by Jenny Frame
She looked around the empty office, with only the noise of the ticking antique clock, and felt utterly alone.
Chapter Three
Bea checked her appearance in the office mirror before smoothing down her skirt. When she left home this morning, her mother had been beside herself with excitement about her daughter meeting the Queen. Bea refused to see today as anything other than a normal one and was determined not to make any special effort. She had come downstairs this morning for breakfast to find her outfit had been cleaned again, pressed and hung waiting for her, and her mum giving very special attention to her high heels.
Sarah had made her daughter promise she would not say anything inappropriate in the presence of the Queen.
To which she had replied, “Mother, I’m not an idiot and I am a professional. I wouldn’t make a scene at my work.”
What had bothered her more than anything was that over the past few days, Timmy’s had been wasting money, as she thought, upgrading the facilities. The smell of fresh paint was everywhere she turned, and she resented it.
Bea glanced at her computer display where she had the protocol guidelines, sent by the Queen’s equerry, on screen. The first three really stood out:
1) Please refrain from touching the Queen. When shaking hands, wait for Her Majesty to extend her hand to you.
2) On first meeting, please address the Queen as Your Majesty, then Ma’am as in ham, not Ma’am as in the farm.
3) When in the presence of Her Majesty the Queen, please do not turn your back on her.
“Bloody cheek. Computer off.” It powered down with a barely audible whine.
“Right, Bea, let’s go and meet the toffee-nosed bitch with whom I’ll be spending the next six months touring the country.”
*
George sat in the back seat of her armoured unmarked car, on her way from the helipad to the Timmy’s charity headquarters. She used the time to read the brief her equerry had prepared for her on the visit and the staff.
As it was an unofficial visit, she only had Cammy and one other police protection officer with her. She gave a small smile as she scanned over the information about Beatrice Elliot, who would be her guide for months to come. Her equerry, Major Archibald Fairfax, had written to the side of Miss Elliot’s picture: Could be trouble. Has voiced republican and anti-monarchist views throughout university. The director insists she is the only one qualified to guide Her Majesty throughout the country.
George looked at her picture and the image of the beautiful woman did not look like trouble to her. “Cammy, does this young lady look like trouble to you? Major Fairfax thinks so.”
Captain Cameron looked over the young woman’s picture. “No, Ma’am. She looks like a bonnie wee lassie.”
Hmm…intriguing, thought George.
*
The Queen followed closely as Danny Simpson stood at the top of the conference table, talking through his presentation. Around the table sat other members of the board of trustees and senior staff, including Beatrice Elliot.
Danny pointed to the computer image he had displayed and said, “So as you can see, Ma’am, we have twenty-two sites in all, three of which are only in the building stage. We also have ten fundraising projects. This is our regional director Beatrice Elliot’s project. Her idea is to get the community involved in the fundraising and upkeep of their local hospice; this then gives a sense of ownership to the local people, and hopefully encourages them to care about the ongoing funding of the hospice. These projects are attached to schools, community groups, and church groups. It’s worked very well, Ma’am, and we’re very excited to show you over the coming months. Miss Elliot will start by taking you to…”
George looked over towards her guide. Beatrice was even more beautiful in the flesh. Her delicate features and creamy skin enhanced her elegance and beauty. George had noticed that Beatrice didn’t look too happy, and that was very unusual. She was used to people being genuinely pleased to see her, or even if they didn’t like her personally, they would fawn over her because of her position. This further intrigued her.
“Ma’am? Did you have any questions?”
George was quickly shaken from her thoughts. “No, Danny. I would just like to say to you all, I am grateful for this opportunity to help Timmy’s. Every one of you does such a wonderful job and I admire the dedication you show. I hope we will be able to bring some much needed attention to Timmy’s. Thank you all for your time today.”
“Thank you, Ma’am. We have some tea set up in the other room, if you would like to follow me.”
George leaned over to Danny and said quietly, “Could I have a word with Miss Elliot privately before we go through?”
“Of course, Ma’am. Beatrice?” Danny walked over and spoke to his colleague, and George noticed her face fell further into melancholy.
I wonder what I did to deserve that.
Everyone else filed out of the room, and Beatrice walked over to where George was sitting.
George, always courteous, stood. “Do sit down, Miss Elliot.”
“I prefer to stand if you don’t mind, Ma’am.” Beatrice’s tone was highly unimpressed.
“Oh…of course.” George remained standing and clasped her hands behind her back. “I just wanted to have a few moments with you, get to know your thinking about what you would like to achieve. We will be spending a lot of time together over the coming months.”
“Don’t I know it,” Bea whispered under her breath.
George let that go and continued. “I noticed during the meeting, and while talking to you, Miss Elliot, that you seem to be less than impressed with your new assignment. Could you tell me what’s bothering you? Perhaps it can be fixed.”
Beatrice sighed. “Ma’am, due to the protocol demands your equerry made sure we understood, it would be difficult for me to express my private feelings without it reflecting badly on Timmy’s.”
“Oh, that? It’s just a guideline. Please speak freely. We are on our own, no staff to get you into trouble, and I give you my word, nothing you say will affect my patronage of Timmy’s. Please, do go on.”
