Tilly Maguire and the Royal Wedding Mess

by Emma Grey

  And here’s Tilly, in her Rocky Horror outfit, becoming increasingly and weirdly high on several days without sleep, entertaining a totally implausible fantasy that Reuben Vaughan might see himself as anything other than her emergency cobbler.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Jack asks.

  She really isn’t. She’s thoroughly worn out, her feet hurt, she can’t breathe in this dress, she’s hallucinating from jet lag and the room is starting to spin.

  ‘Tilly?’

  Jack must have noticed her starting to sway. He puts his arm around her shoulders, steadying her, just as Isabelle takes Reuben by the hand and leads him off the dance floor into a little alcove, her pastel skirt swishing like something out of a Disney princess movie. They end up directly in Jack’s and Tilly’s line of sight, and the two of them watch as Isabelle gracefully manoeuvres Reuben so he’s backed against a wall, inescapably.

  ‘Here we go,’ Jack says bitterly. Is Jack in love with Isabelle? Is that what this flaring display of testosterone has been about?

  Isabelle leans in close to Reuben. She’s going to kiss him, Tilly’s sure of it – not that she’s an expert on romance, having never gone very far past several disappointing first kisses, because none of the boys who were interested in her during high school even remotely measured up to the one she idoli—

  Wait! Reuben looks nervous. In all the photos Tilly’s ever seen of him, right from the start when the band first made it big, he has never looked nervous. Not once.

  He momentarily glances her way and genuinely appears worried. What is it? Is she meant to ride in on a white horse and rescue him? She’d definitely do that, if she had a horse and wasn’t scared of it. She’s not really an animal person. Except cats. She likes cats.

  Jack’s grip tightens on her shoulders. The princess takes both of Reuben’s hands in hers and steps towards him, even closer, looking at him like she’s about to utter the most important sentence of her life. And what could that sentence be?

  OMG! Is this . . .?

  A royal proposal?

  All this media wasting their time on Tilly and her totally insignificant wardrobe malfunction when the real story is right under their noses and suddenly there’s not a single camera in sight!

  Not a single camera . . .

  Tilly realises with a grown-up sense of official posterity that she’s the only person in the entire world who appears to be witnessing this momentous event, other than Jack, who is finally speechless himself.

  Whatever oxygen is left in her brain drains completely out of it. She opens the clutch, grabs her phone, takes the photo and, without pausing for even a nanosecond, Instagrams it to her completely unremarkable Finsta account, which is literally just between her best friend, Caitlin, and a couple of others from school: #proposal #weddingbelle #princess #popstar #relationshipgoals.

  ‘Everyone’s asleep at home!’ she whispers to Jack. ‘They’ll go nuts when they wake up to this!’

  He takes the phone out of her hand as she adheres her gaze to the unfolding drama.

  ‘Er, Tilly? Your friends don’t appear to be asleep,’ Jack says, holding the phone up to face her. It’s lit up like Christmas. ‘How many friends do you have?’

  She glances briefly at the notifications. And then looks harder. She snatches the phone out of Jack’s hand and stares at it. There are way too many responses. Thousands. And she doesn’t recognise any of their names!

  Chapter 4

  ‘We need to talk,’ Isabelle says to Reuben. He knows they’re both busy people, but what could be so important it couldn’t wait until after the ball? Or next week. Or next year . . .

  ‘Can we do this later?’ he asks, trying to let go of her hands. His obvious desire to escape only seems to encourage her to grip onto him tighter in a very un-Isabelle-like way. In fact, the whole hand-holding thing in general is nothing remotely like her. It’s nothing like them.

  Tilly Maguire and Jack Guthrie are still off to the side, he notices. Still hovering over a phone like ten-year-old cool kids in the back row sharing secrets. They seem pretty tight, even if Tilly doesn’t look ‘finessed’ enough to be Jack’s type. She’s not strictly Reuben’s type, either – in so far as he has one. There are a few key qualities Reuben likes in a girl. ‘Conversational’ is the main one, and Tilly Maguire definitely isn’t that. She isn’t a lot of things. Maybe that’s why he’s so interested. Not like that, of course. Not in the usual way.

