Page 23

CHAPTER 23

S team curled around them in the vast bathroom, Victoria’s back pressed against Ash’s chest in the claw-footed tub, water lapping at their skin. Despite their urgent reunion a few hours ago — all desperate hands and hungry mouths after a week apart — being in the bath felt somehow more intimate. Ash winced slightly as Victoria’s shoulder found the spot where a Bayern defender had left her mark in this week’s Champions League game. Ninety minutes of European football written in purple across her ribs. However, Victoria’s lips had traced each forming bruise with such tenderness earlier, Ash had almost forgotten the pain.

“I told them about us,” Victoria whispered.

Ash’s finger froze mid-pattern on Victoria’s shoulder.

There it was. The thing Victoria had been dancing around in her messages all week. She’d told Ash she had something to tell her, but wanted to wait until she saw her in person.

Ash flinched. “You did?”

Victoria’s hand found hers under the water, gripping tight. “On Saturday. Just after you scored that goal against City. We were all watching it after brunch.”

She’d told Ash that part, which Ash still couldn’t get her head around. Of all the people she imagined watching her play football, the Queen and King had never figured in that equation.

“I couldn’t keep lying to them, Ash. It wasn't fair to any of us.”

Ash tried to remember how to breathe properly, which made her bruised ribs throb. The Queen knew . The actual Queen of Britain knew that Ashleigh Woods, daughter of a nurse and a civil servant, had slept with her daughter. Was in a relationship with her.

Well, fuck.

“What did they say?” Her voice was spaghetti-thin.

“They were surprised. But not angry. They want to meet you.”

“Meet me?” Ash had known it would happen, of course, but this seemed a little soon.

Victoria stayed very still, just moving Ash’s fingers to her lips to kiss them. It wasn’t lost on Ash that she wasn’t looking at her as they had this chat. Perhaps that made it easier.

“Properly. As my girlfriend.”

Ash stared at the ornate brass tap and shower attachment at the other end of the bath. Her mind raced. She’d met the King before, of course: quick handshakes at official functions, polite small talk at post-match receptions. But this would be different. They’d be looking at her as the person their daughter had chosen. Measuring her worth. Finding her wanting.

“I’m not... I mean, I’m just...” The words stuck in her throat. Just a footballer. Just a working-class girl from St Albans.

At least she was sure which fork to use first.

Victoria twisted her body, and water sloshed over the side of the tub. She knelt before Ash, breasts enticing as her hands cupped Ash’s face, forcing Ash to meet her eyes. “You’re everything. It’s going to be okay.” She kissed her lips, which calmed Ash momentarily.

She nodded, staring into Victoria’s rich blue eyes. However, no matter how much she wanted to be worthy, she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it. “I know you think that. And when we’re together, I do, too. But what if they don’t think I’m good enough?” The fear that had been lurking since their first kiss finally voiced itself. “What if they’re right?”

“Hey.” Victoria’s thumb brushed Ash’s cheekbone. “You’re one of the kindest, most genuine people I know. And if social media is to be believed, every queer woman in the country wants to sleep with you.” She grinned. “And I’m the lucky one who actually gets to do it.”

Ash gave a small smile. “You should definitely lead with that.”

Victoria kissed her lips once more. The effect never failed. “They’re going to love you.” She went to say something else, then stopped.

“When?” Ash needed a timeline to her execution.

“Tuesday week. October 13th. You told me you had two days off after the Arsenal game?”

Ash nodded.

“They suggested afternoon tea at the Palace.”

Ash let out a shaky laugh. “At Buckingham Palace?” Her mind shook, then collapsed. “Right. No pressure. Just a casual afternoon with the Queen and King at an actual palace.”

Victoria licked her lips. “Pressure is a privilege. It means if things work out, you can effect change.”

“And if things don’t work out?”

“You try again.”

Ash took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s try to effect change.” She paused. “I’ll come, on one condition.”

Victoria tilted her head. “What’s that?”

“If I’m meeting your parents, you’ll have to meet mine, too. How do you fancy a Sunday roast in St Albans? I should warn you, they live on Victoria Street. Probably named after your ancestor. Mum’ll make her famous Yorkshire puddings, Dad’ll tell all his terrible jokes, and then they’ll drag out every embarrassing photo from when I was younger. What do you say?”

