Christmas at the Palace Read online

  Praise for

  ‘Huge fun with a slightly different slant. Thoroughly enjoyable’

  KATIE FFORDE

  ‘Written with a sure touch, and Jeevani’s characters leap from the page. I love Jeevani Charika’s writing!’

  SUE MOORCROFT

  ‘What a fantastic and fascinating read. A refreshingly different and thought-provoking romance’

  PHILLIPA ASHLEY

  Contents

  Prologue

  Making a Difference

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Making Waves

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Making Changes

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Making Merry

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Download a free short story

  Copyright

  This book is dedicated to Chamali & Michael and Kalinga & Monika, whose weddings came either side of the publication of this book. All the best for your own Happy Ever Afters!

  Prologue

  Kumari watched the Christmas decorations slide past as they drove up streets that were all too familiar. As always, there were crowd barriers up and crowds behind them, bundled up against the cold and waving. Today’s car had tinted windows, so she didn’t need to wave back. Up ahead, St Kildare’s Hospital loomed. The lower floors had been decorated with lights. Even though it was still mid-afternoon, it was dark enough for the lights to show. She had worked there once. How strange to be going back as a guest of honour.

  It hit her properly when she saw the exit for the underground station. The distinctive arch above the stairs clearly visible behind the crowds lining the streets. The last time she’d come up those stairs she had been a junior doctor, craving caffeine and sleep, on the way to start a morning shift. That was the last time she had been herself.

  The limo she was in turned into the hospital approach. For the first time in months, Kumari felt the claw of panic in her chest.

  She must have paled because Annie said, ‘Ma’am? Are you OK?’

  She looked at her, wild-eyed. ‘Not really. I need a minute.’

  Annie tapped on the glass and spoke to the driver. The car slowed to a crawl.

  Kumari drew on her lessons and took deep breaths. In. Out. Calm. She’d had lessons for everything – how to sit, how to stand, how to eat, how to speak, how to wave and even how to breathe. All those lessons, all that training, undone in a second. It would have been funny if she wasn’t feeling so awful right now.

  Annie was watching her with concern. ‘Ma’am?’

  She held up a hand. How could she explain the disorientation of coming back to this place? The fact that she panicked every time she thought about the enormity of the changes in her life. Fairy tale? Not exactly. Surreal? Definitely.

  St Kildare’s Hospital was so familiar to her, yet she was a stranger to it now. She knew all too well that the freshly painted, patient-free wards that she was going to see bore no resemblance to the bustling places they would become.

  She closed her eyes and centred herself. No longer was she the doctor who worked at the sharp end of a crisis. Nor was she the woman who spoke her mind, regardless of consequences, because doing what was right trumped everything else. No, she was someone completely different now.

  Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

  She opened her eyes and nodded to Annie. ‘I’m ready now.’

  Drawing on all the lessons she’d had on poise and posture, she stepped out of the car and she looked up at the hospital edifice. How in the world had this become her life? She used to be so sure of who she was and where she was going. She’d come so far, it was true . . . but was it better? Was this her? It certainly wasn’t what she’d planned. She glanced over her shoulder as the car door shut behind her. To think that all this had started with a simple favour. That had begun with a limo ride too . . .

  Making a Difference

  Chapter 1

  (Two years earlier)

  The Standard

  Golden Globe Awards shine a light on causes that support women

  They came in two by two, wearing black. This year’s red carpet was given over to black-swathed actors who arrived bringing as their dates activists who supported women’s causes. Each actor and activist pair stopped to be photographed together and to talk about the charity they were supporting.

  Dr Kumari Senavaka was sitting in the back of a limo, which was in the queue to reach the drop-off point at the theatre. Outside, camera flashes went off like fireworks. Kumari tried not to look. She focused on her hands, tightly clasped in her lap, and tried to remember how to breathe past the tightness that had appeared in her chest. Sitting next to her was the American actress Sabine Marshall, who was perfectly poised, as always. Sabine was a few years older than Kumari yet had managed to retain her flawless complexion.

  Sabine’s publicist, who had coordinated all this with the publicist from the Better For All charity, was running through last-minute checks. As a consultant for the charity, Kumari was there as an ambassador for the work they did. The publicist for the charity, Kumari’s friend Ruby, had responded to an urgent call from one of Sabine’s people and had suggested Kumari as the best person to represent the work the charity did on female empowerment. So here she was, jet-lagged and nervous, wearing the glitziest black dress she’d ever seen. She glanced at Sabine’s embroidered sheath dress and corrected herself. The second glitziest black dress she’d ever seen.

  ‘Got your statement, Kumari?’ Sabine’s publicist asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Kumari’s throat felt dry and sandpapery. She didn’t dare drink anything because she was sure she would mess up her lipstick or, worse, spill it on the dress and mess up the satin.

