said, ‘Have you talked about dates for the wedding?’
Lottie cast her eyes to heaven.
Bella said hurriedly, ‘Bit of a sore point, Georgia. The Government wants us to get married in the summer, for the tourists. But the Queen thinks we should wait until after next Christmas. Negotiations, as they say, are ongoing.’
Georgia’s brown eyes were shrewd. ‘And what do you want?’
‘Richard’s diary is the main constraint, really. He says a lot of people will be disappointed if he cancels engagements. So he’s got his office analysing the forward plan.’
Lottie and Georgia exchanged looks.
‘Not Richard,’ said her grandmother. ‘You.’
‘Me? I’ll fit in with … What?’
Both Lottie and Georgia had shrieked in protest.
‘What?’
‘It’s your wedding,’ said Lottie. ‘You know, the thing little girls dream of from the first time someone tells them the Cinderella story. Big white dress, centre of attention, flowers in the hair, walking down the aisle with a dreamy look in your eyes. It’s your day.’
‘Richard says it’s everyone’s day. We have to be … accommodating.’
Lottie snorted.
‘We’ve been through this before, Lotts. It’s a state occasion. There’s no getting away from it. Richard and I aren’t the only ones involved.’
Georgia always sat up straight, she said that was what Southern Belles were taught to do, but suddenly she looked as dignified as the Queen herself. The shabby old armchair could have been a throne.
‘That is true. And you are very right to remember it. I am proud of you.’ She sounded as if she were summing up the case for the prosecution. ‘But saying there are a lot of people to consider does not mean that you are prohibited from saying what you would like.’
Lottie bounced on the sofa. ‘Right on, Granny.’
Georgia ignored that. She was very fond of Lottie and adored Bella but she never cared to be reminded of her grandmotherly status.
‘Do you know what you would like, Bella?’
‘Richard says …’
Bella found two pairs of beady eyes daring her to go on. She ground to a halt.
‘I haven’t thought about it, OK? There didn’t seem much point.’
Georgia fixed her eyes on her granddaughter with terrifying intensity. ‘Are you saying it doesn’t matter what you want?’
‘Not in the scheme of things, no.’
‘And have you told Richard that you feel like this?’
Bella felt harassed. ‘Well, no. I mean, he’s got a lot on his plate. It’s not such a big deal, after all.’
There was a silence. Even Bella could see that this was probably not an ideal way for a bride to think about her own wedding but she would never admit it. She put up her chin and broadcast dignified Keep Out signals right back at Georgia.
To no effect at all.
‘While I do not agree with your father in all his antimonarchical barnstorming, I am coming to feel that, in this case, he has a point,’ announced Georgia. ‘I don’t know if it is the fault of the Royal Family, the Court or Richard himself. But I am very sorry to say,’ she didn’t sound sorry, she sounded brutal, ‘that they have done a number on you, child.’
Lottie drew in a little hissing breath. ‘Have at you, foul courtier!’
Bella sent her an impatient glance but Georgia ignored her. ‘Marriage is a partnership, not a corporate venture, Bella. You and Richard need to talk about this. And soon.’
‘I love you, Georgia,’ said Lottie with fervour.
‘When you have done so, you may bring him to dinner. I will telephone you tomorrow with dates when I am free.’
Bella gulped.
Georgia stood up and turned gracefully to Lottie. ‘It is always delightful to see you again, Lottie. I so enjoy our talks. Goodbye. Thank you for a lovely evening.’
Subdued, Lottie stood up and they air-kissed.
Bella said, ‘I’ll call you a cab.’
‘No need. I can always find one round here. If necessary I’ll go to Victoria Station. There are always cabs there.’
‘I’ll walk with you,’ said Bella firmly.
She helped Georgia into her warm coat – a chocolate brown, waisted, full-skirted thing, with a discreet fur collar and military buttons. Georgia set her big Russian hat at just the right angle and pulled on fur-lined leather gloves. It was all very warm and practical but, thought Bella, even for a domestic evening of shepherd’s pie with the girls, her grandmother was catwalk elegant.
Bella shrugged on her own coat, stuffed her keys in her pocket and they went out into the night air. The street was deserted. Not a cab in sight.
They began to walk.
Georgia said, ‘Honey, I know you’re getting a lot of advice, from