To Marry a Prince (13 page)

The possibility did not even occur to her mother, though. ‘You can’t be too thin,’ she laughed.

They were at Janet’s golf club by then, where her buddies from the Ladies’ Section were frankly envious. They’d never had much time for Bella before. It was mutual, though Bella tried not to let it show, out of a sort of exasperated affection for her mother. They either interogatted her or offered advice on man-catching so explicit that it made Bella wince, which she tried to hide. But they were experts in diets.

‘Wish my daughter could lose a few pounds. You look like a model, darling,’ said the Social Secretary, her eyes snapping.

How could you say ‘darling’ and make it sound like ‘ratface’? The woman looked like a witch, too, with a thin scarlet mouth and expressionless Botoxed face. Bella was not impressed. But her mother preened, so she bit back a sharp retort. The husband of the Botoxed one had been knighted in the last New Year’s Honours, and Janet was dying to get them to come to her next drinks party.

‘She must be in love,’ said the Captain of the Ladies’ Section. She was wealthy singleton with a racy past and an eye for other people’s husbands. Bella often thought that the others only forgave her because of her mansion on the hill and her top-of-the-range Mercedes
convertible. ‘That makes the pounds fly away, I always find.’

Everyone laughed sycophantically, though no one was really amused, thought Bella. The thin ones didn’t like the reminder that they didn’t have lovers and the fat ones didn’t want to remember that they weren’t thin.

I want to get out of here
.

But Bella made the effort and laughed too, though she was starting to feel stifled. It often happened when she was with her mother’s friends.

‘Have you got a boyfriend, Bella?’ said the witch queen.

‘No,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ said her mother loudly. She gave that trill of artificial laughter that always made Bella want to put her head under a cushion until she stopped. ‘Of course, her lovely Francis will be abroad for a while yet.’

The Ladies’ Section knew marketing when they saw it.

‘Broke up, did you?’

‘No,’ said Bella. Well, you couldn’t break up if you were never an item anyway, could you?

Her mother relaxed visibly. The daughter’s boyfriend was a very important status symbol in the Ladies’ Section. Bella started to count the hours before she could decently leave.

Her mother tried to persuade her to stay until Monday morning. ‘You know how dreadful Sunday trains are, Bella. You might just as well stay the night. You can go up with Kevin on the train tomorrow and then straight into work.’

But Bella felt that if she stayed any longer she would scream. ‘I’ve got all those clothes to take back,’ she said. ‘Don’t want to haul them through the rush hour. Besides, I want to get myself sorted before the start of the working week.’

Her mother argued but her stepfather came to her rescue.

‘Let the girl do what makes her comfortable. We’ll see her soon.’

And on the way to the station he said, ‘Don’t want to pry. None of my business. But you know you can always come home, don’t you? If your plans don’t work out. Or anything.’

And when he took her bags out of the car he said hesitantly, ‘All right for money?’

Even though he wasn’t a touchy feely sort of stepfather, Bella hugged him then.

‘I’m fine, Kevin. Really. Don’t worry about me.’

‘We do. Can’t help it,’ he said gruffly, pink-cheeked but pleased. ‘Look after yourself. And don’t forget, there’s always your old room, if you need it.’

But when she settled down into her seat on the train, it felt like being let out of prison. It was a slow, Sunday afternoon train, meandering through the darkening countryside. Eventually it got too dark to see anything but the inside of the carriage reflected in the windows. Bella pulled out her phone and checked her messages. There were several from old friends, hearing that she was back and wanting to meet, and one from Neill, at last. Oddly cagey, she thought. No invitation to visit still, but at least he said he’d be up in London next
week and maybe they could have a coffee, if he could fit it in. This was so unlike him that Bella was worried.

But then there was a text from a number she knew and she forgot about Neill, friends, everything.

Call me
.

Bella sat bolt upright. It had been sent yesterday evening. There were other missed calls, and then a message on her voice mail.

‘Bella, where are you? Can we talk?’

Without giving herself time to think, she pressed the Call button.

He picked up at once. ‘Bella.’ He sounded amazingly relieved.

‘Hi,’ she said cautiously.

‘Where are you?’

‘On a train.’

‘Oh.’ He clearly didn’t expect that. ‘Why? Where? What’s happening? Are you taking off again?’ He was uncharacteristically distracted.

‘I spent the weekend with my mother. I’m heading back to London now.’

‘Oh. Right. Look – I know what I said. But I can’t stop thinking about you. Do you think we could, well, give it another go? Your way? Not telling anyone, trying to keep it quiet. I mean, it’s worth a try.’

She couldn’t speak.

‘Isn’t it? Bella … Bella, are you there?’

She swallowed hard. ‘Yes, I’m here. And, yes, it’s worth a try.’

‘Thank God,’ he said quietly.

She was astonished. ‘What?’

‘What train are you on? Which station are you coming in to? I want to meet you.’

It sounded like heaven. She gave him the details. She even braced herself for curious glances and even, maybe, someone catching them with a phone camera.

But she needn’t have worried. Waterloo on Sunday afternoon was as empty as she had ever seen it. And the untidy man slouching towards her in scuffed jeans and a grubby Batman tee-shirt didn’t attract a second glance from anyone.

Bella wheeled the big suitcase through the barrier and walked straight into his arms. He held her as if he would never let her go.

‘Unexpected Delights in Décor’ –
Mondaine Magazine

He took her hand and walked her out to the South Bank. There were swags of lights looped along the Embankment on the other side of the river. They went to the parapet and stood there, arms round each other. Trains rumbled across Hungerford Bridge above them and the dark water rippled and surged around its struts.

‘It’s like fairyland. All those lights. I’ve never seen this before. Or never noticed.’

