“Right, Guv, Your Excellency.”
Bill started the car and drove toward the gates at what he evidently considered was a stately pace, before turning right and taking the road to the airport. When they reached the terminal fifteen minutes later a policeman ushered the tiny motorcade out onto the tarmac, where the combined bands were playing a medley from West Side Story—at least, that was what Ted charitably thought it might be.
As he stepped out of the car Ted came face to face with three ranks of soldiers from the Territorial Army standing at ease, sixty-one of them, aged from seventeen to seventy. Ted had to admit that, although they weren’t the Grenadier Guards, they weren’t like something from TV’s “Dad’s Army” either. And they had two advantages: a real-live colonel in full-dress uniform, and a genuine sergeant-major, with a voice to match.
Charles had already begun rolling out the red carpet when the governor turned his attention to the hastily erected barriers, behind which he was delighted to see a larger crowd than he had ever witnessed on the island, even at the annual football derby between Suffolk and Edward Islands.
Many of the islanders were waving Union Jacks, and some were holding up pictures of the queen. Ted smiled and checked his watch. The plane was due in seventeen minutes.
The prime minister, the local mayor, the chief justice, the commissioner of police, and their wives were lining up at the end of the red carpet. The sun beat down from a cloudless sky. As Ted turned in a slow circle to take in the scene, he could see for himself that everyone had made a special effort.
Suddenly the sound of engines could be heard, and the crowd began to cheer. Ted looked up, shielded his eyes, and saw an Andover of the Queen’s Flight descending toward the airport. It touched down on the far end of the runway at three minutes before the hour, and taxied up to the red carpet as four chimes struck on the clock above the flight control tower.
The door of the plane opened, and there stood Admiral of the Fleet the Earl Mountbatten of Burma, KG, PC, GCB, OM, GCSI, GCIE, GCVO, DSO, FRS, DCL (Hon.), LL.D. (Hon.), attired in the full dress uniform of an Admiral of the Fleet (summer wear).
“If that’s what he means by ‘fairly informal,’ I suppose we should be thankful that he didn’t ask us to lay on an official visit,” murmured Hazel as she and Ted walked to the bottom of the steps that had been quickly wheeled into place.
As Mountbatten slowly descended the stairway, the crowd cheered even louder. Once he stepped onto the red carpet the governor took a pace forward, removed his plumed hat, and bowed. The admiral saluted, and at that moment the combined bands of town and police struck up the national anthem. The crowd sang “God Save the Queen” so lustily that the occasional uncertain note was smothered by their exuberance.
When the anthem came to an end, the governor said, “Welcome to St. George’s, sir.”
“Thank you, Governor,” replied Mountbatten.
“May I present my wife, Hazel.” The governor’s wife took a pace forward, did a full curtsey, and shook hands with the admiral.
“How good to see you again, Lady Barker. This is indeed a pleasure.”
The governor guided his guest to the end of the red carpet and introduced him to the prime minister and his wife, Sheila; the local mayor and his wife, Caroline; the chief justice and his wife, Janet; and the commissioner of police and his latest wife, whose name he couldn’t remember.
“Perhaps you’d care to inspect the honor guard before we leave for Government House,” suggested Ted, steering Mountbatten in the direction of Colonel Hodges and his men.
“Absolutely delighted,” said the admiral, waving to the crowd as the two of them proceeded across the tarmac toward the waiting guard. When they still had some twenty yards to go, the colonel sprang to attention, took three paces forward, saluted and said crisply, “Honor guard ready for inspection, sir.”
Mountbatten came to a halt and returned a naval salute, which was a sign for the sergeant major, standing at attention six paces behind his colonel, to bellow out the words: “Commanding officer on parade! General salute, pre-sent arms!”
The front row, in possession of the unit’s entire supply of weapons, presented arms, while the second and third rows came rigidly to attention.
Mountbatten marched dutifully up and down the ranks, as gravely as if he were inspecting a full brigade of Life Guards. When he had passed the last soldier in the back row, the colonel came to attention and saluted once again. Mountbatten returned the salute and said, “Thank you, Colonel. First-class effort. Well done.”
