by William Kuhn
The Queen noted Shirley’s use of Lady Anne’s Christian name without her title. As Shirley’s distrust of the ladies-in-waiting was legendary, this softening to a first-name basis was remarkable. The Queen filed the fact away for future use.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I wasn’t recognized. Rebecca lent me the most effective disguise. It had a cotton hood attached. Quite warm and . . .”
“We saw it, right enough,” said Shirley.
“And there was money in the pocket. I used it to pay my fare on the bus last night. It will need to be repaid. Anne, when you’re feeling better, if you could help me repay these kind people.”
Anne still had her head cantilevered toward her lap. “Of course, Ma’am.”
“Oh, and a nice man on the train bought me a drink.”
“And who was he, Ma’am? He might have been Jack the Ripper for all we know.”
“No, not Jack the Ripper at all. Liked history. And his wife. Interesting couple. If he were with us now he’d be telling us the odds that Jack the Ripper was actually Queen Victoria’s grandson.”
“That old canard,” said Anne.
“Well, I suppose it is a legend.”
“Just as we’re going to have to tell the papers they’re making up things again when they telephone to ask us, ‘Is it true Her Majesty went to Scotland by herself on a public train from King’s Cross last night? And landed in Edinburgh after causing no end of worry among the staff?’ ” Shirley was still in a bad temper.
“We must tell them the truth,” said The Queen simply.
“The truth being . . . ?” asked Shirley, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
“Well, I expect I was feeling a bit low.”
“ ‘Queen on Prozac!’ is what The Sun will say, Ma’am.”
“Well, when we were all growing up depression wasn’t much spoken of, was it? A dirty word, wasn’t it? Surely if Diana taught us anything, it’s that depression is real. We can’t just go on thinking about it as we always have. Wrong to stigmatize people who have it.”
“And that’s what you think it was, or maybe still is, that you’re dee-pressed,” said Shirley incredulously, stretching out the word to emphasize her disbelief. “You’ve never been that way in the forty years I’ve been with you, you haven’t.”
“Well, perhaps it was Diana’s dying, you know. Feeling as though one had worked at this, tried to do one’s best for many years, and having people turn on one, all of a sudden. It brings one up short, doesn’t it? I’ve always done as I was told. Done precisely what the Government advised. For all my life, really. Stood through all those investitures. Rode through the streets even when it gave me a headache. It does give me a headache, Anne, when people cheer at me, do you know? They mean well, but it hurts. I thought, ‘This is my job, and I’m doing it the way it’s always been done.’ But suddenly, after Diana, that wasn’t good enough. I was to blame for it all going wrong.”
“Diana died quite a long time ago,” observed Lady Anne into her lap. “What is it? Ten years now surely?”
“Well, yes, it was some time ago,” agreed The Queen. “But I may have been having a delayed reaction. And then Mummy and my sister dying together in the same year. Barely a month apart. At first that was liberating in a way. One was old, the other unhappy. They were both ready to go. But recently it has seemed to hit me more forcibly. That sense of being alone. It’ll be me next, of course.”
“And the winter coming on now,” said Anne bending sideways to look at The Queen. “The darkness doesn’t help, does it?” she asked sympathetically.
“Oh, I don’t know. That may be contributing. But it just struck me. And I was quite sad. I felt quite, well, desperate. And I thought to myself, ‘When are the times I’ve been happy?’ Britannia of course came to mind. I thought I might run up and have a look at her. I had a wander over to the Mews to look at the horses. Talked to Rebecca about the cheddar that Elizabeth likes. Some painters turned me out into the road. Didn’t recognize me. I had on Rebecca’s jacket, you see? And I thought, well, now I’m out, maybe I’ll catch a train to Scotland. Did you know the Prime Minister told me they want to abolish the royal train? I’ll have to learn to live without it. So I thought, ‘I’ll sample the public train, have a look at Britannia, and take a bite of that cheese from Paxton & Whitfield.’ And, well,” she put her hands on her hips and began chuckling, “I was away. I was off.”
