As the song starts to crescendo, the headmaster of the school makes his way into the back of the classroom. His face is drawn tight in dismay as he looks at his watch and then me. Nerves settle deep in my stomach. What in the world is he doing in here? Outside of formal evaluations, it’s rare to see him in our classrooms. And considering we have them once a year, and mine was at the start of the term, his presence is unnerving.
We work through the piece a few more times before it’s time to pack up for the day. A few students are lingering before they’re dismissed by the headmaster. They shoot curious glances back at me as he closes the door behind the last student.
“Miss Cross. I need a word with you.”
Ice settles in my stomach at his tone. “Okay.” I sit at my desk, taking in his discerning stare.
“Effective immediately, you are suspended for conduct detrimental to the terms of the contract you signed upon hire.”
“What?” I explode out of my seat. “What conduct are you referring to?”
He slaps a magazine on the desk in front of me, and all blood seems to drain from my body. My stomach is somewhere near my feet as I read the headlines.
Our future Queen riding the Prince too hard?
Below the headlineis a picture of my first night with James. I’m on top of him as our naked bodies are exposed. “I don’t understand. How did they get this?”
“There’s more,” he says, taking the magazine from my hands and flipping it open. There are more pictures from that night. The night that James took me to the orchestra. The same night I realized I was falling in love with him.
His words are distant as the pictures in front of me assault my eyes. Of James’s hands all over me. Of his kisses. Of me stroking him off. Every single moment from that evening is plastered all over this gossip rag for the world to see.
“As you can see, these are rather disturbing. And this goes against the contract you signed when you started here.”
“This is an invasion of privacy!”
“And yet I can’t ignore these images. I’ve already had several calls from parents concerned about the level of scrutiny these photos will bring down on the school. Until this dies down, we can’t have you teaching.”
I can only shake my head in dismay. Grabbing my purse, I leave the room without another word.
“Miss Cross. Please wait until we can have the car brought around.” My security officer stops me at the side door.
“Is it bad?”
He pins me with a look that tells me it is. “Prince James is awaiting your arrival.”
I nod as the door is pushed open and a wall of sound hits me. Flashbulbs are popping in my face as I’m guided out of the school. Bodies are pushing on all sides of me. It’s worse than when they attacked me outside my house. They’re screaming at me left and right.
“Is this how you plan to run the country?”
“Did you only want James because he’s going to be King?”
“Are you just doing this for the attention?”
“How is the prince in bed?”
Bile is thick in my throat as I make my way into the awaiting car. Tears threaten as I pull out my phone. Hundreds of notifications are awaiting me, but I ignore them all. I know I shouldn’t look at the damage, but I have to see what is being said.
I don’t have to search hard. The images are at the top of every major news headline. At least some have the decency to blur out some of the more risqué photos.
Most of the photos are from that night at the orchestra with James. But there are a few others. Us in my garden one night. Laughing in the kitchen. They’re tame. I’m sitting on his lap while we had drinks. Nothing devastating like the ones of us having sex in my room.
I can’t figure out how they took those photos. I’m in a quiet neighbourhood, surrounded by houses on all sides. Aside from misplaced post, my neighbours are quiet and keep to themselves. Who in their right mind would do something like this?
A fierce ache settles in my bones. I knew it wouldn’t be an easy life, stepping into the royal spotlight. But I never thought my life would be invaded in such a drastic manner. The fact that my privacy was violated in such an epic fashion, in my own home no less, has doubts about this new life swirling in my head.
Will it always be like this?
Will they be able to protect us from the press?
