Page 26 of Tabloid Princess

Prince Oliver stared at the camera, his piercing stare slicing some place deep in my chest, as though he were looking at me and not at a million people watching the six o’clock news.

“There are many charities out there who can help you direct your donations in a sensible way. Sometimes it isn’t all about money. It’s about care, concern. If you’ve bought one too many shower gels in your weekly shop and can spare one, then I urge you to take it your local food bank. Even things which we see as essentials: shampoo, toothpaste, Tampax. To a family on a low income, they can make all the difference.”

If my mouth hadn’t been hanging wide open, I would have giggled. The prince was talking about Tampax on national television.

His eyes remained settled on the camera, his beautiful face set into a concerned mask.

The interviewer spoke again, and Oliver turned a polite smile in his direction. “You seem to be attempting a different approach for your fundraising. Is this your new initiative?”

Prince Oliver nodded. “Charity shouldn’t be something we talk about behind closed doors. And I for one plan to make my own changes to help those in my country in need.”

His green gaze burned with intensity back at the camera and then he cracked a dazzling smile. “So, I think you should all put down your equipment and help me here for an hour.”

“Us?” There was no hiding the surprise in the interviewer’s voice.

“Us.” Oliver’s smile lifted with a mocking tilt.

The television screen cut back to the presenter in the studio. She looked flustered. I knew how she was feeling. “If you would like to see how our small team got to work with Prince Oliver just a short while ago, the film is on our website and our social media pages.”

Daisy squeezed my leg. “Mummy, why are you crying?”

“What?” I looked down at her in surprise and then lifted a hand to my cheeks. Sure enough, there were damp tracks on my skin from tears I hadn’t felt fall. “Oh, baby. Nothing. It just makes me happy when people help others.”

“Like when you buy sausage rolls for the man who sits down the road on a Saturday on our way to ballet?”

“Yes, sweetie. It makes me feel all warm and squishy on the inside, like a big teddy bear.”

“How big?”

I grabbed her up into my arms, squeezing her tight, holding her like I did when she was a baby and she’d been placed in my arms; the best gift I’d ever been given. Strangely emotional, I couldn’t release her for a long moment.

“Mummy, let me go, you’re squeezing me too tight.”

“Sorry.” I put her back in an upright position.

“Is dinner ready? I’m starving.”

“You aren’t starving; you’re a little bit hungry.” She rolled her eyes, but I didn’t have time to reprimand her. “Shit! The pasta!” I launched myself towards the kitchen, my legs wobbly and unsteady. I ignored her jibe saying she was going to tell Nana I’d used a bad word and set about trying to salvage what I could of dinner.

Bloody Prince Oliver.

I don’t know whether he meant to, but he was getting under my skin and it was the very last place I needed him to be.

The next two weeks needed to hurry up and fast.

The next day I walked into a strangely quiet office. Maybe it was the fact I was on time. I hadn’t slept—my mind refusing to calm so I could drift off—so I’d been up early. Daisy and I had caught the early bus to school.

“What’s going on?”

Paula was in her seat. She turned to me, her face stiff. “No idea. It’s all secret squirrels. Janine didn’t look happy.”

The oxygen in my lungs exhaled like I’d been winded. “That’s strange.”

She shrugged but nodded towards Janine’s office which had the door firmly closed. “Freya is in there.”

“Oh.”

I hadn’t been excited to spend the day with Freya and her team, but I’d rather have survived that than there be no coverage at all. The fact her team wasn’t here didn’t fill me with positive, fluffy feelings.