as murmuring a protest while Carlos, Lottie’s long-time friend and increasingly fashionable hairdresser, lectured her on Letting Her Hair Go and the Importance of Conditioner. He plastered her hair with something that smelled of apricots, wrapped it in a towel, and left her to leaf through a bunch of celebrity
magazines. Unlike
Mondaine
, these were full of people she didn’t know. With their orange tans and day-glo teeth, the various celebrities had been photographed at buzzy parties and premières in London, Hollywood and the South of France. Bella didn’t know their names, their faces, or what they were famous for.