Prince Gustav stole my selfie stick.
And now I was stuck hiding in his wardrobe, while his PA attempted to teach him how to strike the perfect pose.
‘Instagram is all about confidence,’ the PA explained, as Prince Gustav nervously checked his teeth in the nearest mirror. ‘Loosen your shoulders and show them some attitude. They want to see the real you.’
I peered through the wardrobe keyhole out into the suite as the PA adjusted MY selfie stick and waited patiently for Prince Gustav to finish rolling his shoulders back and forth.
‘Are you ready?’
‘I don’t know, Freddie.’ Prince Gustav sighed dramatically. ‘I was sure I wanted an Instagram account but now I feel very stressed about the whole idea.’
‘I understand,’ Freddie agreed, ‘but that’s why I’m here to talk you through it. And it’s really about time that we had one up and running. Soon you’ll be taking selfies wherever you go without any assistance.’
‘What do I do with my head?’
‘It’s all very simple. I’ve done plenty of research and downloaded all the best apps so we can get the filter just right.’ Freddie ushered Prince Gustav nearer to the window. ‘First, we need the perfect lighting. There you go, that’s great. Now, tilt your head.’
‘I feel like a Labrador.’
‘It’s a great angle,’ Freddie insisted and all the security men and women in the room nodded in agreement. ‘Perfect! Now, take the selfie stick and when you feel ready, just click that button at the bottom.’
Prince Gustav warily took the end of the pink and silver bejewelled selfie stick and attempted to position it correctly, almost knocking Freddie out as he swung it through the air.
How could he not know how to use a selfie stick? He wasn’t even old! Do castles not get Wi-Fi or something?
Ducking swiftly out of the way, Freddie gave the prince an enthusiastic thumbs up. Silence descended upon the room as everyone waited in anticipation. Keeping his head in position, Prince Gustav tweaked his shirt collar with his free hand before clearing his throat and forming his lips into a mild pout. After a few seconds, there was a small click.
‘Did it work?’ Prince Gustav asked, swinging the stick clumsily back towards Freddie.
Freddie unclipped the phone and everyone held their breath as he inspected the photo.
‘Well,’ he said, breaking into a wide grin and holding out the screen so Prince Gustav could see. ‘I’d call that a royal whopper!’
‘Not bad for my first selfie!’ Prince Gustav exclaimed. ‘Let’s do another!’
Oh. My. God. This literally could not get worse.
I guess this whole tragic scenario made me look bad becausetechnicallyI had broken into the hotel suite of Prince Gustav, but he started it – he ‘borrowed’ my selfie stick without permission, which, if we’re going to get technical, was actually Mum’s fault because she took it upon herself to lend it to him without saying a word to me. And it is MY selfie stick, not hers to just give away to whomever she likes, so that counts as THEFT.
‘Matthew!’ I had shouted earlier, slightly out of breath from running full pelt across the lobby. I almost dropped Fritz, my dachshund, as I slid across the marble floor, stabilising myself on the reception desk.
I rang the gold bell vigorously. ‘Matthew!’
‘What’s wrong withyou?’
Urgh. Cal Weston, Matthew’s annoying son was sitting on top of the far end of the desk, watching me curiously. He was in the year above me at school, not that we ever spoke there. I couldn’t seem to avoid him in the hotel, though, he was always lurking around like some kind of weirdo. What kind of loser spends their free time at the place where their parent works?
OK, so technically I do, but Ilivehere so it’s different.
‘None of your business,’ I said, ringing the bell again. ‘Matthew!’
I caught Cal rolling his eyes.
‘You know,’ I said, glaring, ‘you’re not meant to be sitting up there. Guests are arriving all the time and you shouldn’t be the first thing they see.’
‘But you screeching like that is the first thing they should hear?’
I scowled.