The governor then guided Mountbatten toward the white Rolls-Royce, where Bill was standing at what he imagined was attention, while at the same time holding open the back door. Mountbatten stepped in as the governor hurried round to the other side, opened the door for himself, and joined his guest on the back seat. Hazel and the admiral’s ADC took their places in the black Rolls-Royce, while Charles and the admiral’s secretary had to make do with the Rover. The governor only hoped that Mountbatten hadn’t seen two members of the airport staff rolling up the red carpet and placing it in the Rover’s trunk. Hazel was only praying that they had enough sheets left over for the bed in the Green Room. If not, the ADC would be wondering about their sleeping habits.
The island’s two police motorcycles, with white-uniformed outriders, preceded the three cars as they made their way towards the exit. The crowd waved and cheered lustily as the motorcade began its short journey to Government House. So successful had Ted’s television appearance the previous evening been that the ten-mile route was lined with well-wishers.
As they approached the open gates two policemen sprang to attention and saluted as the leading car passed through. In the distance Ted could see a butler, two under-butlers, and several maids, all smartly clad, standing on the steps awaiting their arrival. “Damn it,” he almost said aloud as the car came to a halt at the bottom of the steps. “I don’t know the butler’s name.”
The car door was smartly opened by one of the under-butlers while the second supervised the unloading of the luggage from the boot.
The butler took a pace forward as Mountbatten stepped out of the car. “Carruthers, M’lord,” he said, bowing. “Welcome to the residence. If you would be kind enough to follow me, I will direct you to your quarters.” The admiral, accompanied by the governor and Lady Barker, climbed the steps into Government House and followed Carruthers up the main staircase.
“Magnificent, these old government residences,” said Mountbatten as they reached the top of the stairs. Carruthers opened the door to the Queen Victoria Room and stood to one side, as if he had done so a thousand times before.
“How charming,” said the admiral, taking in the governor’s private suite. He walked over to the window and looked out onto the newly mowed lawn. “How very pleasant. It reminds me of Broadlands, my home in Hampshire.”
Lady Barker smiled at the compliment but didn’t allow herself to relax.
“Is there anything you require, M’lord?” asked Carruthers, as an under-butler began to supervise the unpacking of the cases.
Hazel held her breath.
“No, I don’t think so,” said Mountbatten. “Everything looks just perfect.”
“Perhaps you’d care to join Hazel and me for tea in the drawing room when you’re ready, sir,” suggested Ted.
“How thoughtful of you,” said the admiral. “I’ll be down in about thirty minutes, if I may.”
The governor and his wife left the room, closing the door quietly behind them.
“I think he suspects something,” whispered Hazel as they tiptoed down the staircase.
“You may be right,” said Ted, placing his plumed hat on the stand in the hall, “but that’s all the more reason to check we haven’t forgotten anything. I’ll start with the dining room. You ought to go and see how Mrs. Travis is getting on in the kitchen.”
When Hazel entered the kitchen she found Mrs. Travis preparing the vegetables, and one of the maids peel
ing a mound of potatoes. She thanked Mrs. Travis for taking over at such short notice, and admitted she had never seen the kitchen so full of exotic foods, or the surfaces so immaculately clean. Even the floor was spotless. Realizing that her presence was superfluous, Hazel joined her husband in the dining room, where she found him admiring the expertise of the second under-butler, who was laying out the place settings for that evening, as a maid folded napkins to look like swans.
“So far, so good,” said Hazel. They left the dining room and entered the drawing room, where Ted paced up and down, trying to think if there was anything he had forgotten while they waited for the great man to join them for tea.
A few minutes later, Mountbatten walked in. He was no longer dressed in his admiral’s uniform but had changed into a dark gray double-breasted suit.
“Damn it,” thought Ted, immediately aware of what he’d forgotten to do.
Hazel rose to greet her guest and guided him to a large, comfortable chair.
“I must say, Lady Barker, your butler is a splendid chap,” said Mountbatten. “He even knew the brand of whiskey I prefer. How long have you had him?”
