Page 24

CHAPTER 24

V ictoria adjusted her Chanel blazer one final time before stepping out of the Range Rover onto Victoria Street. Her bodyguards were in position, but on a street like this, they stuck out like sore thumbs.

Through net curtains, faces appeared and disappeared like nervous fish. Victoria had persuaded Tanya to take the day off, and she was going in with just Ash by her side. Nobody else. She wanted this to be as normal as possible. Even though she was scared witless.

If she and Ash were going to work, this had to work, too. She’d dated enough people to know that. The support of family was priceless.

“They’re going to love you.” Ash put a hand on her arm.

“Easy for you to say.” Victoria adjusted her wide-brimmed hat, worn to stop too much recognition. Although now she was wondering how many guests turned up on a suburban street in a wide-brimmed hat.

“Just remember, they’re very nervous, so ignore everything that comes out of their mouths.” Ash had been warning her of this the whole way over.

“Got it. Let’s get in before people cotton on and get their smartphones out.”

The door opened before Ash even knocked. On the other side stood a woman with a manic smile and the same eyes as Ash. She was wearing a new dress, too. Victoria could spot fresh-off-the-rail at 50 paces. She was also practically vibrating with nervous energy.

“Mrs Woods,” Victoria began, offering a hand.

“Call me Debra, Your Highness,” she replied, ushering her in while also doing a series of curtsies. Behind her, Victoria could almost hear Ash cringing.

“And please, call me Victoria.”

The house smelled of roast beef and Sunday best. Victoria took in the family photos on the walls as she was ushered through to the kitchen-diner: Ash in football kits through the years, school photos, family holidays at British beaches. A normal family’s normal memories, displayed without calculation or consideration of historical significance.

“We got the good china out.” Debra gestured to the table. “My mother’s Royal Albert. Seemed appropriate.” She laughed. A high, anxious sound.

Victoria spotted Ash’s wince, and hoped her mum relaxed soon. For Ash’s sake, as well as everyone else.

This was exactly what Victoria had fretted about: the way her title walked into rooms before she did, reshaping everything and everyone around it.

“The table looks wonderful.” Victoria removed her hat and Ash took it from her, along with her jacket. From behind the kitchen counter, Ash’s dad strode around and offered his hand. He was wearing a suit, which Victoria was pretty sure wasn’t his normal lunchtime attire.

“Great to meet you, Victoria.” He frowned. “I shouldn’t call you Princess?”

“Victoria is fine.”

“Right you are. I’m Mark.”

She shook his hand, grateful for a little honesty and normality. “Lovely to meet you, Mark.”

“Drink?”

She nodded. “Whatever you’re having would be great. Beer, wine, tea, water. I’m not fussy.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Okay. But I still won’t give you a Guinness. Seems wrong. Glass of chardonnay for you, sparkling water for my daughter.”

Ash appeared back at her side, and relief flowed through Victoria. She needed an anchor in such unfamiliar circumstances.

Half an hour later, dinner was served, and Victoria was as relaxed as she was likely to get.

“You’re a fan of women’s football, Victoria?” Mark asked.

She nodded, cutting her beef. Still pink. She was impressed. “I am. A fairly new convert of the past few years, I must admit. But now especially, I have a vested interest.” She glanced at Ash, who blushed delightfully.

“Do you get to many games?”

“When I can. I have a lot of commitments, but my aim is to get to see Ash play for the Ravens before Christmas.”

“We’re so proud of her,” Debra added. “England captain by the age of 26. We didn’t think she could top that, but then she told us she was dating you. We thought she was joking, didn’t we, Mark?”

Ash’s dad nodded, his smile tight.

“We just clicked from the start, didn’t we?” Victoria told them, squeezing Ash’s hand under the table. Then she cut into her Yorkshire, and got what the fuss was about. They were melt-in-your-mouth good.

“Debra, I have to say, these Yorkshires are amazing. I can see why they’re the talk of the town.”

For the first time since Victoria walked in, Ash’s mum was speechless.

The real questions started halfway through the main course. The ones Debra had clearly been dying to ask, after all the polite chit-chat.

“What are your plans for Christmas, Victoria? Your whole family usually spend it at Balmoral, is that right? Will you be doing that this year? We always watch the walk to church on TV.” Her gaze bounced between Ash and their guest.

Victoria maintained her diplomatic smile, the one she’d perfected at age seven. “We used to go every year, but now Gran tends to come to London.” She paused. “Balmoral at Christmas is so beautiful. I took Ash there last month. We had a lovely time, didn’t we?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew it was a mistake.

Debra’s face paled, and she glowered at her daughter.

“You went to Balmoral?” Her hurt at not knowing was palpable.

“A last-minute weekend thing.” Ash’s smile was like glass about to crack. “You know I couldn’t tell you anything. I have explained that. Similarly, you can’t tell your friends about this lunch, either.”

Her dad stepped in. “We know that, don’t we?” He smiled at his wife. “This is our little secret. For now.” He paused. “Do you go skiing in the winter, too?” Mark continued. “I remember all those royal photos on the slopes from when you were younger. You and your brother, with your parents.”

