A State in Mourning Part II
"Look, I have something to tell you, and well… My boss called from New York, and the department was selected to have a representative at the funeral, and as I am here, they've chosen me. So I will be in the party representing the UN on Tuesday - and that means you will be expected to join me there…"
The look that appeared on Jeff's face at that moment told Nick all that he needed to know before his husband even spoke. "We are expected at the funeral? Oh, Nicky, I really do not know if I can do that! It is going to be such a big event, full of dignitaries, plus, well, how do I face the family?"
"I would rather not be going myself in all honesty, but I have been selected now. It is an honour that they have selected me to be one of the people to represent the UN, and by extension, the United States, at the ceremony that marks the end of a long and illustrious life. When you think about, we are going to pay our respects to a man that was involved in the war against Hitler, when many in his family were on that man's side. His own sisters were not invited to his wedding as they were married to Germans. He knew too what marrying Princess Elizabeth would eventually mean for him, at a time when men were expected to be the breadwinner and were the master in their own home. We have shared happy times with his family, and that kind of means we must share the sad ones too. I am sure that Her Majesty will be pleased to see you in any case; at such a testing time, she will be drawing strength from a certain drawing…"
"I suppose that is true, but it will be so sad… It will also be best behaviour all day and silence, except when required.."
"It will be a long day too; we will need to be in place well before the service starts, and there will be a lot of security to deal with. We will need to go to that place in Savile Row again to hire suits, so our dress is spot on."
"I will need to buy a black ribbon from somewhere too, so that I can tie back my hair. I will agree to getting it trimmed, but not cut, not even for a royal funeral Nick…"
"I would not dream of asking you to get it cut. The other thing is that our attendance is strictly between the two of us. Trent may find out, as the Vice President will get a guest list, but we can't discuss the situation with anyone…"
Nick's assumption was proved an hour or so later when he received a text message form Trent which said, "Yoiks! Rather you than me!" which made Nick laugh out loud for a moment. A minute later his phone rang, and he was tempted to call Trent out on his comment before he spoke, but he was glad he didn't when it was not his voice on the other end, but Thad's, asking how they both were. He told him how surreal the day had seemed to them both, how the radio was still all talk, news and documentaries; how both the BBC and ITV channels were pretty much the same, and how the music and comedy channels were off the air at their own volition.
"That sounds like no fun at all," admitted Thad. "The fact that they are willing to do that though is a testament to the place that the royal family still hold in the minds and hearts of the British people."
"It is, but the Duke also made it quite plain in his instructions that he did not want all of this to drag on, so things will be back to more or less normal, with things just a little muted, tomorrow. I was looking at the TV just a moment ago and they were showing live pictures from the heart of the West End; the theatres and cinemas are all closed, the nightspots deserted, and Piccadilly Circus, normally glowing with neon lights, is more or less blacked out…"
"I can't even imagine an event that the whole of Broadway would be willing to shut down for; that would cause all of the lights in Times Square to be extinguished. The President made an absolutely perfect speech about the situation earlier; Trent is quite the wordsmith. From what we have been told, he will not be attending events, but the Vice President and her husband will be going on the nation's behalf, which makes a lot of sense, given their friendship with the royal couple. She will not need to give any sort of speech, which lets Trent off the hook this time…. Anyway, I might have to get you and Jeff to come and speak to my classes next year by the way; this is history in the making, and you and Jeff are at the epicentre…"
The next morning was still dull and cheerless, but there had been a slight shift in the way that people were behaving. The Duke's wishes had been communicated across all forms of the media, and so people were chatting again, if quietly; jokes were being told, but mild ones. The sea of black and grey clothes had been pared back, but the colours that were being worn were dull shades, not bright, and were still being worn with black jackets and ties. The cakes had returned to the patisserie window, but their décor was muted too. At school, Wes found that normality was back, except that the volume of talk was low, and they were still not allowed to play outside.