George leaned against the windowsill, arms folded, waiting to hear what the intriguing Miss Elliot had to say.
After seconds of silence, Beatrice said, “I begged Danny not to give me this job. I don’t want to do it, but apparently there is no one else qualified to do it. I don’t want to do it because I’m a Republican—I believe the monarchy is not only an outdated institution, it also is a drain on public funds. The money that is supporting your family could be spent on the National Health Service, and perhaps charities like us would not be needed as much. I don’t believe you are any better than I am and I think it’s ridiculous that I have to bow and curtsy to you, not to mention the rest of the stupid rules on your protocol document.”
George was both stunned and amused at the same time. Never had anyone outside her family spoken to her in such an irreverent manner. She smiled inside at the fire in those green eyes. They must sparkle when you smile.
She cleared her throat and said, “I thank you for your extremely frank response. It’s most refreshing. I can only tell you this. I have very personal reasons for choosing this charity. As you know, the late King died before Christmas. When he was dying, I realized, even in my sadness, how lucky my family was. We had twenty-four hour care with specialist doctors and nurses. The King was also able to stay at home where he was most comfortable, the equipment and drugs coming to him rather than the other way about. To that end, I decided I wanted to give something back to those who don’t have that luxury. I think we both share the same goals, Miss Elliot. I don’t have the time to debate the monarchy with you at the moment, but perhaps that’s something we could discuss as we travel the country. As for the other matters, if we are alone, I give you permission to call me whatever you want.”
It looked as if she had surprised Beatrice with her response.
“So I can call you anything I want?”
The angry fire in Beatrice’s eyes had changed into a mischievous glint. “George is a bit serious, how about Georgie? Like Georgie Porgie from the nursery rhyme.”
George threw her head back and laughed heartily. The young woman’s totally irreverent attitude towards her was highly amusing.
“Oh, thank you, Miss Elliot. That’s the first time I’ve laughed in…I don’t know how long. My brother has called me Georgie ever since he was a little boy. You reminded me of more carefree and happier times.”
She watched Beatrice’s gaze wander over her, trying to gauge her response. She had clearly been a surprise to her.
“I’m glad I made you laugh. You can call me Bea. Everyone does.”
“Thank you very much. So, have we come to an understanding, Bea?” George started to walk towards her.
In an instant, Beatrice’s fire returned. “And what about these stupid protocols I was sent?” she said angrily.
“What is so terrible about the blasted protocol document? What on it disturbs you?”
“Well for one thing it says, Please refrain from touching the Queen. That’s just ridiculous.”
George raised an eyebrow and said with a hint of amusement. “You wish to touch me, Bea?”
Beatrice’s cheeks went bright red. “What? No, I don’t mean that. It’s the fact that we ordinary people are unfit to touch you, as if we might contaminate you. Well, let me tell you something, Georgie, you are not special, you are not chosen by God to lead the British people, as some think, and I am certainly not your subject.”
George was unsure as how to handle this. No one had ever tried to debate with her before, and she was starting to feel rather defensive of her role and the monarchy, which her family had worked so hard over the years to protect, and in which she believed wholeheartedly.
“As I say, Bea. I have neither the time nor the inclination to debate my constitutional role with you at the moment, but if I had the opportunity, I would vehemently defend my family’s position. I will say this to you though. You are welcome to your views—this is a free country after all. Whether you wish to think of yourself as a subject or not is irrelevant. This country, a democracy, has a constitutional monarchy of which I am the head of state. As such you are my subject, whether you like it or not. To that end, I have given you permission to address me in an informal way in private, but around others you will address me correctly, or we will have to make other arrangements. The dignity of the monarch’s position must be upheld. Do we understand each other, Bea?”
Beatrice’s face was now one of thunderous rage. “Yes, Your Majesty. I think we understand each other perfectly.”
George groaned inside. She knew that the goodwill and friendly feeling they had built up had now evaporated. “I’m glad. Oh, and for your information, the no touching rule is simply to insure I don’t get overwhelmed by people as I walk through crowds. So, shall we rejoin the others?”
Beatrice indicated for her to go first. “I wouldn’t want to turn my back on you. That’s another rule.”
George simply sighed and walked out of the room. I know. My life is guided by rules, Bea.
*
Bea walked in the front door of her family’s little semi-detached house and immediately relaxed. After a trying day, it was wonderful to come home to a warm, loving home. She could smell her mother’s cooking, wafting through down the hall from the kitchen. She hung up her jacket, kicked off her high heels, and made her way to the kitchen. Her mum was standing at the cooker making dinner.
“Is that you, sweetheart?”
Bea walked up behind her mother and kissed her cheek. “Hi, Mum. What’s cooking?”
Sarah turned quickly and said, “Never mind what’s cooking, tell me about the Queen.”
Bea put her hand on her hip. “Mum?”
Sarah pulled her daughter by the arm to the kitchen table. “Bea, please, sit down and indulge me.”
She rolled her eyes but sat down waiting for her mother’s grilling.
