Your Royal Hostage Read Free Page B

ghastly feeling that this was turning out to be what Cherry, Jemima's former aide at Megalith, a nubile but tearful lady, would term a crying situation. Was she going to manage to get up the stairs and into the flat before the gathering tears flowed? Jemima reached the flat. As she put her key in the lock, she could hear the telephone ringing.
    For one wild moment - it was something to do with the sheer unreality of that photograph - she thought: 'Cass!'
    Midnight, Jemima's sleek muscular black cat, a smaller version of a leopard, purred raucously at her ankle. In attempting to reach the telephone, Jemima stumbled over Midnight who squawked pathetically and then knocked over a vase of flowers left by Mrs  Bancroft, her cleaning lady, to cheer her up.
    The telephone stopped just as she reached it. At which point Jemima Shore finally burst into tears. Midnight had just forgiven her, in token of which he leapt heavily on to her lap, claws out, when the telephone rang again. It was Cherry, speaking from Megalith. Jemima gulped as she answered.
    'Jemima, you're crying! .' Momentarily Cherry spoke in a voice of astonishment that anyone bar herself could dissolve into hopeless tears; above all, that legend of invulnerability, Jemima Shore. Then, being a person of much good sense when not in floods of tears, Cherry reverted to her usual brisk tone: 'Good news and bad news. Which do you want first?'
    Jemima gave another gulp. 'All right, here comes the bad news, and it's not all that bad, because it's what you expected. The story is out about you being given the push, this place is like a madhouse, telephones never stop ringing, etc., etc. You can imagine it all for yourself, general flap on about what you will say, and as to that, you can expect the hounds of Fleet Street baying at your door any moment, I fear.'
    'Thanks for the warning, Cherry. You're a brick, as usual. I'll call you when -'
    'Don't you want to hear the good news? Here it comes anyway. You know the Royal Wedding? How could you not know the Royal Wedding? How could any of us not know the Royal Wedding? Well, whatever you may feel about the Royal Wedding, it's an ill wind, because Television United States, no less, tus , that is, are doing a special on it, imagine that, a whole special on our very own British royal nuptials, and they want you to be the anchor person. One of the anchor people. Rick Vancy will be the other.'
    'And you call this good news?' enquired Jemima in a cool voice from which tears had however noticeably departed.
    'Jemima, think of it! Dollars, delights, coverage, work, and Rick Vancy. Don't you adore Rick Vancy? If not, pass him on —'
    'What interests me far more than Rick Vancy, and he interests me only mildly, is why tus is making a special on the Royal Wedding. Any clues?'
    'Oh, I think they imagine there's going to be an incident, you know what Americans are like. An assassination or something like that,' said Cherry airily, 'nothing serious, nothing to bother you.'
    'Cherry, what on earth gave you that idea?'
    'Only that the man I spoke to, some London-based chap with a boyishly enthusiastic voice, kept asking if you had a cool head and could guarantee to keep that same head in a crisis.'
    Jemima burst out laughing. 'Really, Americans! They arc absurd. The idea of anyone, anyone at all, wanting to assassinate poor little Princess Amy, or even the chocolate soldier, unless some aggrieved husband takes a pot-shot. 1 mean, it's a wedding, don't they realize that? Just a wedding, a perfectly ordinary wedding, dolled up in fancy clothes, dolled up in its details mainly by the Press. After all, we've had two of them, royal style, recently, without any trouble at all. Weddings! Really!'
    'Mmm, weddings. On the subject of weddings -'
    'It's all right, Cherry, I saw. Nice photograph. Nice girl.'
    'She has bad legs,' said Cherry loyally. 'Now getting back to the other much more important wedding, Jemima, I really think -'
    'No, Cherry, definitely