Having dropped his son off, Jeff had headed for the tube instead of home, and went straight to John Lewis in Oxford Street. He was pleased to discover that there at least it was still possible to purchase a length of broad, jet black ribbon to tie his hair back; he was reliably informed that their sister store, Peter Jones in Sloane Square, had run out… He then headed down Regent Street to Savile Row; he returned to the suit hire place that he and Nick had used for their trip to Kensington Palace, and explained to the gentleman there that he had a funeral to attend on Tuesday, and he and his husband needed appropriate suits. The tailor nodded, knowing without being told where they would be going, and found just what Nick and Jeff would require. Jeff thanked him, and told him that he would return on Monday to pick them up, but the tailor shook his head.
"Take them now, Mr Sterling-Duval; that way your husband can check the fit of his and we can make changes if required. In the circumstances, I will just charge you for the two days; it will be an honour to know that two of our suits were at the event. I will expect them back on Wednesday; we are of course closed all day on Tuesday as a mark of respect…"
Jeff headed home that day with his eyes more open than usual and noticed that a number of the shops and businesses that he passed had signs up stating that they would either be closed all day on Tuesday, or would be opening later. He made a mental note to ensure that they had adequate supplies in the house themselves for that day, just in case the supermarkets were closed, or the hours they kept were unusual. He arrived home with a couple of hours to spare before he had to head out to collect Wes, and after a quick bite of lunch, he returned to the desk in his studio to study the engagement photo closely again. The main problem that he faced was in finding out what the colour had been of Her Majesty's dress. He had found a colour image, but it was not of great quality, and the colours were not vibrant. The Duke was in his naval uniform so that was easy; he could find out the exact shade from any number of sources, but no-one seemed to have any note of the exact colour of her dress. He always strove for accuracy in his work, but the only person that could tell him exactly what colour the dress had been was the very person that he was intending to give his finished drawing to…
He had to admit that it was the one major flaw in his plan; he wished that he had a time machine to go back to that room in Buckingham Palace and examine it in person… That was when he felt the draught, and looking up, he saw that Finn had just materialised in the room. "I thought that I would pop in and say hello; things are still a little strange up in the England section of the angelic realm, all the more so today given who is being shown around. He could be a bit grumpy in this life, and from what I can gather, he hasn't changed all that much!"
"I don't suppose that you would get an opportunity to speak to him? There are a couple of questions I could do with asking him right now," said Jeff with a sigh.
"I think I can safely say there is no danger of that. I can guess what one of the questions would be just from listening to you before I arrived. In any case, there is no guarantee that he would remember anyway; can you recall what Nick was wearing when he proposed to you?"
"Well, yes," said Jeff with a giggle, "but I admit that is only because he did it and the memorial at the Spotlight, and Wes had all of us former Dalton folk wear our uniforms. I could not tell you what he had been wearing that morning, or what he wore the next day with any accuracy though…"
Finn looked pensive, and then said, "I wonder though… I will be back in a few minutes; I am just going to go and ask Emily something. If there happened to be some sort of late lunch for a starving angel when I come back, I would not say no."
With those words he vanished, leaving Jeff shaking his head; nonetheless, he headed downstairs to make Finn a sandwich, and ended up helping himself to a few cookies whilst he did. It ended up being half an hour before Finn returned, a smile on his face. He headed instantly for the sandwich, then took a seat at the table, a satisfied expression on his face. "So I went to Emily, and asked her if the archives contained any details on the engagement picture, where it was taken, and by who for a start. She was a little curious as to why I wanted to know, so I had to tell her what you were doing. She thinks that it is a lovely idea by the way… Anyway, she headed to the main archive and returned with this…"
Finn reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small book. "This is the diary of Princess Elizabeth's ladies maid. She made notes on everything, and on the day that the photo was taken, she records a full description of the dress, including the name of the fabric that the designer used. That designer also kept a detailed record of every piece that he created, including a swatch of the fabric used in the garment, and that archive is held by the V & A. That means that the answer to your question is close by, but I don't know how easy it would be for you to walk in off the street and ask to see it, given the nature of the collection, and the age of the fabric. I might be able to liberate the page for a few minutes for you tonight if it would help…"
"Would you not get into a lot of trouble for doing something like that?" said Jeff, who was conflicted between his desire to see the swatch and the fact he could land his friend in hot water.
