Secrets of a Teenage Heiress Page 4

  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.

  THE DAILY POST

  Skylar Touches Down in London!

  By Nancy Rose

  American teen pop star Skylar Chase has landed in the capital as she embarks on her first UK tour. The popular singer has been touring the world ever since her debut album exploded on to the charts, propelling her to number one for weeks, and beating the world record for longest album in the top spot. ‘I’m excited to be here in London,’ the eighteen year old told the Daily Post exclusively. ‘I’ll be here for a while to work on several projects, so I’m looking forward to seeing the sights as well as getting down to some hard work.’ Rumour has it that while she’s here in the UK, she will be staying at London’s famous grande dame hotel, Hotel Royale. Only the best for this pop princess!

  ‘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 El
la 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.

  Hey Grace

  Hey Flick! Wassup?

  Not to be weird but . . . are you following me home?

  What?! Course not!

  OK. It’s only . . . I can see you

  What do you mean? I’m on my way home. Which is the opposite direction to the hotel

  I can see you behind that lamp post

  What lamp post?

  The one you’re hiding behind

  That must be someone else

  I just saw you type that text

  Must be someone else texting while we’re texting too. Weird coincidence!

  I can literally see you. Right there behind that lamp post

  Are you sure you’re not following me? No offence, but that’s kind of creepy

  I told you that if I see Skylar Chase, I’ll call you immediately, OK? And when I’m not grounded any more, you can come to the hotel after school

  THANK YOU!

  No worries. You can leave the lamp post now and go home

  I totally wasn’t following you That would be weird

  Right

  I had to come this way to check out . . . this lamp post

  Sure. That makes sense

  It’s a historical gem

  Go home Grace

  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.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’

  For a few moments I just stared at her, taking in the fact that Skylar Chase, the most famous pop star in the world, was standing in front of me and had just heard me say ‘mwahahaha’ to myself for no apparent reason.

  It wasn’t exactly the introduction I’d hoped for.

  ‘No, don’t worry about it,’ I said eventually, pulling myself together. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you were in here.’

  ‘I was just . . .’ She gestured to the piano as she came forwards to lean on its side.

  I nodded. ‘Cool. Well, I’ll get out of your way.’

  ‘I recognise you,’ she said curiously. ‘Aren’t you . . . Felicity Royale?’

  I gaped at her. ‘You . . .  you know who I am?’

  ‘I met your mom earlier, she showed me a picture of you.’

  ‘Oh no.’ I winced. ‘I’m sorry. Was she really embarrassing?’

  She laughed. ‘No! No, she was very welcoming.
It was nice to meet her.’

  ‘Yeah, well she’s not exactly up to date with the charts or anything,’ I explained as she giggled. ‘Don’t be insulted if she talks about music from hundreds of years ago.’

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’ She smiled, showing her perfect set of pearly white teeth.

  This may sound stupid, but you know there’s that saying about how some people just have ‘star quality’? Well, Skylar Chase has it. Whatever it is. Her aura or something. It just radiates out, a sort of comfortableness in her own skin.

  And the way she looked too. I was still in my school uniform, whereas she was wearing a white blouse, skinny black jeans, black heeled boots, and a black trilby hat which was resting perfectly on the top of her curly brown hair. She really did look every inch a pop star.

  Despite the fact that I had just interrupted an international musician rehearsing her songs so should probably leave her to it, something about the way she leaned on the piano watching me made me feel like she wanted to keep talking.

  ‘Shouldn’t a famous pop star have an entourage or something?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘I actually do have a pretty big team staying here but I wanted to get away for a bit.’

  ‘Do they tell you how great you are the whole time?’

  ‘Not nearly enough.’ She grinned. ‘What was with the cackle?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘The cackle you did when you came into the room.’

  ‘I didn’t do a cackle.’