End of an Era XI.
That was how Trent found himself sitting in the front of the car that was conveying the Kennedys to Westminster Hall just twenty minutes later. The part of him that thought it was an awful idea had been beaten by the part of him that really wanted to be there on the ground at a pivotal moment in modern history. He felt more than a little strange dressed up in a flak jacket and wearing all the communication equipment, a pair of Raybans in place as well, but having looked in the mirror, he had to admit that he looked hardly anything like his usual self at all in the full get up…
He had sent a selfie of himself in the mirror to his husband, with the caption 'New member of the Presidential Security Detail for this afternoon' and he had been delighted when the response that came back was to query what the new man's name was, whether he had been properly vetted, and why he had actually sent him an image of him in the first place. He had taken off the glasses and then took the photo again, and laughed out loud when the reply to that came even faster, concerned about what on earth he was doing dressed like that, given that he was completely untrained for the role; in fact, Rory went so far as to forbid him from doing it, no matter how much trouble it caused.
He explained the reason to his worried husband, and he calmed down a little, albeit on the condition that whilst he was there, he said a prayer on behalf of his nana. Trent agreed to that readily, and then had to put away his phone to leave for the Hall. Meanwhile, Rory was on the phone to his nana in Ireland, and told her that the President was on his way to Westminster Hall as he spoke, and that she needed to take a good look at his security staff. Her response was to tell him that he had to be breaching all kinds of security regulations to be telling her that, even if he was sitting in the White House and using a scrambler phone, but she would tune into the livestream right away in any case. After a brief chat, Rory ended the call, and wondered if she would be taken in by Trent's disguise, or would spot that the new security man was actually her grandson's husband straight away…
Trent had not used any of his, by his own admission, limited acting skills since that night on Broadway with Sebastian, but on arrival at the entrance to Westminster Hall, he did his best to be a member of the security team, aping what he had seen the real protection detail do so many times before when he had been out with the Presidential party. He jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped, scoping out the area before he headed to the rear door of the vehicle to allow the First Lady out. For her part, she was trying her best not to smile at him, giggles supressed as entirely inappropriate for the occasion. He waited with her until the President joined them, along with the real protection officer, and then he walked behind them…
They were greeted by Black Rod and one of the Prime Minister's senior secretaries, who escorted them along a corridor and out to the door that opened onto the dais. As the President, his wife and the Obamas headed to the left with the protection officers, Trent was diverted to the right by the staff, to head down the stairs. He followed the directions he had been given to the letter, and kept his eyes cast down until he reached the spot below the place where the others were now standing. Only then did he raise his head to observe what was in the room before him…
He felt a whole tumult of emotions all of a sudden; the crown shining there on the coffin draped in the Royal Standard brought a reality to what had been until that moment something that had been taking place in a far off sort of way; to Trent it had almost been like it had been a film. He bowed his head once more, and prayed, knowing that the words he was uttering under his breath were some that Rory's nana and Sister Mary Agnes would wholeheartedly approve of. He finished, and looked up again, then felt the discreet tap on his shoulder, which indicated that the Presidential party was about to leave. He stood to attention then, and saluted, recalling the one thing that Hunter had ever done that he wished to remember; how to salute properly. Once he was back in the corridor, he took off the dark glasses and allowed a few tears to fall. Such things were permitted at a key moment in history…
He returned to the car, but this time he was directed to sit in the back, beside the President. "My wife will be travelling to the pick up point with the Obamas; Michelle was quite overcome after we left the dais, so we thought it was best she travelled with her to offer what comfort she can before we have to appear before the media at Lancaster House, and then again at Buckingham Palace. I have to admit that it almost felt surreal being in there, watching as her people filed past her coffin to pay their respects…"
"We joined in on a moment in British history, sir. An era has come to an end with her passing; she was the living connection to those great historical figures of the middle of the twentieth century, people like Sir Winston Churchill, and indeed her own parents. People to whom the world owes a debt of gratitude for their sacrifice for all our sakes. I am grateful to you that I was given the chance to participate in this moment."
