August 2027: The Coronation Part VIII.
As Adam Crawford stared open-mouthed at the image that his mother had just sent him, a young man whose normal home was in Washington DC was going over the events of the day in his head as he watched the evening news on RTE. Trent was starting to feel tired, but the habit of always watching the main evening news bulletin was a hard one to break even when he was on vacation. Rory had retired to bed an hour before, but his nana, the one and only Agnes, was sitting across the room from Trent and watching with him… She had proved to be a godsend after the overnight flights with two small children and had happily taken care of her two great-grandchildren for the majority of the day to allow their two fathers to recover from the stress of the trip.
Trent did sometimes wonder if he and Rory should have followed the example of Nick and Jeff and stopped at one child, but he quickly realised every time that he would not give up on either of his children for the world. Admittedly, it had taken him longer than normal to reach that conclusion the previous night at Dulles airport, when a temper tantrum had broken out in the lounge at the terminal and everyone had been staring at them; even longer when their daughter had thrown a pudding cup at one of the cabin crew during the inflight meal…
Rory had seemed much calmer in both instances, barely batting an eyelid and not going bright red like his husband. In the lounge, he had apologised loudly to everyone once the tantrum was over; but then he had pointedly remarked to one haughty lady who was complaining about the presence of the children that everyone had been young once, even if in some cases that had been many decades ago… Trent smiled even now as he thought how well-aimed his husband's barb had been, and recalled how one of the lounge staff had then come over and whispered to them words of congratulations on what he had just said. It appeared that the lady in question was a regular traveller who complained non-stop about the fact that there was anyone else at all in the lounge when she was there…
Agnes had proven even more useful in another way; she had checked in to the apartment that they had rented in the heart of Dublin the previous night. She had not been at the airport when their flight landed, but she had been there just before 8am when their taxi pulled up outside the building, able to assist and of course, give them immediate access. There had been a pot of tea brewed and waiting, made strong as both she and Rory liked it, and a pot of coffee on the go for Trent; there had also been a full Irish Fry cooking, as she remarked that the breakfast they served on flights was never enough to fill your stomach.
She had taken the smallest of the bedrooms, and as she served up breakfast she recalled the time when the building they were in had been a warehouse like all of it neighbours, but that they now made perfect apartments… "I could see myself living in one of these; handy for the town and all of the shops, right in the very heart of everything… ah, but then I found out just how much one of these places costs to buy, and on reflection, it might be for the best if I stay in Clane."
"I think that would be for the best nana," replied Rory politely, as he tried to picture both her and her furniture in the building, amongst all of the young professional people that were the majority of the residents. "Sure, you are close to everything living here, but you'd soon end up missing Mrs Flynn and all of the other ladies."
"Yes, I doubt that they have the same sort of church socials here, given that there are so few of my generation here. Plus, there is no fireplace here, and I still hold that an open fire makes a home in the winter…"
After breakfast was over, Agnes had offered to take care of the two children again whilst their fathers went out. "I need to make the most of the time that I have with them, and I am sure that you probably want to go and catch up with the good sister if nothing else. I saw her yesterday, and she knows that you are coming today; true, she is not expecting to see you right now, but I am sure she will be pleased to see you both."
