Secrets of a Teenage Heiress by Katy Birchall (4)

‘Oh no.’ Ella didn’t look up from her phone. I may be reading into things but I’m not sure she was all that bothered about me missing her party.

‘Yeah.’ I nodded solemnly, having taken great pains to explain the situation in thorough detail. ‘I did everything I could to change Mum’s mind but you know what she can be like.’

‘Sure.’ Ella looked up at Grace, who was leaning on the locker next to her, fiddling with her split ends. ‘Your brother and his friends are definitely coming, right?’

Ella and I had never actually spoken to Grace Dillon properly before this term but since Grace’s brother in the year above suddenly got hot over the summer, Ella wanted her to hang out with us. According to Grace, her brother discovered the gym AND hair product at the same time. It also helped that he could play a guitar – at least, that’s what Ella had swooned at when he played with his band in assembly at the beginning of term. Personally, I don’t see the attraction. I would never date anyone who thinks it’s acceptable to wear a sleeveless vest. Anyway, after his performance, Ella invited Grace to join us for a post-school smoothie and that was that; she became part of our elite group.

At first, I thought Grace was going to be this irritating suck-up as she actually did her homework and was top of the class for almost everything. But then one lunchtime, she made me laugh so hard that lemonade went right up my nose. After that, I quite liked her being around and she had this cute little habit of texting me about random stuff. She was obviously ecstatic to be allowed to hang out with us at school, which meant she was never in a bad mood, unlike Ella and her boring mood swings, which were becoming a lot more common these days.

Ella and I first bonded when our mums were both featured in this big newspaper article about leading businesswomen in the UK. Her mum is a co-founder of this online luxury furniture company, which apparently is a big deal, but obviously nowhere near as cool as being a hotelier. Anyway, Mum hosted a big exclusive party for all the women on the list at the Royale and Ella came with her mum. Ella and I both found the party super boring but the photographer took our picture and we were in the back pages of Tatler magazine. Ella showed everyone the picture and we instantly became the most popular girls in the year. After that it just made sense to keep hanging out together, especially when we both had important parents and such good dress sense.

Although, seriously, I wish she’d shut up about Oliver Dillon and his loser band.

‘Absolutely,’ Grace said enthusiastically. ‘He’ll be at your party. I told him to invite his friends and I know that Liam and Tom were both keen.’

‘Well done.’ Ella smiled smugly. ‘It will be nice to have some mature boys there.’

‘I wouldn’t count on those two to bring up the maturity levels,’ I added. ‘Wasn’t it Liam who drank a whole bottle of Worcester sauce for a dare?’

‘Oh yeah.’ Grace giggled. ‘He threw up everywhere.’

‘Oliver seems mature,’ Ella said consideringly, taking her pocket mirror out and examining her eye make-up.

‘Really is a shame I can’t go,’ I prompted.

‘Has Oliver dated anyone at school?’ Ella asked Grace, ignoring me completely. This was getting ridiculous. Couldn’t she concentrate on anything else? Or me at least? She could show some emotion that I wouldn’t be able to make it to her party.

‘Why? Are you interested in him?’ I said, cutting to the chase.

‘Oh my God, no, I’m not interested. I was just asking.’ Ella fake-laughed before turning seriously to Grace again. ‘Has he?’

Grace shook her head, before adding excitedly, ‘He asked the same about you, though.’

‘Really?’ Ella snapped her mirror shut, her eyes widening.

‘Yes, last night.’

‘And what exactly did you say?’

Grace’s cheeks turned pink under the pressure of Ella’s fixed stare. ‘Um . . . I just said that you had that thing with Aidan . . .’

‘Grace! ’ Ella hissed. Grace cowered.

‘Was that wrong?’ she asked timidly.

‘Why would you say that? Now he’s going to think that I’m unavailable!’

Grace’s face was now a bright red. ‘N-no, I’m sure he doesn’t think that. I can tell him that it’s over with Aidan, I just wasn’t certain.’

I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Grace. She was very petite – the smallest girl in our year – so she looked even more vulnerable as Ella, who was one of the tallest, towered over her. Ella wasn’t going to be forgiving. She never was. I would have to save the day.

‘I think it’s a good thing.’

Ella rounded on me. I could see Grace’s shoulders visibly relax as the heat was diverted on to someone else. ‘What do you mean?’

I sighed at how clueless she was. ‘If he wants to go out with you then he needs to make an effort. He can’t just date you because he makes the decision to.’

Ella hesitated as she considered my point so I continued. ‘You deserve the best, he has to prove that he is the best. Does that make sense?’

‘I guess,’ Ella said, her brow furrowed.

‘Good work, Grace, you’ve probably made your brother keener than ever. Not that you’re interested in him, right, Ella?’

‘Right,’ she said unconvincingly.

‘But hey, he might just win you over at the party.’

Ella nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, he might. Not that I’ll be waiting around for him to make a move.’

‘Duh, obviously not.’ I paused. ‘But just in case, how about you borrow my black leather mini that you love so much?’

‘Really?’

I was satisfied to note that Ella turned to look at me properly for the first time since we’d started talking.

