Page 47 of Tabloid Princess

Maybe I was a dick.

Definitely that one.

I pushed my way through the stragglers of the press still hanging around outside the house. The small little pavement couldn’t really hold them and as I stepped out through the front door some of them spilled out into the road.

“Leia! Why hasn’t there been a statement from the Palace?” One guy who’d been more than persistent asked.

I shrugged but didn’t say anything.

Mrs A’s curtains twitched, and I gave her a cheery wave. Maybe she could put the money she earned towards Christmas presents for her grandkids? That would make it more worthwhile somehow.

I put my head down and walked off the estate to the main road, thankfully without a tailing audience. They would get bored soon, they’d have to. There I hailed a cab and slunk into the back seat, giving the address of Daisy’s school.

“You could walk from here, love,” said the cabbie helpfully, but then he glanced into his rear-view mirror and saw me. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” I slunk down further.

When he pulled up by the gates and idled the taxi he turned. “Miss, do you want me to wait for you so you know you can get away quick?”

I flushed a heated burn. “That’s very kind, but I can’t really afford the meter running. I stared at the red ticking numbers. Actually, the meter already twittered dangerously close to the maximum I could run to.

To my utter surprise he switched off the engine and pressed a button that reset the meter. “Not a problem.”

His simple act of kindness made a giant lump stick in my throat.

“You look like you’re having a couple of shitty days.”

“Am I that easy to recognise?” I didn’t know why. There wasn’t a single thing eye-catching about me. Not at all.

“The missus loves a gossip page.”

“I think my days of reading those pages are over.” I shot him a rueful smile. “Thank you—”

I waited for his name. “Gordon Stevens, Miss.”

“Thank you, Gordon. I’ll just go and get my daughter and come straight back.”

“No rush, love. I haven’t had a break yet today, I’ll take my lunch now.”

Much happier that Daisy and I now had a means of escape if needed, I got out of the cab and walked through the wrought-iron gates of the school.

Yesterday, I’d manage to duck straight into the building and speak to Mrs Cole, the headmistress, before the school had broken up. Daisy and I had been home before anyone had a chance to find out or to make a scene.

Today, I stood like any of the other mums. Apart from instead of people talking about me from behind their hands they now stared at me open mouthed.

“Leia!” A voice called from behind. For one awful moment I thought it might be a journalist, then I turned and knew it could only be worse.

Emily Johnson’s mum waved at me before making a direct beeline for where I stood. Glamorous and fake-tanned, with long black eyelashes, she made the other mums in the playground look like they’d just performed a supermarket sweep while she’d cruised the aisles of Harrods.

“Leia, it’s so wonderful to see you,” she said. “You remember me? I’m Vicky, Emily’s mummy.”

Even the way she said mummy made me want to stick pins in my eyes. “I remember,” I ground out. I didn’t add that what I remembered was her ignoring me to my face and then talking behind my back.

“What a week you are having? Is it true then, about you and the prince?”

Considering she’d been the one gossiping about me being the youngest mum she knew; I couldn’t believe she’d even consider this as an option.

“No. It’s not. Prince Oliver came to my office where we were unfortunately snapped, it was nothing.”