Читать книгу Dramas of a Teenage Heiress - Katy Birchall - Страница 8

By the time I got to school on Monday, I was ready for the day to be over. I never should have left my bed but Mum forced me to get up, giving me an unwelcome lecture at the same time all about proving to the haters that I’m not afraid of them.

Firstly, when did Mum start thinking she could pull off phrases like ‘the haters’ and secondly, I am one hundred per cent afraid of them.

‘Chin up,’ she said as I bade Fritz goodbye and we got in our private lift from our flat on the fifteenth floor. She pushed the button for reception. ‘Don’t let Nancy Rose win.’

‘Her video has now gone viral and she’s even uploaded a second one to talk about her “brush with death” at my hands,’ I said with a sigh. ‘I think she’s already won, Mum.’

The doors pinged open and we stepped out into the main lobby. Even though I’ve lived at Hotel Royale all my life, I never get tired of the view when the lift doors open on to reception. My great-great-grandfather, who founded the hotel yonks ago, wanted it to be the grandest hotel in the world, so he made sure it had all these big columns and sparkling chandeliers and marble floors, then he shoved a load of gold leafing all over the plush wallpaper just in case it wasn’t obvious that this place was super posh. I like to think that my great-great-grandfather was a total drama queen who kept saying things like, ‘More gold, people, give me more gold !’

In my head for some reason he also has a French accent.

‘Good morning,’ Matthew said cheerily, shooting me a big grin as he came out from behind reception. ‘And how are we today?’

‘I hate my life.’

‘Excellent! Ready to smash that Monday morning!’

He winked at Mum. ‘Christine, Audrey was looking for you. She wants to run through your 9 a.m. meeting notes.’

I don’t know how Matthew is so jolly all the time. As head concierge, he has to talk to every guest and be super nice to them, even if they’re mean or grumpy, and he has to sort out all their yawn-inducing problems. Plus, he heads up the hotel’s booking system, which is the most boring spreadsheet in the world and he’s been doing it for YEARS. Last year, I was in charge of the spreadsheet for just one day and I was bored out of my mind. Somehow, he thinks he has the best job in the world.

‘I could never work anywhere but Hotel Royale,’ he once said to me with this twinkle in his eye. ‘It is magical.’

Which, you know, is sweet and everything, but I also kind of threw up in my mouth.

‘Thank you, Matthew,’ Mum said. ‘Is Audrey in her office?’

‘I’m here!’

Audrey’s voice echoed through reception accompanied by the familiar sound of her unbelievably high stilettos clacking across the marble floor. I know I should be amazed by how organised and important she is, being general manager of the hotel, but I genuinely think I’m more impressed by Audrey’s ability to walk around in those stilettos. I actually saw her run in them once, when she was ‘late’ for an important appointment and I swear, she looked just like those giraffes galloping through the plains on David Attenborough documentaries. Also, Audrey is NEVER late to anything but she always thinks she is, which means when she takes me anywhere we’re always a hundred years early.

When I mentioned her giraffe-gallop, though, she didn’t look very impressed. Whatever – they’re elegant creatures. Better than the comparison she made about me that time I borrowed some roses from reception and put them in my room for a party (because technically the hotel is MY house so by default they’re MY flowers). Audrey gave me this funny look when she found out and said I reminded her a bit of Edmund from the Narnia books. I googled him and that is NOT a compliment. He betrays his family for some Turkish delight, which is the worst.

I mean, what kind of moron chooses gross Turkish delight? If you’re going to go to all that trouble betraying people, at least let it be for something good, like cola bottles or a Dip Dab.

‘Are you available for a quick chat before our meeting, Christine?’ Audrey said, juggling some files in her arms.

‘I’m just going to put Flick in a car to school and then we can —’

‘Mum, I can walk to school.’

‘Not with them you can’t,’ she said firmly, nodding towards the crowd of photographers and journalists milling around outside the front steps.

Seriously, how do I have all this attention and yet NO ONE IS SUBSCRIBING TO MY VLOG?