‘Your new one?’ she asked. ‘But you haven’t worn it yet.’

‘That doesn’t matter.’ I forced a smile. ‘It will look great on you.’

I hated lending anything to Ella. And not just because she never told anyone who complimented her on it that it was in fact MY stuff, but also because it meant I could never wear it again. Last year at a summer pool party, I wore a pair of really cute designer pink shorts that I had stupidly lent Ella the weekend before. And then Zoe, one of the girls in our year, asked me if I had borrowed them from Ella. It was MORTIFYING. Ella is my friend and everything, but I don’t copy anyone. They copy me. I obviously had to go home straight away and change, and I threw the shorts in the bin. My brand-new leather skirt was now doomed to the same fate. But I guess it’s like when celebrities go on those reality TV shows, eat bugs and dance and stuff, and come out with a new lingerie line and book deal. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made to get what you want.

‘Great!’ Ella whipped out her lip gloss, added another layer to her already way too shiny lips and snapped the lid back on. ‘It really is such a shame that you can’t come to the party, Flick. It won’t be the same without you.’

Finally. The reaction I had been waiting for. Even if I did have to sacrifice my leather mini in the process. She flounced off towards her classroom and Grace breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Thanks so much, Flick. I thought she was going to yell at me then. You always know what to do. I wish I was more like you.’

I gave her arm a comforting pat.

‘Is it true? Is it true?’

Grace’s sudden squealing jolted me from my phone. While the others had been sitting together, going on about Ella’s party in the last few minutes of our lunch break, I had happily tucked myself away in a corner for some online shopping.

‘Is what true?’ I asked grumpily, quickly closing the page of leather skirts.

‘This!’ Grace shoved her phone, which was open on some celebrity gossip website, under my nose.

‘Skylar Chase is in London,’ I read. ‘So?’

‘Look at where she’s staying!’ Grace cried, her long black hair swishing into my face as she leaned over to point it out to me.

I read further down the piece and by the time I had scanned the paragraph, my desk was surrounded by an excitable, whispering crowd. This always happens when someone super famous stays at the hotel. Everyone at school becomes obsessed with following me around, asking for the celebrity’s autograph or even sometimes just showing up at home. As my school is near to the hotel, this happens quite a lot. Matthew gets all grumpy when he has to shoo them away.

Ella pushed her way through the group at my desk before plonking herself importantly on the chair next to mine.

‘Well?’ she asked, tilting her head curiously.

‘I’m not sure,’ I answered honestly. ‘It makes sense that she would be staying with us, though. Where else would she go?’

‘Oh my God,’ Grace squeaked. ‘Imagine if you see her in the lobby!’

‘Would she give you tickets to her tour?’ Ella asked, shooting Grace a look of irritation as Grace practically hopped up and down on the spot.

‘I’ll probably get backstage passes.’

Grace’s jaw dropped open. ‘Do you think you’ll get more than one backstage pass?’

‘Grace, calm down,’ Ella scolded, before rolling her eyes at me as Grace’s face fell.

I smiled to myself, remembering a year ago when Ella had practically torn my arm off in her excitement of her favourite boy band staying at the hotel, begging me for tickets or a chance to bump into them in reception. Now she had her new minion to impress, she was better at keeping up appearances.

‘If I get more than one pass, I’ll be sure to let you know. I’ll ask her if we hang out later.’

‘Hang out?’ Grace whispered, glancing nervously at Ella to confirm her tone and pitch were more acceptable.

‘Of course.’ I shrugged. ‘Mum often asks me to hang out with the VIP guests, you know, just to be polite.’

Grace put a hand on her heart as though to steady herself.

It wasn’t a complete lie, either, Mum did sometimes force me to give up my evenings to hang out with guests, so that part was true. The more questionable part was the VIP side of things.

What actually happened was that any time Mum wanted to talk to a guest and they had a daughter or a son my age, she would insist I join them – for some reason, Mum seems to think that being a similar age means we will automatically get on. I’ve always had to stand there awkwardly and silently with some loser teenager while our parents talk rubbish until my promised hour is up and I can escape back to my room ASAP.

I never get to talk to anyone I’ve actually heard of, like famous actors or pop stars. Usually they have so much security it’s impossible to get to them and I’m under strict instructions never to pester them or get in their way. The only time I really get to be in the same room as celebrities is the Hotel Royale Christmas Ball, which is my favourite night of the year and the biggest and best party in the world. Famous people and royal families from across the globe come to the hotel all dressed up in these amazing designer ballgowns, and they’re always all over the front pages the next day. It’s basically the Oscars but way better because there are no boring speeches and no one cries. Usually.

But other than the Christmas Ball, Mum always says that famous guests come to Hotel Royale to escape the fuss, and it’s important to her that they feel they can relax in the hotel without feeling they’re being watched or scrutinised. So there was no chance that Mum would let me go near someone as famous as Skylar Chase; I was never allowed to bother any celebrities.

But no one had to know that.

‘You know, Flick –’ Ella smiled – ‘if you want to bring Skylar along to my party next week, I wouldn’t mind.’

Gasps rippled through our audience.

