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Her colleagues were a good, kindly, close-knit bunch who supported and looked out for each other. It was in this vein that Claudia, one of the tour guides, approached her in the staff room during Amy’s break on the Friday after the Gala.
‘I’m sorry to disturb your lunch, but Princess Catalina is here.’
Amy immediately froze, as if a skewer of ice had been thrust into her central nervous system. Somehow she managed to swallow her mouthful of tomato and feta salad, the food clawing its way down her numbed throat.
The tour guide bit her lip. ‘She is asking for you.’
‘For me?’ she choked out.
Claudia nodded. ‘She wants a tour of the King’s exhibition and has asked for you personally.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if Helios was with her, but she stopped herself in time. If Helios was with the Princess they wouldn’t need Amy. Helios could do the tour himself.
She didn’t even know if he was back from his trip to America. She’d thought he was due back sometime that afternoon.
She’d spent five nights without him.
It had been much harder than any of their other separations. She’d missed him desperately, as a small child missed home.
It was a pain she would have to get used to.
Her main source of comfort had come from Benedict, who had stayed in her apartment during Helios’s absence. The lovable black Labrador had seemed to sense Amy’s despondency and had kept close to her. Their evenings together had been spent on the sofa, watching films, Benedict’s head on her lap.
When she returned to England she would get her own Labrador for company.
Blowing out a long breath of air, Amy closed the lid of her salad box and forced herself to her feet. She couldn’t manage another bite.
‘Where is she?’
‘In the entrance hall.’
‘Okay. Give me two minutes to use the bathroom.’
Concentrating on her breathing, Amy took her handbag and locked herself in the staff bathroom. She took stock of her reflection in the mirror and pulled a face. Hastily she loosened her hair from its ponytail, brushed it and then tied it back again. From her handbag she pulled her compressed face powder and a make-up brush and applied a light covering. She would have added eyeliner and lip gloss but her hands were shaking too much.
As a means of buying time for herself, her trip to the bathroom was wasted. The hopes she’d had of making it through the next few months without having to meet the Princess had been blown to pieces.
Why her? Why had the Princess asked for her by name? How did she even know who she was?
Terror gripped her, but she forced herself to straighten up and pushed air into her cramped lungs.
The Princess was an honoured guest, she reminded herself. It was natural she would ask for the exhibition’s curator to be her guide. Just be professional, she told herself as she left her sanctuary.
The Princess awaited her in the entrance hall, flanked by two huge bodyguards.
She was the epitome of glamour, wearing skintight white jeans, an off-the-shoulder rose-pink top, an elegant pale blue silk scarf and blue high heels. Her ebony hair was loose around her shoulders, and an expensive pair of sunglasses sat atop her head.
But there was more to her than mere glamour; a beautiful, almost ethereal aura she carried effortlessly. She was a princess in every sense of the word. If she slept on a hundred mattresses no doubt she would still feel the pea at the bottom.
Swallowing down the dread lodged like bile in her throat, Amy strode towards her with a welcoming smile. ‘Your Highness, I am Amy Green,’ she said, dropping into a curtsy. ‘It is an honour to meet you.’
The Princess smiled graciously. ‘Forgive me for disturbing your break, but I wanted a tour of the exhibition. I’ve been told you’re the curator and that you have a wealth of knowledge about my fiancé’s family. I couldn’t think of a better person to show me around.’ All of this was delivered in almost faultless English.
‘I am honoured.’ And it was an honour. A true honour.
They went slowly around the exhibition rooms, with Amy politely discussing the various artefacts and their context in the Kalliakis family’s history. She answered the Princess’s questions as best she could whilst all too aware of her constantly clammy hands.
Princess Catalina might look as if she would feel the pea through a hundred mattresses, but she was so much more than a princess from the realms of fairy tales.
She was a flesh and blood human.
It wasn’t until they entered The Wedding Room, with the bodyguards keeping a close but respectable distance, that the Princess showed any real animation. She was immediately drawn to Queen Rhea’s wedding dress, staring at it adoringly for long, excruciating seconds before she turned to Amy.
