Little Lady Agency and The Prince (46 page)

He looked shifty. ‘Um, not exactly.’

I winced just looking at his tattoo, which seemed to be some kind of heraldic thing. ‘Is that a snake rampant? Gosh, it must have really hurt getting it down there . . .’

‘Fine, OK!’ said Nicky, and he slammed the lid down, swigging again from his hip flask.

I sank back onto the chair in dismay. Just when I thought a nicer Nicky was emerging from the Euro-trash shell. It really was my day for being let down by people.

‘Melissa, I’m really sorry you had to see that,’ he said, standing up and biting his nails.

‘Why?’ I said bitterly. ‘Did you think you had me completely taken in with your sensitive act?’

‘No, because I’ve moved on since that was taken! Jesus, don’t look at me like that!’ he protested, taking a step backwards. ‘Don’t you think I feel bad enough without having you giving me the full disappointment treatment?’

‘It’s not you I’m disappointed with,’ I said, ‘it’s me. I feel
sorry
for you. What the hell were you thinking?’

‘It’s camera phones,’ he whined. ‘They’ve ruined everything . . .’

‘
You’re
going to ruin everything!’ I yelled at him. ‘On your own! For everyone! Can you imagine how embarrassing this’ll be for Alexander? Quite apart from anything else?’

Without warning, the defiance turned to contrition, and Nicky crumpled onto the bed, his head in his hands.

I turned off the stereo, so we didn’t have to yell. Although I really, really wanted to yell at him right then.

‘Look, I know I’ve been stupid in the past,’ he said. ‘OK? I’ve been stupid. But I swear to God, Melissa, this is an oooold photograph. It happened some time last year. Before I met you.’

That made me feel quite awkward. ‘I didn’t know my opinion mattered so much,’ I said.

‘It does. I do care what you think. Very much. And you’re right – I don’t want Grandad dragged into it. He’d be . . . he’d be gutted.’ Nicky’s face went pale beneath his tan, and he started chewing his nails again. ‘Fine, maybe I’ve left it a bit late to grow up, but I
have
, OK, and I don’t want things to be screwed because of something I’ve done. And God knows what else Piglet’s got. I’ve been to some . . . pretty wild parties.’ He looked up at me, appealingly. ‘But you have to believe me when I tell you I haven’t been to a single one since you started doing whatever it is you’re doing with me.’

I returned his gaze, but with a more cynical lift of the eyebrows. ‘I might be naive, Nicolas, but I’m not stupid.’

His innocent face slipped a little. ‘OK, but I haven’t done anything prison-worthy, and I definitely haven’t done anything Piglet could have happy-snapped.’

‘And there’s the small matter of your inheritance,’ I went on mercilessly, determined to wring full contrition out of him. ‘I suppose that hadn’t crossed your mind?’

Nicky flinched. ‘Of course not! Are you trying to make me cry?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m trying to make you feel guilty.’

‘Well, I bloody am, OK? This is entirely my fault! I can see that! I have been an idiot! But please help me sort it out! You’re the only person I really trust!’

‘OK.’ I took pity on him: poor Nicky looked positively bewildered at the new emotions he was feeling.

We sat and stared at each other.

‘Right,’ I said at last, when it was clear that he wasn’t going to propose as an afterthought. ‘Did she give you a deadline? What exactly does she want?’

‘Nothing. She just wants to punish me,’ he said bitterly. ‘Piglet’s like that – it’s all about publicity for
her
. She’s going on some celebrity pirate ship thing next month, you know, as the random posh totty, so you can bet there’ll be some big picture of her with her tits out, alongside any of me.’

‘You’ll have to stall her until we can think of something,’ I said. ‘Tell her where you are—’

‘She knows exactly where I am,’ he interrupted. ‘That’s half the problem.’ He nodded meaningfully towards me.

‘Well, that’s ridiculous,’ I said briskly. ‘She ought to know we’re old family friends. Tell her you want to talk about it face to face. Tell her whatever she wants to hear, but make sure she doesn’t
do
anything.’

‘Then what?’ Nicky asked, with new hope in his eyes.

‘I don’t know! I’ll have to think of something.’

‘By when?’

‘Oh, I don’t know! Soon!’ I threw my hands in the air. ‘I’ve never
been
in a blackmail situation before! Ask Granny – she’s more likely to have experience of this than me.’

Nicky looked horrified. ‘Melissa, this is
our secret
.’