Victoria nodded. “Yes, in Klosters. I suspect we’ll go again soon. It’s family tradition, too.”

“Mark and I went skiing once, didn't we?” Debra said. “Nowhere fancy, though. Just to France.”

Ash’s dad chewed his food, then nodded.

“Speaking of tradition,” Debra continued, topping up Victoria’s wine without asking, “what about children? I mean, not to be presumptuous, but I know Ash wants them, and with the succession and everything…”

Wow. She hadn’t been expecting that question on first meeting.

Beside her, Ash coughed, then cleared her throat.

“Mum!” Her voice was sharp with embarrassment.

Victoria’s composure cracked slightly. Children. The succession. The future of the monarchy itself. As if she didn’t lay awake at night thinking about exactly this. Duty versus love, about what was possible and what was impossible. If the world wasn’t ready for a queer princess, was it ready for one with children?

“I haven’t really thought that far ahead.” At least, not with Ash.

The rest of lunch passed in a blur of increasingly painful questions. What did she think about various politicians? Did she know certain celebrities? What do her parents do for Sunday lunch? Each question highlighted the gulf between their worlds more starkly than the last.

In the car afterwards, Victoria was numb.

“I’m so sorry,” Ash said. “I had no idea your appearance would cause my mum to go on a diatribe to end them all. And the children comment: she doesn’t even bug me about that often.”

“It’s fine,” Victoria lied. “They were lovely. Really.” She meant it, sort of. They were lovely. Painfully, awkwardly, desperately lovely.

“Come back to mine?” she heard herself ask, already knowing the answer.

“Not today. Early training tomorrow, and it’s a big week. League cup and a league game. No late nights for me.”

Relief flooded through her before she could stop it, then guilt at the relief. She saw Ash clock both emotions crossing her face.

They pulled up at Ash’s flat pretty quickly, and she leaned over and kissed Victoria goodbye. It was short and swift.

“I’ll message you.”

But as the car pulled away from Ash’s flat later, Victoria’s mind churned. She loved Ash: her directness, her strength, the way she made Victoria feel. But today had shown her what they were really facing.

It wasn't just about them anymore. It was about worlds colliding.

Her phone lit up with a message from Ash. She must have written it as soon as she got in the door.

Thanks for today. Sorry about Mum's 20 questions. xxx

Victoria’s throat tightened as she typed back.

I’ve already forgotten about it. xxx

She loved Ash. She was sure about that. But as the car wound through London’s darkening streets towards her Kensington home, her mother’s words echoed in her head: “The monarchy isn’t just about who we love. It’s about who we can love. These are rules by which we live and die.”

They were living in a bubble right now.

But bubbles had a horrible tendency to burst.

“You should have seen it, Dex. I mean, they were lovely, but it was a car crash.” Victoria sipped her champagne (they were already well into their second bottle), then slumped forward, her head on her arm. “I so wanted to fit in. Merge into their ways. But me going there only seemed to magnify our differences.”

Being home alone after lunch with Ash’s family hadn’t been ideal. Instead, she’d messaged Dexter to see if he could meet her at The Devonshire. He’d been more than willing.

“I’m experiencing the opposite. Sidney told his parents about me, but apparently they think I’m beneath him. They look at me like I’m a stain on society.” He put his hand to his chest. “Me? Who used to fake-date you, which surely gives me some caché?”

Victoria raised her head and smiled. “What a sorry pair we are. Things were so much easier when it was just us, weren’t they?”

“That’s because none of it really mattered. Friendships are usually far easier than relationships. Platonic love comes with less complications.”

“Remember when I said I wanted it all? The woman, true love, to let the world know? Maybe I was getting ahead of myself.”

“You don’t mean that.”

She exhaled. “No, I don’t. Part of me is just really annoyed that my mother might be right. But it’s not a deal-breaker. Ash’s parents tried too hard. Asked weird questions. Hopefully that will only happen at first.”

A tabloid gossip writer named Dan walked past, giving them both a perfect smile.

“Since when do they let him in here?” Dexter hissed. “We might need to get a new hangout.”

Unease swept through Victoria.

They weren’t doing anything wrong. Just two friends chatting. But if the journalist (she used that term very loosely) wrote about this, it would look bad to Ash and her parents. She wanted anything but that. She had others to consider now.

“What did they cook you?”

“Sunday roast. All the trimmings.” She smiled. “I have to say, it was kind of nice not having servants buzzing around while we ate. Her mum made Yorkshire puddings the size of Mars.”

“Did you eat it all?”

“If I’d eaten that whole Yorkshire, I wouldn’t have been able to fit through the club door, believe me.”

“Meeting the parents, though. It must be serious. And she’s meeting yours when?”

“Next week.”

“Good luck for that. It might make today seem like a cakewalk. Meeting Cassandra and Oliver is nerve-wracking. Take it from someone who knows.”

Victoria pouted. “You’re meant to be making me feel better, Dexter.”

