Page 30

CHAPTER 30

V ictoria’s heels clicked against the polished floors of the queer homeless centre, the sound echoing off walls covered in rainbow murals and affirmation posters. Her security team hung back at her request, giving her space while maintaining their watchful presence. Inside, the walls hummed with life: music playing softly, a hoot of far-off laughter, the hiss of a pan from the kitchen.

“The kids are all so excited you’re here today.” That was David, the centre manager, who wore his hair dyed like a rainbow. What would the Daily Mail comments section say if she did the same? At least it might stop people commenting that there was no way she could be queer because she had long hair and painted nails.

You could have long hair and painted nails, and also fuck women.

Victoria was living proof.

For the past two months, she’d dragged herself to all her appearances: the mind-numbing dairy-farm tours, the hospital ribbon cuttings, the excruciating FA meetings where everyone pretended not to know about Ash. In contrast, this felt real. Important.

A group of teens huddled near a door, trying to look casual and failing spectacularly. One girl with close-cropped ginger hair and too-big clothes caught Victoria’s eye, then quickly looked away.

Victoria recognised that look: the mixture of hope and wariness that came from too many betrayals. This was why she’d fought so hard for this project. The first of what she hoped would be many centres: safe spaces for kids thrown out for being who they were. Beds, counselling, education, and most importantly, acceptance.

“We’re at capacity already,” David said softly. “Forty beds, and a waiting list that keeps growing.”

Victoria nodded, her throat tight. “Then we’ll build more.” It wasn’t a royal platitude. It was a promise.

A timer buzzed from the kitchen, followed by the smell of something baking. Home smells. The kind of ordinary comfort these kids had been denied.

“Would you like to meet everyone?” David gestured towards the group. “They’re nervous, but hopefully they’ll open up and tell you their stories.”

The main lounge housed a tall Christmas tree in the corner, with a stack of presents already underneath it. Her team had arranged for those to be delivered this week, to ensure that all the young people had a present to open on Christmas Day. She couldn’t imagine what it must feel like waking up on December 25th without your family at such a young age.

The teenagers bunched at the door, ready to shake her hand.

“This is Maya, Your Highness.” David waved a hand to the young girl who’d caught her eye. Victoria was drawn to redheads, because her brother told her they were usually overlooked. “She’s 15, and arrived at the centre yesterday.”

“Call me Victoria,” she told them both.

David blushed. “Victoria.”

Maya bowed her head, her ginger hair catching the fluorescent lights. When Victoria shook her hand and sat, Maya’s eyes widened with recognition, then narrowed with curiosity.

“You’re a real person. I always thought you might be made up,” she whispered. “Especially now you’ve come out as queer?”

Wow, straight in, no messing.

But actually, Victoria found her statement refreshing.

Maya had none of the outrage Victoria had heard whispered around The Devonshire and her wider circle.

“So pleased to see you here, after those vile rumours that did the rounds,” Victoria’s old school friend Alicia had told her at the club last week, when she turned up with Dexter. “Honestly, people have nothing better to do than sling tawdry allegations that you’re sleeping with a footballer .” She said the final word like it was a disease. “As if that would ever happen.”

Another acquaintance told her: “Just so you know, I don’t believe a word. Dexter, maybe . But you sleeping with a woman? Penalty Princess to Lesbian Princess? I don’t think so.”

Homophobia and elitism were alive and well in the 21st century.

The rumours had certainly marked out who was actually Victoria’s friend, and who was not. Invitations she’d normally receive to festive events had not arrived. It didn’t matter she was the heir to the throne. In some of her circles, it mattered who she loved. She was glad she’d found out. Maybe it was time to form some new circles. Maybe Maya could be in one.

That idea made Victoria smile inside. She and Maya had more in common than she thought.

Maybe in another life.

“I didn’t know you were queer,” Maya continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “It was nice when I heard. It made me feel like you understood.”

The familiar denial rose in Victoria’s throat: practised, protective, perfect. But looking at Maya, seeing the fresh hurt in her eyes from her parents’ rejection, Victoria couldn’t bring herself to hide.