"As long as it goes back, then no. Theft is of course a strict no-no, except on the orders of the angelic council. Borrowing is okay, as long as it is in a good cause, and I think what you are doing is a good thing. We will just need to keep it strictly between the two of us; Nick doesn't need to know…"
So it was that night, as Nick read his son a bedtime story, Finn returned to Jeff's studio, clutching a file; in it were all the details of the dress, in the most perfect cooperplate writing. Jeff pulled out his phone and photographed the pages, then took a series of picture of the fabric from different angles. This done, he handed the file back to Finn, who headed straight back to the V & A archive. With the final details now in place, Jeff reached for his pencils, and began to sketch with his softest pencil the outline of the two people in the picture; two young people, very much in love, who at the time thought they would have many carefree years ahead of them before she would become the Queen…
Nick had been standing in the doorway watching him for a few minutes before Jeff noticed his presence. "I couldn't help myself; I love watching you work. Your hands move so freely, the pencil so effortlessly, and the fact that the tip of your tongue is out as you do so is the sweetest thing of all…" Jeff laughed, knowing all that his husband had just said, particularly the last bit, was true. "So would I be correct in guessing that what you are doing now is intended as a gift to someone; a moment of their lives together captured in your unique style?"
"Yes, it is; you don't think that I am overstepping in doing this?"
"No, my love, far from it. I think that she, and indeed the entire family, will love what you are doing here. Anyway, Wes is asleep, my suit for Tuesday fits perfectly, and I will be making hot chocolate in exactly one hour. I have some work of my own to get on with in the meantime…" Nick kissed his husband gently, then left him to create his new masterpiece…
The weekend would pass all too quickly for those in London, and after a hectic day on Monday, Tuesday 21st dawned bright and clear, a change from the grey skies and drizzly rain of the previous days. In Thurloe Square the whole household was up and about earlier than usual, having a very busy schedule. Jeff had arranged to drop Wes off at the kindergarten earlier than usual, Miss Frobisher having no problem with that at all in the circumstances; she also told him that she would look after him until such time as they arrived home, no matter how late that was. The city was quiet as Wes and his two fathers headed towards the school; the funeral itself was to be private, with no cameras allowed inside the church and no televised coverage as there had been for others in the past, but they would still be in place outside, and as a result, the normal life of the country had been placed on hold. Many offices were closed all day, or had a skeleton staff on duty; most shops and the remaining bank branches would not be opening until after 1.30pm, once the funeral was over. Miss Frobisher had considered closing the kindergarten briefly, but in the end had decided against it; the majority of the other schools were to be open, and there were still a good number of the parents that would be at work.
With Wes safely dropped off into her care, Nick and Jeff headed out to Windsor. They walked to the tube at Gloucester Road and caught the District line train to Ealing Broadway, where they changed to a train that would eventually get them to the town that nestled below the castle from which it took its name. They arrived in plenty of time, so had a coffee and a sandwich before they took their places in the line for the security check. As they stood, Nick scanned the queue ahead and behind, and recognised a few people, who had been dropped off by limousine, but still had to join the line. Amongst them were the Prime Ministers of Australia, New Zealand and Canada; the Kings of Sweden and Denmark; the Chancellor of Germany. He pointed them out to Jeff, which only made the latter feel even more out of place; he hoped that they were being seated at the back, away from the spotlight…
Once they were inside St George's Chapel, having ignored by the TV crews, who did not acknowledge them either, they were directed to their appointed place in the very quiet, solemn church. The places were marked by cards, and they took great care to sit in the exact spot, as no doubt the seating plan had been prepared exactingly by some of the loyal staff of the family with government advice. Nick noted that the seat next to him was reserved for the Deputy Secretary-General of the UN, then heard a gasp as his husband observed who was to be sitting in front of them in a more prominent position. Before Nick could check for himself, the people in question arrived, and they both stood for a moment as Michelle and Barack Obama came to sit down. She smiled at them, and the ex-President nodded.
"It is good to see you again, Mr Sterling-Duval, albeit in the most awful of circumstances," the Vice-President said to Nick. "Trent told me that he had intel that you had been invited, and I am glad that you are close by."