  Belle turns his head back to face her. Literally. She places her hands on both sides of his face and forces him to look. ‘Forget Jack,’ she says. ‘He’s not worth it!’

  Reuben doesn’t know why Belle bothers with Jack at all. It infuriates him. As does the fact that Tilly seems a hundred percent animated about whatever she and Jack are talking about. But, hang on. Now she seems to be crying! Jack pulls her into a hug and something knots in Reuben’s stomach. He can’t for the life of him recall what the usual way to like a girl is, if it’s not like this, and he’s darker on Jack now than ever.

  ‘Focus, Reuben,’ Isabelle commands. ‘This really can’t wait.’

  He wishes it could. He’s not strong enough for a serious conversation. He hasn’t recovered from the full-immersion experience that was meeting Tilly Maguire for the first time on the steps outside. The way her shoe didn’t fit. The way her dress did. The silent treatment. The impulsiveness. He can’t figure her out.

  ‘I’ve spent years gathering the courage to tell you this. I’m not backing out now,’ Isabelle says. He drags his focus away from Jack and Tilly’s increasingly irritating PDA, and back to his friend, who deserves his full attention.

  ‘I should have said this to you a long time ago . . .’ she continues. ‘Please don’t interrupt me, Reuben, this is important.’

  Oh! This cannot be that conversation. Can it? They’re completely platonic. Always have been. Has he been wrong about their friendship all along? He’d always found her attractive – who wouldn’t? But there’d been something about her – a standoffishness? On some level, he’d instinctively known never to approach her that way, and he never had.

  Maybe this is a recent development? His gut reaction is to back away physically, but that only pushes him harder into the wall behind him. ‘Belle – I thought we were on the same page.’

  ‘Trust me, Reuben, we definitely aren’t.’

  Reuben has been involved in no end of awkward situations that always start like this, with a girl ‘needing to talk’. But it’s never been like that with Isabelle. They’re as close as they are precisely because their friendship has never strayed across this line.

  ‘I know the timing’s not ideal,’ Isabelle explains.

  He glances at Tilly again. Not ideal? It’s atrocious! His chest tightens and his palms begin to sweat. This is not how he saw the evening playing out: fending off the most eligible young woman in the world . . . while trying to get even one second alone with someone a whole lot less eligible, if Tilly’s standard of footwear is any measure. He just wants to find out more about her.

  He leans against the wall, which causes Isabelle to lean even closer, ready to whisper her confession. This is horrible. The last person he ever imagined letting down like this is his best friend. People are always interrupting him. Every day. All the time. Why won’t someone interrupt him now!

  ‘Reuben,’ Isabelle says. She’s leaning so far forward to make the admission he wonders for one, very alarming, second, if she’s going to kiss him.

  Here it is.

  Can’t avoid her confession any longer.

  ‘I’m in love, Reuben.’

  That’s it! Friendship about to implode!

  ‘And I’m gay.’

  WHAT?

  ‘Oh my God,’ he hears a woman say as if on cue as she marches past them. It’s not Isabelle. It’s not Tilly, either. ‘This cannot have happened!’

  Reuben, Belle, Tilly and Jack turn in unison. Reuben’s publicist, Henrietta, is holding Tilly’s phone, encased in the ugliest
yellow cover he’s ever seen, at arm’s length like she’s just dragged it out of a swamp. She’s looking from the phone to Tilly and Jack and then at Reuben and Belle – who, wait a minute, is gay?

  ‘She is ropable,’ Isabelle whispers as if she hasn’t just handed Reuben the biggest bombshell of their entire friendship. Without missing a beat, she just moves on, business as usual.

  ‘Wait! Belle!’ he says quickly, facing her, ignoring the distraction. ‘Who are you in love with?’

  She smiles, all the way to her eyes, and blushes. Even thinking of this person physically transforms her. All the princess trappings melt away and leave a real human being standing here, exposed. Vulnerable. In love. Wow.

  She doesn’t answer his question, though. Instead, she walks over to the others, and holds out her hand to Tilly.

  ‘I’m Isabelle,’ she says warmly. She takes charge, as always, vulnerability hidden again. ‘And you are . . .’