‘That is,’ she continued, ‘if you manage to persuade your mum to let you come.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Everyone around us burst into chatter and Ella looked extremely pleased with herself, no doubt dying inside at the idea of Skylar Chase attending HER party. Obviously, it was never going to happen but I couldn’t shoot her down straight away, not with the whole class watching.

When I got home, I couldn’t help but get a teeny bit excited that Skylar Chase might be there. There were LOADS of photographers and reporters lurking around the entrance, getting in the way and ignoring the dirty looks from the doormen, who were attempting to welcome guests. I’m not supposed to talk to journalists, especially not about guests staying at the hotel, and thanks to Mum not letting me do any self-promotion they’re never interested in taking my picture. But some of the reporters know who I am and they gave me a friendly nod as I went round the revolving doors into reception.

What if I actually did bump into her? I looked about for any sign that the biggest pop star on the planet was staying in the hotel but everything looked exactly as it always did: Matthew was speaking on the phone behind the reception desk, a porter tipped his hat at me as I walked past, and guests wandered by on their way to their bedroom or the tearoom. The only thing that was different was that the extravagant flower arrangements around the lobby had been changed from pink flowers to purple ones.

‘Ah, Flick, I’ve been waiting for you.’

I grimaced as Audrey came down the stairs. Before this whole Skylar-Chase thing distracted me, I’d been planning on racing straight to my room when I got home, thus avoiding any run-ins with Audrey or Matthew. My dawdling had cost me.

‘I’m impressed. I thought you might run straight to your room and try to avoid me,’ she admitted.

‘Why would you think that?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because on any other occasion that your mother has asked you to help someone in the hotel, you’ve rushed to your room, locked the door and pretended to be asleep.’

‘Did you want something, or were you just looking for me to tell me off ?’ I huffed.

‘I need your help with a small task in the restaurant.’

‘Great, OK, but I have to go and walk Fritz and then I’ll be with you.’

‘I thought you might say that, which is why I asked Jamie to take Fritz out about fifteen minutes ago. I’m sure Fritz is having a marvellous time in the park right now. So, to the restaurant.’ She smiled, ushering me towards it. ‘You can help set up for the first dinner sitting.’

I was surprised by how mild the job allocation was – how hard can it be to set out a few knives and forks? – but I groaned loudly for effect so she wouldn’t think I was getting away with it.

‘Ah, Timothy.’ Audrey beckoned over one of the waiters folding napkins. I recognised him from the other day when he annoyingly interrupted my conversation with Mum about the selfie stick. ‘Flick will be assisting you for the next hour. Is it OK if I leave her in your charge?’

‘Absolutely,’ he said cheerily. ‘Welcome to the team, Flick.’

I did my best unimpressed face.

‘I’ll let you get started then,’ Audrey said, clapping her hands together before sauntering back to reception.

Timothy gestured for me to follow him to a trolley on which there was a large, shiny silver tray. Piled up on it was what looked like a hundred different pieces of cutlery.

‘Terrifying, isn’t it?’ He chuckled. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll soon get the hang of it. I’ll run through what each knife and fork is for, and so on and so forth, and then you can watch me do some settings before having a go yourself. Does that sound like a plan?’

I pursed my lips together.

‘Er . . . great,’ he said nervously. ‘Let’s begin with the forks.’ He selected several forks from the tray and held them up. ‘This is a fish fork, this one is a dinner fork and this one is a salad fork. Then you’ve got this little mite, the cocktail fork.’ He chuckled but stopped at my expression, placing the forks down quickly. ‘Now, the knives. This one is a –’

‘Timothy!’

Another waiter walked briskly towards us. ‘Apologies for interrupting, Miss Royale. Timothy, you’re needed briefly in the kitchen.’

‘Right, well, Flick, you just wait here a minute, I’ll be back in a tick. And then we’ll go through the knives.’

‘Can’t wait.’ I rolled my eyes and sat down.

Timothy and the other waiter shared a look before they hurried away. I picked up one of the forks and examined the patterns engraved into it, wondering why we didn’t have such fancy cutlery in our apartment. Mum is so stingy.

Throwing the fork on the top of the cutlery pile with a loud clang, I looked impatiently about me at the vast, empty dining room. I eyed up the door in the far corner which led to the piano room, a much smaller event space for musical performances – Cal and I used it to spy on dinner guests when we were little until we got told off for getting in the way. Timothy was nowhere to be seen and, no doubt, he would be kept busy for a while in the kitchen.  Technically, I’d done what I’d been told to do and the person in charge of me was shirking his duties. Smugly, I rushed over to the door. I hesitated when I heard Timothy’s voice coming down the corridor towards the restaurant. It was now or never. I pushed the door, slipped through and closed it behind me quickly, leaning back and breathing a sigh of relief. No more fish-fork lectures for me.

‘Mwahahaha,’ I whispered gleefully to myself, revelling in the silence of the piano room and my cunning escape. It would be easy to slip up to my room from here using the back stairs without being seen by Audrey and Matthew who are always front of house. No one would catch me here.

‘Hi.’

I yelped as someone stood up from the stool behind the grand piano.

My breath caught in my throat as I saw who it was.

Skylar Chase.