"It is an honour to meet you both again, but as you say, it would have been better to have done so in happier times," replied Nick.
"Yes, it would have been," the ex-President responded to Nick. "The Duke was quite a man, and Her Majesty drew a lot of strength from his constant presence. They were an excellent team, like myself and Michelle. We support each other in everything we do, just as they did; from what I can see, your marriage is the same."
"I have to agree," said Jeff quietly. "I don't know what I would do without Nick."
Nick looked up, and stood up again as the Deputy Secretary-General arrived, and he greeted them. Then he took his seat, listening to someone moaning about the difficulty they had had in parking close by, which made him wonder why they had not just taken the train as he and Jeff had done. Then the first members of the family began to file in, and all conversation stopped; protocol was that they all remained silent…
A bugle call was the signal that Her Majesty had arrived, and they all rose in silence. The coffin was carried in first, borne by the Duke's three sons, and his three eldest grandsons; they were followed by the Princess Royal, and the lady on whom the attention of the world's media would be focussed. She looked stoic, her eyes to the front and her face fixed as she walked behind her husband; for once, she was a step behind him, a reversal of the roles that they had always taken in life. She seemed to be a little less vibrant, but that was understandable, given that she had now attended the funerals of her parents, her only sibling, and even a daughter-in-law; the death of her husband had to be all the more painful though. As she passed, Jeff noticed that her eyes were moist, and he was glad that she had a degree of privacy for this moment; that the Duke had eschewed the grand public spectacle, and had given his wife a place to mourn in private.
It wasn't just her though that looked sad and devastated; the other members of the family did too, all of them in black or uniform; he had been a constant in all of their lives, just as he had been for the country as a whole. With the coffin and family all in place, the Archbishop began the service, the usual mixture of hymns and prayers, readings and anecdotes. That Mr Obama was called upon to speak was a surprise, but Nick guessed that perhaps his wife had been slated to do it, but had found herself unable and passed the task to her husband. When he spoke, Nick knew he was right, because there was no doubting that the words had been written by Trent. And then it was all over, the coffin taken out on a gun carriage with the family following, heading for the private burial that only a few very close friends would attend, including the Obamas. There was no formal event after, and so, after a stroll around the town, Nick and Jeff caught the train back home…
They arrived back well before the end of the day at the kindergarten. Nick offered to go and collect Wes, as he had the rest of the day off, and would head via the supermarket at Gloucester Road station on the way back home to collect something for their supper that night. Jeff accepted, as it meant that he could return to his latest work in his studio. He changed out of his hired suit, putting it away carefully in the bag, then headed to stand in front of his canvas. He had decided early on against a life size rendition, but the drawing would still be large, so that he could achieve the level of detail that he had in The Judging Angel. His rough sketch of Friday night had begun to take shape as he had dedicated every spare minute over the last few days to his work; Nick had taken care of Wes on his own for much of the weekend, giving him a lot more time than he might otherwise have had…
Their son had understood that his papa was undertaking a very important task, and had not grumbled at it; in any case, he and his dad had spent most of the day on Sunday in the kitchen, baking together, which he always loved. Nick was quietly pleased that his boy had taken a great interest in the culinary arts early on; he left Wes to do things himself, and although the results did not have the same polish as his own did yet, they did taste amazing. That week he had let Wes make soda bread on his own for the first time, and watched as his son made the simple dough into a number of rolls rather than one loaf. He had used Rory's recipe, the one that had come from his nana. They used a good wholemeal flour, and Nick explained in simple terms to his son why a wholemeal flour was better for you than the white one they could have used.
Wes pondered this, then asked, "If wholemeal flour is better for you, why don't we use it in cakes too?"
