Kitabı oku: «Dramas of a Teenage Heiress»

For Sam, Luke and Lily

CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

PROLOGUE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Back series promotional page

1

THE DAILY POST

TEENAGE

HEIRESS IN

SHOCK HANDBAG

SCANDAL!

By Nancy Rose

I’ve met celebrities with colossal egos before. But it is not every day that I, Nancy Rose, Daily Post columnist, am WRESTLED TO THE GROUND by a celebrity, before being assaulted by her FEROCIOUS SAUSAGE DOG. And all for a one-of-a-kind handbag. But I can EXCLUSIVELY REVEAL that yesterday evening Felicity Royale and her dog Fritz did just that.

Attending fashion designer Lewis Blume’s launch for his new collection, I innocently reached for a handbag on display, a one-off with silhouettes of dachshunds across the front. How lovely, I thought as I admired the stitching. I love dogs and all animals. I’m so pleased I often donate to animal charities.

Before you read on, please be aware that what happened next may DISTRESS READERS.

In a completely unprovoked attack, I was TACKLED to the ground by none other than the teenage heiress to Hotel Royale, who insisted that the bag was hers!

Sending shockwaves through the other guests, Miss Royale’s WILD dachshund then ATTEMPTED TO BITE ME as the heiress continued to claw the bag from my hands.

Although the main incident was missed by the cameras, footage of Miss Royale then being ESCORTED OUT BY SECURITY is currently circulating online.

I would like to assure my fans that I am recovering well and, to those who were already aware of the incident, thank you for all your kind messages of support.

For my full reaction, check out today’s YouTube vlog at NancyRose and don’t forget to subscribe for all the juiciest celeb gossip and daily dramas!

My life is over.

I had decided never to emerge from underneath my duvet again, and my plan was working perfectly until my mum came barging into my room – which STILL doesn’t have a lock on it, despite all my requests, because Mum seems to think she has the right to just barrel on in and invade my privacy whenever she likes.

‘Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?’ she said with a sigh, yanking the duvet off me.

Fritz, my dachshund, immediately hopped down from the bed, where he’d been snoozing comfortably next to me, and began pawing at her leg until she scooped him up in her arms and tickled his belly.

You know, considering I feed him every day, I’d expect a little more loyalty.

‘I am NOT being dramatic,’ I huffed, narrowing my eyes at the traitorous Fritz and pulling the duvet back over myself. ‘But while you’re here, can you pass me a pen and paper? I need to write up my last will and testament. If you bring me breakfast in bed, I promise to leave you my extensive collection of moisturisers. And I know Grace has her eye on those so you’d better act fast.’

Mum rolled her eyes and put Fritz down into his basket. ‘It is not that bad.’

‘It is EXACTLY that bad,’ I whined, ducking my head back under the duvet and curling up into a ball beneath it. ‘It is MORTIFYING. My life is ruined. No one will want to be my friend. I’ll be exiled from society just like that Romeo guy in that Shakespeare play.’

‘When did you read Romeo and Juliet ?’ Mum asked, sounding impressed and a little bit too surprised for my liking.

‘That is not important right now!’ I declared, in my most superior tone.

I also decided to brush over the fact that I hadn’t exactly read the play, but I was totally listening when my best friend Grace was talking about it with her brother Olly the other day.

Well, half listening. I got distracted a few minutes into their debate by a video on my phone of all these jumping goats.

They really were very funny.

‘Mum,’ I said, bringing the conversation back to the practical issues at hand. ‘We should consider moving country. I’ve had a look online, and there are some very tempting options. Did you know that New Zealand is home to the world’s most diverse penguin population? I know, right? Sounds like a cool place to live, if you ask me.’

‘Flick, we’re not moving to New Zealand and you’re not writing your will. Instead, you can talk me through what happened last night. That is, if you’re ready to talk about the incident.’

‘I will NEVER be ready to talk about it. And anyway, you already know what happened. It’s EVERYWHERE online.’

‘I know Nancy Rose’s version of what happened, but I’m more interested in yours.’

‘What’s the point?’ I groaned. ‘No one is going to believe me.’

‘I’ll believe you.’

I peered over the top of the duvet suspiciously.

