by Jenny Frame
“Wonderful. Take a seat and I’ll ask Walters to bring us something,” George gushed.
*
“Well, this is delicious.” Bea was polishing off the simple meal of sandwiches and soup in no time.
George smiled. She was delighted to see Bea enjoy her meal with such gusto. “Really?”
“Uh-huh. Oh yes.”
George felt her heart begin to pound at the throaty moans of pleasure coming from her lunch companion.
“It wasn’t what I was expecting. I thought it would be something like partridge or foie gras, and on gold plates of course.”
George managed to calm her heart rate but decided to play with her dining companion a bit. “No. We don’t bring out the gold plates when we’re dining with commoners.”
Bea froze as she took a gulp of her water. “What, you think I’m—” Bea paused. “You’re having me on, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am, Bea. I have very simple tastes, and the only time you’ll see a gold plate is at official state functions at the Palace.”
“Oh, you do have a sense of humour, then, Georgie?”
“I hope so.” George found herself so captivated by the eyes and the smile of the young woman opposite her, that she forgot about the rest of her own food.
“Do I have something in my teeth?”
George was shaken from her lingering gaze. “Oh…no, I was…sorry.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
George pretended to think very carefully. “Only if I can reserve the right to ask you a question in return.”
Bea answered confidently, “Of course.”
George opened her arms wide and said, “Then you can ask me anything.”
“That’s the thing, I see everyone bowing to you and being very formal. Why do you allow me to talk to you this way?”
“When I first met you, Bea, I had never come across someone before who would talk to me like I was an ordinary person. I enjoyed it, and I enjoy talking to you. Even my family has certain formalities in the way we behave towards each other. You are like a breath of fresh air to me, and as long as it’s not in public, it’s perfectly all right.”
“So I’m a token commoner?”
“No—”
“It’s okay, Georgie, I understand.”
At that moment, Cammy popped her head round the door. “Sorry to interrupt, Ma’am. I just wanted to let you know, I contacted the Royal Marines Association, and they are going to send some people to visit with Mr. Evans.”
“Thank you, Cammy.”
After Cammy left, Bea said, “You really have surprised me, Queen Georgina.”
“May I ask you why?”
She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “To be honest, I thought you just went around shaking hands like an automaton and instantly forgot about the people you meet.”
George sighed with disappointment. “My, my, you do have a poor impression of the royal family. My Granny, Queen Adrianna, tells me it’s my task to persuade you that constitutional monarchy is the right thing for Britain.”
“You’ve told your family about me?” Bea said with surprise.
“Of course. We do talk about our day, you know, like any normal family.”
“I just can’t imagine that.”
The stewards came in to clear away the dishes and bring in the tea tray. Walters approached to serve them. “Tea, Your Majesty?”
“Yes, please. Miss Elliot, would you care for tea?”
She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
When Bea took her first sip her face screwed up. “Oh my goodness, that’s strong.”
“I’m sorry. They make it strong for my taste. I’ll ring for some fresh for you.” George reached to ring for the steward.
“Oh no, please. It’s fine. I’ll just add some sugar.”
“If you’re sure. I got the taste for strong tea in the forces. They used to say that in the Navy they made the tea so strong, you could stand up in it.”
George sipped her tea and tried not to stare too much at Bea. Between her beauty and cheeky personality, she found her captivating.
“We’re not aliens, you know,” George said out of nowhere.
“Excuse me? Who said you were aliens?”
“You said you couldn’t imagine me with my family, talking over our day. Despite the unusual nature of my family, we are very close.” It hurt George for Bea to think they were abnormal in some way.
“I’m sorry, really. I seem to keep making assumptions. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You haven’t offended me. I’m just very defensive about my family. If you get to know me better, perhaps you will see how important they are to me.” George felt an awkwardness come between them, which annoyed her.
Bea gestured towards the red boxes piled high and asked, “Am I keeping you from your work?”
George looked over at the work left undone and knew she would have yet another late night, just in order to catch up. “Oh, don’t worry—I have to stop for lunch anyway.” The truth was, this was keeping her from her work, but she didn’t want to bring their time to an end before she had to. She found talking to Bea very soothing. When they were together, she could feel like she was a normal person for that brief moment. “I’ll finish later.”
“How much paperwork do you have to do every day anyway?”
George began tidying away some of the files and papers into the red boxes. “Well, I get them delivered from Number Ten in the morning and the evening. There can be anywhere between three and six on a busy day.”
Bea sat forward and rested her head on her hand. “Even on a day like today, when you have other engagements?”
George gave her a wry smile. “Oh yes, I’m always on duty. Three hundred and sixty-four days a year. They like to give me Christmas Day off,” she joked.
“I remember from my studies at university, that as monarch and head of state you have the right to see everything, state secrets, the lot. But does it really matter? I mean, what would happen if you just didn’t do your boxes?”
George was heartened by the fact that Bea seemed willing to learn, and that in itself was progress. “As a constitutional monarch, it is my responsibility to advise, guide, and warn the government of the day, and especially the prime minister in our weekly audience. I could hardly do that if I didn’t keep up to date with government business, could I? There are also a great deal of papers I have to sign.”
