Page 23 of Tabloid Princess

“True.” It was a lie though and I hated myself for not saying what was on my mind.

“Spit it out.”

“What?”

“Whatever it is burning the end of your tongue.”

I snorted a small laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“Painfully so. I’m quite scared right now of what you are going to say.” He shot me a polite smile.

I shook my head. “It’s just people do work in worse conditions than that, every day, for less. So, our air con being bust isn’t really the bigger picture.”

“And you’re a bigger picture kind of woman?”

“Everyone should be a bigger picture kind of person. Then our country, the world possibly, wouldn’t be in such a bloody mess.”

“Very inspiring.”

I got up to leave, but his fingers rested on my arm, freezing me almost in place. “Tell me more.”

“Brutal?”

“I can take it.” There was a flicker in his beautiful eyes.

“This ball?”

“For my birthday?”

“Yes, for your birthday, to announce your new charity initiative or whatever it is you want to call it.”

He nodded and waited for me to go on.

“Who’s it for? Do you need a ball to celebrate your birthday? Is it to raise money for the charity? Or is it to celebrate the charity?”

He watched me intently. “Go on.”

“The people we help. The people around here. They have nothing. Like some of them, literally nothing. Many of them end up homeless because of their addiction, families who were once prosperous can find themselves living on benefits, struggling to put food on the table. To me a ball is a waste of money that would be better spent elsewhere. But then, I know how you like a party.” My cheeks flamed—my comment was purely based on scandalous gossip.

He nodded but still didn’t speak.

Bollocks, I might as well go all out. “So, you invite some rich poncey people who all come and drink champagne. Champagne that probably costs more money per bottle than lots of people spend on food in a week. The staff at Bright Futures get dressed up and have a lovely night out. Maybe we get some phone calls and maybe the press talks about us for a little while; maybe our bank balance improves.” I dragged in a breath. “But what about those people at the homeless shelter? What about the people who live down the road at the council estate whose dad has just blown the school trip money on cocaine? What about the wife who has lost everything and is hanging onto her family by sheer grit and determination? For those people nothing would change. They won’t know about champagne and canapés or that somewhere there were a bunch of over-rich people dressed in finery discussing them as though they were a pitiful slice of society that couldn’t be saved.”

He nodded slowly and I wiped my sweaty palms along my trousers and then glanced at my watch. “Time’s up.”

He still hadn’t spoken, so I stood and turned, glancing down at the future King whose face was carved into a repose of thoughtful consideration. “Thank you for my note, by the way.”

He looked up then, his stare pensive. Within its depths was a nameless emotion I couldn’t understand. “You are welcome.”

Part of me didn’t want to leave. Would have sat on the bench and listened to his response to what I’d said.

But that wasn’t my role. He had staff like Freya for that, a team who could probably take my thoughts and analyse them and then tell him that a ball was still the best way to celebrate his birthday.

I shrugged, helpless really.

“Bye,” I whispered, turning on my heel and making my way to where Bill was still standing guard. He nodded at me as I slipped past and I couldn’t help but turn and look at the prince still frozen in place on the park bench like a statue of an Adonis deep in thought.

I turned towards the Tube station praying to whoever might be listening that I hadn’t just totally messed things up for Janine and Bright Futures.