Matthew organised a driver to pick me up from the side entrance, but the reporters weren’t fooled. Thanks to the constant flow of celebrities and high-profile guests staying at the Royale all year round, the paparazzi know the hotel layout pretty well and they’ve learned all our tricks. Some of them were covering the side entrance and as soon as I stepped out into the street towards the car, we were bombarded with questions and camera lenses.

‘Flick, why did you attack Nancy Rose?’

‘Do you have any comments about the incident?’

‘Flick, how do you feel about her comment this morning that you aren’t worthy of being the heiress to Hotel Royale?’

‘Flick, do you consider yourself a diva?’

‘Flick, did you attack Nancy Rose for attention?’

‘Would you describe yourself as a wild child?’

Mum slammed the door firmly behind me as I scrambled into the back seat and the driver, Peter, put his foot down. I let out a long sigh and buried my head in my hands as we pulled away. When I looked up I could see Peter glancing at me with concern in the rear-view mirror. Sky once told me never to listen to the questions and rumours that the reporters yell at you; she said they’re just looking for a reaction they can play on. But one question was still ringing through my ears as we arrived at the school gates.

‘Flick, how do you feel about her comment this morning that you aren’t worthy of being the heiress to Hotel Royale? ’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ Cal said, after I found him waiting by my locker with Grace and Olly, and had filled them all in about Nancy Rose’s new declaration. ‘Of course you’re worthy of being the heiress to Hotel Royale.’

‘What does that even mean anyway?’ Olly added, rolling his eyes.

‘It means that respected heiresses shouldn’t be horrible brats and attack journalists. Not that I did,’ I replied, opening my locker.

I yelped as all my books came exploding out at me, scattering across the floor.

‘When are you going to tidy your locker?’ Olly laughed as the three of them bent down to help me pick everything up. ‘This happens every day.’

‘This does not happen every day,’ I protested. Olly and Cal shared a smirk as Grace helped me battle my books back into my locker and slam the door shut before they could fall out again.

Since the events of last term, I’d been hanging out with Grace, her brother Olly, and Cal a lot more and we’d become a sort of oddball friendship group. I’d only got to know Grace and Olly last year, but Cal I’d known forever. We used to be best friends when we were little and got into loads of trouble around the hotel, but then he turned into a big nerd who always wore headphones round his neck like they were an accessory and only talked about things like books and Star Trek, so, in his words, I had swiftly ‘dropped him like a hot potato’.

Which is such a nerd way to put it. No one uses the phrase ‘hot potato’ any more.

Anyway, the three of them were very low maintenance compared to Ella, who I had a big fall out with last term.

It was nice having friends who weren’t using you for popularity points or free backstage passes. The more I thought about it, the less I could remember why Ella and I had been friends in the first place. It’s not like we ever had real fun or laughed together until our stomachs ached (this happens with Grace on an almost daily basis. Her teacher impressions are second to none). Ella had loved complaining about everything, making snide remarks about other people in our year, and only really cared about looking like she was having fun rather than actually having any. We spent our whole time making sure everyone knew we were the elite of the school.

Then, last term, she saw me waiting tables at the hotel and spread all these rumours about me, saying that I had been lying all the time about hanging out with celebrities and being best friends with Skylar Chase.

Which was only partly true. Technically I had told a couple of white lies about the people I’d hung out with at the hotel BUT becoming friends with Sky was a hundred per cent true. Anyway, Grace told her off for saying mean things about me to everyone and then Grace’s brother Olly broke up with Ella because she wasn’t being very nice and also because she kept pulling out his arm hair when she fawned all over him.

Ella totally blames me for both those things and never talks to me now. I tried to make amends at Christmas, before the start of the new term, but she wasn’t interested. She takes every chance she can to throw me a dirty look and then say something under her breath to whichever one of her adoring minions is standing next to her. You’d think she’d cut me some slack considering the number of outfits I’ve let her borrow over the years.

‘You don’t really listen to anything Nancy Rose says, do you?’ Cal asked. ‘She’s just annoyed with you because you attacked her. It will blow over and she’ll find someone else to torture.’

‘Just to reiterate, I did NOT attack her. She took Fritz’s bag and then I simply reminded her that it didn’t belong to her. She’s blown this whole thing out of proportion and made me sound like a diva. Which I’m absolutely not, as you know!’