Nick found that he had no immediate answer for that. In the end, he replied, "I guess that we could, but for the sake of appearances, a sponge cake looks better made with white flour, and it is also a lighter flour… Why don't we make a fruit cake with wholemeal flour though, and we can see if your papa notices any difference…"
"That would be just a little naughty," replied Wes with a grin, "but we should - or a chocolate cake, as you would never see the difference with the cocoa powder in the batter." Nick nodded, and decided that they would do just that one day soon…
Jeff was concentrating on drawing the Queen's face that day; he had found a close up colour image of her from the same year online, and from that he was able to get her skin tone correct, and the likely colour of her lips. Her eyes would not have changed that much, so he could draw them as they were now. He had again downloaded a series of very close up pictures of them, taken over a number of years, so that he could be accurate… As was always the case when he was deep in concentration, he lost all track of time, and nearly jumped when he heard little Wes yelling out his name from downstairs; then he laughed as he heard his husband's voice, telling their son that he had been asked to go upstairs and fetch his papa, not yell the house down…
He made his way down to find that his husband had made fettuccini alfredo, with chicken and bacon stirred through the sauce, one of his personal favourites. He could also see a bowl in the steamer on the stove, and he knew that his husband had made a sponge pudding, and had probably left it on before he headed to the kindergarten. If he knew his husband, the pudding would contain dried fruit, spices and a healthy amount of golden syrup for a sauce. Jeff licked his lips, and hoped there would be custard too. As they sat at the table, Wes told his papa all about his day; only half of his class had been present, so the teacher had had more time to play games with them all. They had told stories, and chatted about the things they had done that weekend, and his words had lead to a lot of talk about cake.
After dinner, Jeff offered to be the one that supervised Wes in in about an hour or so when it was time for his bath, and made Nick swear he would fetch him, before he left them both to head back to his task… Nick was true to his word, but he stopped on the threshold to admire what his husband had achieved so far. He had finished Her Majesty's face, although he was still working on her hair, in the style so redolent of the immediate post-war period. Nick felt so much pride as his eyes made their way down to her dress, which seemed to flow on her body, and was replicated so faithfully that it might have been the original just stuck on the canvas…
The Duke's naval uniform was finished too, and close up he could see the texture of the fabric it was made of, a relief in what was otherwise a sea of navy. His face was still just a rough sketch, as was the background, but everything completed so far was on a par with his previous work. Nick approached his husband, and said quietly, "You've really put your heart and soul into this; the eyes in particular. They have the same sparkle there as they have when you meet her now… I cannot see there being any issue with adding this work to the royal collection…"
"It's not finished yet Nicky; it could still all go horribly wrong. I could mess up her hair, or worse still, his face," sighed Jeff. "I need it to be perfect, given how significant this is."
"It will be," said Nick firmly. "I have complete faith in your abilities. Your fingers are so talented, and your mind so focussed when you are drawing like this that you can't go wrong. Anyway, our boy is waiting for his papa…"
"I love you Nicky," said Jeff quietly. "I don't know what I would do if you weren't by my side."
"Neither do I, my love," replied Nick, before they shared a kiss, then, hand in hand, headed off to get their son ready for bed.
Life in London returned more or less to normal as of Wednesday morning. The newsreaders on the television were no longer dressed in black or dark grey; laughter and cheerful music returned to the BBC radio. The sound of children playing outside could be heard again, and Nick had to admit that his crowded tube journey to work that morning was much better with the full level of human noise restored. The fact that the sun was shining also helped to lift the general mood. There was still a note of sadness in the air, and many believed that it would remain there until the Queen returned to public view. That would not be for several more weeks though; all her engagements had been cancelled until the end of March.
The immediate family would also be away from the public stage too, with their own official appearances also deleted from the calendar for a good while; as one wag put it, the easiest job in the media was that of the compiler of the Court Circular column in the Daily Telegraph, as the usual list of meetings, events and dinners had been replaced with the words 'Remain in Mourning'. At the UN, things were also back to normal; with the civil service back in action and running the country, taking the decisions that the government and the politicians believed they made, the usual liaison and dialogue had been restored. It also meant that there was a return to pointless arguments and red tape, but that was normality, and the way that the UK worked.
In Thurloe Square, Jeff returned to his task in hand, now satisfied with the hair on the young Princess Elizabeth, and happy so far with the face of the man that would be the Duke of Edinburgh. It was only now that a new worry had entered his head, namely how and when he would be able to present his completed work to the family, for them to pass it on to his intended recipient. That might not be as easy to do as he hoped…