"If anyone deserved to be there, it was you Trent. I can tell that it moved you as well; in fact, anyone that can say that they saw what was happening in that great hall and was not moved by it is a liar," replied the President. They sat in silence then as they went first to Lancaster House, where Trent remained in the back of the car, checking events on his work phone, and indeed watching Kennedy make the speech he had authored for him. Then the President was back, and little was said as they drove the short distance to the point where the bus would pick him up for the trip to Buckingham Palace.
Then Trent was alone in the back of the car, the screen up as the driver made his way back to Winfield House. As he sat there, he allowed his mind to wander a little. He was sat there in a soundproofed box, the windows designed so he could see out but no-one could see in clearly unless he pressed a switch. He chuckled as he thought that some people might see the car with the flag on the front and believe he was the President, and then the hilarity passed as he realised that nefarious people might think he was the President…
That was one of the many reasons why he had no craving for such high office himself, much more content to be a small player in the background without a high public profile. Maybe one day he might be persuaded to stand for election to say a state congress or a city council. After all, working in Washington DC for the rest of his life was not his ambition or his husband's either. He certainly did not ever want to be the new President Nixon…
"Which is a great shame, my dear Robin," came a voice, and Trent nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw that Wes was now sitting beside him.
He recovered, and replied, "I might have considered being the Vice-President to a President Montgomery…" He had his head bowed, as the driver could still see through the screen even if he could not hear; the last thing he wanted was for the man to think he was sitting there talking to himself.
"Hmm, touché… I too would never have wanted to take up the Presidency; now being a Supreme Court judge would have been something I could have aspired to…"
"I can picture that; The Judging Angel made flesh. A man that would uphold the letter of the law; protecting the innocent whilst ruthlessly pursuing the culpable and guilty…"
"That sounds like the intro to a superhero show, and as Nick would have been my right hand man in those dreams, he presumably would have been the sidekick to my Batman," laughed Wes. "Now, Governor Nixon does have a certain ring to it…"
Trent rolled his eyes, firstly because of the idea of Nick as Robin to Wes' Batman, as they all knew that Nick had a secret desire to be Batman himself; and secondly, because he would never wish to be in total charge of a state…
"Anyway, the reason I came was that I saw that you were quite emotional after being in the Hall, and that is not a normal trait for you, so I just wanted to check in on you. I have to admit that I felt much the same the night that we all came and stood before the coffin; we snuck in just after the cleaners had left and just before the public was allowed to file through again. Kurt cried, as did Emily, which was no great surprise. Of course, the two of them are both beside themselves about tomorrow; not the funeral of course, but the fact that we will be having lunch with Her Majesty and her husband, sister and parents at around the same time. Her grandmother, Queen Mary, might be there as well…"
Trent knew about the role Wes had played in events, as Thad had confided in him about it, but the luncheon date was a surprise. "I have to admit that would be a table I would like to see…"
"I know, and I have it on good authority that the food will be pretty special too; you can think about us all tomorrow as the rest of the world watches the funeral. Right, we are back at Winfield House, so I will go. Give my regards to Rory…"
With that Trent was alone again, and he let himself out of the car and returned to his office to get on with the paperwork that never seemed to cease. On second thoughts, he would leave checking up on events back home and call Rory instead; he needed to see if he had been convincing as a protection officer…
Rory would not be the first person that he ended up talking to, however. On checking his personal phone, he saw that he had a message from Thad. 'Was nice to see the President, his wife and the Obamas all looking so moved at Westminster Hall earlier… As for your doppelganger that works in security, who was in the actual Hall below them, he was equally dignified… Only he isn't in security, and you don't have a doppelganger, do you?' The words were followed by a wink emoji, but they left Trent worried. If Thad had spotted that it was him, then there was every chance that the others, and particularly Jeff, Drew and Sebastian, might have done so as well…
He sent off an immediate reply to the Head Warbler. 'Going to Westminster Hall was a last minute thing; I was not supposed to be outside Winfield House the entire time I was here in London. None of the other Warblers know I am here, apart from Nick, and he only knows because I slipped up when I was talking to him.' He pressed send, but was not in the least surprised when his phone began to ring with an incoming call a few seconds later. He checked the caller ID, shook his head, and answered. "I know, I know, I should have told the others that are here, but I was honestly not expecting to be outside the house and garden here at any time other than to travel to and from Heathrow."