George knew how to be a bit mischievous herself. She quirked her eyebrow and said, “Remember, it is my government after all.”
“And here I thought I was living in a democracy,” Bea said sarcastically.
“Oh, you are, Bea, but this is a British democracy.” George was beginning to love these verbal sparring matches.
Bea sat back on the couch and crossed her legs, causing her short skirt to ride farther up her legs. George looked, transfixed, her heart thudding inside her chest.
“So?” Bea seemed to be waiting for a response, but George had been mesmerized by her legs, completely unaware Bea had continued talking.
“So, what?”
Bea sighed, unaware of what had taken George’s attention. “I asked you what you thought of the election result. I bet all of your upper-class cronies were extremely unhappy to have a Labour government at last.”
George tried to ignore the intense feelings of attraction and not look down Bea’s legs, but it was extremely difficult. All she could think was, she’s so beautiful. “Um…what did you think about it?”
“I asked you first.”
“As I’m sure you are aware, I am not allowed an opinion on party politics. Are you trying to trip me up, Miss Elliot?”
Bea leaned forward to whisper, but in the process exposed some of her cleavage. “You must have an opinion, Georgie. I know you’re not allowed a public opinion, but you must have private ones. You can tell me.”
Good God. George jumped up and began to pace so she wouldn’t be tempted
to ogle Bea. “No, as I’ve said before, I take my role very seriously, and so I am above politics as a good constitutional monarch should be.”
George wanted to know more about Bea. She wondered if there was someone waiting for her at home, or at least someone special in her life. She thought of the care and compassion Bea had bestowed on her this morning and tried to imagine her giving that care and attention to some other man or woman, and her stomach knotted up.
“So, my turn for a question,” George said.
“Oh yes, I did promise. On you go then.”
George sat back down on the couch. “What does a young woman like yourself do on a Friday evening? Let me live vicariously through you.”
Bea looked confused. “Why would you want to? You’re a Queen, why would my everyday humdrum life interest someone who does exciting things all the time?”
George laughed out loud. “You think I do exciting things? Bea, my life is governed by rules, regulations, and a schedule. My diary is booked two years in advance. Every minute of every day, all year, is accounted for. Even when I go on holiday, work follows me.”
“I think any ordinary person would gladly switch places with you, Georgie. You live a life with riches and splendour.”
“Really, Bea? Would they really? I have never been to a bar, a club, a cinema, or out to a restaurant. Security means I could never be free to pop out to see this, do that, or simply take a walk. I live in a cage—it may be gilded, but it’s a cage nonetheless. That’s the price, you see. As the monarch you have a simple deal. You live a life of great importance and privilege, but the price is that you can’t live your life as you like. Duty and service come before everything. So forgive me if I’m interested in the simplicity of your life. Let’s forget I asked.”
“No, please. Forgive me, you’ve been so open with me, it’s the least I can do. Well, I usually meet my friends on a Friday night. We sometimes go to dinner or the cinema, then get a few drinks at our favourite pub, and have a good chat about our week. We’re not really that wild.”
George smiled warmly at the thought of an evening spent like that in Bea’s company. “Do you have a boyfriend or…girlfriend to take you out?”
Bea had a hollow laugh. “Not for a year or so, no. I’m single and content with that. I seem to go out with women who are commitment phobic. I feel like I want something more now, you know?”
“Like what?” George’s heart was thudding again. For some reason the fact that Bea was gay made her very happy.
Their eyes locked together, and the room melted away. “I just want someone to love me. Just love me. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
George looked intently into Bea’s eyes.
A knock sounded, and Cammy entered. She cleared her throat loudly. “We’re half an hour from Edinburgh, Your Majesty.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you, Cammy. Would you excuse me, Miss Elliot? I have to freshen up before the next engagement. Cammy will escort you back to your carriage.”
“Of course. Thank you for lunch, Your Majesty.” Bea took George’s outstretched hand and looked surprised when George pressed a soft kiss to her palm.
“Thank you for your company, Miss Elliot. It’s been a pleasure, and to answer your question—no, it’s not too much to ask.”
Chapter Seven
As Bea took a taxi to meet her friends in town, she reflected on her day. After her lunch in the royal carriage, it had been quite ordinary. Apart from escorting the Queen around the school in the afternoon, she hadn’t had any more private time with her that day. When she had returned to her own seat on the train, she had noticed a few looks coming her way from some of the Queen’s staff. She had found herself thinking a great deal about George since this afternoon, and that bothered her. Bea wanted to dislike George so much, but everything about her was making her do the opposite. She also felt sorry for her; she seemed too isolated, and her only friend to speak to on a daily basis was Captain Cameron. When Cammy had escorted her back to her carriage, she had taken Bea into a side room, and the memory of Cammy’s words annoyed her.
“Miss Elliot, I wanted to have a word with you. The Queen is in a unique position, and it is very difficult for her to meet and become friendly with people, even more so to trust people. She seems to enjoy talking with you.”
