Chapter 3 #3
“Good morning, everyone,” she said into the mic, and felt grateful when it didn’t squeal with feedback.
“For those of you who don’t know me yet, I’m Lauren Morgan, the new acting director of communications at Buckingham Palace.
Thank you so much for coming today, we’re grateful to have your presence for what I hope will be the first of many productive weekly media briefings.
Today you’ll have a chance to hear about some of the measures we’re taking in order to promote diversity both inside and outside of the institution. ”
She knew what to do at this point: Find three people in the room—left, right, and center—and keep her eyes shifting between
them. It gave the impression that she was speaking to the entire room, and it would make her look less like a robotic mannequin.
She found her three targets easily: David Bellow from The National Echo; Laura Slater from BBC News; and Oscar Mason from the London Tribune.
Fortunately, all three of them looked fairly open to this new experience, unlike the guy from the Daily Dispatch, who somehow managed to look annoyed, bored, and smarmy all at the same time.
“Today we have something we’re very proud to announce a new role, and we wanted to make sure that you all had a chance to
ask questions, get more information—”
“Lauren! Adam from the Daily Dispatch!” a voice shouted, proceeding to talk without waiting for a response. “Do you have any comment on the rumors that the Duke
of Exeter’s business has gone bust?”
Everyone in the room tittered, and, back against the wall, Lauren could see Eugene cover his mouth with his hand awkwardly.
That jerk.
“I do,” Lauren said, giving Adam a serene smile. “The Palace is not in the habit of commenting on the private lives of the family, especially nonworking members. I would think that someone who’s been around as long as you have would know this.”
Some of the other reporters chuckled, and Lauren could feel the swell of the room swing back her way.
“Now, before we move on to other questions—”
“Why did you leave the White House?”
“Is it true that you were paid a taxpayer-funded bonus to join the comms staff?”
“Are you able to confirm that the Countess of Lancaster is vacationing in Majorca?”
“Any comment on the recent Atlantic article about Brian Martinez that also mentioned you and Brooke Geary?”
“Who’s standing next to you?” Oscar, who was sitting in the back, asked the last question, and Lauren felt instant relief.
“Thank you, Oscar. He has asked by far the most important question of the day, so, Oscar, please collect your medal on your way out.” The room laughed again and
even James, whom Lauren could see out of the corner of her eye, looked slightly amused.
“This fabulous woman next to me is Joy Hamilton, and the Palace has the privilege of being able to welcome her as our very
first diversity chief.” Lauren absolutely refused to use the Palace-preferred title of “czar” on record. “Having spent the
past seven years at Scotland Yard, Joy brings an incredible amount of experience, enthusiasm, and professionalism to this
role, and I know I can speak for the entire household staff and family when I say that we’re looking forward to working with
her and improving efforts not only within the Palace but outside of its gates as well.”
“Is it true that you had already hired a—”
“Thank you once again, Adam, for your extreme professionalism and not interrupting,” Lauren quickly added, stepping aside to let Joy take over the podium.
“Moving forward, questions will be asked in an orderly fashion after we have finished speaking,” Joy said in a no-nonsense
yet agreeable voice. “I’m not as patient as our American friend here.” And indeed, the whole room seemed to settle a bit.
Lauren took note. “Oscar, your question again, please?”
“Yes, how did it go unnoticed by not just the hosts but also aides that the Countess of Lancaster had displayed such an insensitive
item in the middle of the room at an official engagement?”
Lauren felt all her goodwill toward Oscar dissipate.
“Thank you for your question,” Joy said, sounding more brusque this time. “While I can’t speak for the choices of others,
I can speak to a systemic issue—the lack of diversity and awareness within this institution—that has allowed oversights like
this to occur and excluded other perspectives for far too long. My role is to ensure this changes. As you have seen with the
princess’s recent visit to the British Museum, some work is already underway, but this is not just about removing offending
items or issuing apologies; it is about transforming the culture within the royal institution so that diversity, equity, and
inclusion are baked into every level of decision-making. This was a distressing and disappointing incident for everyone here,
but I believe this is also a turning point, and I am committed to ensuring future actions reflect the values of inclusivity
and respect moving forward.”
Lauren nodded along with her before stepping up to the podium next to Joy. “In the coming weeks we’ll be revealing future steps and actions,” Lauren added. “Joy has already been an imperative addition to the royal household, and we’re very grateful to have her expertise as we move forward.”