‘Nor me,’ said Richard, rubbing his chin against the top of her head.

‘I’ve missed you.’

He groaned. ‘Me too.’

‘I couldn’t wait to get away from my mother today. Just because some silly woman at her club said I must be in love.’

His arms tightened and for a moment he said nothing at all.

‘I’ve been moping around like an idiot.’

‘I’ve been snarling at everyone. Poor Ian thinks I’m losing my mind.’

‘Ian the security man?’

‘Ian the provider of anonymous cars and multiple alibis,’ he said, that note of laughter back in his voice at last. ‘You’re going to have to meet him.’

She rubbed her face against his jacket. ‘So we’re not going to be entirely secret then.’

He kissed her. ‘We’re going to need a couple of coconspirators, I think. Your Lottie will have to know anyway. Do you mind?’

‘Mind Lotts knowing? Of course not. She’s my best friend. Anyway, she’d smell a rat if I suddenly went round beaming from ear to ear without telling her why.’

‘Are you? Beaming from ear to ear?’

‘What do you think? Just look at me!’

They kissed for a lot longer this time.

In the end he raised his head and said shakily, ‘We’d better walk or this will get out of hand.’

‘Goody.’

‘Walk, woman. Walk.’

They did, for at least a couple of steps. Then he stopped and turned her in towards him and they kissed again. In spite of the cold, Bella felt as warm as toast, all yielding and open. She was really glad that Lottie had given her that sapphire kimono, she thought. What to wear in bed wasn’t a problem but it was hard to keep the magic going if you had to prowl round in cast-off clothes afterwards.

Sapphire kimono!

She hauled herself away from him with a yelp.

‘I had a bloody
suitcase
. Where is it? What have I done with it? Did I walk away and leave it on Waterloo Station?’

He dropped his arms and looked round. ‘No. No, I had it. Ah, it’s there.’

He sprinted back to the place where they had leaned against the wall looking out across the water. The suitcase still stood there, its handle pulled up. It looked like a small, abandoned alien, hunched and reproachful.

He dragged it back to her, bubbling with laughter.

‘Think we got a bit carried away. If we’d left the thing much longer someone would have reported it and the police would have come along and blown it up. Maybe we ought to get inside before we cause a major incident.’

‘Sounds good to me.’

He placed the suitcase in front of them and fished out his phone. ‘Ian, we’re on the South Bank. Can you pick us up by the National Theatre? Usual place.’ A pause while Ian clearly asked a question. And Richard, looking at her, answered him. ‘No. Everything’s perfect. Just perfect.’

They went to a house in a village off the M40 somewhere. Ian drove with Richard sitting beside him.

He murmured an apology about that but Bella said, ‘Just as well. Don’t know how much longer I can keep my hands off you,’ and he gave a squawk of laughter and thrust her into the back seat without ceremony.

Ian, very sensibly, pretended not to hear.

Once they were on their way, Richard swung round to talk to her. ‘This is a secret, right? Not just because of you and me. Ian’s job is to keep me safe from assassins and people who throw paint. He’s not my driver and it
is not part of his duties to fix me up with bolt holes.’

Ian grinned. ‘You’re welcome.’

‘Yes, and I’m very grateful. But this is the last time.’

Bella mimed a kiss and watched with deep satisfaction the way Richard’s eyes kindled.

‘I’ll take charge of the bolt hole aspect, shall I?’ she said sweetly.

‘Probably easier,’ said Ian. ‘His Highness has credit cards in – er – pen names. But these things always get out. And, if I may make a suggestion, probably best not to make a habit of going anywhere too often. Even if the press don’t sniff it out, you can never be too careful with the general public.’

‘Thank you. I’ll bear that in mind.’

Richard looked irritated. ‘I don’t like leaving it to you.’

‘Good for you to have someone else in charge. I bet you get your own way all the time.’

But both Richard and Ian laughed noisily at this idea.

Ian said, ‘The Prince is a slave to his diary.’

‘Which reminds me,’ Richard said. ‘I’ll put a copy on a memory stick for you. It won’t change much between now and Christmas, at least.’

‘Thank you. I think. So where are we going now?’

Richard said, ‘House belonging to a friend of Ian’s who’s away. We have to be extra careful with this one. It could be traced back.’

‘How careful is extra careful? No lights? No flushing the loo in case the neighbours hear?’

Richard’s eyes danced. ‘I don’t think we have to be that self-denying. Just not answering the door will do.’

But Ian said, ‘Actually, no lights on in the front of the place would be a good idea.’

‘See?’ said Bella. ‘I’m a natural at this undercover stuff.’ And stuck her tongue out at Richard naughtily, just so she could watch his eyes kindle all over again. ‘You are
so
rewarding,’ she murmured, as Ian looked over his shoulder and pulled out into the fast lane on the motorway.

Richard’s expression promised revenge. She wriggled in happy anticipation.

The house was a tiny detached stone cottage next to an untidy farm entrance, off a single-track lane with high hedges. Ian drove in off the road, parked out of sight in the lee of a privet hedge and they all got out.

‘Couldn’t be better,’ said Richard.

But Ian was not happy. ‘This place is a kidnapper’s wet dream. Let me book you into the pub.’

But Richard waved the idea away. ‘You know the guy. I know the guy. Nobody followed us. Relax.’

‘But—’

‘Ian?’

‘Yes?’

‘Go inside and check it out. Do whatever you must. Then push off to the pub and don’t come back till morning.’

Ian threw his hands up. ‘Whatever you say, boss.’

The moment he’d disappeared into the house, Richard and Bella went into each other’s arms, kissing frantically.

‘You’re a dirty rotten tease,’ he said

‘Would you say rotten? I thought I was quite good.’

‘God, I want you.’