The “off” struck Anne as funny, despite the pain in her temples, and she smiled wryly.
Suddenly Luke appeared at the doorway to the kitchen barefoot, bare chested, and wearing rumpled boxer shorts. The three women looked up at him in surprise.
Shirley caught her breath and said, “Major Thomason!”
The three women looked at one another. Shirley began smiling. Anne looked from the other two women to raise her eyebrows at Luke. The Queen kept a straight face.
Luke had been half asleep and unaware that he’d appeared in his shorts before The Queen until now. She could see Luke’s reddening face and his increasing distress. She thought to help him by asking, “Major Thomason, you have a report?”
The conversation coming from the kitchen awoke William, who was still asleep in the sitting room. He was aware of its being colder than it was before and wondered why. He was by himself. His first memory was like that of a child who has curled up for an afternoon nap with a parent and is distressed to find that warm presence absent when he wakes up. The difference was, and now he could distinctly recall it, he’d gone to bed with a younger man and been cradled in the middle of the night by someone barely old enough to be his little brother. After Anne had let them in she’d told them The Queen was asleep in the double bedroom. Rebecca from the Mews and a friend of hers who’d been on the same train as The Queen were in one of the twins. Shirley was asleep in the remaining twin-bedded room. The only place for them was on the sofa bed. They were both too tired to protest when Anne told them they had to sleep together if they didn’t want to sleep on the floor. They undressed after the light was out, looking away from one another in embarrassment. They got into the bed together. At first they had maintained a rigid distance between them, but it was a terrible mattress that sent them both rolling toward a trench in the center, and there was not enough room for two adult men anyway. So they allowed feet and legs to brush at first. Then, groggily realizing that some barrier was being breached, William awoke from a light doze to find Luke’s arm around his middle. He didn’t see the point of resisting any longer. He grabbed Luke’s hand, pulled it up to his chest, and holding it in his own, fell away into a dark cavern.
Neither man was awake when Shirley and Anne tiptoed past them into the kitchen. Neither man was aware when the sovereign came by their bed, observing the two men sleeping, one with his arm around the other, then moving noiselessly through the room. Nor had William woken when Luke disengaged himself to go and do some reconnaissance in the flat. He realized that his commanding officer was present and the only security in attendance was him.
Now William knew that he was alone and he could hear voices. Sensing that The Queen might already be awake recalled him to his duty as well, not as a burden, as a job he had to do, but instinctively, as a role he could perform better than anyone else. If she were up, she’d want some coffee. She liked a special mixture of muesli. He knew Lady Anne’s nephew would not have it in the cupboard. He might have to nip around the corner to find something—mix it together himself—if there were a corner store open. He found his clothing of the evening before. He fished a tie out of his pocket, buttoned his top button, and knotted the tie in the baroque mirror over the chimneypiece. He then appeared in the lighted doorway to the kitchen. What he found there surprised him. The Queen and Shirley were dressed and ready for business. Lady Anne was still in her nightgown, doubled over, apparently in some pain. Luke was standing there in his boxer shorts.
“Luke, for God’s sake!” said William.
William stood there in his tie, looking crossly at Luke in his underwear.
They all turned to look again at Luke.
“I think the equerry had better go and put on his uniform,” said William.
“Don’t have a uniform,” said Luke. “Didn’t bring it.”
“We may all be on an unplanned junket,” William glanced at The Queen as he said this, “in a strange flat in Scotland,” casting a hostile glance at Anne, “but Major Thomason, may I remind you that you are in attendance?” William would never have addressed the equerry in this way before, especially in front of The Queen, but as the circumstances were unusual and he was feeling a new sense of protectiveness about Luke, he couldn’t stop himself from being a little severe.
