Violet wiped Marilyn’s face with a snow-white monogrammed face cloth, then peered between her thighs and said, “I can see its ‘ead, it’ll be ‘ere soon, you’ll soon have your little ‘un in your arms.”

Leslie Kerry Violet Elizabeth Monk was born at 2.10 am and weighed five pounds and six ounces. “‘Ardly more than a bag a’ spuds,” said Violet as she prepared to cut the cord which tied mother to child.

The Queen was entranced by the baby, which lay on Marilyn’s belly like a pink pebble on a white beach. Violet asked the Queen to wrap the baby and to clean its face. When this was done, the child opened its lids and looked at the Queen with eyes the colour of sapphires, like those in the brooch her parents gave her when Charles was born.

The Queen gave Leslie to Marilyn, who was babbling with happiness, thankful that the pain had stopped and that her baby wasn’t ‘deformed or owt like that’. The daft teenager was praised extravagantly because he made more tea without being asked. Leslie was placed in her cardboard box cradle while the women sipped at the orange liquid.

The daft teenager opened the door and three small children dressed in grubby tee-shirts and pants followed him into the room. “They want to see the baby,” he said. “You woke ‘em up screamin’.”

“It’s a girl,” said Marilyn to her common-law stepchildren. “I’ve called her Leslie after your dad.” The Queen washed their hands and faces. Then they were allowed to take it in turns to hold the baby. She then led them upstairs and tucked them in under the ragged covers of their shared double bed.

On the landing, she saw her own face: a page torn from a newspaper and stuck to the wall with Christmas sellotape. The photograph showed her in her full regalia about to open Parliament. The Queen did a quick tour of the bedrooms and bathroom. The stench of poverty and hopelessness filled her nose and mouth and attached itself to her clothing like a slimy skin. “I expect one gets used to the smell after a while,” thought the Queen as she went downstairs to open the door to the apologetic ambulance man who had finally found Hell Close.

Marilyn and Leslie were put into a carrying chair and humped into the ambulance. Queen Victoria’s layette was on Marilyn’s lap, inside a Woolworths carrier bag.

“Don’t you dare leave this ‘ouse,” Violet said to the daft teenager, who was planning to do just that. “No sneaking off to one of them acid house parties and leavin’ them little kids on their own. We’ll be round in the mornin’, make sure you’re in.” He nodded without enthusiasm and went to his own chaotic bed.

Violet wrapped the afterbirth in newspaper, in the manner of an efficient butcher’s assistant wrapping a large order of ox liver. Then, in ceremonial manner, she and the Queen went into the back garden where they built a little bonfire and set fire to the meaty parcel. They watched and talked quietly until the afterbirth had been eaten by the flames.

The Queen had rarely felt so close to anyone before. There was something about the firelight which invited swapped confidences. Violet was vulgar and had appalling taste in clothes, but there was an inner strength to her that the Queen admired, even envied. The two women talked about the anguish their children had caused them. The Queen confessed to Violet that, since moving to Hell Close, she had heard nothing from her sons, Andrew and Edward, both of whom were abroad. “I’m awfully worried,” she said.

Violet snorted. “Selfish bleeders! They’ll soon come running when they want something.”

“I thought,” said the Queen, “that when they were eighteen they would be off my mind, if not off my hands.”

“Some cowin’ chance,” said Violet.

The Queen and Violet poked the embers until they died. Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble, thought the Queen.

When she got home, she looked around at her tidy and clean little house and was grateful for its comfort. And if I’m ever seriously incapacitated, she thought, Violet Toby will help me out.

The Queen went to sleep and dreamt that she was presenting the OBE to Violet, for Services to Humanity.

∨ The Queen and I ∧

17

THE BRIEFCASE WAS BARE

The Queen was eating cornflakes in front of the television. A single cornflake fell from her mouth and landed on the carpet, Harris immediately licked it up.

The Queen said, “What an absolute slob I’m becoming, Harris.” Her attention was then taken by a shouting match that had erupted in the TV-am studio. Jack Barker and the (usually genial) presenter of the programme were arguing about the health of the pound.

The presenter said, “But, Mr Barker, the pound is desperately weak. It fell a long way last night.” She fixed him with a beady glance.

Really, thought the Queen. She makes it sound as though the pound had attempted a suicide jump from a tall building.

Jack smiled reassuringly: “But, thanks to the measures we have taken, the pound is now rallying and is expected to hold its own.”

The Queen imagined the pound languishing in a hospital bed hooked up to monitors and drips, surrounded by anxious doctors and financial advisers.

The presenter turned to the camera and said, “And now, the weather,” and the Queen went into the kitchen to wash her bowl and spoon.

Later that morning, there was a violent row in the street between Violet Toby and Beverley Threadgold.

Beverley wanted to know why she hadn’t been woken up to officiate at her sister’s confinement. Horrible wounding words were exchanged between the two women. Violet accused Beverley of neglecting Marilyn during her pregnancy. “When was the last time you were inside your sister’s stinking house?” bellowed Violet.

The Queen stood behind her closed front door and listened to the row. Both antagonists were shouting from their respective front gates. It wasn’t difficult to hear what they were saying, both had foghorn voices when roused. Residents of Hell Close came out of their houses to enjoy the confrontation it was unusual to have a shouting match in the spring. The long summer holiday was the traditional time when the days were hot and the kids fell out and the mothers were irritable and longing for the first day of term.

To her alarm, the Queen heard her name mentioned. Beverley shouted, “You just wanted to get in with the Queen.”