I turned to the others for reassurance. None of them were looking me in the eye.

‘I’m not a diva,’ I said, in case they hadn’t heard the first time. ‘As you know. Right?’

‘Sure. Right.’ Olly nodded.

‘Absolutely not,’ Grace said.

‘So down to earth,’ Cal added seriously.

And then the three of them started sniggering. WHO ARE THESE TRAITORS I CALL MY FRIENDS?

‘Hey! I’m not a diva!’ I cried in exasperation.

‘Although up until recently you did have that diva strut going on.’ Cal grinned. ‘And there was that time you demanded the Hotel Royale chef make Fritz a three-tiered caked for his half birthday . . .’

‘I wanted Fritz to feel special!’ I protested. ‘And I did not demand it. I asked Chef Kian if he had time to —’

‘And the time she refused to walk to the shop, and made Peter drive her,’ Olly pointed out, nodding along with Cal.

‘OK, that is so NOT what happened. It was raining that day and Peter offered to drive me when he saw me setting off with all my bags and —’

‘Don’t forget the time she made us microwave her ice cream,’ Grace chimed in gleefully.

‘That ice cream was FREEZING!’ I crossed my arms grumpily. ‘I can’t believe this. I’m having the worst time because of Nancy Rose and now my own friends are attacking me for —’

Cal held up his hands, interrupting me. ‘Flick, calm down, we’re messing with you!’

‘Of course we know you’re not a diva!’ Grace giggled.

Just as I opened my mouth to speak, someone bumped my shoulder from behind, making me stumble forwards into Cal who had to steady me. I turned round to see Ella smirking.

‘Sorry, Flick,’ she said, not sounding sorry at all. ‘Didn’t see you there.’

‘No problem,’ I said through gritted teeth.

‘I really enjoyed Nancy Rose’s new vlog.’

‘Move along, Ella,’ Olly said quickly, looking at her in disgust.

Ella blushed, the harsh words from her ex-boyfriend clearly stinging, but not enough for her to leave us alone.

‘I wasn’t surprised to hear about what happened between you and her,’ she continued smugly. ‘You should really learn how to control your fiery temper.’

‘I do NOT have a fiery temper,’ I snapped irritably.

Because I have auburn hair, I get teased a lot about being a hothead, which just makes me MORE of a hothead.

‘You see?’ She gasped, looking taken aback. ‘Here I am just trying to be nice and you’re throwing it back in my face! Just like with Nancy Rose. No wonder she’s calling you a diva. You’ve really changed.’

My cheeks flushed with anger and I felt Cal’s hand press gently on the back of my arm in warning. I could hear his voice in my head telling me not to rise to it.

‘I haven’t changed, Ella,’ I seethed. ‘I’ve just come to learn who my real friends are.’

‘Well, do they know who you really are?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I asked, glaring at her.

‘Hello, am I the only one who watched Nancy Rose’s vlog?’ she asked, with a baffled expression. ‘Flick attacked her over a handbag! Who does that?’

‘That is not what happened. I didn’t —’

‘No smoke without fire, Flick. And I’ve seen the footage of you being escorted out of the room by security, so you must have done something.’ She tossed her hair back before turning to Cal and saying, ‘Cal, I’m surprised that you in particular aren’t angrier at your friend. Don’t you want to be a journalist some day?’

‘Well, yeah,’ Cal mumbled, seeming stunned that she even knew who he was. ‘But that doesn’t mean —’

‘If Flick hadn’t let her temper get the better of her, maybe she would have thought twice about launching an attack on someone who would have been an amazing contact for you. Nancy Rose is one of the most famous journalists in the world.’

‘OK, for the LAST TIME, I did not attack —’

‘But then, I guess you are a really nice guy.’ She smiled sweetly at him, before giving me a pointed look. ‘Maybe that should be a little more appreciated by your friend Flick here.’

My jaw fell to the floor.

‘Anyway,’ she said smugly, ‘I had better go get my seat in assembly. Just remember, Flick, that your selfish behaviour reflects badly on everyone around you. Something to keep in mind.’

I could feel a strange kind of rage bubbling and twisting through my stomach as she turned on her heel and sauntered down the corridor.