“Not very long,” admitted Hazel.
“Well, if he ever wants a job in England, don’t hesitate to let me know—though I’m bound to say you’d be a fool to part with him,” he added, as a maid came in carrying a beautiful Wedgwood tea service Hazel had never set eyes on before.
“Earl Grey, if I remember correctly,” said Hazel.
“What a memory you have, Lady Barker,” said the admiral, as the maid began to pour.
“Thank God for the Foreign Office briefing,” Hazel thought, as she accepted the compliment with a smile.
“And how did the conference go, sir?’ asked Ted, as he dropped a lump of sugar—the one thing he felt might be their own—into his cup of tea.
“For the British, quite well,” said Mountbatten. “But it would have gone better if the French hadn’t been up to their usual tricks. Giscard seems to regard himself as a cross between Charlemagne and Joan of Arc.” His hosts laughed politely. “No, the real problem we’re facing at the moment, Ted, is quite simply …”
By the time Mountbatten had dealt with the outcome of the summit, given his undiluted views of James Callaghan and Ted Heath, covered the problem of finding a wife for Prince Charles and mulled over the long-term repercussions of Watergate, it was almost time for him to change.
“Are we dressing for dinner?”
“Yes, sir—if that meets with your approval.”
“Full decorations?” Mountbatten asked, sounding hopeful.
“I thought that would be appropriate, sir,” replied Ted, remembering the Foreign Office’s advice about the Admiral’s liking for dressing up at the slightest opportunity.
Mountbatten smiled as Carruthers appeared silently at the door. Ted raised an eyebrow.
“I have laid out the full dress uniform, M’lord. I took the liberty of pressing the trousers. The bedroom maid is drawing a bath for you.”
Mountbatten smiled. “Thank you,” he said as he rose from his chair. “Such a splendid tea,” he added turning to face his hostess. “And such wonderful staff. Hazel, I don’t know how you do it.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Hazel, trying not to blush.
“What time would you like me to come down for dinner, Ted?” Mountbatten asked.
“The first guests should be arriving for drinks at about 7:30, sir. We were hoping to serve dinner at eight, if that’s convenient for you.”
“Couldn’t be better,” declared Mountbatten. “How many are you expecting?”
“Around sixty, sir. You’ll find a guest list on your bedside table. Perhaps Hazel and I could come and fetch you at 7:50?”
“You run a tight ship, Ted,” said Mountbatten with approval. “You’ll find me ready the moment you appear,” he added as he followed Carruthers out of the room.
Once the door was closed behind him, Hazel said to the maid, “Molly, can you clear away the tea things, please?” She hesitated for a moment. “It is Molly, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the girl.
“I think he knows,” said Ted, looking a little anxious.
“Maybe, but we haven’t time to worry about that now,” said Hazel, already on her way to carry out a further inspection of the kitchen.
The mound of potatoes had diminished to a peeled heap. Mrs. Travis, who was preparing the sauces, was calling for more pepper and for some spices to be fetched from a shop in town. Aware once again that she wasn’t needed in the kitchen, Hazel moved on to the dining room, where she found Ted. The top table was now fully laid with the King’s dinner service, three sets of wine glasses, crested linen napkins, and a glorious centerpiece of a silver pheasant, which gave added sparkle.
“Who lent us that?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” replied Ted. “But one thing’s for certain—it will have flown home by the morning.”
“If we keep the lighting low enough,” whispered Hazel, “he might not notice that the other tables all have different cutlery.”
“Heavens, just look at the time,” said Ted.
They left the dining room and walked quickly up the stairs. Ted nearly barged straight into Mountbatten’s room, but remembered just in time.
The governor rather liked his dark blue doeskin uniform with the scarlet collar and cuffs. He was admiring the ensemble in the mirror when Hazel entered the room in a pink Hardy Amies outfit, which she had originally thought a waste of money because she never expected it to be given a proper outing.
“Men are so vain,” she remarked as her husband continued to inspect himself in the mirror. “You do realize you’re only meant to wear that in winter.”