"Well, let me reassure you of one thing; I only realised that it was you because I happened to be close to the screen in the one moment you were in any sort of focus, and that was how I noticed a distinctive ring, which matches the one on your spouse's hand, on your finger. I have great doubts that any of our three brethren that are also in London would notice it, if they even saw the live footage in any case. If Nick sees it, then he might wonder if it is you, because there was one too many protection staff, and he notices those details, much like I do."
"I hope you are right," Trent replied. "The truth is that I almost declined the chance to go because of my worries. However, now that I have experienced it, I can say that it was very moving and it did indeed feel like a moment in history, the end of something important. It is strange to think that we will never see her again, at least not here in the mortal realms…" Thad said nothing, so Trent went on, "Wes came to see me afterwards, and he told me all about what he is doing tomorrow. I am rather jealous of him."
"Honestly, I am too," replied Thad, glad that someone else knew about the lunch that was taking place tomorrow…
Across the city, as Thad had surmised, the other three Warblers had been watching the livestream when the President was in attendance, but they had been so focused on the party on the dais that they had not even paid attention to the new and unfamiliar security man with them. They had too much else on their minds in any case. Their day had been busy, with an errand or two to run; there had been food to buy for the following day for one thing, given that every major supermarket was to be closed all day. They had also booked their transport back to the airport for Thursday, their seats now confirmed on a flight that would depart just after 10am. That meant another early start, although it also meant that Jeff would be back home in time to greet his husband when he arrived home from the office, and that Sebastian would be back in Westerville for a late dinner…
They would be up early the following day in any case, so another early start would be no problem. They had to finalise those plans as well. Adam would drive himself and Sebastian to East Croydon station in his mother's car, and park that up in the long stay car park at there. They would then catch the early train into London Bridge station just after 5am, and would catch a train there that would bring them into Charing Cross station. That was close to Trafalgar Square, and not too long or complicated a walk from there to their ultimate destination.
Drew would catch a bus from Kensington just a little before they caught the train, and would be the first to arrive and thus stake their spot. Jeff would travel with Miss Frobisher a little after that, reflecting Jeff's dislike of being up too early in the morning. They took some comfort from the news that camping out overnight along The Mall had been banned, as was camping in St James' Park and the streets north of the route. Indeed, the authorities were actually closing entrance to the Park from 9pm that evening until around 5.30am the next day. That was a positive, as it gave them much better odds at the good vantage point that they wanted…
That Tuesday night, the whole of the city of London would seem subdued. Some of the shows in the West End had actually cancelled their performances that night as well as on Wednesday, whereas others had moved their midweek matinee show to either the Tuesday or the Thursday for one week. Bars and restaurants were closing early, if they opened at all, and the nightclubs were without exception closed for the night, some opting to open late on the following day with permission. The traffic that night was lighter too in general, except around the bigger supermarkets and shopping centres, as people stocked up for he closure the next day, attracting the scorn of some commentators who asked if people were seeing the funeral day as akin to Christmas, when the shops were also only closed for one day…
Everyone seemed to be heading to bed early that night in any case, staying up long enough to watch the weather forecast, which predicted a good day for the time of year, with light winds and, after a cloudy night, clearing skies to allow the sun to shine. Those that were not heading to bed seemed to know to be as quiet as possible in respect of those that had opted for an early night. At Westminster Hall, with access to the queue now officially closed, the last pilgrims were now making their way along the route through the city that thousands had walked before them over the last days. The staff at the Houses of Parliament were already making preparations for all of the ceremonial that would be taking place the following day.
In New York, Nick also headed to bed earlier than usual, following his son almost to bed. He had set his alarm clock for 4am, so that breakfast for himself and Wes could be over with by the time that all the guests they were expecting to join them started to arrive; he had initially expected just Ethan and Evie, but then Dex had been added, and that night, Beats had asked if they could also join them in the shared experience, and Nick could not decline. Lawrence would not be there, as he had promised to head into the hospital early and join Nurse Crane in the staff room prior to their day shifts. It was not an issue to him to be there again with the respected nurse; he was only too pleased to be asked to be there to support the London born lady at what had to be a difficult time for her.
