To Marry a Prince

Chapter 22

‘The Hen Night!’ – Daily Despatch

Richard was due out on a mid-morning flight from Heathrow on Thursday. He and Princess Eleanor were travelling on a scheduled flight, albeit first-class of course.

Neither Richard nor Bella slept very well the night before, though neither of them mentioned it – nor did they know that the other was in the same state. They were both awake early, though Richard’s manservant had packed his bags and sent them over to the Palace the day before, from where the whole party would leave.

‘Walk with me before I go?’ Richard said quietly.

There was a hazy mist over St James’s Park and the lake was as still as a mirror. Office workers were already striding through the walks, on their way to their offices in Whitehall or Piccadilly or the Strand. It seemed that only Bella and Richard had time to stop on the bridge and look at the ducks.

‘I’ll take you to Sydney another time,’ he said with sudden passion.

‘Any time you say.’

They wandered on, beneath cascading fronds of young willow, catching the faint warm scent of crocuses in the air.

‘You will be all right. George will help. He can be a prune but his heart is in the right place.’

‘Of course I’ll be all right. I’m an independent woman. If I can survive Francis and the fish, I can survive anything.’

His fingers almost crushed hers.

At last Bella said reluctantly, ‘We’re going to have to go. You know what the office is like about punctuality.’

‘My poor love. You’re learning the hard way, aren’t you?’

They turned their back on the fantastic skyline of Whitehall and the London Eye and strode out for the Palace.

Queen Jane had insisted she was going to see her children off at the airport. She had dressed very carefully in a trim scarlet coat worn with a black pill-box hat. This was a cheerful woman, you would have said, who had no fears at all for her husband’s health. But when you got close, you saw how thick and careful the make-up was, how strained her eyes.

‘You look very handsome,’ Bella said involuntarily. ‘My grandmother Georgia would say that coat was giving a message of good cheer.’

There was an indrawn breath from Lady Pansy and a couple of others in the assembled entourage. Oh, bother, thought Bella, remembering Lady Pansy’s folder on how to address Their Majesties. Page one said, among other things, don’t address them unless Their Majesties speak to you first. Page two covered subjects which should never, ever be raised with Their Majesties. High on the list was their personal appearance. So five minutes here and she’d broken two rules. Well done, Bella.

But, although the Queen looked surprised, her tired eyes smiled. ‘Thank you, my dear. How kind of you. I certainly hope so.’

Bella was all set to travel in the second car with Princess Eleanor, and was even moving towards it, when the Queen stopped her with a gloved hand on her arm.

‘No. You go with Richard, Bella. Stay together as long as you can.’

They drove in a convoy through Central London. As well as the two Royal cars there were also security cars in front and behind them, and motorbike outriders. All through the city traffic stopped and drew to one side to let them through. Six months ago Bella could never have imagined such progress. Now it didn’t seem to matter. She held Richard’s hand tightly all the way there. The journey didn’t take long. They didn’t speak.

At the airport they were driven to a small VIP room, where quiet, efficient officials completed passport and flight formalities painlessly. And then the two limousines drove out on to the tarmac and came to rest beside the waiting plane.

Everyone got out. Bella could feel her throat thicken with tears. This was crazy. It was six weeks, for God’s sake. And Richard had much more to worry about than she had; not just the trip and all the briefings he would have to catch up on as he went along, but his father’s health, too. She had seen how genuinely fond he and his father were of each other, though neither of them ever expressed it of course.

I must not make a scene and make this harder for him, she thought.

She said brightly, ‘I want lots of photos and a kiss a day.’

He kissed her formally. But there was a smile in his eyes that was worth all the repressed sobs in her chest. ‘You’ve got it.’

He and Eleanor went up the steps. Turned at the top and waved. But not to me, thought Bella, suddenly desolate. This one is for the cameras.

When they had disappeared and the cabin doors were being closed, the Queen turned to Bella. ‘Ride back to Town with me?’

As soon as they set off, the Queen pressed a little button and a soundproof glass partition slid up between them and the chauffeur.

‘My dear, I wanted to say how grateful I am for the support you have given us all, especially Richard, over the last few days. It cannot have been easy.’

