Page 4 of The Forever Match

Ash bowed right back, which made him smile. “Always a pleasure, Desmond.”

Victoria loved how Ash behaved around the Palace staff. Treating everyone as an equal was a sign of great character, and Ash had passed with flying colours right away. More than could be said for her brother, Michael, over the years.

“Is my mother here yet?” Ash asked.

Desmond nodded. “Oh yes. She arrived half an hour ago. She’s with the Queen already.”

Ash’s face spelt alarm.

Victoria put a soothing hand on her wrist. “No need to run up the stairs, darling. She’s been here half an hour. Any damage has already been done.”

Ash’s face crumpled. “I can only imagine.”

The side vestibule was full of pink roses, and they smelled sweet and summery. It did nothing to quell Victoria’s headache. She whipped off her shades, then squinted. The heavy marble that had been rolling around her head since she forced herself upright chose this moment to slam into the front of her skull.

She winced. Everything was too bright, and the drummers had been joined by an unholy, tuneless orchestra. She honestly didn’t know how Michael had walked through life hungover for so many years. The handful of times she did every year always made her question her life choices.

“Be honest,” she said, turning to Ash. “Should I keep my glasses on? I don’t want to be obvious, but if my eyes are still as bloodshot as they were this morning, I can’t have them on show.”

“Babe.” Ash’s voice was gentle. She was humouring her, Victoria knew. “You can do what you like. But you look beautiful, just like always. I’d say leave them off, and act confident. If you act the part, you’ll be the part. It’s what I always say to my team when things aren’t clicking. Tell yourself you’re great, and you will be.”

She nodded at Ash. She knew she was right, but Victoria wasn’t in the mood for self-help platitudes today.

“Plus, the Queen won’t be on her A-game. Remember, she’s already had 30 minutes of Debra Woods. She’s going to want to get this done asap, and get out.”

Victoria beamed: Ash was right about that. Her mother hated small talk, whereas Debra was the literal Queen of it.

“Have I told you how much I love your mum?”

The pastry chefs had set up in the White Drawing Room, bowing in unison as Victoria and Ash approached. Starched tablecloths gleamed under a parade of cakes, each with its own little name card, like contestants at the world’s most calorific speed-dating event. Lemon and poppy seed. Triple chocolate delight. Red velvet (Ash’s pick). The obligatory fruit cake dressed in royal icing. And, at Victoria’s request, salted caramel banana with Italian meringue, a cake she’d tasted at a wedding last spring and had dreamed of ever since.

She breathed in sugar and butter, then salivated. Victoria clenched a fist by her side, and fought the urge to scoop them up and cram them all in her mouth at once. Ash was right: a fistful of cake (maybe two) would do her hangover the world of good. But she couldn’t do that with her mother watching. That was not future Queen behaviour.

As they walked in, her mother looked up and gave her a taut smile. At her feet, the royal corgis, Honey and Truffle, barked loudly. Ash’s mum, Debra, was perched on the edge of their Regency sofas.

“There you are! We were going to call out a search party, weren’t we, Debra?”

Her mother’s voice held some sort of weird jocular vibe that put Victoria on edge. The Queen was obviously going to get a headache after this, and have to lie down for an hour. Her mother’s job meant she could do small talk very well, but it didn’t mean she cared for it.

The Queen walked over, Honey and Truffle following in her wake. When she got to them, she gave Victoria a once-over.

“You look a little tired, but I’ll forgive it just this once, as it was your hen party last night. How was it?”

Ash nodded. “Great. Your daughter showed us all how good she is at twerking. And there was tequila.”

It wasn’t lost on Victoria how much Ash had mellowed in her mother’s presence since they’d first met. In fact, it almost irked her. Ash treated her mother like she was a teammate on her team, the Royal Ravens. The weirdest thing about it was that her mother seemed to lap it up.

In contrast, the Queen and Victoria still spoke to each other as if they were being filmed by the royalty police, all buried emotions and formality. With Ash, it felt like the Queen might practice shooting drills with her, then take her for a pint. Just the thought made Victoria smile inside.

“Marvellous,” her mother said. “Hopefully all the frivolity is out of your system now, and we can get on with all the work that needs to get done before the big day. First of all, the cake.”

Debra stood up from the sofa, teacup in hand. “Are you coming over here, or shall I come to you?”

“We’ll come to you, Mum.”

Ash crossed the room and wrapped her mum in a hug. Victoria followed suit, which bore precisely no resemblance to the greeting she’d offered her own mother, and then they sat. Victoria and Ash on one side, her mother and Debra on the other, Honey and Truffle patrolling, ready for any crumbs that might come their way.

It wasn’t lost on Victoria that this was where she and Ash had sat with both her parents after their relationship had leaked to the press, the day they’d agreed to take a break. She glanced at Ash, who took her hand in her own and squeezed. Was she thinking the same thing? Victoria was so glad that this time, they were back in far happier circumstances.