To Marry a Prince by Sophie Page

for her in the cubby hole they called an office. She presented Bella with notes in a range of handwriting and legibility. And fled.
    It did not take her long to work out that the appointments system was a mess, the staff roster worse, and the outstanding queries on bills, orders and even lost property went back months. The filing was laughable. But Bella had not spent the best part of a year counting fish for nothing. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was organise data. She made a list of the jobs to be done and consulted a friendly hygienist on what to do first.
    ‘Get the appointments straight,’ said Anya with feeling.‘The best receptionist we ever had used to telephone people the day before to remind them. These days I get at least one missed appointment a day, sometimes more.’
    ‘Right,’ said Bella, bringing appointments to the top of her list.
    Anya leaned over the counter watching her. ‘Nice idea, but you’ll never make it stick. Mulligan the Magnificent will come steaming out and make you drop everything to do something he wants.’
    She was right. Between checking patients in, directing them to the waiting room, making out their bills and taking payments, Bella straightened out appointments for the next day. Two patients said they’d changed their appointment; one had a broken leg and was in hospital, the others were grateful. She had two left to go when Mulligan appeared at her desk.
    ‘You’re not supposed to make phone calls,’ he told her disagreeably.
    ‘They’re phone calls to patients.’
    ‘Well, you should ask me first.’
    Bella just looked at him.
    He started to bluster. She sat there with her hands folded and listened.
    When he finished she said, ‘I have established that you have three appointments tomorrow where patients will be unable to turn up, Anya has two cancellations and Mr Page has one.’
    ‘What?’
    Silently she swung the screen round so he could see.
    ‘Ridiculous! Patients are so irresponsible. Bill them anyway.’
    ‘Difficult to do that when it’s our fault. Two have already rebooked, but someone here forgot to take out the original appointment.’
    There was a stand-off.
    ‘Then book someone else in,’ he snapped at last.
    Bella gave him a sweet smile. ‘You mean, you give me permission to make a phone call or two?’
    If he’d been a horse he would have thrown back his head and neighed with frustration.
    ‘Bastard,’ said Anya with satisfaction, emerging from the hygienist’s suite. ‘Well done, you.’
    So Bella went home, cautiously pleased, and when Lottie asked, ‘How was your day?’ said, ‘First round to me.’
    ‘First round?’
    ‘There will be others. I’ve worked for the Mulligans of this world before.’
    ‘You’ll handle it,’ said Lottie. ‘Now what are you wearing tonight?’
    Bella had been thinking about that and had worked out a strategy. ‘Nothing too fancy,’ she said firmly. ‘First dates are a minefield. I want to feel comfortable. I did buy some shoes at lunch-time though.’
    Lottie approved the cute patent T-bars she had picked up but was disappointed by her refusal to dress up in full party fig. But in the end she sighed and agreed that Bella was probably right.
    ‘But no jeans,’ she warned. ‘You don’t know where he’s taking you and some places don’t let in people wearing jeans.’
    Bella raised an eyebrow.
    ‘OK, they’d probably let the Prince of Wales in. But you’d have everyone staring, like one of those horrible Bateman cartoons. The Woman Who Wore Jeans at Club Exclusive . You’d hate it.’
    So when Richard arrived, Bella was ready in a pair of waist-hugging cigarette pants over an old silk camisole top of Lottie’s. She had found a short, fitted blazer on her Oxfam trawl. It was covered in a spray of small black beads and was one of those classic vintage numbers that managed to look both chic and casual all at once.
    ‘Actually, I like it,’ said Lottie, inspecting her critically.