Princess Dottie

Prologue

The hands of the clock crawled toward nine o'clock. Another long shift over, Dottie thought thankfully. Fifteen more minutes and she'd be out of the café. Until tomorrow, when it would be time to start again.

Her face brightened as the door opened and a beefy young man with an amiable expression, came in, waved to her and slid into a corner seat. She mouthed, “With you in a minute.”

A plump, dark-haired young woman appeared from the kitchen and made a beeline for the lad, Dottie noted wryly. She knew Brenda fancied Mike, and wasn't ashamed to make a play for him right under Dottie's nose, although she knew they were engaged.

Despite its name, The Grand Hotel was a down-at-heel boardinghouse with a café to match, in the shabbiest part of London. Dottie ran the café, and Jack, the elderly owner, had bestowed on her the title of manageress to cover the fact that she was a maid-of-all-work, who slaved long, tiring hours for a small wage.

Yet Dottie was happy. She had a fiancé she loved and a future to look forward to. Mike might not be glamorous, but he was kind, hardworking and devoted to her. True, his brain lacked the quicksilver alertness of her own. Unkind persons had been known to describe him as thick. Dottie would have been up in arms at that slander, but when her own mind went dancing away she sometimes wished he could follow her, instead of just saying admiringly, “You sound grand when you talk like that, Dot.”

Mike was proud of his fiancée: proud of her petite figure and fluffy blond prettiness, proud of her quick tongue, her shrewdness and her ability to laugh at herself. But he never pretended he could keep up with her.

As Dottie cleared away, Jack appeared and began to cash up. “Has it been a good evening, Dorothea?” he asked kindly.

Dottie made a face. “I wish you wouldn't call me Dorothea.”

The old man grinned. “Perhaps I should call you Ms. Hebden, then?”

“You do and you're dead,” she told him amiably. “Dottie's good enough for me.”

“There's a few hamburgers left over,” Jack said. “If you fancy them.”

She scooped them up eagerly. This was a valuable perk for people who were living on nothing so that Mike could save up for his own garage. She bid Jack good-night and headed for the corner table, tapping Brenda firmly on the shoulder.

“Hands off! He's mine!” But she said it with a good-natured smile.

Brenda grinned back. “Bet he's not. Bet I could have him off you.”

“Bet you couldn't!”

“Bet I could!”

“Oi!” Mike objected mildly. “D'you two mind not talking about me like I wasn't here?”

He allowed his fiancée to shepherd him to the door, only pausing to call back, “Better check your food for arsenic tomorrow, Bren.”

“Well if I do poison her it'll be your fault,” Dottie said when they were outside. “Serve her right for putting her head so close to yours.”

“It was just gossip,” Mike protested. “She's been reading that magazine again. Royal Secrets.”

“Her and her royal scandals! That's all she thinks of. What is it this time?”

“The king of Elluria can't be the king 'cos his parents weren't properly wed.”

Dottie yawned. “Well, they'll find another one. Come on, I've got some free hamburgers.”

“Good for you! I'm starving.”