“Is it true that the Prince of Strathearn got hair plugs?” one of the reporters called out.
Baby steps, Lauren thought with a sigh.
By the end of the day, Lauren had her heels off and a Diet Coke firmly in hand. Aside from the rocky start, the press conference
had gone with so few hitches that Eugene couldn’t pick at her about it, and James even seemed moderately pleased. She’d spent
most of the afternoon scanning social media, news sites, and her Google Alerts, relieved to see that the news of Joy’s hiring
seemed to have landed generally well.
“I am,” Joy announced as she came into the room, phone in hand, “and this is from a social media post with over three thousand
likes, mind you, a ‘much-needed and very overdue addition to the Palace.’” She beamed as she collapsed into a chair across
from Lauren. “Should I get that tattooed somewhere, do you think?”
“Absolutely,” Lauren said. “Maybe like a chest piece, right over the collarbone?” Joy laughed. “Something subtle, of course.
You don’t want to look like you’re bragging.”
“Well, well done, you,” Joy replied. “Seems like today was a success, right? No major gaffes, you got the message across and
filled some headlines, and even that sweaty little shit from the Dispatch shut up after a while.”
Lauren smirked as she reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a Diet Coke for Joy. “I’ve got a whole stash, by the way,”
she said. “This drawer is always open to you.”
“You’re doing the Lord’s work,” Joy replied, and opened the soda. “So what’s on the agenda for the next press briefing?”
“You tell me,” Lauren said, then leaned back in her chair and pressed her fingertips to her temples. The mattress at her new
place was in desperate need of a topper to make it comfortable, and it was cutting into her sleep. Unfortunately the La Mer
eye cream she had bought on a whim two months ago when she was still receiving a decent paycheck wasn’t doing much to hide
the effects. “I’d love to get to the point where we’re proactive instead of reactive, you know? Focus on the work the Palace
is doing instead of the mistakes.”
“Well, good luck with that.” Joy took a sip of her soda just as Lauren’s email pinged.
“So much spam,” she sighed, then leaned forward and squinted at her screen, scrolling through the thirty-odd emails that had
come through in the past ten minutes. “Oh wait, one of the reporters emailed.” She clicked on the message. “He wants to go
to lunch?”
“Who does?”
“One of the reporters from this morning,” Lauren replied. “What do you think his agenda is? What’s even the rule here about
meeting reporters?”
“Which one is it?” Joy asked.
Lauren typed “Oscar Mason” into her search bar, then turned the laptop so Joy could see it. “Oscar, from the London Tribune.”
Joy leaned forward and peered at the screen. “Oh hell yes, you are absolutely going to lunch with him.”
“Joy. Okay, yes, he’s moderately handsome—”
“This man looks like a young Henry Golding, and if you say otherwise, you are the biggest liar and I’ll be forced to renounce
our newfound friendship.”
“He’s a reporter!”
“And you run comms! Your entire job is maintaining relations with the press! You don’t want to upset him by refusing a lunch invitation.”
Lauren paused. “I don’t like the way you just said ‘maintaining relations.’”
“You shouldn’t. There was nothing decent about it. But I stand by my point that if he wants to go to lunch, especially on
his paper’s coin, then on behalf of the Palace, you have a royal duty to say yes.”
Lauren glanced at her laptop, then at Joy, then back at her laptop again. “What if it’s just coffee?”
“If you’re paying, then sure, coffee. But if his paper is picking up the tab, then go big and bougie.” Joy sat back in her
chair and crossed her arms over her chest with a grin. “Lauren has a daaate.”
“Lauren has an extremely professional potential lunch meeting with a member of the press, and it is going to be very platoooooonic,” Lauren sang back as she started to reply to Oscar’s email. “Hello, Oscar,” she narrated as she typed. “Thank you so much
for the invitation to lunch. I would be happy to meet and discuss some of the Palace’s long-term plans—”
“Boring!” Joy declared as she stood up. “Dusty and dry.”
“Professional!” Lauren shot back. “And I take it back, your rights to the soda stash have been rescinded.”
Joy just shrugged as she waggled her eyebrows. “Worth it,” she replied. “But in all seriousness, be careful. It’s all well
and fine at first, but hooking up with a reporter would actually get messy fast. And trust me, I’ve seen more than a few messes
over the years.”
“Yes, yes, noted,” Lauren said as she finished her email.