‘Fine,’ I said with another world-weary sigh, and then I launched into EXACTLY what happened, no exaggerations . . .

The famous designer Lewis Blume had invited Fritz and me to the launch of his new handbag collection. Only people who had been living under a rock in the Outer Hebrides wouldn’t have heard that we were very special guests of Lewis’s because one of the pieces in his new collection just so happens to be The Fritz – a handbag inspired by my amazing, trendsetting dachshund.

Which should come as no surprise because Fritz is a total superstar these days. His Instagram is off the charts, and he’s way more in demand than all those French bulldogs wearing hats and stuff. Fritz was voted the most stylish dog by Tatler AND he’s even getting his very own calendar next year.

So, when we got the call saying he was Lewis Blume’s latest muse, I was like, DUH, of course he is.

And I made sure he looked his very best for the launch, in his favourite Ralph Lauren tuxedo complete with silk polka-dot pocket square, and his new collar, specially designed by British supermodel and dog-lover David Gandy, who delivered it personally to Fritz last week.

To be honest, Fritz may have looked good and his bag was AMAZING, but I was kind of bored at the launch because, even though I was surrounded by cool celebrities, I hardly knew anyone there. My pop-star friend, Skylar Chase, was selfishly still in LA and my vlogger pal, Ethan Duke, had to go to some stupid teen awards instead. So I stood looking around, and that’s when I saw her. Nancy Rose. Standing by The Fritz handbag. Rubbing her hands together and reaching out for it with her talon-like nails, crying, ‘Mwahahahaha, this bag SHALL BE MINE! FOREVER MI—’

‘Ahem.’

‘What?’ I exclaimed, cut off in mid flow.

‘I thought you said no exaggerations.’

‘I’m not exaggerating, Mother. ’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re telling me that Nancy Rose was standing in front of The Fritz handbag, cackling and yelling, “This bag shall be mine!” in the middle of a launch?’

‘OK, FINE, that was a slight exaggeration.’ I sighed. ‘Can I continue with the story now?’

‘Please do.’

ANYWAY, that’s when I saw her. Nancy Rose. Standing by The Fritz handbag. Rubbing her hands together and then reaching out for it with her talon-like nails. And while she might not have cried, ‘Mwahahahaha, this bag SHALL BE MINE! FOREVER MINE!’, she did flutter her eyelashes at Lewis Blume, who happened to be standing nearby, and said something along the lines of, ‘This exact bag would be perfect for an event I’m attending tomorrow.’

Which may sound innocent, but there was no way I was going to let Nancy Rose take that bag for a stupid event she’s attending for the following reasons:

1. That bag on display was a ONE-OFF piece, with a special embroidered message to Fritz on the inside.

2. If anyone was going to be photographed FIRST holding that handbag, it was going to be FRITZ, who inspired it in the first place.

3. And if it was perhaps a little too big for Fritz to carry, then it was going to be ME.

4. And if it wasn’t me, then maybe the Queen or Beyoncé or someone.

5. Whoever it was, it was NOT going to be gossip-columnist Nancy Rose who has, in the past, said some very mean things on her stupid vlog about my very good friend Skylar Chase.

Holding Fritz, I casually sauntered over to where Nancy Rose was standing next to the bag, and I forced myself to be open-minded about her, even though I overheard her telling someone nearby that she thinks animals (thus including beautiful innocent sausage dogs like Fritz) are VERMIN and when she has taken over 10 Downing Street with her evil plan, she’s going to destroy all —

‘Ahem.’

‘WHAT?’ I demanded, throwing a pillow at Mum as she attempted to hide a smile.

‘The exaggerating thing,’ she explained. ‘You’re doing it again.’

‘You know what, Mum, you’re really obstructing my whole vibe.’

‘Go from the bit where you walk up to Nancy Rose,’ she said, ‘and no embellishments this time.’

‘You have no flair for good storytelling,’ I said, sighing.

SO, I walked up to Nancy Rose, with Fritz under my arm, and she was talking to someone about boring, non-evil, standard stuff, blah blah blah.

‘Flick Royale,’ she said as she noticed me, offering me her hand to shake. ‘I don’t think we’ve ever met. I’m Nancy Rose. I was just admiring this handbag – inspired by your dog, I believe.’