“Are you implying something, Captain Cameron?”
Cammy gave her a penetrating look. “Not a thing, Miss Elliot, I just wanted you to realize the importance of whom you were chatting with and that you need to keep anything she says to yourself, since you have no respect for the institution of the monarchy.”
“I have respect for the Queen as a fellow human being, not as a monarch, Captain Cameron.”
“You will find all of us who serve Her Majesty do respect that institution and are extremely loyal to it. The crown and the human being are indivisible, Miss Elliot. Everything that makes the Queen who she is, is George, and vice versa. You cannot pick and choose which you respect. If you had any idea how hard the Queen works, and how much good she does, then you couldn’t fail but to have the utmost respect and reverence for her.”
Bea was getting really angry by this point in the conversation. “She may do, Captain, but she also has plenty of luxury and money to ease her suffering, while ordinary people who work very hard do not have that reward, and in the meantime, schools and hospitals suffer through lack of equipment in order to prop up this outdated institution.”
“Well, when you get home tonight, lassie, and kick off your shoes and get ready to relax for the weekend with a few drinks with your friends, remember your Queen is still hard at work, usually till well into the wee hours of the morning.”
“Can I go now?” a furious Bea asked.
“All I ask is that you don’t take advantage of her,” Cammy said, her tone softer now. “She’s not only my sovereign, she is my friend.”
“You have my word, Captain.”
Cammy nodded with acceptance and took Bea to her seat.
“Here you are, miss.” The taxi driver shook Bea from her thoughts.
“Oh, thank you.”
She paid the driver and smoothed down her short black-and-white print dress, and then made her way into Mickey D’s, the girls’ favourite gay bar.
The music pumped in the background, and she felt many pairs of eyes following her as she walked across the busy bar to the corner table. She hated the long walk across the bar, feeling extremely self-conscious, but when she saw her friends, she let out a sigh of relief. Normal people at last.
The four of them had met at university and had worked hard to keep their friendship going through leaving university, new jobs, and marriage.
There was Holly, a feisty redhead who liked to call herself the group’s token heterosexual and self-confessed man-eater, who worked as a hair and make-up artist and designer.
Greta, the married woman of the bunch, had married her childhood sweetheart Riley straight after graduation and proceeded to have three children in short order.
Then there was Lalima Ramesh, a stunning woman of Indian descent, who was also Bea’s best friend. Everyone said that Lalima could have been a model or a Bollywood actress. Her skin was flawless, her bone structure perfect, and her unusual blue-green eyes sparkling. Lalima, like Bea, had always had a strong social conscience, and after university became involved with a homeless charity, where she was now director.
“Here she is. Beatrice Elliot, friend of the royals,” Holly shouted.
“Oh, please. I’ve had royalty up to here.” Bea flopped down onto the chair. “I’d like one evening without thinking or hearing about the blessed Queen.”
“Here, we got a drink in for you. Take a sip and relax,” Lali said.
Greta grasped her hand and gave her a desperate plea. “Oh, you’ve got to tell us something, Bea. I’m a harassed mother of three, and the only exciting adult conversation I get is when I come out with you girls. We saw you on the news, leading the Queen around. Is she as gorgeo
us in the flesh as she is on TV?”
“Gret, really?” exclaimed her three friends.
“What? I’m married, am not dead.”
Holly turned to her and said, “Does poor old Riley know you lust over the Queen?”
Greta playfully hit her friend. “I do not lust over the Queen. And poor old Riley gets plenty of my attention, believe me. Come on, Bea, give us some titbits. You have to admit, she is quite the dish, and just your type.”
Oh, not again. “I do not have a type. My mum said the exact same thing.”
The three women laughed at their bemused friend.
“What?”
Lali placed a hand on her best friend’s back and began to stroke it in a soothing fashion. “I’m afraid you are guilty as charged, Bea. Every woman you have ever gone out with or liked has been the rugged, sporty, butch type.”
Bea thought back to her only two serious girlfriends, and thought of the way the Queen had made her stomach dance with a thousand butterflies, and was forced to concede her friends might be right. “Well, maybe I have a certain type, and maybe Georgie is a rather attractive example of said type, but that doesn’t mean I like her, or what she stands for.”
“Wait a minute, Georgie? You did not call her that did you?”
“I don’t think the whole pub heard you, Holls, could we keep this between ourselves?” Bea pleaded.
Holly gave an exaggerated whisper, “Well, tell us the goss then.”
Bea, gave in with a sigh, as she had done with her mother. “I told her my views, and annoyingly, she seemed to find it amusing. She told me I could call her what I liked, so I picked Georgie. I had hoped to pierce that upper-class pomposity, but she just laughed.”
Lali grinned and said, “The Queen does have a reputation for being approachable and kind. I think you picked the wrong royal to try and annoy.”
She knew this was true. No matter how hard she tried to dislike her monarch, she found it impossible. “She is very kind to the people she meets and seems to genuinely care about their problems, but she shouldn’t be in that position. We should have an elected head of state, not waste money on people who are there simply by an accident of birth.”
