by Jenny Frame
There was one incident, Bea remembered, that did show the real woman under the stoic mask of monarchy. They were visiting the room of a young boy who didn’t have much time left. The Queen extended the visit by an hour, so that she could sit by his bed and chat to the boy and his parents. He loved dogs, and so George had shown him some pictures and videos of her three dogs. She held his hand and simply gave the young man her time. When it came time to leave, Bea saw the emotion on the Queen’s face, which was then quickly brought under control. It had touched her that the Queen had genuinely shown and given care to one ordinary boy and his parents.
Later that week, Bea received a call from the hospice to tell her that the boy had passed away peacefully, and that his parents wanted to thank the Queen for her kindness to their son. George had gone back to the hospice privately, taking her dog Rexie to meet him. The boy and his parents had been overwhelmed by the Queen’s generosity and Bea realized that even though she didn’t agree with her position, the Queen had an extremely kind heart.
Today was Friday and the end of Bea’s working week, but they had a busy day ahead. The Queen was about to leave for a four-day visit to Canada and New York, so they were squeezing two Timmy’s visits into her schedule before she left. This morning they were visiting a hospice in Cambridge, and in the afternoon they would take the high-speed royal train to a school in Edinburgh, who were raising money for the building of a local hospice.
Bea stood by the hospice door ready to introduce the Queen as she arrived. Further up the path was the Lord Lieutenant of the county, in his black and red uniform, ceremonial sword hanging at his side. She had been surprised to learn that at each official visit the Lord Lieutenant of the county must meet and escort the Queen around his particular area. More useless pageantry.
The road outside the hospice and up to the entrance was lined with local people and schoolchildren, all cheering and waving flags as they watched the Queen’s royal limousine pull into the hospice grounds. Surprisingly the limousine stopped well short of the entrance and the assembled dignitaries. She saw the police protection officers get out first, and then Captain Cameron held the door open for the Queen, who made her way over to the waiting schoolchildren. The crowds were delighted to be given the time with the Queen before she went inside for the visit.
The nursing manager standing next to Beatrice said, “Isn’t she wonderful?”
Bea simply smiled and turned her attention back to George, who was working her way down the crowd, laughing and joking with them, shaking hands and accepting flowers and pictures from the children.
People just seem to love her. As she watched George, who was today dressed in a tailored black suit, she felt that unfamiliar flutter in her stomach that she had already experienced on a couple of occasions while in her company. It must be the excitement of the event, she tried to convince herself. She couldn’t deny that the Queen looked, in her very unique way, a combination of both beautiful and devilishly handsome.
Having finished her impromptu walkabout, Major Fairfax introduced her to the Lord Lieutenant, while Captain Cameron handed over to their driver the piles of gifts given by people in the crowd.
Before long the Queen was next to her. “Miss Elliot. Delighted to see you again.” George gave her a warm smile and a very quick wink. “Would you like to take us from here?”
Bea was momentarily knocked off balance. Did she just wink at me?
“Miss Elliot? If you would?”
“What? Oh yes, of course.” She mentally kicked herself. What is it about her that makes you lose your concentration? “Your Majesty, may I present the nursing manager, Julia Corrigan.”
After her initial stumble, Bea settled down and the visit went well. After meeting the staff, they met the patients and families using the hospice. The Queen listened intently, made the people laugh where she could, but above all made everyone feel as if they had been heard.
Bea directed them to the last room on the corridor. “This is the last room, Ma’am. Julia, could you give the Queen some background before we go in?”
“Of course. Your Majesty, Billy Evans is in his final stages of life. He has no family and has not had any visitors—he’s quite alone in the world. Billy’s been so excited about your visit, Ma’am, he was in the Royal Marines.”
The Queen nodded and followed Julia into the room. Bea was sure she saw a flash of emotion in the Queen’s demeanour when she looked at the patient, but almost as soon as she had noticed, it was gone, replaced by a stoic mask.
George looked over at the nurse, who was explaining to Billy that the Queen was here, and propping him up. He held a hand over his eyes, the bright light of the media and TV cameras obviously bothering him.
“Major Fairfax? Can you get everyone out, I’d like this to be a private meeting. Only Miss Elliot and Captain Cameron to stay.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
As everyone filed out, George leaned over and said to the nursing manager, “Do you know what rank Mr. Evans held in the Royal Marines?”
“It says on the picture by his bed Sergeant Evans, Ma’am.”
Once everyone was gone, the Queen clasped her hands behind her back and turned to Cammy. “I think an old comrade needs to remember happier times. Will you oblige us, Captain Cameron?”
Cammy nodded in understanding.
What are they up to? Bea wondered.
Cammy stood by the bed and said, “Officer on deck. Attention.”
Billy pulled himself up as best he could on the bed. “Sergeant Evans at your service, Ma’am,” he rasped.
George looked over to Bea and smiled. “Sergeant Evans, what service were you in?”
“Royal Marines, Ma’am. Four-five squadron, based at Arbroath.”