The plans that they had all made were echoed by countless others around the world, whether they were staying up late in Auckland, or getting up very early, if they went to bed at all, in Vancouver…
When the alarm went off on Wednesday morning, it came as a great surprise to Drew to find that the other side of the bed was empty; worse than that, there was no sign of Jeff's formal clothes in the room either. Drew dressed himself, then headed down the stairs to find Miss Frobisher alone in the kitchen, making toast. She smiled at him, and then they both spoke almost at once, just the same two words – "Where's Jeff?"
"He wasn't in the room when the alarm went off; I expected to find him down here with you," continued Drew.
"I thought that he was still upstairs in bed with you!" exclaimed Miss Frobisher. She ejected the toast from the toaster, then headed into the hallway, returning almost at once. "His coat and scarf are gone, and although the door is still locked, it is unbolted. He must have woken up and gone somewhere; did you check to see if he left a note?"
Drew shook his head, and ran back upstairs to the bedroom that he had been sharing with the blond, but a quick scan of the room showed no sign of a piece of paper… Then he realised that it was the 21st Century, and that if his friend had been wanting to tell him something, he would have been much more likely to send a text. He had turned his phone off when he went to bed, something he did every night, and he had not yet switched it back on. He did so then, before heading straight back downstairs to Miss Frobisher. As he went, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he instantly felt calmer…
He took it back out and checked it as he stepped back into the kitchen. "Well, he has sent me a text, which I guess is the modern equivalent of leaving a note. Apparently he couldn't sleep properly last night, so when he found himself awake again at 2am, he decided to just get up, get dressed, and head off to The Mall. He also says that he knows where he can get something for breakfast, even today…" Drew paused for a moment, then reread the text before he went on. "He says that even today, the little taxi driver's café in Thurloe Place will be open…"
Miss Frobisher chuckled at that, and then laughed at the look of confusion on Drew's face. "I am surprised that you don't know about that, given that you lived in London for longer than he did; then again, he was free to explore the city, and of course, they were living close by in Thurloe Square. I will point it out to you when we are on the bus into the centre of town. It used to be called 'The Bell and Horns' when I was a youngster, because it was rather inconveniently located in the middle of the road back then…"
When he had stepped out of Miss Frobisher's house just after 2am, Jeff had not found the dark and fairly silent streets of the city intimidating at all; indeed, once he had reached the kindergarten, they were just as familiar to him as those in the West Village; he had walked this way twice a day usually for a long time after all. What he did notice as he walked in the direction of Thurloe Place was that the streets of the city seemed exceptionally quiet, more so than they usually were at this hour, and as he passed by the Natural History Museum without seeing a single vehicle as he walked its length, his faith that the little green hut would be open began to falter.
Then he saw it dead ahead of him, and there were several black cabs parked at the side of the road next to it, so he felt more hopeful. He headed to the hatch at the far end, recalling the strict rule that only a cabbie could be served inside, but that anyone could be provided with food at the hatch. The hatch was closed, unsurprising given the cold weather, but he could hear chatter inside, and so he knocked. There was a pause, and then the hatch was slid open, and he saw the face of the older lady that had been running it when he lived in the city staring back at him. She studied him carefully, then said, "I know that face; you're the artist that lived in Thurloe Square with his little boy; the American that ended up drawing Her late Majesty for her 100th birthday. I'd heard that you were in town… Feeling hungry I guess?"