“Well? What was she like? Was she charming? Polite? Oh, she must have been regal. She always holds herself with such dignity, and she’s just your type too. Big, strong, and powerful, and those dreamy blue eyes. She plays polo, sails, and climbs mountains and all sorts. A real action woman.”
“Mother, I do not have a type, and I think you read celebrity magazines a bit too much.”
“Are you having a laugh, sweetheart? Your last two girlfriends were a footballer and a rugby player. Do I need to say any more? A mother knows her girl.”
Bea scowled. She knew her mother had a point, but she wasn’t going to admit anything. Her short but disastrous history of girlfriends was something she was trying to forget.
The back door opened and in walked her father, covered in soil as usual. Reg kissed both his wife and daughter as he made his way over to the sink to wash off the dirt of the day. “How’s my best girl?”
“I’m fine, Dad.” Bea gave her father a warm smile.
“Don’t distract her, Reg, she’s going to tell us about meeting the Queen today.”
“Wait for me then.” Reg got a bottle of lager from the fridge and took his place at the table. Now both of her parents looked at her with eager smiles.
What do they find so exciting about her? “She was…very nice to all the staff. Listened very carefully to what they all had to say.”
“And?” asked Sarah.
“And what?”
“What did she say to you of course.” Her mother was becoming exasperated.
“Well, she said I could call her what I liked. I said how about Georgie?”
Sarah looked aghast. “You asked if you could call the Queen of Great Britain Georgie?”
She was highly amused by the look of horror on her mum’s face. “Don’t worry, Mum, it made her laugh. She said I could call her whatever I wanted in private.” She recalled how much younger the Queen looked when she laughed. So different from the stoic, serious mask she had worn during the meeting.
One thing she did remember from the meeting, though. While Danny talked figures, she lifted her eyes and caught George looking right at her, appraising what she saw with interest. Bea felt a fluttering in her stomach at the memory, then shook it away.
“That’s my girl. On first-name terms with the Queen,” Reg said proudly.
Sarah reached out and took her husband’s hand. “So, when are they going to announce this to the press? Can I tell your Auntie Martha?”
Bea knew this was what her mother had been waiting for. A chance to show off a bit to her snobbish cousin Martha. Sarah and Martha were not close by any manner of means. They had always been like chalk and cheese. Whereas Sarah had a fun-loving, easy-going personality, her older cousin Martha was stuffy, pompous, and a social climber. Although coming from a working-class background, Martha had been extremely proud of herself when she married a doctor. Since then, her mum had had to listen to her cousin being entirely too pleased with herself and her two children.
“It should be on the news tomorrow, so you can tell her anytime. Can I go and get changed now?” Bea was becoming fed up talking about the royal visit.
“The Queen must have said more to you than that, sweetheart.”
With a huge sigh, she replied, “She asked to speak to me privately, to discuss the trip and any concerns I had. I told her that I didn’t ask for this role, and I didn’t feel comfortable with it, but I had no choice but to do it.”
Sarah looked horrified. “Oh, Bea, you didn’t. What will she think of you?”
I’ve had enough of this for one day. If one more person mentions the bloody Queen I’ll scream. “Mum, Dad. It’s been a long day. I just want to get changed and relax. The precious Queen is an arrogant woman full of her own importance, and she snapped me back into line, okay?”
She stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
*
“Shadow, Baxter, heel.”
George walked along the corridor leading to the family’s private dining room, followed closely by her ever-faithful dogs. After returning from Timmy’s, she had attended to some more paperwork before making sure to change her jeans to black suit trousers, knowing her mother and grandmother would not appreciate the dressed-down look.
As she approached the door, the page stationed outside bowed at the neck. When he opened the door, Shadow and Baxter immediately shot off to see the Queen Mother’s and the Dowager Queen’s dogs. The royal family loved their dogs.
The dogs barked as they greeted each other, all except her father’s Labrador, Rex, who rushed over to George, wagging his tail and twirling around excitedly.
“Rex, sit. Wait,” George commanded, and Rex obeyed immediately.
Conscious of her mother and grandmother standing, she went to greet them first. Everyone had to know their place in the royal family, even the dog. She walked over to the dinner table where she gave her grandmother a kiss on each cheek. “Good evening, Granny. Please, do sit down.”
“Good evening, my dear. Theo is late as usual.”
“Give him a few minutes, Granny. He’ll be here.” George then greeted her mother with kisses and a hug. “How are you doing, Mama?”
Sofia gave her daughter a brave smile and said, “I’m doing well, my darling.”
George knew that her mother was struggling. Often she found her with red eyes, obviously very recently crying, but she was trying not to show it to be strong for her daughter.
“Are you sure, Mama?”
“I will be fine. Please don’t worry darling. It’s poor Rex that needs help.”
George looked over to where the Labrador was still obediently waiting for attention.
She knelt down and said to the dog, “Rexie? Come.” She was immediately engulfed with hugs and kisses from the dog. “What’s wrong with him, Mama?”
“He won’t play with Mabel and Daisy. He just lies in the corner, whimpering and crying for your father. He hardly eats anything either. I’m worried. The only time he is happy is when he sees you. I think he associates you with Eddie.”