Not here.

Not now.

Maya deserved better.

Scrap that, Victoria deserved better.

“I don’t tell everyone everything about myself, because as I think you know, not everyone wants to hear it.” Victoria picked at her jeans, even though there was nothing on them. She was glad she’d worn them. Tanya had suggested it, to be more relatable. However, perhaps the most relatable fact of all was that she was one of them.

That revelation ripped through her.

She was one of them. She was someone having issues living her life because of family expectations. Because she was gay.

“At least you don’t have to worry about being homeless.”

Victoria’s chest tightened.

She was one of them to a point.

“No,” she agreed, “but it comes with its own price. And it shouldn’t. None of this should happen: not to you, not to anyone.” The words felt inadequate against the weight of Maya’s experience, against all the hurt in this room.

But as Victoria looked around the other teenagers, it hit her. She could do something about it. And if she did, the ripples it created might encourage change. Victoria usually didn’t back down from a challenge. Why had she done so with this one?

Outside in the back courtyard, the winter sun cast long shadows across the fresh concrete. Someone had set up makeshift goals using jackets, and a game was forming: chaotic, joyful, free.

“I can’t tell you what a difference the centre has made.” David put his hands in the pockets of his yellow trousers — David was a colour evangelist — and squinted against the winter sun. It was the shortest day of the year, but the sun was still making the most of it. She’d first spoken to Ash properly on the longest day, back in June. Six months that had changed her life. She wasn’t going to brush them all under the carpet.

“Some of these kids were sleeping rough, with nobody to turn to. Now, we’re supporting them physically and mentally. You should be really proud of pushing this project into fruition. Without you, the money doesn’t appear,” he spread his hands, “and these kids don’t have anywhere to live. Plus, they’re sharing their experiences. They’re no longer alone. That’s incredible.”

Victoria knew that alone feeling well. It had almost suffocated her as she shuffled around her house over the past two months, trying not to visualise Ash drinking a coffee and laughing in her kitchen, or spread naked on her sheets with come-to-bed eyes. Her parents were too caught up, as was Michael, his mission seemingly to party as hard as he could.

“I’m so glad I could do something positive.” A stray ball rolled towards her, and without thinking, Victoria trapped it with her foot, the movement smooth and natural.

“You’ve clearly had extra practice with your girlfriend!” shouted one of the kids, with a grin.

The memory hit Victoria like a punch: Ash at the FA, patient and focused, showing her how to position her body to score a penalty. The warmth of her hands adjusting Victoria’s stance, the electricity that had crackled between them.

She took a deep breath and swallowed down threatening tears. This morning had been joyful. She didn’t want her personal life to leak all over it, literally.

“Can I use your bathroom before we leave?”

David nodded. “I’ll take you to the staff room.”

Once inside, knowing this was the only alone-time she’d get today as she had the family carol concert at Westminster Abbey to attend later, she exhaled and tried to compose herself. This visit had been too close to the bone. Too personal. But she was so glad she’d come.

She looked at herself in the mirror, a rainbow sticker in the top-left corner. Maybe that was what her bathroom needed to cheer her up.

A flash of fucking Ash against the bathroom wall flickered in her brain. Quickly followed by them in the bath, promising each other the world. Victoria closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

Her phone buzzed in her bag.

When she pulled it out, her grandmother’s name lit up the screen.

Darling, how are you? Your mother tells me that you and Ash are taking a break. I wanted you to know, I liked her very much. You were good together.

Her grandmother knew?

Did you know all along?

The response came quickly, her grandmother’s words carrying decades of wisdom.

Of course, dear. I wasn't born yesterday, and you’re not the first gay person I’ve ever met. Or is it queer these days? I can’t keep up. Besides, I know love when I see it. It was written all over both your faces when you visited.

A single tear rolled down Victoria’s cheek as those words struck home.

If her grandmother could accept it, surely her parents and the wider world could, too?

