had been part of the arrangements for the King and Queen’s marriage thirty-odd years ago. So she would know the traditions at first hand.
In the interests of harmony, Bella sat on a sofa and made notes on her smartphone while Lady Pansy worked slowly through several files.
Clothes had a big file all to themselves. Bella would need clothes for lunch, for dinner, for formal balls, for attending the ballet … Her head began to reel. And then, of course, there were the clothes for the official photographs: the engagement photograph; a relaxed session in the country – no doubt Prince Richard had somewhere in mind; the going-away outfit; the entire honeymoon wardrobe; and The Dress.
The way Lady Pansy said that, it sounded as if the thing was some sort of Alien Being out of Dr Who, thought Bella. The Attack of the Mutant Wedding Dress? She recognised incipient hysteria and calmed herself.
‘I’m afraid I’ve not really thought about a wedding dress. I’ve never been terribly interested in fashion, and with my year away I lost touch with even what little I did know.’
Lady Pansy beamed at her in a motherly way. ‘I am so glad you said that, my dear. It makes it easier for me to say – you will need a complete makeover in order to assume your royal role. I’m sure you realise that.’
‘Er – do I?’ said Bella, who didn’t realise any such thing.
‘Having accompanied Her Majesty on so many of her trips, I am sure I will be able to help. Now, for the engagement picture – a British designer, of course. Nothing too avant-garde. You have to appeal to all ages and sections of the population, many of whom are very traditional in their tastes. Would you like me to have some samples send round?’
Bella had a hair-raising vision of hours and hours spent trying on clothes, with Lady Pansy giving them marks out of ten, and said no, thank you, she thought she could probably sort that one out. Lady Pansy did not exactly look crushed, she was too well trained in assuming that frozen courtier’s expression, but Bella felt bad for her.
So she said kindly, ‘But if you would give me a list of the designers you think I should look at for the wedding dress, that would be a huge help.’
The woman inclined her head without cracking a smile.
‘And perhaps you would tick any that you particularly like,’ she offered.
Lady Pansy thawed and said she would be delighted to do that.
Bella made her escape before Lady Pansy could think of anything else for her to decide. She jumped into a taxi and called Lottie on her way to the office.
‘Lotts, I need fashion advice. You know me.’
‘I do indeed,’ said Lottie. ‘The best bikini collection in the business, but otherwise your wardrobe is pants.’
‘I was living on a tropical island, for heaven’s sake! Swimming was part of my job.’
Lottie gave a dirty laugh. ‘Richard is still in for a treat I bet he doesn’t expect.’
‘I probably won’t be allowed to wear them,’ said Bella, suddenly depressed. ‘They’ll be too avant-garde for the British people.’
‘Oh, God, don’t tell me there’s a Palace Advisory Note on bikinis too?’
Bella choked. ‘Haven’t seen it. Anyway, that’s ages in the future. I need something for this damn’ photoshoot next week. Where can I go? Any ideas?’
‘Yes, but I’ve got a meeting two minutes ago. I’ll pick up some mags on the way home and we can talk about it later.’
It turned into a perfect girls’ night in. Lottie had not only picked up a bag full of fashion and celebrity magazines, she had bought each of them a super new organic face mask and the raw material for mutual manicuring. And chocolate.
‘This is the life,’ Lottie said, trying not to move her lips. She was lying flat out on the sofa in a towelling robe, with her newly washed hair wrapped in a towel and a mask scented with orange flowers slowly setting on her face.
‘How do you know when it’s cooked?’ said Bella, wandering in from the bathroom in her blue kimono. She was still applying hers. It came in a pot, like cream, only with raspberry pips in it.
‘It turns pink. Bright pink. About twenty minutes.’ Lottie lifted her wrist. ‘I’ve got another eight.’
Bella put the pot down, cleaned her be-pipped but sweetly scented fingers on a wet wipe, and settled herself in the armchair, with her feet on a leather floor cushion. She