she did take Bella on one side and say, ‘Are you really worried about spending the New Year with Richard’s family?’
‘No-o-o.’ But in the end it all poured out: the dancing-by-numbers Bella had never done before, The Striped Horror, the pumps.
Georgia laughed. ‘My dear child! You just need a posh frock.’
‘I’ve got one,’ said Bella gloomily. ‘And how.’
‘No. One you like and feel comfortable in. Look, you may not care for the idea, but I have a lot of my own frocks stored in London. We still just about made a debut in my day. Why don’t we see if there’s anything that you suitable among them? We’re quite similar. I think the size will be about right. They may be a little short, but if you have complicated dancing to face, that is hardly a fault.’
Bella agreed, but without much hope.
She spent an edgy Christmas, sustained mainly by Richard’s phone calls from various places in the world where British forces were serving. No wonder Ian had kept the diary from her, thought Bella, watching the TV News to see Richard jump lightly from a helicopter on to the deck of an aircraft carrier. He looked instantly at home, eager and friendly, and always a concerned, good listener. Oh, she did love him.
She looked up suddenly and found her grandmother’s eyes on her. Georgia said nothing, just inclined her elegant head, but Bella felt as if she had been given her grandmother’s blessing. She hugged herself.
‘You’ll love him,’ she said, suddenly certain that she was right.
‘I probably will, dear. As I said, you and I are very alike.’
Richard met Bella at the station on New Year’s Eve. Just him. No security officer, no Press Adviser. The stationmaster touched his cap in a friendly way and wished them both Happy New Year, and Richard drove the big 4WD off up into the hills, along an unmade track to the house.
‘Best view,’ he said, waving at folds of snow-covered hills to his left and a sparkling, darting brook in the white valley below them.
‘It’s gorgeous,’ Bella said, truthfully.
‘But freezing. Hope you brought plenty of warm clothes?’
‘Yes, I came prepared.’ Conscious of Georgia’s Alternative Posh Frock in her suitcase, Bella said carefully, ‘What will people wear to the ball tonight?’
Richard glanced down at her. ‘Yes, OK. Don’t rub it in. I’ll be prancing around in a kilt with a lace jabot and a velvet jacket. And so will all the other guys. I don’t get a vote.’
She was taken aback. ‘No? Really? You mean, I get to see your knees?’
His eyes glinted. ‘You’ve seen my knees, you baggage.’
‘Not in public. Not to really stand back and admire them.’ She let herself dwell on the picture with pleasure for a moment. Then said, ‘No, actually, what I meant was the ladies.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s easier for them. They wear their usual rig. With mountaineer’s underwear underneath to keep them warm, of course.’
‘Their usual rig?’
‘Yes. Why?’ he said puzzled
She thought of The Striped Horror. Puffed sleeves like a Michelin Man’s biceps were nobody’s idea of normal.
‘I think I may have got the wrong end of the stick,’ she said diplomatically. ‘Look, do me a favour. I’ve borrowed a dress … well, actually, like your boat, it’s more sort of inherited. Will you come and give me your opinion on it before we have to join the party?’
Richard agreed with enthusiasm.
And later he took one look at her in a Grace Kelly number, with a soft skirt of misty grey silk crepe, and, ‘Very elegant.’
So that was all right. At least it would be until Lady Pansy caught sight of it. Her niece, the Honourable Chloe, was among the guests as well. It would be interesting, thought Bella with a touch of cattiness, to see whether Chloe’s gown was out of the School of Striped Horror.
Richard took her down to the drawing room at Drummon House, at the cocktail hour. There was a handsome fire blazing in the great hearth, but a combination of stone walls and ill-fitting windows meant that the warmth did not permeate very far into the room.
The Queen, greeting Bella kindly, seemed not to notice that she had failed to curtsey.
Prince George, a taller, gawkier version of Richard, flapped a hand in greeting. ‘Hi. The sooner the physical jerks start, the sooner the sound of chattering teeth will die away.’
A steward offered her a tray. Richard inspected it and explained its contents. ‘You can have one of three sorts of malt whisky or