Page 3 of Tabloid Princess

“Make it ten,” Molly interjected.

The prince folded his arms across his chest like this was the best damn show he’d seen in a while and he planned to stay after the interval.

“Care to come and help?” I shrugged in Molly’s direction. My Monday had officially pitched off the edge of normal.

“I think that’s sensible.” She nodded with more enthusiasm than she usually showed for Primark, then grabbed her handbag and came to my side. Her cheeks were unnaturally flushed.

Janine tutted and shook her head. “Good God, it’s a miracle we are still in business.”

I straightened up, meeting the prince’s amused gaze. “And we are essential to, er, to er, you know.” For one rather long and uncomfortable moment I completely forgot what the charity I’d given my adult life to even did.

“Go shopping!” Janine glowered at us and then turned for the prince, muttering something about flighty staff and coffee on the carpet.

Molly hooked her arm through mine and steered us both for the door. Out on the street we paused, breathed, and then both screamed at the top of our lungs, jumping up and down and clinging onto one another’s arms.

“What is happening here? I mean seriously. Is this a joke? Are we being filmed?” I’m the first to stop bouncing.

“Dude, you want to so hope not. That outfit really does suck, and I’m not even joking now.”

“I can’t believe you said all that when you walked in.” She shook her head but couldn’t wipe her grin off her face.

“And I can’t believe you didn’t stop me. Molly, come on.”

“Yeah, but you hate the… now what was it you called him… Tosser?”

“That was last week,” I grumbled.

“Ah, yes. This morning you called him a prick, in front of him.” She snorted again.

I rubbed at my face, my excitement and shock swiftly crumbling. I really did. I wouldn’t be winning a Pride of Britain award any time soon, or ever.

“Fuck, Molls. Am I actually going to have to talk to him? Like talk marketing and shit. We both know I haven’t a clue.”

“The fate of Bright Futures may well depend on it.” She eyed me with an appraising sweep, but a deep spark of excitement lit her chocolate eyes. “We are going to need a push-up bra. First things first. A push-up bra.”

“Bloody hell, Molly. It’s a meeting not a sex tape.”

“Darling, it’s all about the cleavage.”

Twenty minutes later, I tucked my hair behind my ear as we slipped back into the building. Molly insisted on leaving the corduroy in the changing room bin. She said we’d go back later for a sacrificial burning. Which was rude, but I could kind of see her point.

Paula was tapping on her keyboard and her ovaries still seemed to be inside her body, so I figured the prince had left. “Did he go?” I whispered as I slid into my seat.

“No, he’s with Janine and has been since you guys left.” She turned to me, her eyes saucer wide. “Can you believe he’s here?”

“No, not really.”

“It’s like meeting someone you’ve always known.”

My face scrunched with a will of its own. “Paula, I don’t think we can be sure the prince the papers write about every day is the real guy.” I stared with interest at Janine’s closed door. “I mean, no one can have that many dates, surely? He’s been photographed with about fifty women this year alone, and it’s still only September.”

“He can be pictured with me any time he likes.”

Holding my hand to my heart, I allowed my mouth to open in mocked shock. “Paula, what would Matty and the kids say?”

She flashed me a truly wicked grin. “He’s on my pre-approved shag list.”

I scrunched my face, not sure if I actually wanted to know what a pre-approved shag list was. I think the grin said it all, but of course I had to ask.