Future Queens of England (4 page)

The traffic moved slowly forward and it came as a welcome sight when Tony saw an oncoming car slow and put its right hand side indicator on.  As the queue inched forward into the entrance he displayed a rare show of generosity as he gestured for the driver to enter the queue in front of him.  His tension eased now there was a metal barrier between him and the Audi.  He turned onto the gravel side road and followed the procession.  This was not the defiant entrance that Tony had planned.  The crunch of the gravel beneath his tyres served only to taunt him, but this was all in his imagination; in fact it was actually heralding his arrival.  Four cars behind, another drama was unfolding.

The atmosphere in Hugh’s car was tense, to say the least.  Ron leaned awkwardly against the steering wheel, hands gripping tightly, white-knuckled.  He frowned as if the sun was hurting his eyes but the sun was behind the clouds now.  Brad was concentrating on his map but this only served to betray his true feelings, since they had already reached their destination.  Hugh gazed absentmindedly out of the rear passenger window.  He had planned to soak it all up and relish every moment but no matter how hard he tried to make the most of this experience, his mind just would not focus.

Each of them was waiting for someone else to speak; they were all using this time to prepare their argument for when the inevitable conflict would start.

Ron finally cracked and broke the silence.  “There’s a lot of traffic isn’t there Hugh?”

“Yes, there … ” but Ron had cut him off already.

“Are you really going to go through with this?” he paused as he tried to remember his next line of thought.  “It’s not too late to back out you know,” he said with hope in his voice.

Hugh sighed.  “Why can’t you accept me for what I am?”

Brad just sighed and shook his head.  “What about George?  How’s your relationship going to survive this?”

Hugh chewed his bottom lip for a moment.

In front of them brake lights repeatedly blinked on and off.  Hugh watched as they continued their pattern.  It wasn’t just one car, it was several cars all acting in a similar manner, but each car in line was slightly slower than the one in front of it.  Something occurred to him; he hardened his gaze.  Were the lights trying to tell him something?  Was this Morse code, a message from the cosmos?  On, then quickly off; then on for a second or two; then off, on; then quickly off, on again and quickly off.  He tried to remember the Morse code he’d learned at Scouts.  Their car crept forward, and then the brake lights in front started their message again: on, then quickly off; on, then quickly off.  Tutting in frustration, Ron pushed the clutch down and took the car out of gear.  He wiggled the gearstick from left to right a couple of times irritably, but kept his foot on the brake pedal.

“We should have bought that automatic Brad,” he grumbled.

“Can we discuss this when we get home, darling?” Brad responded.  “We have more important things to discuss right now.”

The traffic edged a few metres further and stopped; brake lights in front flashed on and off again.  Ron angrily put the car into neutral and pulled the handbrake up without pushing the button in fully, making a horrible scraping noise.

“Hugh!” a voice said, demolishing his daydream, “are you bloody well listening?”

“Huh?” Hugh turned his head partially to face Brad but his eyes stayed focused on the brake lights.

“Hugh!  We were in the middle of a conversation.”

Hugh tore his eyes from the hypnotic lights, “Sorry Dad,” he mumbled apologetically.  “What were you saying?”

Brad sighed.  He felt like he wasn’t being taken very seriously.  “I was just saying, have you considered George’s feelings?  I thought that you were in love.”

“We are. Come on, can’t you just be happy for me?”  His frown gave way to a pitiful expression.  “Can’t you just support me?  I need to come here to hone my skills if I’m going to be famous.”

Brad lowered the superfluous map, looked over at Ron and raised his eyebrows.  Ron gave a resigned shrug and spoke gently. “Of course we’ll support you, son.”

Brad chimed in, “We’ve always supported you and we always will.”  He turned stiffly and strained, trying to face Hugh.  “You’re our son and we love you very much.”

“Stop, you’re going to set me off.”  Hugh blinked furiously to fight back the tears.  Then he fumbled in his pockets trying to think of something else, and coughed several times.

The car behind them pamped its horn and Ron looked up to see that there was no longer a conga line of cars in front of them.  He duly put the car in gear, released the handbrake and gently moved forward.  They drove up the approach in silence.  A grand, old building rose up in front of them.  As they drew closer Hugh noticed a large fountain in front of the building, which softened the aspect of the imposing stately home.  Pristine curved hedges framed the circular area directly in front of the building like parentheses, and neat androgynous topiary figures watched over the arrival of this year’s students.  Hugh thought how welcoming the topiary figures seemed in broad daylight, but imagined that by night they would take on a more sinister persona.

The building’s exterior was grey stone but not at all drab, and the use of Corinthian columns was not lost on Hugh – completely phallic, yet considered the most feminine of all columns.  Sunlight reflected off the abundant large rectangular windows like mirrors, and Hugh’s prying eyes could not see any detail behind them.  He tried to count how many there were and wondered which one would be his; he’d soon be staring out from the other side, he thought.

As the car drew closer still Hugh noted that there was a succession of eight wide stone steps leading to the large trapezoidal doorway that was both welcoming and foreboding.  As the car slowly passed by the entrance Hugh squinted to read the Latin text inscribed above the doorway:
Ad augusta per angusta
.  He made a mental note to look this up later, but was sure it said something inspiring and he grandly straightened his back and addressed the building silently: ‘I won’t let you down.’