The two husbands had smiled at each other and nodded. They changed into fresh clothes and headed for the door; as they were about to go out, Agnes stopped them and handed them a shopping list. As she said, if they were going out anyways, they might as well do the shopping for them all. Trent had laughed at that, realising that they had just been conned into being the ones that carried back all of the heavy supplies…
They headed for the Cathedral through streets that were familiar to Rory and that even Trent now knew reasonably well, stopping now without realising it to allow the tram to pass as it crossed their route. The day was pleasantly warm, but the temperature dropped as soon as they entered the historic building, cool inside on even the warmest of summer days. The first thing that Trent noticed when he saw Sister Mary Agnes at her usual spot in the building was that she was sitting down at a desk; the last time they had been here she had been on her feet the whole time, roving the building. Now it seemed that she was more static. He couldn't help but wonder if the attack of bronchitis that she had suffered six months ago had been much more serious than they had been told, as she did look more frail as well…
Rory spotted her moments after his husband, and he heard him gasp in surprise, his face falling as he saw how much she appeared to have declined. It was then that another much younger nun appeared, and took back her seat at the desk, allowing her older Sister to take back her roving role. It was then that she saw them, and her face lit up, so they hastened over to join her…
"Well, you both look well and happy!" she exclaimed as they drew close. "I wasn't expecting to see you today, but it is so good to see you back. Now, I have a break due soon, so why don't we go and get some lunch? There is a nice café just down the street that I enjoy, and they will always find us a table…"
They agreed, and in a few minutes they had left the cathedral and were heading in the direction of the busy café; it looked full, but as soon as the waitress saw who was there, a table was made available at the back in a quiet corner without delay. "Even in this increasingly secular age, the habit can secure some advantages, at least when the right person happens to be wearing it. Reverend Mother has not been so lucky and complains bitterly about it at times in a most unchristian way; she harks back to the days of our youth when the church had far more influence on this island of ours. I think that might have been, at least in part, down to fear; the teaching nuns and brothers of the time were feared by their pupils in the schools, and everyone is aware now of how those poor unmarried mothers were treated. My wise grandmother always used to say that no-one deserved respect because of what or who they were; we all had to earn it, whether we were rich or poor…"
Sister Mary Agnes smiled then, before continuing, "Of course, she was in her formative teenage years at the time when the rebellion against British rule was taking place, and that might have formed that opinion, but it stayed with her for the rest of her life. I can recall a Sunday when I was about 11 or 12 when she stood outside the church and told the parish priest in a loud voice that just because a man had the title of Bishop, it didn't make him any more deserving in the eyes of God; quite a controversial thing to say at the time, especially right outside the building in which he had just preached…"
"She wasn't best pleased when I decided to take the veil, but I told her that the only way that you could ever change an institution like the Church was from the inside. She laughed, but she never did approve. Saying that, neither did she approve of the miniskirts, free love and feminism that she saw in the newspaper reports about England in the 1960s… Next year will mark my 60th anniversary of taking holy orders, and I still find it every bit as fulfilling now. Yes, I do question some of the words that come from Rome every so often, but it was gratifying to see that some senior nuns have now been appointed to positions nearer the top of the hierarchy. Maybe now we will see some common sense in all of the debates…"
At that point their lunch arrived, hearty sandwiches made of fresh baked bread from which the fillings seemed to overflow. They were accompanied by glasses of homemade lemonade, the mix of sweet and sour perfect. Rory was the one to ask the question that they had both wanted to since they met with her. "We were quite concerned to hear about your spell of ill-health earlier in the year – are you fully recovered now?"
"I am most of the way there; I cannot walk quite as far or as quickly as I used to without feeling breathless now – I can only manage about four miles before I need to rest…" Her eyes twinkled as the two husbands laughed at that, but then her face became more serious. "There was a point in February when they had me hooked up to machines and on constant oxygen in the hospital, and I will admit that I thought my time might have come. I was sad, but if the good Lord had decided that he wanted me to join him, then I was in no position to refuse. It got as far as my family being summoned. My nephew came over from London, and brought his youngest son with him, the boy whose wedding I was going to the day we first met, Rory. His husband had wanted to come with him, but my nephew had told the two boys that it was best that he didn't straight away, as I was in a strict, church-run hospital."
She shook her head sadly, then her smile returned. "Of course, I found that out from my dear great-nephew when his father had popped out to get a drink, and I think that was what made me fight the illness with renewed vigour. There is still so much that needs to change in this world of ours to make it truly equal for all of the Lord's children; I fervently believe that he would wish for that to be the case. We are all sinners in some way after all, and in my book, the worst sinners are those that make it their mission to hurt others through their pious attitude because those people happen to be different in some way. I sometimes think that Reverend Mother might find her road to the heavens a little more rocky than she fondly imagines… And now I will need to go to confession for that statement…again."
Trent burst out laughing at the innocent expression that she had on her face as she said that, whereas his husband just sat there and grinned, thinking not for the first time how lucky he had been to meet Sister Mary Agnes at Dublin Airport all those years ago. She had turned his view on nuns completely on its head ever since…
They would return to the apartment after lunch, carrying the shopping that Agnes had requested, to find out that she had unpacked the children's cases and now had them taking a nap. "I would have made a start on unpacking your bags, but I decided that you would probably prefer that I did not, in case you had anything risqué in there," she quipped as they handed her the shopping; her words had Rory turning scarlet, but Trent just chuckled, knowing that she was winding them up.