Victoria’s eyes widened slightly, and Ash saw a flicker of nerves cross her face. “Of course. Fair’s fair. I’d love to get to know your family.”

“They’re not the Queen and King, but...” Ash trailed off, suddenly uncertain.

“They’re just my parents,” Victoria told her. “Just as your mum and dad are yours. They’re important because you love them.” She gave a jagged smile. “Do you think they’ll like me?”

The role reversal wasn’t lost on Ash, who couldn’t help but laugh. “My mum already loves you. She’s got every magazine article about you cut out and saved. Dad pretends he doesn’t care about the royals, but he watches the Trooping of the Colour and the Queen’s speech every year.” She paused, her heart beating loud in her chest. The words she’d been holding back for weeks rose up, impossible to contain any longer. “But most of all, they’ll love you because…” Ash took a deep breath.

“Because?” Victoria asked, holding her gaze.

Ash licked her lips. “Because I do,” she said.

The moment the words left her mouth, the bathroom went absolutely still. Victoria’s breath stilled, and Ash’s own pulse roared in her ears. She’d thought it a thousand times, whispered it in her head as Victoria slept, but she’d never said it out loud before. Now it hung in the steam between them, real and raw and terrifying.

Victoria’s eyes were huge, searching Ash’s face. “You love me?”

Ash’s throat went tight, a weird mix of fear and release flooding through her. No taking it back now. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” The words came out rough, honest in a way she couldn’t control. “Have done ever since I heard your glorious laugh and held your gaze when you pinned a medal on me.” Her hands shook, but she didn’t try to hide it. Not anymore.

Victoria’s reply was a kiss, fierce and tender all at once. When they broke apart, her eyes were glassy. “I love you, too. Which makes this doubly complicated, right?”

Relief flooded Ash. “You could say that.” She took Victoria in her arms.

For a long moment they just held each other, the cooling water lapping around them, until Victoria laughed softly against Ash’s neck. “You think we should tell our parents we’re in love?”

“Mine have got to get over the fact I’ve seen the future queen naked, first.”

Victoria kissed her again. When she pulled back, her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and Ash caught that shadow in her glint again: that hint of something unspoken. For now though, she pulled her closer, careful of her own ribs, and let the water and Victoria’s touch wash away her fears. They had two families to face, but at least they’d face them together. Plus, now she knew — really knew — that what they had was worth fighting for.

Victoria pressed herself back against Ash, kissing Ash’s hands, before placing them on her own stomach. “Your mum’s Yorkshire puddings,” Victoria added. “Are they worth the trip alone?”

“Damn right they are,” Ash replied.

The water cooled around them, but neither made a move to leave. Ash just hoped their love was enough to survive these first family meetings.

And then, everything that came after that.

The familiar squeak of the side gate announced Ash’s arrival before she appeared in the warm kitchen-diner at the back of the house. Nothing had changed since she was a kid: the same worn oak table dominated the space, its surface marked with 30 years of family meals and homework sessions. The Welsh dresser still displayed her mum’s collection of chinoiserie porcelain, alongside a smattering of Ash’s medals and trophies from her childhood.

October sunlight filtered through the home-made gingham curtains, casting long afternoon shadows across the slate-grey tiles. Outside, the cherry tree that had been there since before Ash was born was starting to flower, its pink blossoms cheering up the garden and everything around it.

“Look who’s decided to grace us with her presence!” Debra Woods wiped her hands on her apron as Ash walked in, still in her training gear, tracking bits of Hertfordshire mud onto the floor. The radio hummed softly from its perch by the sink, some Radio 2 afternoon show her mum always had on while she pottered. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten where we lived.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Ash dropped her bag by the patio doors out to the garden, and accepted the crushing hug, breathing in the familiar scent of baking and lavender washing powder. “I’ve just been really busy, you know how it is once the season starts.” She trailed off, her heart already racing at what she needed to say. “What are you baking?”