‘I overheard,’ I replied through gritted teeth, but shook her hand very politely because I have IMPECCABLE manners.

‘I was actually hoping to borrow it for this event I’m going to tomorrow. It’s for a dog charity and I —’

‘Actually, I was hoping to have it for an event FRITZ is going to tomorrow,’ I said quickly. ‘But Fritz is very glad you like it.’

‘Excuse me?’

And that’s when she smiled at me, this really fake smile through her bright red lipstick as though she had stumbled upon something juicy for her column.

‘I said Fritz is very glad you like it.’

‘Before that, you said you would be using the bag tomorrow? Forgive me, but isn’t that up to the designer?’ she said, tilting her head as though talking to a baby. ‘Lewis often lends me first-off-the-line items for his collection, so that I can display them on my vlog, and I wouldn’t bother showing any item that has already been photographed on someone else. I don’t do sloppy seconds.’ She sniffed. ‘Especially after . . . a dog.’

Fritz growled.

‘Fritz’s bag will be available for anyone to buy, it’s just that this particular handbag here on display was made especially for him because of the inscription,’ I explained, patiently. ‘I can show you if you —’

‘I don’t know if you know, Felicity, but my vlog is really very popular, so the things designers lend me get a lot of views and I doubt Lewis will want to miss that opportunity.’ She paused before doing that thin-lipped smile again. ‘Tell me, Flick, does Lewis Blume give you items for your vlog?’

Then she picked up the handbag and let it hang daintily from her wrist, as though modelling it to the room.

Which is when I kind of exploded. Because that comment about the vlog may have sounded fine to an innocent bystander BUT it was in fact a very pointed thing to say, because Nancy Rose knows full well that my vlog, launched earlier this year, hasn’t exactly had the attention I hoped it would.

So, I did what anyone would do in that situation and I snatched the handbag from her and put it on my own wrist. Where it belongs. Next to Fritz.

And you know what? She snatched it right back from me. Which was VERY childish.

I obviously had to reach out and grab the handle to take it back again.

Next thing I knew, I was having a tug of war with Nancy Rose over The Fritz handbag and everyone was staring and gasping, and Fritz started barking because he didn’t want her to ruin his special handbag with her pointy talons, AND THEN Nancy Rose LET GO of her side of the handle, causing her to go flying backwards.

Seriously, hasn’t she ever played tug of war before?

That’s how she ended up on the floor. It was her own stupid fault for not holding on to the bag properly. I did NOT tackle her. And Fritz didn’t go anywhere near her. He would never bite anyone.

Which is exactly what I told the security man, Jeremy, as he led me out of the party. And Jeremy nodded along and offered me a Fruit Pastille while I waited for my driver, which I politely declined because I had no idea how long the packet had been in his pocket and it looked a bit squished.

But still, it was a nice thing for him to do and you could tell he was totally on my side.

I paused to take a deep breath.

‘I see.’ Mum nodded.

‘That is the full story. Mum, we have to leave the country,’ I pleaded, burying my face in my pillow. ‘Thanks to Nancy Rose’s version of what happened last night, everyone is saying mean things about me.’

‘Not everyone. Prince Gustav Xavier III tweeted this morning, saying that you are a very nice young lady with exceptional selfie-stick skills and he can’t imagine that a word of her story is true.’

‘Wait.’ I poked my head out the duvet. ‘Prince Gustav is on Twitter now? I thought he was still getting to grips with Instagram.’

I remembered all too well the painful incident of having to watch the European socialite prince attempt to use my selfie stick for his first Instagram post (which I’d witnessed from inside his wardrobe, because I was trying to steal the selfie stick back from him . . . but that’s another story). Thankfully, since then he’s started dating Skylar Chase and not only has the wardrobe incident been forgotten but also he’s got better at taking photos. He’s even been experimenting with filters.

‘He must be building his brand.’ Mum shrugged.

‘You know, Mum, I was considering apologising to Nancy Rose. I woke up this morning feeling a bit guilty about the way I acted.’ I pursed my lips. ‘But then I saw her vlog and now I’m NEVER apologising.’

‘Yes, I don’t exactly agree with how she’s gone about things, but —’

‘There was a fleeting moment when I thought that this whole thing might boost my vlog’s popularity. Any publicity is good publicity kind of thing. But do you know what?’