She unpacked the shopping, then suggested that they take a stroll around the local park when the children woke up and the two men agreed. "It is also supposed to be a grand sunny day tomorrow, so I thought we could take them to the beach at Killiney…"
Rory grinned at the mention of that place, and said, "That is a wonderful idea!" He then turned to his husband and went on, "It's a pebble beach, so no sandcastles I'm afraid, but it is so beautiful there, and quiet as well. You can take a train more or less straight there, which is an added bonus. It is where nana used to take me and Séamus when we were boys, and I would love our children to see it too."
"I think that is a perfectly wonderful idea too," replied Trent, seeing how much his husband's face had lit up at the prospect…
Now as the news broadcast drew towards its close, he smiled once again as he recalled just how enthused Rory had been about the beach that was described on Google as the Dublin equivalent of the Bay of Naples. It would be good to see one of the happy places from Rory's childhood… With a yawn, Trent said his goodnights to Agnes, and headed off to snuggle up next to the love of his life in bed…
Thursday morning dawned in London after a night during which those that had been walking near Westminster Abbey or The Mall in the early hours would have been able to witness the rehearsal for the procession back from the Abbey to the Palace. The Gold State Coach had rolled through the streets, accompanied by all of the troops that would be with it on Coronation Day itself. This was their final rehearsal, but no member of the Royal Family was present. The schedule had been made known to a select few, including the artists that were invited to attend, and as it was due to pass along The Mall close to their hotel just after 1am, Jeff had left the hotel and had stood there at the side of the road, sketching what he could see under the light of the streetlights. He made sure to record the details of the uniforms, the headdress on the horses, and the glory of the coach as it lumbered along. He had taken a few photos too, as his intention was to produce a drawing of the actual procession at some point, but as he was walking back to the hotel after it had passed by, checking the shots he had taken on Nick's digital camera, he decided that he might draw one of the rehearsal he had just witnessed instead. After all, the spectacle had only been witnessed by himself and a handful of other people that just happened to be passing. Nick had been in bed but still awake when Jeff had left, but he was sound asleep when his husband returned. Jeff did not wake him, undressing quietly before climbing into the bed beside him, satisfied that he had captured a unique moment.
However, the following morning he was a little grumpy due to his lack of sleep, but that soon altered after a good breakfast. He had a busy day ahead after all, with an appointment at the Palace later that morning to see the ceremonial robes that would be worn by the King, Queen Consort and other family members, allowing him to capture the details of the garments. The King himself would be reusing the garments that had been worn by his grandfather for his Coronation in 1937. On inspection, the robes were in remarkably good order for garments that were a little over 90 years old. The Queen Consort however would be wearing a new dress, and Jeff was one of only a handful of people privileged to see it in advance, and to sketch the floral emblems on it that represented all the nations of the United Kingdom.
By now, those staying at the hotel in St James had settled into a routine of sorts in the morning; they would all head down to breakfast at 8am and share a table. Nick and Burt would sit next to each other and discuss the issues of the day that they had seen on the BBC News before they had come downstairs, whilst also glancing at the complimentary newspapers they had ordered. Burt had a copy of The Times, whereas Nick had a copy of The Guardian, which took a more left wing and liberal perspective on the news agenda, along with a number of short essay type articles designed to make people think. They would both hand each other their paper first though, so that they could scan through what the other one was saying…
All that had Carole shaking her head; she for her part was usually found sitting next to little Wes, and chatting away to him, as his papa was usually engrossed in conversation with Pam about what they had seen at the Palace the previous day. Her initial nerves had by now evaporated, and she had settled into her role as a member of the Royal household, albeit a temporary one. She had a much later start that day, as Her Majesty had an engagement at a youth club in the East End of the city, alongside her husband, that morning. This would be followed by a luncheon with the heads of the main charities that they both supported.
That would be their final public engagement before the Coronation, but both events were intended to be informal, and there was no invitation to the global media to either, so Pam was not needed to ensure that the Queen Consort's make-up was perfect. As she had free time, she had volunteered, alongside Carole, to head to Knightsbridge and meet up with Miss Frobisher, who had now decided that she needed an entire new ensemble for the Abbey on Saturday. However, both of the ladies had realised that they would probably end up on Oxford Street, possibly at John Lewis, as the frugal kindergarten headmistress would balk at the prices that would be charged at the more exclusive stores in her own neighbourhood.