“Rhubarb and custard cake. First time. We’ll see how it turns out.” Her mum wiped down the counter before she continued, rinsing the cloth in the sink. “Saw your goal against City. Proper striker’s finish, that. You must have been working hard in training.” Debra pulled a couple of mugs from the cupboard above the AGA, the one that still stuck slightly in autumn dampness. “How’s your fitness coming along? You looked sharp against City and against Bayern, although she still took you off after 60 minutes, didn’t she?”

Ash nodded. “The knee’s feeling virtually back to normal, now it’s a matter of trust and confidence. But I’m getting stronger every day and starting every game, so hopefully, I’ll be back to where I was soon. Everyone tells me I just need patience—”

“Not your strong suit.” Her mum added milk to their teas.

“No,” Ash smiled. “But I’m trying to trust the process.”

Ash took her steaming mug of tea, warming her hands around it as she leaned against the counter where she’d once needed a stool to reach the biscuit tin. Through the window, she could see their neighbour, Julie, hanging out her washing on her rotary line.

“Can we sit down for a minute?” Her mum definitely needed to be sat for this news.

Debra’s eyes narrowed. “What have you done?”

“Nothing.” But Ash wasn’t sure that was strictly true. “I just want to talk to you.”

“Which makes me nervous.” But her mum took off her apron, pulled out a chair, and sat. “The cake’s in the oven. I’ve got tea. I’m all ears.”

Ash sat opposite and stared into her tea, then at her mum.

“You know how I haven’t been around much lately?”

“I think we’ve already established that, yes. I put years into raising you, then you never come home. Noted.”

“The reason is that I’m seeing someone.”

Her mum sat up straight. “Finally!” She frowned. “That’s good news, yes?” She waved her hand. “I’m not sure from your face.” She paused. “Tell me you’re not back together with Danielle, because I don’t think I could go through that again.”

Ash spluttered. “No, I’m not. But I am dating someone who you might not expect.”

“Someone from Arsenal?”

“Not a footballer.”

Her mum’s shoulders relaxed a little. “That’s good news. I kept telling you to fish in a different pond.”

She’d certainly done that.

Ash took a deep breath, her fingers tracing the chip on her mug’s handle. “The thing is, I’m seeing Victoria.”

Her mum frowned. “Victoria who?”

“Victoria Richmond. Princess Victoria.”

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the gentle tick of the kitchen clock above the door, and the distant toll of the cathedral bells marking four o’clock. Her mum’s mouth opened and closed several times before she spoke. “The Princess Royal? Who’s just broken up with Dexter Matthews? Don’t be so silly. Plus, she’s not gay.” Confusion clouded her face. “Is she?”

“It would seem she might be a little bit.”

“But she’s only ever dated men…” Her mum shook her head. “You’re not joking, are you?”

Ash shook her head, finally bringing her gaze to meet her mother’s. “I’m not.”

Debra blew out a long breath. “I can’t quite wrap my head around what you’re saying.” She paused. “How long?”

She had no idea when they became official. “Maybe three months?”

“Three months!” Debra’s voice rose an octave, making the cat sleeping in its basket by the radiator look up in alarm. “You’ve been dating the future Queen for three months and you’re just telling me now?” If her mum had a top, it had just officially blown.

“We had to be careful. Nobody knows except her parents, and she only told them this week.” She bit her lip. “Which is part of the reason I’m telling you. We really like each other. We think this might go somewhere. She wants me to meet her parents, and I’d like you to meet her, too.” Ash paused, not missing the alarm that swept across her mum’s face. “I’ve told her she’d be welcome for Sunday lunch this weekend. Our game is tomorrow night, so it works out. Would that be okay?”

Debra gripped the edge of the table. “Is that enough time to repaint the house, buy a whole new crockery set and hire a Michelin-starred chef to cook for her?”

Ash smiled and reached across to cover her mum’s hand. “She’s really quite normal. I told her you cook a mean Yorkshire, and she’s looking forward to that.”

“She’s royalty, Ash! I can’t even begin to think about her being normal.”