“Now, gentlemen,” said The Queen, thinking it was time to smooth over these hard words. “I think you’d better both have seats at the table. I’ve brought some of the most marvelous cheese. I gave some of it to Hohenzollern last night of course, but really it’s worked a treat with me. Quite cheered me up. Set me on my feet again. I think you’d better all give it a try.”
“Hohenzollern, Ma’am?” asked Anne with an inward groan. This sounded distinctly like a return of her odd behavior.
“Seeing Eye dog. Alsatian,” said The Queen. “Belonged to the couple I met on the train last night.” She turned to Shirley, “Now, if we could only find some eggs, we could put it with the cheddar, couldn’t we? And have a proper breakfast?”
“I’m not cooking for all this lot,” said Shirley, annoyed at the suggestion.
“Of course you’re not. You’ll have a place at the table with the others. I’m Cook this morning.” With that, The Queen looked into the cupboard to the side of the oven and said, vaguely, “Now, where does the Marquess keep his pots and pans, do you suppose?” She reached in and brought out a large pot for boiling pasta. “Now, this is the thing.”
“Oh no,” said Shirley, rolling up her sleeves and looking into the refrigerator. “You may serve, Your Majesty, but I’m cooking. William, you sit down. Major, go look in the medicine cabinet. Find some pain pills for Anne. Her head is killing her.” William did as he was told and Luke was on the verge of leaving the kitchen when Rajiv appeared at the door.
“Your Most Gracious and Imperial Majesty, good morning,” said Rajiv, giving an absurdly low bow with several rolling hand movements. Luke had never met him and didn’t recognize him. So he moved to block Rajiv from approaching The Queen.
“It’s all right, Major Thomason,” said The Queen. “We know him. Came north on the train with me last night. Even though I told him to get off. Works at Paxton & Whitfield. Sold me the cheddar. Working at the shop in his gap year. Now sit you down right here at the table, young man. Shirley is Cook. She’s going to put some of that cheddar into an omelette.” She pronounced the word as if they were dining at Maxim’s in Paris. “And I’m serving.” With this, The Queen took a dish towel she found hanging by the sink, and arranged it carefully over her lower arm.
Rajiv was so surprised by this gesture that he sat down at the table just as she’d told him to do. Luke was about to leave the kitchen again to dress when Rebecca, with tousled hair and her cheeks the color of a bruised apple, appeared in the doorway.
“My, isn’t she lovely?” said Anne.
“Oh yes, she’s a beauty,” said Shirley with approval.
“An exceptional young woman, true enough,” agreed The Queen.
“Who’s this, then?” said William, amazed at someone else whom The Queen apparently knew but whom he did not recognize from any staff party.
“Rebecca Rinaldi from the Mews. Came north last night with Cheddar. Sit down, Rebecca, there’s another chair for you here. And now, Shirley, hadn’t we better make another pot of tea?”
“Before everyone gets too comfortable,” said Luke, straightening up and beginning to speak once again as if he were on duty as equerry. “I took the liberty of faxing MI5 and Sir Robin on the Marquess’s landline last night. Sent them a short note about your whereabouts, Your Majesty. Said you’d been called away. At short notice. Unofficial business. Unforeseeable circumstances. Quite unexpected. And so on. The private secretary has sent me a reply. It says he has rearranged your engagements, Ma’am. Is sending a helicopter of The Queen’s Flight for you to return to London this morning.”
“The Queen’s Flight?” said The Queen impatiently. “They’ll charge that to the Privy Purse. It will cost a fortune. Couldn’t we just go back on the Great North Eastern Railway? It was more than comfortable coming up.”
“Well, apparently, Ma’am, there’s something on tonight at the Old Vic that cannot be rearranged. Gala performance. Henry V. He’d like to have you back in good time for it.”
“Oh, well, then,” said The Queen, heaving a sigh that signified she’d remembered her duty. There was no choice. What she had to do, she would do. She’d long ago accustomed herself to thinking about her duty as something over which she had little control, but still, it was sometimes hard work, hence the sigh. “But,” said The Queen, brightening, “we must all have our breakfast. No work without breakfast.”
