by Page, Sophie
Bella was aware of a sneaking sympathy for him. She repressed it. He deserved to suffer a lot more yet before she forgave him. If she forgave him.
‘I never tried to vamp you,’ she said hotly.
He looked up then. ‘No. Exactly. You were just sweet and all tied up with your own problems.’
She stiffened. ‘Are you saying I’m self-obsessed?’
He smiled. ‘No, you just had your own priorities. And I wasn’t one of them. You have no idea what that was like. I felt like a horse galloping into a field after spending its life walking round and round a paddock.’
‘Really?’ She was sceptical.
He ran his hands through his hair. ‘Look, everyone around me thinks I’m so important, and it’s not good to be the person for whom everything is done, around whom everything is planned. They treat me like a national monument. And then, on Saturday, as far as you were concerned I was just a guy who happened by. It was a new experience for me.’
‘I – see.’ It made sense in a weird way.
‘I didn’t want to give that up. Can you understand that?’
‘I suppose so. But it still doesn’t explain why you went on playing Mr Nobody this morning. That was horrid.’
He flushed. ‘I know.’
‘I even asked who you were, for God’s sake.’
‘I know,’ he said miserably. ‘But I don’t usually have to tell people who I am. I couldn’t find the words somehow. And while I was floundering, you ran off.’
‘Hmm.’ That made sense, she thought, softening.
‘I knew I’d done it wrong as soon as you did. You looked so – hurt.’
Bella flinched and hardened herself again. ‘So why didn’t you come after me and put it right? Tell me who you were, at least?’
‘I wanted to. But, well, there was my security man watching. And God knows who else. You might not have recognised me but there are plenty of people who do, all the time.’
‘Recognise you?’ She gave a hoot of derision. ‘How the hell would they recognise you under a hoodie and shades? You looked like a CIA assassin.’
‘Really?’ He sounded flattered.
‘Not a very good assassin.’
‘Oh, well, that’s me in my place,’ he said resignedly.
In spite of herself, she gave a faint giggle.
He looked up hopefully. ‘Bella, please. I know I’ve been all sorts of an idiot and you have every right to kick me out and never see me again. But – can we start again? Please?’
She thought about it. ‘Start again?’
‘As if we’d just met.’
‘Saturday never happened?’
His eyes lit with that secret laughter. ‘I don’t want to go that far. You looked very fetching among the flowerpots. Say this morning never happened.’
‘Ah.’ She thought about it. ‘Proper introductions?’
‘If you want. The Hamiltons could ask us both to dinner …’
She waved that aside. ‘I don’t mean references and people you know setting it up with people I know. I mean you telling me who you are, what you do and what you want. And then giving me a phone number, like people do. If you want to.’
He looked dazed. ‘I want to,’ he said in a sort of strangled croak.
‘OK then. Let’s see how it goes. Hello. I’m Bella Greenwood.’ She held out her hand.
He took it. But instead of shaking it politely, he stood up and went down on one knee in front of the sofa, holding her hand between both of his.
Oh, my Lord, she thought, startled.
‘I’m Richard. I’m heir to the British throne. I saw you across a moonlit courtyard and I couldn’t wait to meet you.’
WOW! she thought.
Aloud she said, ‘You are nuts. You know that?’
‘You can’t say things like that to the heir to the throne,’ he said calmly.
And kissed her hand. Very gently, but it was a real kiss all the same. She felt it through her skin and down to her bones, and it damn nearly stopped her heart.
‘You are going seriously OTT,’ she said in a breathless, scolding voice.
‘You told me to tell you what I want,’ he said in an injured voice.
‘I said proper introductions,’ she hissed, seriously flustered.
‘Well, all right, if you insist. But if you want to curtsey, you’ll have to stand up.’
‘Curtsey? No way.’
‘You are quite right. You shouldn’t put any weight on that foot yet. Not for hours. In fact, I think—’
Abruptly he stopped kneeling beside her and plonked himself down on the sofa. ‘Budge up.’
She did, eyeing him warily. He put one arm along the saggy old back and leaned forward, looking down into her eyes. His, she saw, were brown and very, very amused.
‘I think you should lie back and—’
‘If you tell me to lie back and think of England, I shall deck you,’ snarled Bella, finding herself a lot deeper among the cushions than she had expected.
He smiled. ‘No, you won’t.’
And kissed her.
And there was a yell as the front door opened and Lottie skidded on spilled tea and the ruins of her forget-me-not-mug.
Richard let Bella go rather slowly. ‘There.’
She swallowed. ‘You took advantage of me.’
‘Yup.’
‘Oh, God. And now Lottie’s home.’
‘Charlotte thing? Good.’ He stood up.
‘Good? Good? Have you no sense of timing?’
But he was already in the small hall. Bella heard him say, ‘Charlotte Hendred? You won’t remember me, but we met at the Hamiltons’ several months ago. I wonder if you would do me the immense kindness of introducing me to your friend, Miss Greenwood.’
There were glugging sounds from the hallway. Bella sympathised. The man was a swine, with a very nasty sense of humour.
She struggled off the sofa and limped over to the door of the sitting room. She was very much afraid that her hair was a mess and her cheeks were pink. Lottie would recognise the signs of a woman who had just been comprehensively kissed. But there wasn’t a thing Bella could do about it.
‘Um … hi, Lottie. Richard –’ she glared at him ‘– is teasing you. We met on Saturday.’
‘But we weren’t properly introduced,’ he said imperturbably. ‘Miss Hendred?’
Lottie looked from one to the other of them, and shrugged.
‘Your Royal Highness, may I present Miss Isabella Greenwood, a childhood friend and currently my flat-mate.’
Bella’s chin rose. ‘I told you. No curtseying.’
His eyes laughed. ‘OK. What about a date? A proper date, where I pick you up, take you to dinner and bring you home again?’
Bella was so taken aback she could only mouth, like a goldfish, but no words came out.
He stood there, all courteous attention, waiting for an answer.
Eventually she managed a wordless ‘squee’ noise, like a demented dentist’s drill, and he inclined his head.
‘Thank you. Tomorrow? Eight o’clock?’
She squeaked again.
He clicked his fingers. ‘Phone number. You wanted me to give it to you. But I think you have it on your phone already. Lots and lots of times, in fact. Call me if you want to change the plans. Otherwise I’ll see you here tomorrow at eight.’
He came over and looked down at her, half laughing and wholly purposeful. Bella swallowed. But he didn’t kiss her. Instead he touched one hand to her scarlet cheek. Which was worse, somehow; wonderful but worse.
‘Take care of that foot,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘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!’
5
‘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.’