Right at that moment, her dad appeared at the patio doors, and walked in, his pink tie loosened over his grey suit. He worked for the local council, and, being an early riser, had negotiated his hours so he could start early and finish early, too. When he saw Ash, his face lit up. “Well, this is a lovely surprise!” He walked over and gave Ash a hug, then kissed his wife on the top of her head. When neither of them responded, he looked between them, noting the tension. “Who’s died? What have I missed?”

“Sit down,” Debra said faintly. “Ash has something to tell you.”

Her dad sat at the head of the table between them, then turned to Ash, his face eager. “This sounds serious. I’m pretty sure you’re not pregnant. Plus, you’re already England captain, so I’ve no idea how you’re going to top that.”

This time, Ash ripped the plaster off in one go. “Dad, I’m in a relationship with Princess Victoria.”

There was silence, quickly followed by her dad’s big belly-laugh. He slapped his thigh. “Good one. What’s really going on?”

“It’s not a joke, Dad. We’ve been together a few months. She wants to meet you both.”

The laugh died in his throat as he realised his daughter was serious. He looked at Debra, who nodded weakly.

“She’s coming to meet us,” Debra added, sounding slightly hysterical. “The Princess Royal is coming for Sunday lunch. In our house. On Victoria Street.” She paused. “Oh god, will she think we’re being funny, living on Victoria Street?”

“I think it makes it extra-special.”

Her dad ran a hand over his goatee beard. “Bloody hell, Ash.”

“I know it’s a lot,” Ash said quickly. “But she’s just... she’s just Victoria to me. She’s funny and kind, and she makes me happy. Really happy.”

Something in her voice made both her parents look at her sharply. Debra reached across the table and took her hand.

“Oh my god, you’ve fallen for her, haven’t you?” It wasn’t really a question.

Ash fought to keep her emotions in check, swallowing hard. “I don’t know, Mum.” But she did. “Maybe I have, but it’s kinda scary. What happens when everyone else finds out?”

But Debra inhaled, patted Ash’s hand, and stood up. “Then you deal with it like you do with everything. With honesty, grace and dignity.”

“Your mum’s right.” Her dad jumped up. “Although it doesn’t mean your mother won’t be practising how to cook a roast in the run-up.” He gave his wife a grin. “She’s going to love your Yorkshires. She’ll go home telling the Queen about them.”

“Oh, shit.” Her mum clutched the top of her chair. “The good china. We’ll need the good china down from the loft.” She clicked her fingers. “And the tablecloth your gran left us.” She stopped suddenly. “What if she wants to see the cathedral? Does she want a tour of the city? How will she get here? She’s coming in the front door, not the back like normal. Will they have to close the street, because if they do, we might have to tell the neighbours…”

“Mum,” Ash interrupted. “She just wants to meet you. Both of you. As you are.”

“As we are?” Her mum paled. “I’m not having the future Queen eat off our normal plates. They’re from Primark!”

That was when her dad put his arm around his wife, and started to laugh. “Only our Ash could date anyone in the world, and she picks a bloody princess.”

“Language!” Debra swatted him. “You can’t swear in front of royalty!”

“She swears, Mum. She’s going out with me.”

Outside, the distant cathedral bells chimed quarter past. Debra was already up, opening cupboards. “The silver needs polishing. Or we need to buy some. Do we need to get those little flags? What’s it called?”

“No bunting!” Ash said. “It’s just my girlfriend coming for Sunday lunch.” She was going to have to monitor what they were doing, in case she turned up and the house was one giant Union Jack.

“Do we have to bow?” her dad asked.

“One thing’s for certain,” her mum added. “We’re going shopping tomorrow. You need a new outfit, and I need... everything . Everything needs to be perfect. The market will still have some nice autumn flowers...”

“At least finish your tea first?” Ash dropped her head onto the table with a groan.

Her dad patted her shoulder. “Better get used to it, love. Your mum’s going to be impossible all week.”

“And you need a haircut before Sunday!” she told him.

Ash couldn’t help smiling, despite everything. Through the window, the October dusk settled over the cathedral city, and the streetlights flickered on along Victoria Street. Her parents might be panicking, but they hadn’t questioned it, hadn’t judged.

They just wanted everything to be perfect for the woman she loved.