Page 42 of Tabloid Princess

Nana reached down and pulled a bundle of black and white paper onto the table. The Sun was the first one folded on top, its bold headline reading: Princess Leia. Who is Ollie’s Mystery Woman?

“Oh God.” I may as well have been punched in the stomach. “How did they get my name already?”

“Leia? What is all this about? You haven’t mentioned him to me all week, yet the papers are saying he’s been in your office.”

I wanted to put my head down on the table and die. “He came in on Monday. It was supposed to be a surprise one-off visit, but he ended up staying longer.”

“Ended up? Unplanned?”

“I don’t know.” I scrubbed at my face with my hands. “He’s a prince, why does he do anything?”

She shoved the papers at me and with weak fingers I pulled the top one off, finding the exact same image on the following three front pages: Prince Oliver with his hand close to my ear, his eyes staring at me in a way that even from a printed page made my stomach tighten.

“And you’ve spoken to him? Because honestly, Leia. It looks like he knows you well.”

I couldn’t meet her eyes, couldn’t take my eyes away from the image of the Prince and I inches apart. “We spoke a couple of times. I was rude; quite horrible actually.”

I glared up at her, my eyes burning. “What if they find out about me? What if it doesn’t go away?”

“What are they going to find out, Leia? That you had a shitty upbringing, but you survived it?”

“I’ve never wanted Daisy to know. Now everyone she knows, all those parents who judge me anyway for being so much younger than them, everyone will know. It will ruin her.”

“Or maybe all her friends will think she’s cool because her mum knows a prince.”

I scowled so hard it hurt. “It’s not her friends I’m worried about.”

“Leia. For goodness’ sake. Your mother was an addict. My daughter was an addict. That’s not you. Now you try to help people with the same issues.”

Nana never spoke this way, never so direct about that awful period seven years ago when my world imploded.

“What if all the mums think I’m like her?”

“You are talking nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense, Nana.” I slumped down in my seat. “It’s my biggest fear. I won’t have Daisy thinking she was some awful mistake I should have terminated.”

“She’d never think that. You love her too much.” She reached forward and cupped her palm around my cheek. “It will blow over. Prince Oliver is in the paper daily; this is just yet another headline. Tomorrow there will be a new one, a new woman, another date to make the front page.”

“When so many other important issues should be reported instead.” My words were bitter.

“Exactly, but that’s the way our society works. It’s messed up, but at least you will know that this will pass. A couple of days and everyone will forget about the prince and you wearing matching T-shirts.”

She pulled the pile of papers towards her, studying the picture again. “What was he like?” she asked. There was more in her question; it danced under the surface.

I looked at Prince Oliver’s hand against my hair, delicate and soft. I knew I’d never see him again. His time with us was up now. In many ways it looked like I’d got what I wanted—we’d gone viral. That T-shirt, the name of our charity, our slogan to dream free was everywhere this morning; all over the world everywhere.

I swallowed; that new pain in my chest stung around the edges, making me wince.

“He was more than I expected.”

Then I flipped the papers. “Nana, could you take Daisy to school? I can’t face the playground today. I’ll ring Miss Evans later and explain what I can.” I paused. “Or do you think we should keep Daisy home? This is unfair on her, isn’t it?”

Nana’s face smoothed into one of calm control. “No. She goes. If this is nonsense, just gossip, then nothing changes.”

I wished I had her optimism, because as far as I could tell everything had changed.

Thank God the press hadn’t found out where I lived yet. As it was, the trip to work was a nightmare. I couldn’t shake the sensation everyone was looking at me. Only about ninety-five percent of people glanced in my direction. All I could guess was that the other five percent hadn’t looked at their phones yet.