Bella did not think she could say anything without blubbing like an idiot, so she just made a vague you’re-welcome gesture.

‘Quite,’ said the Queen, understanding. ‘You behaved beautifully back there. I was very proud of you. Proud of you both. I know this is the worst time for you to be apart. I’m just so sorry that circumstances—’

Bella couldn’t take any more. ‘How is His Majesty?’ she said swiftly.

The Queen smiled. ‘Not very pleased with life. He feels fine. But the doctors won’t release him until they know what happened. He says he’s become a lab rat and is being difficult about blood tests. The doctors have all my sympathy. He’s on fighting form.’

‘That’s good news.’

‘Yes. Now, I wanted to ask you whether you would like to move into the Palace soon? With Richard away and the wedding approaching …’

Oh, Lord, thought Bella. Is this my punishment for encouraging him to play Viking and promote Morgan’s Ginger Thins?

She said in a small voice, ‘I’m very happy sharing a flat with Charlotte Hendred.’

The Queen looked as if that surprised her. ‘Are you sure? Don’t the paparazzi make a nuisance of themselves?’

Bella grinned. ‘They stood around outside the block of flats for five days and saw Lottie and me leave to go to work every morning and come back from work every night, except for Saturday when we bought food and went to our parents’. They got bored.’

The Queen smiled perfunctorily. ‘That might change now.’

‘Now? Why?’

‘While Richard’s away. They will be watching to see who you amuse yourself with.’

For a moment Bella didn’t understand. ‘Catch me two-timing him, you mean?’

‘Not necessarily. They will be more interested as it gets closer to the date anyway. And with this unfortunate business of the promotional tee-shirt—’

‘I knew it! This is my Ginger Thins punishment.’

Queen Jane smiled. ‘No question of punishment. That was entirely Richard’s own fault and so I told him. But we thought that after that incident, especially with him away, you might find yourself a little – exposed.’

Bella was certain that ‘we’ included Lady P. Interfering old bat.

She said carefully, ‘You may be right. Can we see how it goes?’

‘Of course, my dear. I only want to help. Just remember that if the pressure becomes too great, there are always rooms at the Palace for you. We can protect you, you know.’

The only pressure, thought Bella, was from Lady P and the Meringue Party. But she did not say so. She thanked the Queen warmly instead.

‘I narrowly escaped incarceration today,’ she told Lottie that evening. ‘With Richard gone, Lady P made her move. The Queen invited me to live in the Palace.’

‘Cardiganville?’ said Lottie, who had rather taken against Lady Pansy at the Great Wedding Dress Round Table.

‘Oh, worse than that. It’s cold and dark with acres of corridors, deserted except for some pictures of men in uniform or killing animals. The Cardigan Sphere is quite cosy by comparison.’

‘Cardigans can suffocate you though,’ said Lottie darkly. ‘Now listen. I need to talk to you about the Hen Night. What do you want to do?’

Bella cheered up. She hadn’t had a really good session with her girlfriends since they all went off to Greece the summer after college. She had seen a couple of them since she got back from the island but she had been so absorbed, between Richard and job hunting, that there were at least half a dozen girls she had still to catch up with.

‘Going back to Greece would be nice,’ she said now, wistfully. ‘Do you remember that terrace?’

‘Yeah. Brilliant. But I’m not sure it’s practical for a weekend. Don’t forget, Nicki and Sarah are on first-year teacher salaries.’

Bella nodded. ‘I know. And it would be a hassle banging through airports and things. Besides, Lady P would probably set the Press on me if went outside the UK. We must support British trade.’

Lottie chuckled. ‘Well, I can do you a very nice cowboy bar in Newcastle, complete with bucking bronco and a rugby club down the road.’

Bella’s eyes popped. ‘You’re not serious?’

‘Yup. Girl from work had her Hen Night there. We all took turns on the bronco. Fell off. Threw up.’

Bella, who had been on four Hen Nights so far and thought she knew the form, was impressed. ‘One hen always throws up. But the whole flock?’