  ‘In an unprecedented amount of trouble,’ Tilly admits, through tears. ‘Sorry,’ she says to Isabelle.

  She drags her gaze to Reuben, who is still staring at his best friend, reeling from her revelation. He looks at Belle, dazed, and then at Tilly, who swallows hard. ‘Really sorry,’ she says.

  Sorry for what?

  Chapter 5

  ‘You will be sorry,’ Henrietta says, pushing Tilly’s phone back into her hand. She manages to make it somehow both a whisper and a shriek. Two senior members of the royal staff are summoned and they discreetly suggest the five of them adjourn somewhere private for a discussion. Why Jack has to join them isn’t clear to Reuben, though he has a long history of stirring up trouble, which is why it’s so annoying to see him with Tilly.

  Reuben still has no idea what’s going on, but it looks increasingly as though it involves him. And Belle. And like it’s something Tilly has done. How much damage could she possibly have caused from inside the ballroom? She definitely looks guilty. And terrified.

  ‘Here’s what we know,’ Henrietta says, once they’re safely in a private office, with the doors closed. She’s acting like they’ve entered a war-room strategy meeting.

  ‘Tilly has posted a photo to Instagram,’ she explains anticlimactically.

  ‘What photo?’ Isabelle asks.

  ‘One of you and Reuben, just now, at this ball. In private conversation.’

  Reuben wonders why they’re making so much of what this Australian girl has done. ‘Photos have been shared of Belle and me for years,’ he says. ‘It’s no big deal.’

  ‘This one is particularly – intimate,’ she snaps back. ‘And the alleged content of your conversation was also broadcast.’ She sends Tilly a withering look with the word ‘alleged’.

  Now it’s Belle’s turn to look terrified. She glances at Reuben in panic, and he moves closer to her, protectively. His phone buzzes in his breast pocket. It’s been buzzing incessantly for the last two minutes. He reaches for it and checks just the most recent notifications.

  Angus: Something you haven’t told me?

  Xavier: Congrats?

  Kat Hartland: Wow!!! Congrats???

  Angie: Call me. Urgent. Followed by another, I’m on my way! Don’t do anything stupid!

  What is all this? He switches off the phone and frowns. Maybe this is more than just a schoolgirl prank gone wrong. Belle moves even closer beside him, wordlessly, like she’s subliminally trying to communicate that this is a horrific turn of events for her and they need a united front. Her private truth, exposed to the world mere seconds after she finally found the courage to tell her best friend? It’s unimaginable.

  He looks at Tilly across the room. She’s frozen, staring at them both, like whatever she’s done is so far out of her hands now she’s lost all power and strength and is completely at their mercy.

  ‘Our “intern” shared the photo with hashtags that suggest you’re now engaged,’ Henrietta elaborates, barely able to spit out the words. Tilly crumples, mortified.

  Engaged? Ha! Is that all? It’s even funnier now than it would have been ten minutes ago. Belle collapses in a puff of pink, relieved, onto the lounge behind Reuben. It’s the least ‘princessy’ manoeuvre he’s ever seen her make when others are around.

  ‘Engaged?’ she says, laughing. ‘That’s hilarious. I mean – Reuben?’ She’s at risk of protesting too much and blowing her own secret.

  ‘Come on, Belle,’ Jack chimes in. ‘Coupling up at every opportunity, always each other’s “plus one”?’

  Reuben sits beside her on the couch, lazily crosses his legs and throws his arm around her shoulder, in some sort of friendly attempt to rein her in. She’s delirious in her relief. He can feel her shaking from the adrenaline rush. ‘She’d never have me,’ he says, squeezing her arm. ‘Apparently, I’m not her type.’

  Jack laughs bitterly. ‘Not into boy bands, no doubt.’

  Not into boys.

  Reuben feels Belle stifle a chuckle beside him. They steal a glance and smile knowingly at each other – keepers of her delicious secret, desperate for time alone to talk. Reuben wants to know everything. How long has she known? Who else has she told? Oh, man. What will her parents say?

  This is huge. The longer the information has to settle in his mind, the more he grasps the enormity of what she’s told him. He racks his memory, trying to think of one single princess in British history who was openly gay and officially in a same-sex relationship, but he’s got nothing. He just sits there, staring at her, marvelling at what she’s shared with him – and she stares at him and smiles. Again. He loves this new Belle!