"I am, and I am!" replied Jeff, which made her laugh. "I woke up much too early, and I am heading for The Mall to stake a place for myself and my friends that came over from the States with me. It's a cold morning, and well, I recall that your sausage sandwiches were the closest thing to perfection I have ever tasted…"
"One sausage sandwich on the way then, but I think you should come in and have it, given how cold it is. It's quiet at this time, and anyone that did anything for our dear Queen is more than welcome to join us…"
Soon Jeff found himself inside, sitting at a tiny table. Once he had eaten his sandwich, which was as perfect as he recalled, and still with half a mug of strong tea before him, he pulled his little sketch pad out of his pocket and began to draw the scene before him. He would do several small sketches as he finished his tea, of the general scene, of the proprietor behind her counter and of a couple of her customers, asking them all permission first. That done, he then was allowed to take a few photos on his phone as well, to strengthen the image in his head, and immortalise the place that few people had ever seen inside; a relic of the past in fact. There had been hundreds of these huts once, and now there were only this one and 12 more besides…
He had just finished his second sketch of the interior, with the proprietor at her counter, when a taxi driver came over to him. "There's a free ride up to Green Park tube for you right now if you want it. I've got a fare to pick up at The Ritz, and they're willing to pay my fuel there; you might as well hop in the back. They'll never know if you hop out before they can see us." Jeff thought about it for a moment, then nodded. He carried his plate and mug back to the counter, and then left his payment and a tip on top of the sketch he had just done and signed. She was overjoyed, and before he had even stepped out, the sketch was pinned up by the counter in pride of place…
He was able to hop out of the back of the taxi just across from the station at Green Park, the shutters there being raised earlier than usual of course, given the fact that the trains were starting an hour before they normally did. He walked past, then headed by the Ritz Hotel, before turning off Piccadilly and heading through the streets of the district known as St James. It was quiet, the shop windows with blinds drawn and notices displayed stating they were closed for the day; indeed, the side windows at Fortnum and Mason had stated that they were not showing anything in their windows until after the funeral on a sign posted on the day Her Majesty had passed away…
Soon he found himself in Waterloo Place, looking down the steps that led from there to The Mall. He checked his watch as he walked down the steps, and seeing it made him think of Nick, who had given him the perpetual timepiece in question. He sighed, thinking that he had half an hour yet to wait before he would be allowed into the park across the street, but as he reached the bottom, seeing for the first time the big screen in situ, he noticed that there was a member of park staff lifting the barriers that had been preventing access. He asked, and was informed that they were opening up this side of St James' Park early, so he was in luck if he had come to find a spot to watch…
Jeff hurried across the empty street, and secured what had to be the most perfect vantage point in that vicinity. He climbed up the steps and into the South African Royal Artillery Memorial. It was surrounded by a wall, high enough to give a good view to those that were sitting on it; not so high that you couldn't easily climb up onto it. He did not do so at once though; instead he sent a text to both Drew and Sebastian, to inform them that the park was now open, he was there, and he had secured their spot…
Whereas Drew was relieved to get the text from Jeff, glad to know that the blond had made it safely to his destination, Sebastian was surprised to discover that Jeff, who had always wanted to lie in bed until late morning when they were at Dalton, had been the one to arrive first. He showed the text message to Adam, and he shared his fellow actor's disbelief. At that precise moment they were in the front carriage of a train that was making its way slowly into London, but it was not the train they had been planning on taking; a signal fault at New Cross was holding up the route to London Bridge, so they had boarded the train to Victoria…
The train was a slow one, stopping at every station en-route, but it was as yet lightly loaded despite the events of the day ahead. Now Clapham Junction was approaching and in Adam's opinion, it would be the litmus test, so to speak. "This is where all of the lines coming in from the south western suburbs of London join with our route; they are mostly routed into Waterloo station. It is the closest of the mainline stations in the centre of the city to Westminster Abbey so may attract more passengers this morning. However, our destination is the closest station to Buckingham Palace; it is also the most convenient for the south side of The Mall and St James' Park, what with Charing Cross not being easily accessed with the signal problems…"
Sebastian nodded, and looked out of the window as the 12 carriage train slowed down as it drew alongside the station platform. There were hardly any people waiting to board as they ran came to a stop at the far end. He then noted with a degree of satisfaction that most of the people that had been on the train were now alighting, which seemed to suggest that the majority of the early birds wanted to be at the Abbey…
As the train doors closed and then it drew away, he turned to Adam and said, "I think that we are going to the right place. Most of those that were camping out overnight were already going to be close to the Abbey, so all of the best spots there will already have been taken. By the time that the people going to Waterloo realise that, we will be in our perfect spot…"
Adam just smiled at him, and then turned his phone to face Sebastian. On it there was a message from his mother, who was already up and preparing for the family viewing at home. It stated that Westminster Bridge, the logical route for those heading from Waterloo to Westminster Abbey, had been closed to traffic and pedestrians by the police. Not only would those going to Waterloo not get good spots, they now faced a lengthy diversion to get there…