‘Every last woman. And then they cleaned up, came back and tried again. And then danced till dawn with a couple of cowboy strippers. They make ’em tough in the North.’

They were both silent, contemplating the enviable stamina of other people.

‘So do you fancy it? Bronco busting?’

‘Maybe not.’

‘Thought not. I’m getting together with Joanne sometime this week to sort things out. Anywhere you really want to go? Anything you want me to veto?’

Bella smiled. ‘I trust you.’

‘OK then. A judicious combination of silly and togetherness. I can do that.’

And so she did, or at least tried to do.

It all started very well. Joanne had found a small spa in West Yorkshire. Newly opened in a down-at-heel not-quite-stately home, it was inexpensive enough for even the tyro teachers to afford and fifteen of them turned up on Friday night. They had a lovely morning walk ending at a local pub, then lay around talking and taking massages and facials. Bella had been given the master suite, which was pretty impressive with a fourposter bed and balcony, and they all congregated there. Three of them sprawled on the bed with the others dispersed about the room while they advised Joanne on the use of a borrowed set of hair straighteners and discussed the evening to come. And then the whole event was overtaken by an irresistible force, in the form of the Honourable Chloe and Princess Eleanor.

For form’s sake, Lottie and Joanne had had to ask along the two bridesmaids from Richard’s side. For form’s sake, they’d had to accept. But Nell had only just got back from New Zealand, where Queen Jane had taken over by Richard’s side, and Chloe had a Friday night party to go to. So they said they would drive down together on Saturday afternoon, in time to hit the local town for dinner. And when they arrived it rapidly became clear that these two were going to party to the max and were absolutely determined to take everyone else with them.

‘Right, people,’ said Nell, for whom three weeks of enforced good behaviour had been too much. ‘Let’s get the rules straight here. The photos will be incriminating. You will be drunk. You will be sweaty. You will wear false eyelashes.’ She said to Chloe, ‘Anything else?’

Chloe said, ‘RM?’

‘RM. Right.’ Nell tapped the side of her nose. ‘How could I forget him? Anyone who doesn’t snog a random man gets locked out.’

They both collapsed in giggles.

‘Oh my Lord,’ muttered Bella, sitting bolt upright against the fourposter bed’s rich crimson bolster. ‘What have they been drinking?’

‘Let’s hope it’s just drink,’ said Lottie grimly.

Whatever it was, its effects didn’t abate. Instead of going for an Italian meal, followed by a spot of karaoke, the group found themselves whisked through some rudimentary tapas and on to a whistle-stop tour of every club and dive in the place. There were more than Bella expected and some of them were pretty rough, the sort of places where you went in and danced and kept your nose carefully blocked against the prevailing smell of last night’s clientele.

Eventually they ended up in a dungeon of a nightclub. Chloe, who was barely coherent by then, ordered vodka with Sambuca chasers for everyone. Bella had looked forward to the prospect of trotting around town with brightly dyed feathers in her hair in the company of friends in a similar state, but now she was stone cold sober and starting to feel seriously uncomfortable. She managed to lose her drinks behind a giant cocktail card and signalled Lottie.

‘I’ll give it thirty minutes tops and then I’m off.’

‘Nell will pass out before then,’ said Lottie knowledgeably.

And, indeed, she was wobbling dangerously on her platform heels and grabbing any man who passed, almost certainly more for support than RM reasons.

‘I can’t stand much more of this,’ muttered Bella. ‘It’s no fun. And Joanne looks as if she’s going to cry.’

But Lottie was made of sterner stuff. ‘Don’t be a wuss, Bella. Someone always cries on a Hen Night.’

That was true. And Joanne had one or two of the three classic reasons to cry: she had just broken up with her boyfriend, and she had been at Bella’s christening.

‘You were a lovely baby,’ she said, smearing her mascara terminally on Bella’s handkerchief. ‘A lovely, lovely baby. I so wanted a sister. You’re as good as a sister to me. I love you, Bella. I’ve always loved you like—’

‘Like a sister. Yeah, you said. Thanks, Jo. I love you too.’

‘Beautiful baby,’ said Joanne, who was at that stage of inebriation where the sufferer thinks that if they keep on plodding round the same track again and again they will find the slip road off and get away.