Jeff meanwhile was a little grumpy due to his lack of sleep from his late excursion to The Mall, but that soon altered after a good breakfast. He had a busy day ahead after all, with an appointment at the Palace later that morning for another sketching session with the Royal Family; this time the Princess Royal and the Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh had made time in their schedules to come and stand in their Coronation robes for him and the other artists, as the final fittings were also taking place. He then had a lunch date with the Prince and Princess of Wales and their children, something that would be a much more informal affair. Unlike Pam, his services would not be required at the Ball that evening, so he would spend it with his husband and son, although he had heard that he might be able to pay a visit to the Abbey, which was now closed to all visitors that did not have the special permit that he did…
As well as the sketching session, he would also be able to see the ceremonial robes that would be worn by the King, Queen Consort, allowing him to capture the details of the garments. The King himself would be reusing the garments that had been worn by his grandfather for his Coronation in 1937. On inspection, the robes were in remarkably good order for garments that were a little over 90 years old. The Queen Consort however would be wearing a new dress, and Jeff was one of only a handful of people privileged to see it in advance, and to sketch the floral emblems on it that represented all the nations of the United Kingdom.
Nick had arranged to meet up with Lawrence; he had a coffee date with Artie, but it was early, so he was free to join Nick and Wes from 12.30pm. Nick altered his plans slightly as a result, and hoped that the younger man would be happy to go for lunch with together at the café in Brixton that they all enjoyed so much, and then go with them, given that the weather was staying good, to the outdoor lido at Brockwell Park…
It was forecast to stay warm and sunny that day, but the weather forecaster on the BBC that morning had solemnly announced that there were showers expected on Saturday. Nick had gone to check his e-mails after that, then took his usual glance at Twitter to find that I was full of people blaming the weather forecasters in advance for ruining the Coronation by allowing it to rain…
He remarked on it to Carole as they finished breakfast, and she shook her head sadly. "I sometimes have to question the sanity of people that do things like that. They seem to believe that the forecasters are somehow in charge of the weather, not scientists that just tell us what mother nature is sending!"
"I agree with that 100%," added her husband, "but it is human nature when something spoils our plans to want to find some scapegoat to blame."
Nick smiled, and said, "The funny thing about it is that it is entirely appropriate really. It rained on the day of his mother's Coronation, and on the day of his grandfather's too. Based on that, I think that the kind of dry sunny day that these people would have liked might well have been a bad omen…"
Not far away, Artie was taking breakfast with Kitty in their hotel. They had enjoyed their trip into the Surrey countryside the previous day immensely, and Adam's home village had proved idyllic, the epitome of an English village, and exactly what the director had been hoping to find. The tree lined lane that they had travelled along from the station had opened onto streets filled with quaint cottages, and then finally onto a village green, around which stood all the essentials of life for such a community; the parish church with a school at its side, the post office and stores, and of course a historic village inn. They had headed to the latter as it was lunchtime, and they had enjoyed a meal in the beer garden.
They had been able to observe the life of the place as they eat. The church bells had been ringing as they sat down, but they stopped eventually, the vicar emerging from the building shortly thereafter and getting on his bicycle to disappear on some mission. A bus then appeared, stopping at a bucolic bus shelter with a thatched roof, and people came and went. Children emerged from the school with their teacher, and were soon engaged in a cricket match on the village green…
Artie had been left in awe by it all, and turning to his wife, whispered, "I think that we have our location. All we really need now is a stately home or manor house to complete the filming schedule." Kitty nodded, quite taken by all she was seeing; if she ever moved to England, she would want to live in a village like this…
They headed back to the station, and whilst they were waiting for the train they made another discovery; that if they changed at East Croydon on the way back, they could catch a train there headed for Victoria station; alighting at Clapham Junction would allow them to catch a train to Vauxhall. That latter place was also crucial to the film, as that was the nearest station to the headquarters of MI6, the employer of James Bond. That would be perfect for the film. There was no need to head there today though, as Artie was familiar with the building, so they had returned to London Bridge. From there it was only a short hop to Tower Bridge, a location that Artie also intended to feature in the new movie, with the new City Hall and The Shard in the background…
Their Wednesday had ended with dinner at The Savoy Grill with the people behind the whole Bond franchise. It had been intended as a strictly social occasion, but in the end, it would be Kitty that brought business into it by mentioning their trip to Surrey as part of their location scouting. In no time, Artie's phone was out and the images that he had taken of the village were being shared. It was clear that none of the others around the table had ever heard of the place, but on seeing the pictures, their eyes lit up.