Yeah, I thought, until it’s just between me, you, and the readership of
Hello!
. But I didn’t say anything.

‘Fine. But this week is looking mad already – I won’t be in the office from Thursday, and I’m going home to help my sister sort out the plans for my nephew’s christening . . .’

‘Yeah,’ said Nicky. ‘Your father rang me this week – asked me to be a godfather.’

‘Really?’ It didn’t surprise me. ‘I thought that was up to the parents.’

‘Grandparents usually have their own agendas,’ said Nicky.

‘Tell me about it,’ I said.

There was a knock at the cabin door, and Alison, the stewardess, put her head round. ‘Excuse me, but Prince Alexander asks if you’d both come up on deck for a moment?’

Nicky rolled his eyes. ‘Can you tell him we’re quite—’

‘Fine!’ I interrupted him. ‘Quite fine! We’ll be right along.’

‘Thanks so much,’ she said, and vanished.

‘Come on,’ I said. Nicky looked utterly deflated, and almost boyish, with his rolled-up deck trousers revealing his skinny ankles and long, tanned feet. The sexiness had temporarily evaporated, but he looked much more human. I felt a sudden, protective urge towards him, and grabbed his wrists. ‘Let’s get up there. It’ll seem better in the sunlight.’

He let himself be hauled to his feet, then hesitated, and held my hand.

For one ghastly moment, I thought he was going to propose, while I was off guard, but instead he gave me a hug. ‘Thanks, Mel,’ he mumbled into my shoulder. ‘I wish I’d had a friend like you before now. Might not be in such a bloody mess.’

I hugged him back. ‘Well, quite. And I’d have had miles better holidays. Come on,’ I said, breaking apart. ‘I think I heard a champagne cork pop.’

It was a champagne cork. When we arrived on the sun deck, Nelson and Leonie were standing by the loungers, awkwardly holding onto massive flutes, while two of the crew bustled about with silver ice buckets and stands. Leonie was swaying tipsily in the breeze, and Nelson glared at Nicky as we emerged.

‘Ah, here they are at last!’ cried Alexander, in a voice that could have carried back to Nice airport. He was wearing a fresh linen jacket over his white shirt, and looked as if he were about to burst with delight. ‘Come on, you two! Take a glass!’

I signalled frantically with my eyes to Granny, in case she thought Nicky had popped the question, and held up my bare left hand, in what I hoped was a casual gesture.

‘Something the matter with your hand, darling?’ she asked, tearing her gaze away from Alexander for a second, and shading her eyes to see me better.

It was then that I was nearly blinded by a ray of sunshine hitting the enormous diamond ring she was wearing. The same ring that had been in Nicky’s cabin.

‘What?’ hissed Nicky.

‘That ring . . .’ I began.

‘Oh, that. Yeah, he had me look after it for him. Apparently, no drawer is safe from your grandmother.’

I opened my mouth to defend her honour, just as Alexander cleared his throat and addressed the assembled gathering.

‘I want you to be the very first to know that Dilys has made me the happiest old man in the world, and agreed to marry me,’ he said. He took her hands, as if the rest of us weren’t there, and went on, ‘I should have realised long ago that castles and lands mean nothing, unless the woman you love is there to share it with you.’

‘Although obviously now you can have both,’ Granny pointed out. ‘Which is simply marvellous.’

Alexander inclined his silvery head. ‘It is marvellous. I can’t believe my luck. Eh, Nicky? I think this will be a gala year for our family?’

Poor Nicky looked so sick I rushed in and proposed the toast for him. And when Leonie sat herself between him and Alexander at dinner, and proceeded to regale them with endless clever advice about financial planning, he didn’t even have the energy to tell her the buttons had popped open on her dress.

Nelson was strangely subdued; I was thinking how I could help Nicky; Granny was clearly planning her wedding in her head – needless to say, for our own various reasons, we all got roaring drunk, and, VIP list or not, no one went to Jimmy’z that night.

23

I realise it sounds insane to be on a luxurious super-yacht, with ten staff, two speedboats, a full bar and a jacuzzi at your disposal – and yet to be whiling away the endless hours until you can fly back to London and your office job, but that’s how Sunday went for me, Nelson, Leonie and Nicky.

At least Leonie had the delights of flirting with Nicky, who managed a half-hearted sort of response, out of habit more than anything else. As for me, I was suddenly awkward with Nelson for the first time in my whole life.

‘Has Nicky said something?’ he asked, when he caught me disconsolately grazing on the finger buffet.

