‘Of course, my dear. I only want to help. Just remember that if the pressure becomes too great, there are always rooms at the Palace for you. We can protect you, you know.’
The only pressure, thought Bella, was from Lady P and the Meringue Party. But she did not say so. She thanked the Queen warmly instead.
‘I narrowly escaped incarceration today,’ she told Lottie that evening. ‘With Richard gone, Lady P made her move. The Queen invited me to live in the Palace.’
‘Cardiganville?’ said Lottie, who had rather taken against Lady Pansy at the Great Wedding Dress Round Table.
‘Oh, worse than that. It’s cold and dark with acres of corridors, deserted except for some pictures of men in uniform or killing animals. The Cardigan Sphere is quite cosy by comparison.’
‘Cardigans can suffocate you though,’ said Lottie darkly. ‘Now listen. I need to talk to you about the Hen Night. What do you want to do?’
Bella cheered up. She hadn’t had a really good session with her girlfriends since they all went off to Greece the summer after college. She had seen a couple of them since she got back from the island but she had been so absorbed, between Richard and job hunting, that there were at least half a dozen girls she had still to catch up with.
‘Going back to Greece would be nice,’ she said now, wistfully. ‘Do you remember that terrace?’
‘Yeah. Brilliant. But I’m not sure it’s practical for a weekend. Don’t forget, Nicki and Sarah are on first-year teacher salaries.’
Bella nodded. ‘I know. And it would be a hassle banging through airports and things. Besides, Lady P would probably set the Press on me if went outside the UK. We must support British trade.’
Lottie chuckled. ‘Well, I can do you a very nice cowboy bar in Newcastle, complete with bucking bronco and a rugby club down the road.’
Bella’s eyes popped. ‘You’re not serious?’
‘Yup. Girl from work had her Hen Night there. We all took turns on the bronco. Fell off. Threw up.’
Bella, who had been on four Hen Nights so far and thought she knew the form, was impressed. ‘One hen always throws up. But the whole flock?’
‘Every last woman. And then they cleaned up, came back and tried again. And then danced till dawn with a couple of cowboy strippers. They make ’em tough in the North.’
They were both silent, contemplating the enviable stamina of other people.
‘So do you fancy it? Bronco busting?’
‘Maybe not.’
‘Thought not. I’m getting together with Joanne sometime this week to sort things out. Anywhere you really want to go? Anything you want me to veto?’
Bella smiled. ‘I trust you.’
‘OK then. A judicious combination of silly and togetherness. I can do that.’
And so she did, or at least tried to do.
It all started very well. Joanne had found a small spa in West Yorkshire. Newly opened in a down-at-heel not-quite-stately home, it was inexpensive enough for even the tyro teachers to afford and fifteen of them turned up on Friday night. They had a lovely morning walk ending at a local pub, then lay around talking and taking massages and facials. Bella had been given the master suite, which was pretty impressive with a fourposter bed and balcony, and they all congregated there. Three of them sprawled on the bed with the others dispersed about the room while they advised Joanne on the use of a borrowed set of hair straighteners and discussed the evening to come. And then the whole event was overtaken by an irresistible force, in the form of the Honourable Chloe and Princess Eleanor.
For form’s sake, Lottie and Joanne had had to ask along the two bridesmaids from Richard’s side. For form’s sake, they’d had to accept. But Nell had only just got back from New Zealand, where Queen Jane had taken over by Richard’s side, and Chloe had a Friday night party to go to. So they said they would drive down together on Saturday afternoon, in time to hit the local town for dinner. And when they arrived it rapidly became clear that these two were going to party to the max and were absolutely determined to take everyone else with them.
‘Right, people,’ said Nell, for whom three weeks of enforced good behaviour had been too much. ‘Let’s get the rules straight here. The photos will be incriminating. You will be drunk. You will be sweaty. You will wear false eyelashes.’ She said to Chloe, ‘Anything else?’