“Right.” He stroked his stubble. “Things will get better.” He didn’t sound convinced. “I mean, they might get worse first, but they will get better eventually.” He tilted his head. “And generally, apart from today, whenever I’ve seen you, you seem happy. Are you?” He kissed her hand. “I want that for you, darling.”

Right at that moment, with Dexter clasping her hand and looking at her lovingly, someone cleared their throat beside them.

Victoria jumped, then registered who it was. Angela Fallon. The Prime Minister.

Of course it was.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, face tangled as if she’d just interrupted a declaration of love.

They should be more careful.

“No problem, Prime Minister.” Victoria stood, extended a hand, and Angela shook it.

“I just wanted to let you know that our meeting this week about your homeless project needs to be rescheduled. I’m wanted in Paris for a climate change meeting instead. But the week after should be fine. I’ll have my secretary reach out.” She dropped Victoria’s hand, then glanced at Dexter. “Again, sorry to interrupt.”

Victoria waited until she was out of the room before sinking back to the sofa and closing her eyes. She had to hope the Prime Minister wasn’t a gossip, but she’d heard otherwise. “If it’s not out that we’re back together by tomorrow, I’ll be surprised.”

“Great news. That’ll really thrill Sidney.” Dexter gave her a glum smile, gulped some champagne, then flagged down a passing waiter and ordered another bottle. It arrived mere minutes later, and their glasses were topped up. Victoria could already feel the alcohol loosening her up. Today, it was welcome.

“I was asking if you’re happy? I saw Astrid briefly last month in Stockholm, and she told me you were glowing and in love.” He narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t know whether to believe her as you know that Astrid has a streak for the dramatic. But are you?”

“Happy or in love?”

“Either?”

“I’m in up to my neck, Dex.” She held Dexter’s gaze, her fingers tracing the condensation on her crystal flute. “Totally, hopelessly, in love. The kind that makes me want to tear up every rulebook I’ve ever followed.” She shook her head. “I’ve spent my whole life being exactly who everyone needed me to be.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, hope rising inside, pushing against the weight of reality. “Now all I want to be is hers. And I know it’s going to be complicated and messy and probably cause an international incident, but I don’t think I care anymore.”

Wow. Maybe talking her doubts through with someone was what she needed. Yes, today hadn’t been good, but what she and Ash had was. She needed to remember that.

“Does she love you?”

Victoria nodded. “Despite knowing what it entails, she does. I found her, Dex. The one.”

“The one?”

Victoria nodded again as she pushed her fears aside. “I think so. I’ve never felt like this before. I took her to Balmoral, and Gran loved her. Today was the first bump back down to reality. Up until now, it’s been bliss.”

“There are going to be bumps in the road. There always are.”

“I know, but I was hoping for none. Of being the exception to the rule. Princess privilege, you know?”

“If only that was how the world worked.” He gave her a wry smile.

“What about you? Are you in love?”

“Hopelessly. But we’re both struggling with parental approval now we’re in the open.” He held up a hand. “Don’t worry, we’re not open in full public. I know our agreement not to blow your cover.”

Victoria felt bad about that, but it was necessary. “You’re a good friend.”

“What’s this I spy? A reunion on the cards?” The voice was slurred, familiar.

Victoria looked up. Michael. Clearly worse for wear. She pulled him down to their sofa as he giggled.

“Not so loud!” she told him.

From feeling a little drunk, she was now suddenly very sober.

Michael put a finger to his lips and performed an exaggerated shushing noise. He had a smudge of something on his cheek. Was it lipstick?

“I’ve missed you, Dexter.” He leaned over and patted Dexter’s knee. “You should come over more often to see Vix. Bring Sidney. We can all get drunk together.”

“You don’t need any encouragement,” Victoria told him.

He picked up their bottle, held it up to the light, then swigged some direct.

Victoria closed her eyes. Michael had these nights where he forgot who he was. Or perhaps, that was why he had them? In the past, she’d tried to coral him, like a cowgirl lassoing her herd. Now, she’d learnt to let him be. She couldn’t control him, no matter how much she wanted to.

“Shall we order another bottle?” Michael asked. “This place is so dull sometimes. You know what it needs? A dance floor.”

Victoria winced. Michael’s arrival was about to hasten her departure. Plus, she’d had enough herself.

“Good luck finding that,” she told him, downing the last of her drink. “Dex, I’m going home. Can I drop you off?”

“Yes please.” He checked his pockets for essentials. “It’s the thing I miss about dating you: a driver on tap.”

“Then take advantage today.” She paused, glancing at Michael. “What about you? Get in the car with me, call it a night?”

But she already knew the answer.

“You go. I was just chatting to a gorgeous woman next door. I was en route to the toilet when I saw you. I’ll finish what I started.”

She sighed. “Okay. But don’t drink too much more. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

“Yes, Mother.”

She hit his arm, and he let out an exaggerated squeal.

“I’ll see you in the kitchen tomorrow morning.” She got out her phone.

No new messages.

She missed Ash already.

“Ready, Dex?”