Mum looked at me blankly. ‘What?’

‘I checked my subscribers this morning and the numbers have gone DOWN.’

Mum didn’t exactly look distressed by this new information. She’d never wanted me to have a vlog. She had banned me ages ago from having a YouTube channel until Cal, the son of her most trusted employee, head concierge Matthew, and someone I had known since we were little, had persuaded her it would be a good thing for me to do.

I don’t know why she trusts Cal’s word over mine. Although he is quite smart and he never gets into trouble at school, whereas I’ve already had detention twice this term: once for stealthily answering my phone in assembly (it was Sky calling from LA, what was I meant to do? Ignore her? She’s won a Grammy. You do NOT ignore people who have won Grammys); and the second for missing an entire maths lesson because Grace spilled ketchup on my purse and I had to pop home to the hotel and ask Amy in housekeeping how I could get it out before it stained. Which, if you ask me, is a perfectly good reason to miss out on a few sums but whatever.

Still, I’m just as responsible as Cal. I proved it too last term when Mum grounded me FOREVER after I hid in Prince Gustav’s wardrobe in his hotel room. And then she grounded me again because I sneaked out one night with Sky to attend a fashion show when I was supposed to be doing my homework. That was the end of my social life for a while. Stuck here in the hotel, I spent the whole time helping everyone out, tagging along with all the different teams and learning the ropes, which was all excellent research for my vlog.

But it turns out it’s not that easy to gain followers on YouTube and now, thanks to Nancy Rose, everyone thinks I’m awful. There’s no chance people will want to hear a word I have to say.

‘How many hits has her vlog about me got now?’ I asked Mum. ‘You can refresh the page on my laptop.’

Mum turned to my desk, on which my laptop was sitting already open on Nancy Rose’s YouTube channel. She leaned over and clicked the refresh button.

‘Well?’ I sniffed, watching her. ‘How many?’

She examined the screen and then straightened, looking shocked.

‘Uh . . .’ She hesitated, before shutting my laptop firmly. ‘It doesn’t say.’

I groaned and slumped back on to my pillows. Mum was a terrible liar.

‘Flick, don’t let this get you down. We do, however, need to have a serious talk about your behaviour at the launch, but we can leave that until later.’

‘Can’t wait.’

‘And don’t worry about Nancy Rose’s silly vlog. By this evening, everyone will have forgotten about it.’

By the evening, the ‘silly vlog’ had gone viral and a mass of paparazzi had gathered outside the hotel.

I know this sounds crazy, but I think I actually prefer it when I’m wrong and Mum is right.

Flick, are you OK?

I keep trying to call

Sorry, Grace, I’m kind of in hiding today

I completely understand

That vlog is so mean! Clearly just lies. Cal, Olly and I all agree that Nancy Rose is the WORST. Is there anything we can do?

Nothing. Thanks, though

You want us to come over and cheer you up? We don’t have to talk about what happened

I’d rather be on my own for now.

I’ll see you guys at school.

Thanks for being the best friend ever, though

BTW, I’ve come up with a plan

A plan? For what?

It’s genius

What are you talking about? What plan?

A plan to take down Nancy Rose.

Want to hear it?

Um. OK

We lure her to a deserted warehouse

That’s a creepy start

We wait in the shadows for her to arrive

Getting weirder

And then when we’ve got her right where we want her . . .

I regret asking about this plan

WE THROW WATER BALLOONS AT HER MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Wait. THAT’S IT?! Water balloons?

That’s your genius plan?

I know, right! It’s so great. It’s got it all: mystery, suspense, a climactic water balloon attack! What do you think?

Uh . . . how long have you been working on this plan?

Since I saw the video, so six hours ago!

I’ve done a tactical breakdown diagram of everyone’s positions and everything. Why?

Grace, you won a school award for academic achievement

Yeah?

You’re top of every single class.

You’re the brightest person I know

??

And you’ve spent six hours coming up with a plan . . . to throw water balloons

What’s your point??

Never mind. I’ll call tomorrow

I’ll keep working on the genius plan.

What are your thoughts on Super Soakers?

Is that making things too complicated??

Night Grace xxx