Later, in the royal car with Tanya by her side, Victoria’s carefully built walls finally crumbled. Without a word, Tanya steered the driver to a McDonald’s drive-through, shouting out Victoria’s emergency order: double cheeseburger, fries, chocolate shake. They parked in a far corner of the out-of-town shopping car park, away from curious eyes, the car’s tinted windows offering rare privacy.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Tan,” Victoria whispered, stuffing some fries in her mouth with shaking hands. The admission hung in the air, simple and devastating. “Did you get ketchup?”

“Of course.” Tanya pulled back the foil top of the tiny ketchup portion and held it for Victoria. Just that small act of kindness made Victoria start crying all over again. “I can’t keep living like this. Watching her on TV. Not speaking to her. Carrying on as normal. Pretending I don’t love her when I do.”

She’d tried to suppress it, but it was no use.

“Then why did you walk away?” Tanya’s voice was gentle, free of judgement.

“I didn’t.” Victoria’s voice wavered. “Ash did. After some cajoling by my family. But when do I get to start living? I just wanted to go to the New Year Ball with her on my arm. Like princesses do in the fairy tales. I want my own fairy tale.”

An hour later, Victoria was home. Alone.

She heard the front door slam, then footsteps on the wooden floor. When she looked up, Michael stood in the doorway.

“The wanderer returns.” She hadn’t seen him for over a week. All his “we’re in this together” talk had fallen by the wayside when the shit really hit the fan. It wasn’t something she was going to forget.

But tonight, there was something different about his appearance. He looked haunted. His tie hung loose, his hair dishevelled. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He walked over and sat. Then he took her hands, and looked into her eyes. He smelled like he’d taken a bath in IPA.

“I can’t do this anymore, Vix. It was me.” He ducked his head.

She knew immediately what he meant. She’d probably known since it happened, but she’d been pushing that niggle down, along with so much else. All of it had to stop. It wasn’t good for anyone.

However, she was still going to get him to say it.

“What was you?”

“I told the reporter about you and Dex, about you and Ash. I let it slip months ago. I thought they’d forgotten it, but it turned out, they’d been building the story behind the scenes. I’m so sorry. I was drunk, and probably a little jealous, as Astrid made me see. You found Ash, and she was lovely. Even your fake relationship with Dexter was better than anything I’ve managed. It irked me.”

Victoria sat up. “Astrid?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been in Sweden this week. Avoiding you. She collared me and wouldn’t stop until I spilled. She convinced me I had to tell you.” He held up a hand. “But I would have anyway.”

“Would you? Or would you just have kept travelling and getting drunk for the whole of next year?”

“No! I’ve felt so bad. He asked me directly about it that night I saw you and Dex in the Club. The next morning, I didn’t even remember it until I saw the headlines. Then I hated myself. The Palace went into full-on denial mode, you and Ash split up, and I couldn’t look you in the eye. I never set out to wreck it for you.”

His confession spilled out in a rush. He promised to do better, to be the brother she deserved, his words echoing countless similar promises over the years.

“Words are cheap, Michael. Actions speak far louder. You said we were in this together, but it turns out, we’re not.”

However, her anger ebbed away as quick as it hit. She was more disappointed than angry.

“You’re an embarrassment to the family. Look at you.” She motioned to his trousers, stains on the front. “Sort yourself out before it’s too late. Maybe then, somebody will love you. But nobody’s going to do that until you love yourself.” She raised her chin, defiant. “But you know what? Maybe you did me a favour, gave me time to see what it is I really want. I want Ash. Maybe it’s time to fight for her.”

When she stood, her brother looked up at her, small. She wasn’t in the mood to placate him, tell him everything was okay, that she forgave him.

Because she didn’t. She would in time. But not just yet.

In her room, the echoes of Ash were suffocating. Victoria kicked off her slippers, sank into her favourite armchair, and pulled out her phone. She typed out a message to Ash.

Michael confessed. He leaked it. I hope the press have backed off you and your family. I’m so sorry for everything. I still miss you.

Her thumb hovered over the green button, but then she deleted it, character by character.

Ash had been the one to end it. If they were going to try again, it had to come from her, because she had the most to lose.

Victoria couldn’t be the one to make the move.

Even if she desperately wanted to.