"I didn't think that we would find something so ideal in what is prime commuter belt, but I stand corrected when I see this. There is even a vicar on a bicycle in one of your shots; it is the dream made real. I am guessing from what you say though that it is close to the M25 – is there a lot of traffic noise?" asked the head of the backers.
"You wouldn't even know that there was a motorway in a hundred miles; there is the occasional plane overhead, presumably coming into Gatwick, and there is the noise of the trains as they run through the station not far off. The services run to London Bridge, but it would be quite simple to take a train, with changes, to Vauxhall…"
"So easy access to the headquarters of MI6, which fits in perfectly with the backstory we have created for the character. I also like your idea of using the organ at London Bridge station rather than a piano elsewhere; as you say, much more suspenseful and gothic! As ever, the film will be showcasing Britain, particularly as we move into a new era. So, we can relocate her character from the Chilterns to Surrey, but that means that we need to consider moving the villain's lair out to that side of the city too…"
"Just a thought," said Artie, "but what if that home was a short distance from Chartwell, the one-time home of Sir Winston Churchill? He is such an iconic British person, probably one of the best-known historical figures that the country has; to have him mentioned, even in passing…"
"I love it! A horrified M ranting at the very idea that such dastardly deeds are being plotted so close to that house… We will need to scout that area, so I will arrange a car for Sunday; we should also book a guided tour of Chartwell as an added bonus…"
Secret missions had thus dominated the conversation the previous night, but now the time had come for Artie to come clean about the one that he had undertaken. As they had finished their breakfast, Kitty had taken out her phone and had started to browse for cheap theatre tickets for that night, unaware that they already had plans that evening. He took a breath, and said, "I don't think we will be able to go to the theatre tonight, my love. Much as I would love to take in a show, I have somewhere else that I need to be…"
Kitty put down her phone and stared at her husband. "How come I am only hearing about this now? More importantly, where are you going on your own? It doesn't matter actually; if you will be too busy to enjoy an evening out with your wife, then I will just go to the theatre alone."
"You are of course invited to come with me to my destination, but only if you wish to. Some people might find the Coronation Ball at Buckingham Palace a trifle dull…"
"I suppose that… The What at Where! Did you just say…?"
Artie nodded, and Kitty just stared at him open-mouthed for a moment, before snapping at him, "You didn't think to tell me until the day of the Ball that we have been invited to one of the most important events of the year? You should have told me before we left Manhattan! What on earth am I supposed to wear?"
"You remember that I had that extra case with me? Well, all I can say is that I hope that I brought the right things…"
Kitty stared at him again, then jumped up from her seat and headed swiftly for the door, Artie following her as she stormed towards the elevators. They went up to their room together in silence, and once inside, she went straight for the extra case. Opening it, she saw her husband's suit bag on one side, and then underneath, her own. She lifted it out carefully, hung the hanger on a convenient hook, then opened it up slowly…
"I hope that I chose the right dress, but if I haven't then we can pop out right now to one of the big stores, or a designer boutique, and get you another one…" said Artie in a quiet tone.
"No, you chose the perfect one for the occasion, and with a proper iron it will be absolutely fine for tonight. However, there is the question of shoes…" She stopped as she saw that her husband had rolled over to his own bag and extracted a box, which she recognised as the one that contained the exact shoes that went with the dress before her…
Artie was thus forgiven for not informing his wife where they were going that night, but one thing she did need at once was a hairdresser. When she said that to her husband, he said nothing, because even though he thought her hair looked fine, it was best not to express that opinion or argue the point. A quick consultation with the hotel concierge later, and she had an appointment with one of the best stylists in the city, and she would also be able to have a manicure whilst she was there. It was not cheap by any means at short notice, but it cost less than a new designer dress would have done, so Artie just smiled and made plans of his own to keep himself occupied whilst his wife was being pampered. He called Lawrence and asked him if he wanted to meet up for a coffee at 11am, and the young man happily agreed. Artie saw that there was a recommended independent coffee shop near to the salon and texted the younger man back with the details.
That done, he called Carole, to let her know that he would see her that night, and contrary to what some might have expected, he had not been murdered by Kitty for keeping it a secret until that morning; when the older woman had found out that was his plan, she had very much expected that he might not survive…
All that he had to worry about now was his first meeting with the King; it was a big deal, just as meeting his wife, son and daughter-in-law had been back at Jeff's show opening last year. At least there was one thing that reassured him that all would be well; His Majesty was rumoured to be a big fan of Britain's best known fictional spy, so they would have something to talk about…
