Добавил:
Upload Опубликованный материал нарушает ваши авторские права? Сообщите нам.
Вуз: Предмет: Файл:
The Queen and I.docx
Скачиваний:
7
Добавлен:
21.03.2016
Размер:
269.18 Кб
Скачать

9 Hell Close

Flowers Estate

Monday May 25, 1992

Dear Mr Fossdyke,

As you know, my son is in your care. He writes to tell me of your many kindnesses. I am most grateful, but would appreciate it more if you were to beunkind to him occasionally. I wonder if you could arrange for him to be punished harshly for some minor infringement. I understand this might help to endear him to his fellow cellmates.

On another matter, why does the food served to prisoners have to be cold? Are you concerned about them burning their mouths, perhaps? I feel sure that there must be some reasons (of which I am unaware) because it is surely within your organisational skills to ensure that the food reaches the prisoners at what you and I would consider to be an appropriate temperature.

A small point. I sent my son a book, Organic Gardening by Alan Thelwell, over a week ago. Why has it not yet been given to him? An oversight perhaps?

Yours sincerely,

Elizabeth Windsor

The same morning Charles himself had received a letter.

8 Hellebore Close

May 23, 1992

Charles darling,

Sorry I haven’t written before, but I’ve been so busy! I hope you are well!

I have had my hair tinted chestnut, everyone says it suits me. I found a terribly nice trouser suit in Help the Aged, it was Max Mara, sort of a blush pink⁄beige colour. With a longish jacket and tapered trousers. And only £2.45! I wore it to William’s parents’ evening with my white shirt (the one with the embroidered collar).

Last night I went to a dried flower party at Mandy Carter’s. The idea is that you go round and buy some dried flowers and Mandy gets commission on what is sold. Your granny was there with her friend, Philomena. I bought a sweet little basket full of that blue stuff that smells so nice; there’s a lot of it growing at Sandringham, but it’s not heather. Oh you know what it’s called, it begins with an ‘L’, I think. It’s on the tip of my tongue. No, it’s gone.

Not enough people bought things, so poor Mandy didn’t make any money at all! The woman who demonstrated the dried flowers kindly offered to let me have a party next week, so I said I would! Money is very tight. Victor Berryman (Food-U-R) said it costs £400 a week to keep a prisoner in jail Lucky you!

I must go now. I have just seen Harris jumping on the Gro-bags!!!

Love, Diana.

PS. Lavender!

PPS. Sonny Christmas died in his sleep last night. Sad, isn’t it! William got fourteen per cent in a maths exam. I told his form tutor that nobody is good at maths in our family, but he said, “You seemed to be able to work your income tax out all right”. What did he mean?

Charles re-read his wife’s letter. He shuddered every time he came to an exclamation mark. Each one was a visible reminder of the differences between them.

 The Queen and I 

38

DANCING TOWARDS THE LIGHT

The Queen Mother’s ailing body lay in her bed in her bungalow in Hell Close, but her spirit soared 36,000 feet above the clouds in a BOAC De Havilland Comet jet plane. Group Captain John Cunningham was at the controls. His reassuring voice informed her of the countries she was flying over on this non-stop flight: France, Switzerland, Italy and the northern tip of Corsica. It was 1952. They were travelling at the thrilling speed of 510 miles an hour. The picture changed. She was shooting rhinoceros with a big-game rifle; then she was beating out a frantic rhythm on the bongo drums, before strolling over to talk to General Charles de Gaulle and commiserate with him on the fall of France: then she was watching as the Duchess of Windsor’s coffin was carried down the steps of St George’s Chapel, Windsor; a moment later, she had changed into one of her gorgeous frocks and was sharing a box with Noël Coward. The show was Cavalcade. After the show they had supper at the Ivy.

Philomena Toussaint dipped a corner of a handkerchief into a glass of iced water and used it to moisten the Queen Mother’s lips. It was 3.15 am. The Queen Mother felt the delicious coolness on her mouth and smiled her thanks, but she did not have enough strength to speak or to open her eyes. The Queen had asked Philomena to call a doctor if there was a marked deterioration in her mother’s condition during the night, but Philomena said, “I hain’t calling no doctor. She over ninety years old. She tired; she entitled to sleep forever in the arms of the Good Lord.”

Philomena brushed the Queen Mother’s hair, applied pink lipstick to her mouth and rouge to her cheeks. She tied the blue ribbons of the Queen Mother’s peignoir together and formed a pretty bow under her chin. Then she remade the bed and placed the Queen Mother’s hands on top of the linen sheets. Philomena waited as the Queen Mother’s breathing became shallower. The light in the room became brighter. A bird sang in the eaves of the bungalow.

When she judged it was time, she went into the living room next door, where the Queen was asleep, fully dressed, on the sofa. The Queen woke immediately, as soon as Philomena touched her shoulder. She hurried to her mother’s bedside and Philomena put her coat on and went to break the sad news to the other relations that the Queen Mother was dying. The Queen held her mother’s hand and willed her to stay alive. What would she do without her? Anne, Peter and Zara came into the room: “Kiss her goodbye,” said the Queen. Diana arrived next, carrying Harry and holding William’s hand. The boys were wearing their pyjamas. Diana bent down to kiss the Queen Mother’s soft cheek and then encouraged the boys to do the same.