  Sabine looked over at her and smiled. ‘Relax, sweetie, you’ll be fine. I’ll do my bit. You do your statement. We’ll get some photos and everyone will be talking about Better For All before the night is out.’

  That was easy for her to say – she was used to the limelight and the uncomfortable shoes. Kumari was a doctor. There wasn’t much call for sequins in her day job. Or publicity.

  Kumari drew a shaky breath. This was for the project. She had to do it.

  The car moved slowly forward. Camera flashes speckled the windows. The car stopped, perfectly lined up with the red carpet. Sabine did one last check of her make-up. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Come on, Kumari. Let’s do this.’

  Sabine made her grand entrance to the event and Kumari followed her out of the car. Once the car door shut behind her, she looked up and her heart almost stopped. People were looking at her. There were cameras. Suddenly, she was back in primary school again. On stage. Being stared at. Nausea threatened. She wasn’t five anymore. She swallowed hard and looked up at Sabine.

  Sabine’s smile didn’t waver, but she caug
ht Kumari’s eye. She changed her pose so that she was able to touch Kumari’s elbow, indicating that they should walk down the carpet. As she turned to wave, she whispered, ‘Breathe.’

  Kumari breathed, but she was doing it too fast. She kept her eyes on Sabine’s clutch bag, a sparkling, black diamanté affair. Watch the bag. Ignore the cameras. Why on earth had she agreed to this? This wasn’t the reason she got involved with Better For All. She was a doctor. She was supposed to be out there curing people, not being photographed with some film star she’d never met until that morning.

  She got through the photographing, but when it came to giving her statement, she couldn’t do it. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  Sabine stepped forward with perfect grace. ‘I’m honoured to be here tonight, and even more honoured to be here with Dr Kumari Senavaka, who works with the incredible charity Better For All. The volunteers of Better For All do amazing work. They are dedicated to improving healthcare for families in the developing world.’ She looked meaningfully at Kumari.

  Focus, focus, focus. Kumari drew another deep breath. Steadier this time. Ignoring the cameras as best she could, she kept her gaze on Sabine. ‘Thanks, Sabine,’ she said. Her voice shook. She had repeated the statement so often that now Sabine had started her off on the first sentence, the rest was there, ready to be said.

  ‘At Better For All we are dedicated to improving healthcare for families in the developing world. Our special focus is on reducing child mortality, which can be achieved through a variety of initiatives, including childbirth clinics, vaccination programmes and setting up temporary clinics in times of disease outbreaks. We have already saved many children from painful and unnecessary deaths. We hope to save many more in the future.’

  She was speaking too fast. She tried to slow down. ‘We are hoping to add healthcare education to our list of projects soon, because educating girls on basic healthcare is the best way to improve the health of future generations.’

  That last sentence wasn’t part of the official statement. Instead it was something Kumari herself passionately believed in. Ruby had let her add it as an extra incentive for her to go to this event.

  Sabine beamed at her, as though she were a best friend.

  ‘Kumari’s been working at a vaccination clinic in Lesotho,’ she said to one of the reporters, as though imparting a great confidence.

  They posed for a few more pictures and Kumari managed to maintain a smile for all of them. She had done her bit. Now that she had publicly linked healthcare education for girls to Better For All, they would have to take it more seriously.

  As soon as they got away from the press lines, Kumari felt the vice in her chest loosen. Finally, she could take a full breath. She breathed out and felt her heart rate slow down, but the aftermath of the panic made her feel hollow and sick.

  ‘It’s scary the first time,’ Sabine said. ‘I remember what it was like.’ She patted Kumari’s arm. ‘You did OK.’

  Kumari decided she liked Sabine.

  A few minutes later a semi-famous actor came up to talk to Sabine and despite Sabine’s best efforts to include her, Kumari was ignored. No one actually wanted to talk to her. Everyone wanted to talk to the famous person.

  Kumari amused herself by spotting other famous people. Her best friend, Lucy, had been incredibly jealous of her having the chance to go to the Golden Globe Awards. The least she could do was keep a tally of all the famous people she saw ‘in real life’. Although, she reflected, looking around, there was very little that was ‘real life’ in the room.

  Real life, for Kumari, meant a flight back to the UK and the start of a new short contract working at a hospital soon after that. She also had to write a pitch applying for funding for the education project she was hoping to get started. Since she was still a consultant for Better For All, it seemed best to apply to them first.

  She felt another wave of exhaustion wash over her. This event was one of the weirdest things she’d done for the charity. She’d only agreed to go because she hoped it would boost the chances of getting her Boost Her! project funded.

  Around her there was a general drift towards the main hall. Sabine caught her eye and motioned Kumari to walk with her. She trailed behind the actress, trying not to gawp at the finery around her. After a year in a remote vaccination clinic, the lights and sparkle and gold paint were a sensory overload.