“I am well aware of that,” said Ted peevishly, “but it’s the only other uniform I’ve got. In any case, I bet Mountbatten will outdo us both.” He flicked a piece of fluff from his trousers, which he had just finished pressing.
The governor and his wife left the Nelson Room and walked down the main staircase just before 7:20, to find yet another under-butler stationed by the front door, and two more maids standing opposite him carrying silver trays laden with glasses of champagne. Hazel introduced herself to the three of them, and again checked the flowers in the entrance hall.
As 7:30 struck on the long-case clock in the lobby the first guest walked in.
“Henry,” said the governor. “Lovely to see you. Thank you so much for the use of the Rolls. And Bill, come to that,” he added in a stage whisper.
“My pleasure, Your Excellency,” Henry Bendall replied. “I must say, I like the uniform.”
Lady Cuthbert came bustling through the front door. “Can’t stop,” she said. “Ignore me. Just pretend I’m not here.”
“Dotty, I simply don’t know what we would have done without you,” Hazel said, chasing after her across the hall.
“Delighted to lend a hand,” said Lady Cuthbert. “I thought I’d come bang on time, so I could spend a few minutes in the kitchen with Mrs. Travis. By the way, Benson is standing out in the drive, ready to rush home if you find you’re still short of anything.”
“You are a saint, Dotty. I’ll take you through …”
“No, don’t worry,” said Lady Cuthbert. “I know my way around. You just carry on greeting your guests.”
“Good evening, Mr. Mayor,” said Ted, as Lady Cuthbert disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
“Good evening, Your Excellency. How kind of you to invite us to such an auspicious occasion.”
“And what a lovely dress, Mrs. Janson,” said the governor.
“Thank you, Your Excellency,” said the mayor’s wife.
“Would you care for a glass of champagne?” said Hazel as she arrived back at her husband’s side.
By 7:45 most of the guests had arrived, and Ted was chatting to Mick Flaherty when Hazel touched him on the elbow. He glanced toward her.
“I think we should go and fetch h
im now,” she whispered.
Ted nodded, and asked the chief justice to take over the welcoming of the guests. They wove a path through the chattering throng, and climbed the great staircase. When they reached the door of the Queen Victoria Room, they paused and looked at each other.
Ted checked his watch—7:50. He leaned forward and gave a gentle tap. Carruthers immediately opened the door to reveal Mountbatten attired in his third outfit of the day: full ceremonial uniform of an Admiral of the Fleet, three stars, a gold and blue sash and eight rows of campaign decorations.
“Good evening, Your Excellency,” said Mountbatten.
“Good evening, sir,” said the governor, star struck.
The Admiral took three paces forward and came to a halt at the top of the staircase. He stood to attention. Ted and Hazel waited on either side of him. As he didn’t move, they didn’t.
Carruthers proceeded slowly down the stairs in front of them, stopping on the third step. He cleared his throat and waited for the assembled guests to fall silent.
“Your Excellency, Prime Minister, Mr. Mayor, ladies and gentlemen,” he announced. “The Right Honorable the Earl Mountbatten of Burma.”
Mountbatten descended the stairs slowly as the waiting guests applauded politely. As he passed Carruthers, the butler gave a deep bow. The governor, with Hazel on his arm, followed two paces behind.
“He must know,” whispered Hazel.
“You may be right. But does he know we know?” said Ted.
Mountbatten moved deftly around the room, as Ted introduced him to each of the guests in turn. They bowed and curtsied, listening attentively to the few words the admiral had to say to them. The one exception was Mick Flaherty, who didn’t stop talking, and remained more upright than Ted had ever seen him before.
At eight o’clock one of the under-butlers banged a gong, which until then neither the governor nor his wife had even realized existed. As the sound died away, Carruthers announced, “My Lord, Your Excellency, Prime Minister, Mr. Mayor, ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served.”
If there was a better cook on St. George’s than Mrs. Travis, no one at the top table had ever been fed by her, and that evening she had excelled herself.
Collected Short Stories Page 6
