Katy Birchall - Dramas of a Teenage Heiress

You know, considering I feed him every day, I’d expect a little more loyalty.

‘I am NOT being dramatic,’ I huffed, narrowing my eyes at the traitorous Fritz and pulling the duvet back over myself. ‘But while you’re here, can you pass me a pen and paper? I need to write up my last will and testament. If you bring me breakfast in bed, I promise to leave you my extensive collection of moisturisers. And I know Grace has her eye on those so you’d better act fast.’

Mum rolled her eyes and put Fritz down into his basket. ‘It is not that bad.’

‘It is EXACTLY that bad,’ I whined, ducking my head back under the duvet and curling up into a ball beneath it. ‘It is MORTIFYING. My life is ruined. No one will want to be my friend. I’ll be exiled from society just like that Romeo guy in that Shakespeare play.’

‘When did you read Romeo and Juliet ?’ Mum asked, sounding impressed and a little bit too surprised for my liking.

‘That is not important right now!’ I declared, in my most superior tone.

I also decided to brush over the fact that I hadn’t exactly read the play, but I was totally listening when my best friend Grace was talking about it with her brother Olly the other day.

Well, half listening. I got distracted a few minutes into their debate by a video on my phone of all these jumping goats.

They really were very funny.

‘Mum,’ I said, bringing the conversation back to the practical issues at hand. ‘We should consider moving country. I’ve had a look online, and there are some very tempting options. Did you know that New Zealand is home to the world’s most diverse penguin population? I know, right? Sounds like a cool place to live, if you ask me.’

‘Flick, we’re not moving to New Zealand and you’re not writing your will. Instead, you can talk me through what happened last night. That is, if you’re ready to talk about the incident.’

‘I will NEVER be ready to talk about it. And anyway, you already know what happened. It’s EVERYWHERE online.’

‘I know Nancy Rose’s version of what happened, but I’m more interested in yours.’

‘What’s the point?’ I groaned. ‘No one is going to believe me.’

‘I’ll believe you.’

I peered over the top of the duvet suspiciously.

‘Fine,’ I said with another world-weary sigh, and then I launched into EXACTLY what happened, no exaggerations . . .

The famous designer Lewis Blume had invited Fritz and me to the launch of his new handbag collection. Only people who had been living under a rock in the Outer Hebrides wouldn’t have heard that we were very special guests of Lewis’s because one of the pieces in his new collection just so happens to be The Fritz – a handbag inspired by my amazing, trendsetting dachshund.

Which should come as no surprise because Fritz is a total superstar these days. His Instagram is off the charts, and he’s way more in demand than all those French bulldogs wearing hats and stuff. Fritz was voted the most stylish dog by Tatler AND he’s even getting his very own calendar next year.

So, when we got the call saying he was Lewis Blume’s latest muse, I was like, DUH, of course he is.

And I made sure he looked his very best for the launch, in his favourite Ralph Lauren tuxedo complete with silk polka-dot pocket square, and his new collar, specially designed by British supermodel and dog-lover David Gandy, who delivered it personally to Fritz last week.

To be honest, Fritz may have looked good and his bag was AMAZING, but I was kind of bored at the launch because, even though I was surrounded by cool celebrities, I hardly knew anyone there. My pop-star friend, Skylar Chase, was selfishly still in LA and my vlogger pal, Ethan Duke, had to go to some stupid teen awards instead. So I stood looking around, and that’s when I saw her. Nancy Rose. Standing by The Fritz handbag. Rubbing her hands together and reaching out for it with her talon-like nails, crying, ‘Mwahahahaha, this bag SHALL BE MINE! FOREVER MI—’

‘Ahem.’

‘What?’ I exclaimed, cut off in mid flow.

‘I thought you said no exaggerations.’

‘I’m not exaggerating, Mother. ’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re telling me that Nancy Rose was standing in front of The Fritz handbag, cackling and yelling, “This bag shall be mine!” in the middle of a launch?’

‘OK, FINE, that was a slight exaggeration.’ I sighed. ‘Can I continue with the story now?’

‘Please do.’

ANYWAY, that’s when I saw her. Nancy Rose. Standing by The Fritz handbag. Rubbing her hands together and then reaching out for it with her talon-like nails. And while she might not have cried, ‘Mwahahahaha, this bag SHALL BE MINE! FOREVER MINE!’, she did flutter her eyelashes at Lewis Blume, who happened to be standing nearby, and said something along the lines of, ‘This exact bag would be perfect for an event I’m attending tomorrow.’

Which may sound innocent, but there was no way I was going to let Nancy Rose take that bag for a stupid event she’s attending for the following reasons:

1. That bag on display was a ONE-OFF piece, with a special embroidered message to Fritz on the inside.

2. If anyone was going to be photographed FIRST holding that handbag, it was going to be FRITZ, who inspired it in the first place.

3. And if it was perhaps a little too big for Fritz to carry, then it was going to be ME.

4. And if it wasn’t me, then maybe the Queen or Beyoncé or someone.

5. Whoever it was, it was NOT going to be gossip-columnist Nancy Rose who has, in the past, said some very mean things on her stupid vlog about my very good friend Skylar Chase.

Holding Fritz, I casually sauntered over to where Nancy Rose was standing next to the bag, and I forced myself to be open-minded about her, even though I overheard her telling someone nearby that she thinks animals (thus including beautiful innocent sausage dogs like Fritz) are VERMIN and when she has taken over 10 Downing Street with her evil plan, she’s going to destroy all —

‘Ahem.’

‘WHAT?’ I demanded, throwing a pillow at Mum as she attempted to hide a smile.

‘The exaggerating thing,’ she explained. ‘You’re doing it again.’

‘You know what, Mum, you’re really obstructing my whole vibe.’

‘Go from the bit where you walk up to Nancy Rose,’ she said, ‘and no embellishments this time.’

‘You have no flair for good storytelling,’ I said, sighing.

SO, I walked up to Nancy Rose, with Fritz under my arm, and she was talking to someone about boring, non-evil, standard stuff, blah blah blah.

‘Flick Royale,’ she said as she noticed me, offering me her hand to shake. ‘I don’t think we’ve ever met. I’m Nancy Rose. I was just admiring this handbag – inspired by your dog, I believe.’

‘I overheard,’ I replied through gritted teeth, but shook her hand very politely because I have IMPECCABLE manners.