  Chapter 2

  Fast Light News

  Prince Benedict supports initiative to catalyse change from within

  HRH Prince Benedict will be at the Better For All charity event tonight to hear pitches for future charity projects. The prince, 32, has now retired from active service and is taking on more royal duties. Although he is taking his role as patron for a number of charities quite seriously, the prince is well known for his lavish partygoing lifestyle.

  Better For All, a charity specialising in bringing good health to children in rural communities in the developing world, is celebrating its ten-year anniversary by setting up two new charitable projects. The suggestions for projects have come entirely from people already working with the organisation.

  ‘Often the people who know what is needed the most are those on the ground, working in the communities we help,’ said a spokesperson for the charity. ‘We are aware that sometimes the real message can get lost by the time an initiative has gone through several layers of planning. So, in order to be sure that our projects are addressing genuine needs, we have asked our own volunteers and consultants to suggest projects to be funded. We have been amazed and humbled by the response.’

  Several small grants have now been awarded to suggestions that involve only small changes to the way things are currently done.

  There remains a competition for two large grants. Tonight, there will be a special pitch event where eight speakers will each be allowed five minutes to impress the board. Of these, up to four projects will be chosen to submit an expanded proposal. Two of these projects will be funded. The prince will hear all of the pitches, even though he won’t be one of the judges.

  The prince said, ‘I’m looking forward to hearing about the innovative and practical ways in which Better For All will be bringing healthcare to children in the next ten years.’

  Kumari checked the pins holding her sari in place one last time. She wished that Sri Lankan genes came with the natural ability to wear a sari, but being born and bred British meant she was almost as clueless as the next person. Her mother had shown her how to get into a sari, but she hadn’t had much practice at it. The last thing she needed this evening was a wardrobe malfunction.

  ‘Stop fussing, Kumari.’ Her friend Lucy batted her hand away. ‘You’ll do more harm than good if you loosen it.’ They were in the sparkling new toilets of the newly refurbished building of the Better For All charity. Everything smelt like it was fresh out of its wrapping.

  Kumari turned and checked her make-up in the mirror. Lucy had done a good job. In the peacock-blue sari, with her hair pulled back, Kumari thought she looked like a taller, straight-haired version of her mother; she had the same high cheekbones and full mouth. From her father she’d inherited a golden-brown complexion and those vital extra inches of height, which took her from her mother’s short stature to almost average.

  ‘Ready?’ Lucy asked.

  As they turned to go, Ruby came in. She gave Kumari a swift glance up and down. ‘You look lovely. Presentation all good to go?’

  ‘Yes. It’s all loaded onto the system.’ Kumari gave her a half-hearted smile. She had known Ruby since university. They had met because some drunken guy had asked if Kumari and Ruby were sisters, simply because they were both the same colour. Ruby, half-Jamaican, half-Irish, and all south London, had soon set the guy straight. She and Kumari had been friends ever since.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Ruby. ‘This evening is really important. With Prince Benedict coming to hear the pitches we should have lots of press attention for the fund, and maybe for the individua
l projects too.’

  Kumari shot a glance at Lucy. The idea of press attention made her palms sweat. ‘Great.’

  She had hoped that the Golden Globes thing would help ease her nerves about being in the public spotlight, but it turned out it had just made things worse.

  ‘Relax, babe, you’ll be fine.’ Ruby whipped out a tube of lipstick and touched up the scarlet on her lips. ‘We’ve got a great line-up. Greg Frankish is doing a pitch for a photo documentary on our humanitarian work. It could open the world’s eyes to what we’re doing. He’s so talented; his presentation is bound to be brilliant.’ She popped her lips and put the tube of lipstick away. ‘Hopefully, we’ll get loads of donations too. Who knows? Some people might even take their lead from you and take a sabbatical so they can volunteer.’

  Lucy took Kumari’s arm. ‘Come on, Kumari, let’s get to our seats.’

  ‘See you later, Ruby.’ Kumari picked up the peacock-blue silk at the front of her sari so that she didn’t tread on it. She didn’t need to, but it made her feel like she was less likely to trip up this way.

  ‘You’re going to be great,’ Lucy told her. ‘You’ve practised this presentation so much, you’ll be brilliant.’

  The hall was already almost full. Smartly dressed people sat towards the front. Meeting the prince meant the men were in suits and the women in bright, wedding-worthy dresses. Kumari spotted a few people, less well dressed, wearing lanyards with ‘Press’ written on them, some of them carrying some serious photographic equipment.

  ‘Ugh,’ Kumari said. ‘Cameras.’ Fear clawed at her chest. She gripped her paperwork and reminded herself that this wasn’t a performance. She was there to pitch her project idea for funding. She’d made it this far onto the longlist of projects. She just needed to persuade them that the project needed to be on the shortlist and she was in with a good chance of ‘winning’ the funding.