‘No!’ I said quickly. ‘He’s . . . fine.’

Nelson gave me a funny look. ‘And you’re OK?’

I hazarded a guess. ‘Yes?’

‘He seems to be getting on with Leonie.’

‘Mmm,’ I said, not sure if he was annoyed because he fancied her, or annoyed on my behalf because he thought I fancied Nicky.

‘Good,’ said Nelson, equally cryptically, and went back on deck.

Clearly, romantic complications weren’t an issue for Granny and Alexander. They were in their own private world of champagne and in-jokes, which they intended to extend on the yacht for a few more days. And, technically, Nicky didn’t have a job to get back for, but the hung-over hours passed very slowly until at last the cars arrived at the marina to take us to the airport.

‘Aren’t you going on to some faaabulous party or other?’ Nelson enquired of a downcast Nicky as the driver loaded our bags into the boot. ‘No one opening an envelope in Biarritz? Don’t tell me you’re reduced to flying back with us.’

‘Give it a rest, Nelly,’ said Nicky, not even bothering to rise to it. ‘I’ve got things to do in London. This is the quickest way to get back. And if I take the private jet, I’ll have to sit within one seat of you for the entire flight, whereas on easyJet there’s no chance of us getting seats anywhere near each other.’

Nelson looked surprised, but had the decency not to prod him further.

My heart swelled with admiration for his maturity, and then contracted shrewishly as he gallantly opened the car door for Leonie.

And I thought life was complicated before.

At Luton, Nicky said his goodbyes and vanished off with Ray, who had come to collect him. He raised his eyebrows at me, as if to say, ‘You can tell me all the gossip later!’ but I shook my head, and Ray looked surprised at the resigned way Nicky slid into the back seat.

Nelson, Leonie and I trudged out to the long-stay car park where a bird had pooed on the bonnet of Nelson’s Range Rover. London was muggy, the sky above the airport was a very Sunday-afternoon grey, and there was a massive queue on the M25 that not even my half-melted Toblerone could make up for.

It was not good to be back.

We dropped Leonie off at a Tube station (‘I like to get maximum value out of my Oystercard, otherwise Ken Livingstone has won!’) then set off back to our flat.

It was the first time since my inner revelation about Nelson that we’d been properly alone together, and I was as nervous as if we were on some dreadful blind date.

I racked my brains for some witty and amusing observation, but I couldn’t think of
anything to say
. To Nelson!

Argh, I moaned inwardly. This was terrible.
Unnatural
.

At the same time, I couldn’t help sneaking a sideways glance to his tanned hands tapping along to the radio on the steering wheel, and his elbow leaning on the open window. His checked shirt was rolled up, showing golden strands of hair that shimmered, and one or two deep-brown moles. I really wanted those arms around me. How had I missed all this before?

He caught me looking at him.

‘You’re very quiet,’ he said, with a smile. ‘Missing P. Nicky already?’

‘No!’ I said too emphatically. ‘No, no, he’s got himself into . . .’ Actually, this wasn’t the time to tell Nelson about the photos. I didn’t want to talk about Nicky. ‘He’s . . .’

‘He’s not that bad, I suppose,’ said Nelson, with more mellowness than the enraging Sunday-driver traffic warranted. ‘Leonie seems to have taken to him. And you know how hard she is to please.’

‘Mmm!’ I wanted to ask: how much have you been pleasing her, then? But I couldn’t.

If this was going to happen all the time from now on, it was going to make daily life very complicated.

We drove through west London listening to taxi drivers arguing on LBC 97.3 FM, in the kind of companionable silence I’d normally have enjoyed after such a frenetic weekend but which now made me squirm, as I realised how important it was to me.

Nelson, of course, didn’t seem bothered at all, tutting at the news, stopping for old ladies on crossings, cursing saltily at the Congestion Charge cameras.

‘You don’t think Roger will have messed things up again with Zara in our absence?’ he asked easily when we were nearly home. ‘You told him what to do to put it right with her, didn’t you?’

‘I did what I could,’ I said.

‘He’s an idiot, but I’m really chuffed for him,’ he went on, indicating to overtake a cyclist. ‘Just goes to show, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ I said, seizing the chance. ‘Yes, you can find love where you least expect it!’

‘Oh, he told you, did he?’

‘Told me what?’ I asked nervously.

‘Where he met Zara.’

‘No,’ I said, trying to sound as if that’s what I thought he meant.