George walked closer, looking very much like an officer on parade. “Ah, Scotland? Captain Cameron’s old stomping ground. Captain Cameron is Army though, Evans, not Royal Navy like you and me. What do we call the Army, Evans?” George looked over to Cammy with a cheeky smile; Cammy smiled back and shook her head.
“Knuckle-dragging gorillas, Ma’am.”
Bea watched as the man who was at death’s door brightened and smiled, enjoying the banter between the three. Maybe Julia was right. Maybe she is wonderful…
George sat down by the bed and talked to him about all his tours of duty, and the conflicts he took part in, all the while covering his hand with her own. Bea was astonished; talking with his commander in chief seemed to breathe a bit of new life into the man.
“Now, Marine, I’ll have to leave shortly, but I’m going to contact the Royal Marines Association, let them know you’re here, and I’m certain they’ll be out to check up on you. So you keep that in mind while you’re here on your own.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.” Billy was tiring and starting to struggle with his breath again. “I’m very sorry about the King. He…he would have been so proud of you. I wish I had a daughter like you.”
In a second Bea watched George’s face drain of colour and her breathing become shallow. “Bea—is there somewhere I can catch my breath?”
Seeing the Queen in distress had her over to her and taking her hand in seconds. “Captain Cameron, could you wrap this up?”
Cammy nodded. “Evans? Her Majesty expects you to keep morale up and do exactly what the nurses ask of you. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Captain.”
In the meantime Bea had pulled George by the hand through a side door, away from the waiting media, and into an unoccupied room.
Bea heard the gasping breaths and watched as George pressed her hands against the wall in front of her, trying to regain control. She immediately recognized this as a panic attack. She had watched her mother suffer with them over the years, and watched as well as her father helped get her through them.
Bea grasped George by the shoulders and turned her round. “George, Georgie? Look at me. Concentrate on my face.”
This seemed to get through to George as she looked very inten
tly into Bea’s eyes.
“Good. Now I want you to breathe in through your nose, and out through your mouth for a count of five. Come on, Georgie, breathe with me. In one, two, three. Out one, two, three, four, five. That’s it, and again.”
Bea held George’s hands tenderly as they repeated the process until her breathing started to calm.
“That’s it. You feel better?” As Bea looked up into George’s emotional blue eyes, she had to stop herself from tucking an unruly lock of dark hair behind George’s ear. She pulled back immediately, getting some distance between them.
“Thank you, Bea. I…don’t know what to say. I must apologize. I’m sorry you had to see that and I’m sorry I inconvenienced you.”
She could see that George was horrified that she had shown herself to her in this state, and given her opinions on the monarchy was no doubt worried that the story would appear all over the news sites the next day. “You didn’t inconvenience me, Georgie, I wanted to help, and despite our differences, I give you my promise that no one will hear a word about this from me. Can you trust me?”
George met her eyes for a few seconds, and said, “Yes. I do.”
Bea walked towards her. “Then trust me that I will never break your confidence. We might have different views, but I could never hurt anyone like that. Especially anyone who has a kind heart like you.”
George’s face brightened with a smile. “You think I have a kind heart?”
“Yes. I know all about you going back to visit the little boy with your dog, and what you did in there? That was exactly what that man needed. So yes, you are kind, and it’s all right if you let your emotions show once in a while. You can’t be butch and stoic twenty-four hours a day.”
This brought a laugh from the Queen.
“Have you been having panic attacks often?” Bea asked.
George sat on the bed in the empty room and indicated for Bea to sit also. “Is that what they are? I don’t really know. I haven’t told anyone about them.”
“Do you get tight chest, tight throat? Feeling like you can’t breathe?”
George nodded. “Yes, and I break out in a cold sweat, and my vision seems to narrow. It’s happened about five times—this was the worst though.”
“Yes, that’s a panic attack, my mother used to get them when I was younger. That’s why I knew how to get you out of it.”
“Well, I thank you, Bea, for your kindness.”
“I’m sorry, but I had to break the stupid no-touching rule.”
George covered Bea’s hand with her own. “I think at this stage we can forget that protocol.”
Bea felt something when they touched, a connection that made them both pull their hands back quickly.
“So? Why do you think this has been happening, Georgie?”
George let out a long breath. “It’s since my father’s death. When I was with Mr. Evans there, I was back there by my father’s bedside. I don’t know why I called to you for help.”
“Sounds like you need time to grieve, Georgie.”
All of a sudden the Queen completely closed herself off to her. She stood and smoothed her hair, buttoned her jacket up, and said, “Thank you for your help and your concern, Bea, but my duty to my family and to the nation do not allow me the luxury of time. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my duty.”
George walked out and left Bea sitting, wondering what had just happened. What is wrong with her? Just when I think I’m talking to a normal human being, she starts that upper-class stiff-upper-lip nonsense.
Chapter Six
The royal train set off for Edinburgh. The distinctive claret train was nine carriages long, and at the front there were carriages for the Queen’s staff and invited guests. Bea knew there was also a full kitchen and chef at the Queen’s disposal, and the Queen’s private carriage was a home away from home, with comfortable bedrooms for the monarch and her consort, en-suite bathrooms, and sitting room with comfortable couches where the monarch could conduct the business of the day and take meals.