The tip tap of Margaret’s high heels was heard outside in the street as she hurried behind Philomena. Susan, the Queen Mother’s corgi, climbed onto the bed and lay on the bedspread, on the mound created by the Queen Mother’s feet. Margaret embraced her mother passionately, then asked her sister, “Have you sent for a doctor?” The Queen admitted that she had not, saying, “Mummy is ninety-two. She has had a wonderful life.”

Philomena said, “I axed her once if she would want pipes and t’ings put into she body and a machine to do she breathin’ an’ she say, ‘Heaven forbid’.”

Margaret burst out, “But we can’t just sit here and watch her die, not in this ghastly little room, in this ghastly bungalow, in this ghastly close, on this ghastly estate.”

William said, “She likes it here, and so do I.”

Word had spread in Hell Close and neighbours began to gather outside the front door. They spoke in quiet voices about their memories of the Queen Mother. Darren Christmas was made to dismount from his noisy moped and push it until he was safely out of earshot of Hell Close. And, as a mark of respect, nobody was allowed to steal from the milk float that morning.

Reverend Smallbone, the Republican vicar, called at the bungalow at eight o’clock, having been alerted by the newsagent, from whom he bought the only copy of theIndependent to be found within a four mile radius. He stood at the Queen Mother’s bedside and muttered inaudibly about heaven and hell and sin and love.

The Queen Mother opened her eyes and said, “I didn’t want to marry him, you know. He had to ask me three times, I was in love with somebody else!” And closed her eyes again.

Margaret said, “She doesn’t know what she’s saying; she adored Daddy.”

The Queen Mother was Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon once more, seventeen, a famous beauty, swirling around the ballroom of Glamis Castle in the arms of her first love, whose name she couldn’t quite remember. Thinking was becoming difficult. It seemed to be getting dark. She could hear voices in the distance, but they were growing fainter and fainter. Then there was darkness but in the far distance a pinprick of bright light. Suddenly she was moving toward the light and the light took her and encompassed her and she was no more than a memory.

 The Queen and I 

39

PUNCTUATION

It was Charles’s turn to choose the station, so everyone in the cell was listening to Radio Four. Brian Redhead was talking to the ex-Governor of the Bank of England, who had resigned the day before. Nobody had yet been found to take his place. Mr Redhead queried, “So, sir, you’re telling me that, in your capacity as Governor of the Bank of England, even you, in your exalted position, did not know the terms of this Japanese loan? I find that hard to believe.”

“So do I,” said the ex-Governor, bitterly. “Why do you think I resigned?”

“So how will the loan be repaid?” asked Mr Redhead.

“It won’t,” said the Governor, “the vaults are empty. In order to fund his lunatic schemes Mr Barker has successfully robbed the Bank of England.”

The cell door opened and Mr Pike held out letters, saying, “Fat Oswald, from your mother. Moses, one from your wife, and one from your girlfriend.”

To Lee he said, “Nothing, as usual.” To Charles he said, “Teck, one, from a moron, judging by the writing on the envelope.”

Charles opened the envelope, inside were two letters.

Dear Dad,

I am alrite are you alrite

I now you are not on your holiday I seen Darrun Christmas an he tole me you was in the nick

Harris as wripped up all the plants in the gardin

Love Harry. 7 years.

Dear Dad,

Mum told us a lie that you was on holiday in Scottland. Are video has been stolen and also so has the candlesticks what belonged to that King George what reined years ago. Mr Christmas knows the bloke what took them. He said he is going to beat up this bloke and get are candlesticks back.

Are school is gettin a new roof soon. Jack Barker sent a letter to Misses Stricklan and she tole us in assembly yestardy.

Aunty Anne as got a horse called Gilbert. It lives in her back garden in a stabel. It is pink. The stabel not the horse. Will you send us some money from prison we have not got none.

Love from William.

P.S. Please write back soon.

Charles read the two letters with horror. It wasn’t only his sons’ abysmal use of the English language, the misspellings, the contempt shown for the rules of punctuation, the appalling handwriting. It was the contents of the letters. When he got out of prison he would kill Harris. And why hadn’t Diana mentioned the burglary?

As he was folding the letter, the cell door swung open and Mr Pike said, “Teck, your grandma’s dead. Governor sends his sympathy and says you’ll be let out for the funeral.”

The door closed again and Charles struggled with his feelings. His cellmates Lee, Carlton and Fat Oswald looked at him and were silent. Some minutes later Lee said, “If I was let out I’d do a runner.”

Charles stared out of the cell window at the top branches of the sycamore tree and longed for freedom.

Later that morning, when Fat Oswald returned from his creative writing class, he handed Charles a piece of paper, saying, “It’s for you, to cheer you up.”

Charles raised himself from his bunk, took the paper from Oswald’s pudgy hand and read:

Соседние файлы в предмете [НЕСОРТИРОВАННОЕ]