‘We won’t know until we’ve had a look. At least you brought her here. The worst ones are those who bleed out at home.’ She gave them a firm-lipped smile. ‘Your sister is lucky you found her when you did.’
‘Sister?’ Caroline said.
And she was just about to explain when Betty said, ‘We’re all the family she has.’
The nurse showed them to the waiting room, and it was decided that Miranda and Betty would stay the night, Caroline having to get back for Annabel.
‘You were right to be concerned about Richard,’ Miranda said. ‘I didn’t realize she was so vulnerable.’
‘We should have done more to stop her.’ Betty looked tired. ‘With the coronation and everything else that’s been going on, I took my eyes off her.’
‘You can’t blame yourself, Betty. It’s expected for women to feel like they are responsible for making sure that everyone is doing well. But in this case, Richard should take the blame. At least we found her in time and got her to the hospital.’
Betty squeezed her hand. ‘Thank you. It means a lot having you here. It’s like my sister has been looking down, sending you to me. There’ll be plenty more jobs at the palace after the coronation. I hope you’ll stay.’ She looked into Miranda’s eyes. ‘I know you accused me ofusing you to replace my Harry, but perhaps it’s time we both accept how much we need other people – how we could become each other’s missing pieces.’
And Miranda couldn’t help but put an arm around her aunt’s shoulder. ‘We can be our very own family.’
LATER THAT NIGHT, AFTERLucy had stabilized, Miranda found an excuse to creep out of the hospital for a few minutes. It was her night to telephone O’Hara, and he’d be livid if she missed the call. But as she spotted a telephone box, she felt a dread that had been growing over the last months.
How was she going to protect her friends if they were blamed for stories being leaked to the press?
And what would happen if they ever found out that Miranda was J. Marshall? That the secrets were now spread across every newspaper were in facttheirsecrets.
‘Hopefully it won’t come to that,’ she muttered as she picked up the receiver.
As usual, O’Hara got to the point. ‘What have you got?’
‘I have more on the queen’s jewels, how she’s become the wealthiest woman in Britain. But inside, she doesn’t want the glamour or wealth. She wants to be a simple countrywoman, looking after her children and raising horses.’
‘Horses?’
‘She breeds racehorses with a childhood friend, Porchey – his real name is Lord Porchester. Rumour has it he’s in love with her, always has been.’ She thought of Caroline, telling her in confidence. Only the very closest to the queen knew this small detail.
‘That’s more like it,’ he said. ‘Are they having an affair?’
‘I don’t think so, but they speak on the phone a great deal,’ she said, then added, ‘about horses.’
O’Hara grunted. ‘We need an affair, Miranda. She can’t be all that squeaky clean, can she? Or is she just a schoolgirl, too scared to get her hands dirty.’
Repulsed, Miranda drew back. ‘She’s not a child. She’s a young woman who’s been taught constitution and law, as well as global politics. It might take a while for her to find her footing, but from what I gather, that’s her way. She’s the type of person to get it right.’
‘Well, you’ve changed your tune.’ He scoffed. ‘Wasn’t it you who said that the whole notion of sitting a young woman on a throne and calling her queen was ludicrous?’
Had she said that? She blanched as she recollected her words. How flippant she’d been, how ignorant.
‘Now that I’ve been here a while, I can see how much the monarch holds the country together. Every store, café and hairdresser has a photograph of the queen on the wall. Everyone tells me how much they adore her, how grateful they are to her father for leading the country through the war. The queen isn’t a joke – she’s a person dedicating her life to this role.’
‘Honestly, Miranda, you’re starting to sound like them. You need to remember to stay objective, be a discerning journalist.’ His voice was laced with sarcasm, and Miranda felt her heckles rising as she muttered a goodbye and put down the receiver.
As she walked back to the hospital, she wasn’t thinking of O’Hara but of her own dismissive scorn for the royals when she’d arrived. How she’d let theGazettehacks make her belittle others. They preyed on regular people. It was how they made themselves feel above everyone else.
But that wasn’t Miranda. She was in journalism to make a difference, not to exploit people or try to expose their beliefs as some kind of farce.
And she was left wondering if she was doing the right thing.
Was she furthering herself? Was she helping her friends, the new queen, the regular women out there desperate for the female monarch to succeed? Or was it only bettering this bully and his cheap newspapermen that revelled in making themselves look clever at everyone else’s expense?
CAROLINE
