Chapter Thirty-Eight: Mary Says No
"Bridget is dead? Bridget? But we were just having a drink . . . and then we were talking and then . . . oh, it can't be true!" Princess Mary Tudor collapsed on the rumpled bed in a flood of tears, her smartphone falling from her shock-numbed fingers.
"The tabloids never lie," Sally Weeks said, knowledge of the true facts giving her sardonic commentary a wry twist. "Not even when you're just scrolling through the headlines online." The slim and smartly uniformed blonde chambermaid was quick to retrieve the princess' expensive phone and place it on the bedside table.
"Good morning, all!" Beautiful Queen Jane was all smiles as she swept into her sobbing stepdaughter's curtained chamber, her lustrous golden hair seeming to shine even in the sleepy semi-darkness of Mary's private bedroom. "Some light, Sally? And pull back the curtains, please. It's a lovely spring morning!"
"How can you be so casual when . . . when . . ." Mary lifted her flushed, tear-swollen face from the pale blue satin pillow, pointing with trembling fingers to the deluxe smartphone she'd been using to check the latest headlines from around the world.
"Film Star Dies In Fiery Crash," Queen Jane read the tabloid headline aloud, in her soft voice. "Oh, dear. Is it your friend Bridget? The poor girl." The slim young queen sank down gracefully on the side of Mary's bed. "Sally, I think you'd better bring up some tea. Fresh and hot, with plenty of cream and sugar."
"Don't want tea," Mary moaned. She couldn't get it through her head that Bridget was gone. All she could remember was the voluptuous red-haired screen star making love to her in front of a roaring fire. The two of them had been getting to know each other, sharing a bottle of wine after a long walk in the Irish countryside.
And then? There were only fragments, and images. Loud voices, an argument, someone helping her into a waiting car.
"Mary, you must carry on." Jane's voice was firm but gentle, just like the slim hand she placed on her stepdaughter's shoulder. "We must all keep calm and carry on. Even at a time like this."
"Especially at a time like this." Sally was acting the part of a respectful servant, yet as she was arranging the tea tray she squeezed Mary's knee and caressed her thigh. "Be strong, baby," she whispered, in a husky voice the queen could not overhear.
"I want to know what happened." Mary sat up in bed, scowling fiercely. The tea was just the way she liked it, sweet and hot. Mary drank slowly, letting everything come swimming back into focus.
"Well," the queen said briskly, "it seems that this morning has got off to a rocky start. Mary, I'm very sorry about your friend. But I expect she may have had secrets, and not been the girl you thought you knew. Many celebrities have a dark side. Think of poor Amy Winehouse! In any case, we have two schools and a hospital to visit this afternoon. Sally will get you back on your feet. And I expect you to be your usual smiling self!"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Mary was frowning as the queen kissed her cheek. She knew Jane truly loved her. But how far would the Queen of England go to protect her stepdaughter from scandal?
"Right," Sally said, the moment the queen was gone. Jane's sweet perfume still lingered in the room, like a subtle reminder of her power. "Now how about a nice hot shower? I'll join you if you like. And then we can get you properly dressed."
"No," Mary said, looking the cheeky blonde chambermaid right in the eye. "You were there that night, weren't you? I remember your voice, your hands. You were the one who got me out of the house and into the limo. Why don't you tell me what really happened?"