  Jack glares at them and paces. ‘Is this display meant to convince us they’re not engaged?’

  Henrietta rolls her eyes. Tilly takes a step back towards the door.

  ‘How is this photo any different from all the other times fake headlines suggest this stuff?’ Reuben asks, playing it down, attempting to steer the conversation somewhere productive and get them all out of here.

  Tilly is actually shaking.

  ‘I used the wrong account,’ she confesses, like she’s speaking only to him. She’s breathing too fast. She puts a hand on her chest like it hurts. She starts pacing, and flapping her hands, and looking around the room for an escape route. ‘I thought I was still logged in to my private Insta.’

  He really doesn’t care. Not about Instagram or headlines or which account she’s used. He’s seen panic attacks before. He had one, early on when the band started. It was their first time on TV. He’d been convinced he was dying.

  He puts his hand on Belle’s knee as he stands up to cross the room. Everyone notices it – particularly Reuben. Is this still okay with her? Stop it! It’s not like she’s a totally different person! He hopes the unwritten rules of their friendship, most of which break royal protocols in several directions already, will never change.

  When he reaches her, Tilly looks at him like she’s drowning. ‘Breathe,’ he whispers. He instinctively reaches to touch her arm, but she shies away from him and his hand just hovers near her skin. He’s feeling fragile himself, suddenly. There are no easy friendship rules here.

  ‘She used the company account,’ Henrietta barges on, completely uninterested in Tilly’s emotional fragility. ‘With over sixty thousand followers, a large contingent of which are of course media contacts, including every newspaper and gossip magazine in the UK, and several overseas, so you can see why this is such a serious —’

  ‘Can you be quiet?’ Reuben interrupts tersely. ‘Please!’

  Henrietta is not the type of person who can be shushed, even if she technically works for him. Maybe it’s because she’s been with the band since the start, when they were kids, but she forgets who’s boss. ‘Because you are our client, Reuben, this looks like an official leak.’

  He’s about five seconds off firing her, not because of her firm’s drastic PR mistake, or the way it could mess up the six-week break the band was about to take, but for the way she’s storming all over her jet-lagged intern, who
is clearly having a serious panic attack here, not that anyone else seems to care about it.

  ‘We’ll sort this out,’ he says calmly to Tilly. He doesn’t know how, but they will. ‘What’s a wildly inaccurate royal wedding announcement between friends, anyway?’ And he winks.

  Chapter 6

  It’s Reuben whom Belle is acutely aware of, across the room. He’s the one holding her secret. The only one who knows. The only person who knows her. All of her, for real, for the first time ever. It’s exhilarating.

  She can’t keep her eyes off him. Wants to probe his inner thoughts. Explore this! Tell him everything, but he is looking after Tilly, Jack’s friend. He’s been distracted by her all night, long before their conversation. His usual bevy of adoring fans had been all over him, literally, in a way that Isabelle herself has never been. But tonight had been different. Reuben hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off this new girl.

  He’s patiently encouraging Tilly to breathe, while she fiddles with the sparkly chain on the silver clutch that’s hanging from her shoulder. Gosh, Belle adores him. She always has. Reuben was the friend who had seen her at her worst when Olivia, her twin, had died. She’s always harboured this secret fantasy that Olivia made sure he was there, somehow.

  The girls had been fifteen, and the only children in their family. Olivia’s illness had dragged out longer than anyone had thought possible, but that was her way. Determined. Even as a teenager she had ‘things to do’. Plans to unfold as a princess that would have taken her miles away from any direction Belle would ever choose.

  Belle had always felt protected by the three-minute buffer in their ages. She’d seen it as the barrier between her and a life she knew she’d hate. Olivia was the natural princess. Belle always felt gangly and awkward and camera-shy. She wanted to be out there, just a normal kid in the general public. Someone in the crowd, not waving from a balcony. A normal student, without security detail, free to tweet her left-leaning political views and march in protests and op-shop without a camera crew. Olivia had been princess enough for both of them. And then she was gone, along with that three-minute buffer and any hope Belle had of living a low-key life.