She despaired at the waste of public funds.
Bea had been directed to a normal looking carriage near the front, where she was sitting next to the Queen’s administrative and PR staff.
In the seat across from her a rather busy looking woman was working on her computer and talking on her ear phone. “No, the Queen has no plans to meet with Princess Eleanor privately, or at anytime in the near future. The princess may be attending events leading up to the coronation, but so will many other royal figures and members of the aristocracy.”
Princess Eleanor? I wonder who that is, and what she has to do with Georgie? I should listen to Mum more often—I’m sure she would know.
Bea took out her tablet and did a quick search. The first hit to pop up said: Will the Princess of Belgium become our new Queen Consort?
After the unexpected outing of Princess Eleanor, speculation has been growing that the youngest daughter of the King of the Belgians has her sights set on our very own Queen Georgina.
Sources close to the princess claim that they were close as children and have always maintained a strong friendship. It is thought that Eleanor would make a good consort for our first lesbian monarch.
Wow. Princess Eleanor looked like a fashion model. They would make a beautiful couple, but somehow she just couldn’t see Georgie with this woman in the picture.
“Excuse me, Miss Elliot?”
Bea quickly touched the power off symbol on her tablet. She looked up and saw the rather stiff looking Major Fairfax.
“Yes? How can I help?”
The major looked left and right, clearly uncomfortable at delivering his message with so many others around. “Miss Elliot, Her Majesty wonders if you would join her for lunch in her private carriage.”
“Me?” She looked around and a couple of the people sitting near looked suspiciously at her.
Major Fairfax leaned closer and whispered, “The Queen hoped you would accept her invitation to lunch. If you would just follow me.”
Without giving her a chance to reply, the major marched off down the carriage.
I suppose I don’t have much choice then. She gathered her things together quickly and tried to catch up with the major. When they eventually reached the other end of the train and stood outside the private carriage, he stopped and turned to her.
“I will enter and announce you. When you hear your name come into the room, curtsy, walk towards the Queen, wait for the Queen to extend her hand, and then take it.”
“Major Fairfax, I’ve just spent the whole morning with her. Is that really necessary?”
The major gave her an incredulous look. “Yes, it is necessary. Please remember when you are in the presence, at no time turn your back on the Queen.”
“The presence?”
“Yes, that’s what it’s called when you’re in Her Majesty’s company.”
For goodness sake, you would think I was meeting a God. I think the major would have a fit if he knew I called her Georgie.
Major Fairfax announced her. When she entered the Queen’s private quarters, she forgot she was on a train. It looked even grander than she had imagined. Directly in front of her, the Queen stood by her comfortable-looking couch. Strewn around the couch and the table in front were papers and files that had presumably come out of the red boxes, which were piled five high by the side of the table.
Bea heard Major Fairfax clear his throat, and she remembered the instructions she was given. Just to be annoying she gave the most exaggerated curtsy possible. When she walked forward, she observed the Queen smirking at her attempts.
“Miss Elliot, I’m delighted you could join me. Please sit down.” The Queen indicated the couch opposite her own. “Major Fairfax, could you give us five minutes before you send in the steward?”
“Of course, Ma’am.” He bowed and left them alone.
George fidgeted with her collar nervously. She had dispensed with her suit jacket, and her shirt sleev
es were rolled up to her elbows. After an uncomfortable silence George said, “I…asked you here because I wanted to apologize for this morning.”
Bea sat back and crossed her legs. I’m going to enjoy making you work for this. “Oh? What happened this morning, Georgie? Or will it be Your Majesty?”
“It was very discourteous and abrupt, the way I left. You had been so kind to me, and well…I’m sorry.”
“Are you worried I’d tell someone?”
“No, of course not. I told you I trusted you and I mean it. May I be absolutely frank with you?”
“Of course, I would rather you were.”
“I was embarrassed this morning. I have never broken down like that and shown my emotions with anyone outside my immediate family, and even then, not to that extent. I’m not used to anyone seeing my emotions, but somehow I…”
Bea knew George was struggling with this, and even though she shouldn’t care, she felt she had to make things easier for her. “Listen, it’s okay. For some reason you feel you have to keep this stoic mask on, and that’s up to you, but I accept your apology. You don’t have to offer me lunch for that. I’ll just go back to my seat.”
She stood to leave just as the Queen’s steward knocked and entered. “Would you like to order lunch, Ma’am?”
“Could you come back in a couple of minutes, Walters?”
“Of course, Ma’am.”
George hurried to the door and reached out for Bea’s hand. “Please, Bea. I wasn’t trying to ingratiate myself by asking you to lunch. I would love it if you would have lunch with me. I’m on my own a great deal, and it would be wonderful to have some pleasant company. Unless you had other plans?” George suddenly found her shoes very interesting.
For a Queen, she certainly doesn’t have much confidence in herself. She gave George a warm smile. “How could I turn down lunch with the Queen? My mum will be so proud.”
