Page 86 of Scandal Queen

“I wish people knew what she was really like, so they’d stop judging Oliver.”

Bella shrugged. “They will always judge him. Now he has to prove his worth to them all, show them it’s really love this time.”

“You make it sound very easy.”

“It’s all the E’s. They give me utter clarity.”

“Bella!”

“I’m joking.” Her smile faded. “Janine is coming back today. I’m going to talk to her.”

“Good. I’d hate to see you waste your existence.”

“Oh, Leia.”

“Yep.”

“Happy birthday.”

I cringed. “Is there anyone in the palace who doesn’t know?”

She pulled a face and chuckled. “Nope. I don’t think so.”

“Great.”

“Enjoy it. I can assure you he never did this for Charlotte Macclesfield.”

“Did what?” My eyes widened.

“Everything.”

I sat with her for a while as she dozed fitfully. I didn’t really have anywhere else to be, and I didn’t really want to look at my phone. Having your birthday days before Christmas I think sucked for most people.

Having a birthday that was very rarely remembered during childhood sucked even harder. It wasn’t bad enough that Father Christmas never got to visit, having your actual birthday forgotten hurt just a little too much.

I guess I learnt to hide from it. Then life post-Daisy I’d focused on giving her as much as I could so she’d never experience that gnawing pain of missing out.

For her first Christmas I’d saved a tenner a week from my benefits so I could go to town. She’d been so young she had no clue, but it gave me a fierce sense of pride to know I’d achieved something my mother never had. Normality.

As I crunched over the gravel, I thought of the woman who still lived in those flats in Hackney. Yesterday, with Ollie’s bold words and determined promises and the other drama that had followed it had been easy to push them to one side.

There was no hiding from them now. Not in the cold light of day.

Jacob. I wished I could remember, anything, something. I wished I knew what to do. Although the sinking sensation in my stomach told me that the four diamonds on my finger meant I probably wouldn’t get any say in it anyway. I’d given my life to the palace now. Things would be done their way.

Still, as I glanced up at the sky swollen with grey clouds, the air a funny tinge of green, I thought of the woman and wondered how she’d put two and two together and come out with a conclusion so wild that she thought Daisy might be her granddaughter. Nutcase? Opportunist? Grieving mother?

“Oh, there she is?” The slam of a car door made me turn and for a moment I cowered expecting a camera to be thrust in my face. Realising my stupidity—I stood in the palace for God’s sake… with soldiers at the gate—I straightened up.

My mouth popped open as I clapped eyes on Molly and Patrick. “What are you guys doing here?”

Molly pulled her most unattractive ‘are you stupid’ face. “Well duh. It’s your birthday, and as you can’t come out to play, we’ve come to you.”

“Well that’s stupid.” I pulled my own exceptionally childish face back. “We’ve never done anything for my birthday.”

Molly looked affronted and the shine in her eyes dimmed a little bit. “No. You mean when we’ve turned up every year for a takeaway with wine for the last goodness knows how long.”

I paused on the gravel. God, I was actually a bitch. “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”