There was a stag do at the other end of the club which now decided to join forces with the girls. Chloe Lenane announced that she was going to snog all of them, and did. It took some time. The guys accepted the challenge enthusiastically. A tall hockey player came over, plucked Bella out of her corner, danced her round in a fast latin number and ended up throwing her over his arm, trying to suck her face off. Bella extricated herself.

‘Thanks for the dance. I’m just going.’

‘Oh, come on! The night is young …’

But Bella had caught sight of a commotion at the bar. Nell, having run out of snoggable men in the stag party, had wriggled round behind it and was trying to grope the hot young bartender. He was nice about it, but put her firmly out of his way by sitting her up on the counter. Only, from there she scrambled to her feet and strutted along the top of the bar. Already unsteady, she skidded in the spilled drinks and shot the entire length of the bar on her bottom, skirts and huge platform shoes flying. Then she fell off the end, landing in a tangled heap and lay there, laughing like a maniac.

Bella said, ‘Right. That’s it. I’m taking her back to the spa.’

Lottie had a fleet of taxis on standby. She called one up and between them she and Bella bundled Nell home.

When they got there, Nell flung herself flat on the bed and passed out. She was terribly pale and there was a sheen of sweat over her face.

‘I’d better stay with her,’ said Bella, worried. ‘In fact, I might even call a doctor. That doesn’t look normal to me.’

Nell opened her mouth and began to snore.

‘That’s normal,’ said Lottie. ‘But sit up with her if you must. She was mixing her drinks like a sailor. And she must still be jet lagged, too. What a numpty.’

Numpty indeed, thought Bella, sitting with her as the night grew colder and the snores did not abate. She was so tired and her head hurt. She was also angry. She had been looking forward to her girls together weekend. It wasn’t fair that these two idiots should mess it all up.

She was even angrier when she came down in the morning to find two unshaven photographers perched on the low wall round the car park. The nightclub had not been dark enough. The entire stag party had taken photos of the goings-on with their phones. The Sunday Despatch had completely changed its front page to print them.

Bella didn’t know which made her feel more sick: the one of Eleanor, skidding along the bar; or the one of her bent double over the arm of a very fit bloke being, apparently, kissed senseless.

She stamped upstairs to Eleanor’s room. The Princess was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking as if she would not easily move.

‘Get dressed. We’re going. You’re a pain in the butt!’

Eleanor moaned, ‘I’m going to be sick.’

‘That’s the least of your worries.’

The stately home owners did their best to keep the marauding flocks of photographers and journalists at bay. In fact, one of them came upstairs and said, ‘There’s an underground passage to the gatehouse. We cleared it for the children, so we know it’s safe. Do you have someone you trust who could pick you up there?’

‘George will help you,’ Richard had said.

‘I’ll see,’ said Bella.

She called George.

He hadn’t seen the papers. He was barely awake. But he grasped the situation at once. ‘OK. I’ll be there. Directions?’

Fortunately he was less than an hour’s drive away, staying with friends.

Lottie was her usual practical self. ‘Leave the packing to me. Stay in Nell’s room. I’ll tell everyone you were worried about her colour last night and took her off.’

‘Won’t Chloe Lenane come to see her?’

‘Bloody Chloe never came home last night. If she turns up, which I doubt, I’ll get her off the premises. Confiscate Nell’s phone, by the way. You don’t know what she might send.’

‘Good thinking. I don’t trust her. She was out of her skull last night.’

Bella found Nell’s phone in her tiny pink crystal-studded handbag and pinched it. Nell was sitting in a chair with a wet towel over her face by then and didn’t notice. It was a bit of a struggle to get her down to the kitchens in order to access the passage because she kept saying she wanted to go home. But in the end, Bella managed it.

George called them when he was approaching the gatehouse and barely had to stop while Bella pushed Eleanor into the back seat and got in beside him.

‘Drive,’ she said between her teeth, ‘before I kill your sister.’

From the back seat, Eleanor moaned.

Bella’s sense of humour returned momentarily. ‘Or before she throws up all over your motor.’

He drove like the wind.