“Ma’am,” assented Luke with a brief bow from the neck. He then left the room, walking backwards, to go into the sitting room and look for his clothes.
The Queen whispered aside to Shirley and Anne. “It’s the first time in sixty years I’ve had the ‘reverence’ from a man in his boxer shorts.”
They both looked at the ceiling and smiled. Rajiv and Rebecca and William, who were all sitting at the table out of earshot, looked at one another and wondered what she’d said.
Part VII
Savasana
Luke had arranged two unmarked Daimlers to take The Queen and her party from Charlotte Square to the airport in Edinburgh. Shirley, William, Rajiv, and Rebecca went in the first car. Luke, Anne, and The Queen followed in the second car. On arrival at the airport, they drove right onto the tarmac in an area reserved for private planes. There stood the last aircraft of The Queen’s Flight, a maroon Sikorsky helicopter.
There had once been a variety of jet aircraft exclusively for The Queen’s use. Now she could borrow a smaller aeroplane that was in a pool, also used by the Prime Minister or other senior officials. The helicopter was the only aircraft that remained to her. A steward stood at the bottom of the steps. The pilots were looking out the side windows and ready to fly the Royal Standard when The Queen came on board. Shirley and William went up the steps and took two seats toward the rear. They both had been on board the helicopter before and knew the drill. Rebecca followed their example and slipped quietly into a rear seat. Rajiv, however, was as excited as a schoolboy and immediately went exploring. He opened the door to the lavatory, leaned over a table that was configured with four seats on the right of the aisle to look out the windows, and even poked his head in the cockpit, where he received a frosty welcome. Anne came on board and motioned with her head toward the rear, indicating his place in the helicopter hierarchy. Rajiv ignored her. He now felt he was on more than friendly terms with The Queen. She came steadily up the steps to find Rajiv in the aisle to welcome her, with the senior pilot behind him, saluting irritably. “Your Majesty! I’ve never been on a helicopter before!” said Rajiv.
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“Enthusiastic boy,” thought The Queen to herself, surprised to find anyone other than the pilot to greet her, but under the circumstances, she was prepared to put up with deviations from the established order. “Well, it’s very slow, Cheddar, and very noisy. But it will get us to London, I believe.” She brushed past him, acknowledged the pilot’s salute, and took her usual place at the table for four on the right, facing forward. Ordinarily, the Duke of Edinburgh, if he were along, would have been sitting next to her. The two seats opposite them at the table were left open for private secretaries and others who needed to brief
The Queen during the flight and who might join her for small stretches of time. The upper members of the Household, in this case, Anne and Luke, sat in seats forward but on the other side of the aisle from The Queen. The steward came forward as the rotary blades began to hum and placed a wool blanket made of the grey and blue Balmoral tartan over The Queen’s knees.
Rajiv jumped into a seat at the table opposite The Queen and looked out the window to observe the preparations for liftoff. Luke began to get up to pull Rajiv to the back of the helicopter, but The Queen looked up at him and said, “It’s all right, Major Thomason.”
Rajiv turned to The Queen after the excitement of leaving Edinburgh was over and said, “So it’s Henry V tonight, Ma’am? It’s my favorite Shakespeare play.”
“Is it?” said The Queen, who wasn’t exactly looking forward to the performance, which she expected to be tedious. But then, rather than ask him some pro forma questions about when he’d first seen it, or why he liked it, she decided to volunteer some information about herself. Here was a young man, after all, who’d dropped everything to get in a taxi, and then on a train, to follow her. He deserved friendlier treatment than she would ordinarily give him. She was trying very hard to turn the page herself.
“Well, you see, my mother and my sister were the two artistic ones in the family. They understood the theatre. And the Prince of Wales, now, he cares about Shakespeare. Has led an effort to make sure all the schools still teach it.”