The car eased into a large space more or less directly in front of the building.

“Well this is it,” said Hugh, stating the obvious, but his voice was whispered and drowning in emotion.  The three of them sat for a moment listening to the sound of suitcases on gravel and more importantly, the sound of car doors slamming shut.

Chapter
Four

Tony sat behind the wheel of his stationary Ford Escort and stared out in disbelief at the young men making their way towards the entrance.  A sick feeling welled in the pit of his stomach.  I can’t believe that this is actually happening, he thought, I knew the day was coming but I can’t believe it’s here and this is real.

He placed the palm of his hand across his mouth and rubbed his cheek bones with his thumb and fingers in agitation.  For the first time in Tony’s life he didn’t know how to deal with the situation.  He knew he had to get out of the car but didn’t know if he could muster the courage.  It felt like he was about to jump out of a plane with no parachute.  He needed some sort of displacement activity to delay the inevitable.  Tony looked around the car for something to do.  He opened up his glove box, removed a handful of CD cases and laid them out on the passenger seat.  The first album he picked up was Dave Stewart’s
Greetings from the Gutter
.  He opened the case and found the
Moonbabies at the Ballroom
CD in it.

“Aha,” he said aloud.  Now he had the perfect activity.  He quickly located the Moonbabies’ CD case and flipped it open.  This contained Pulp,
His ‘n’ Hers
.

After fifteen minutes all of his compact discs were back in the correct cases and he started to put them back into the glove box.  As he leant over the gear stick, extending his CD-laden hand he suddenly realised that what his life lacked was alphabetical order to his albums.  So he spent another five minutes shuffling them into the correct order.

Tony sat back into his seat and contemplated reality.  He placed a tentative hand on the driver’s door handle, pulling it gently towards him.  It reminded him of when he used to go swimming as a child.  He’d stand by the steps with the water over his ankles, then once he’d accustomed himself to the cold water he’d move to the next step down.  He’d repeat this process, submerging himself bit by bit, letting the water climb higher up his legs until it reached his stomach.  This was always the hardest bit for him; for some reason his stomach always found the water colder than his legs and chest but he knew that he couldn’t resist any longer.  Of course he’d toughened up since then and knew the best way to deal with cold swimming pools was to jump straight in, that’s what a real man would do; and with that he sucked up a lungful of air, yanked the handle, pushed the driver’s door open with his elbow and swung his legs out onto the gravel.

Hugh stood in awe at the rear of his parents’ car; he craned his neck as he looked to the top of the building.  A rainbow flag flew proudly from its mast.  He strained to hear it flapping in the breeze but couldn’t make it out above the noise from the people talking excitedly.  Brad unlocked the boot and pulled out a pink suitcase.

“Just a little bit predictable Hugh?”

“Nonsense Dad, I’ve got to fit in haven’t I?”

“Come here Hugh and give your old Dad a hug if you’re not too old,” said Brad, reaching out.

Hugh scanned the vicinity self-consciously as he met his father’s embrace.

“Room for me too?” enquired Hugh’s other dad as he folded his arms around the two of them.

Hugh felt the warmth from the hug and rested his chin on Brad’s shoulder.  He opened one eye and noticed a rough looking man of about the same age standing next to a souped-up Ford and sneering at him.  Hugh immediately pushed his way out of the three-way hug and coughed nervously.

“Right, I’d better get going then.”

“Oh, okay then,” Ron replied, taken aback by the abruptness, “I suppose you had.”

“Have you got everything?” enquired Brad.  “Toothpaste, hair gel, contact lens solution …?”

“Yes, yes,” Hugh responded rather impatiently.  He took hold of his suitcase and pulled out the extendable handle.  He looked at his dads and said, “I’ll call you at the weekend to let you know how I am settling in.”

“Okay, well make sure you do,” said Brad, “and if you need anything, for God’s sake just ask.”

“Sure.”  Hugh pulled his suitcase towards the main doors, it bounced from side to side on the gravel before the wheels locked.  “Oh Christ Almighty, this is my big entrance.  Why do these things never go as planned?”  To save himself the embarrassment of crouching down to pick the gravel out of the wheels Hugh decided the best course of action was to ignore it.  He quickened his pace and dragged the suitcase behind him.  It ploughed the gravel, leaving a small suitcase-shaped valley behind.

“They’re going to have their hands full with him,” commented Brad.

Ron breathed in an unnatural amount of air and unable to find any words, simply nodded in agreement.

As Hugh approached the steps he noticed a tall, relatively older figure smiling and greeting the new arrivals.  He was an amenable looking man with a slightly weathered but clean shaven face.  He was immaculately dressed; it was the kind of suit that Hugh had seen in films but never in any shop.  An Italian suit, perhaps?  Hugh shook himself from his contemplation and realised he was being offered a warm smile and an extended arm.  Oh, he thought, I hate the business of shaking hands.  He returned the smile and surreptitiously wiped his clammy hand on the back of his trousers before extending it.

“Hello, hello and welcome,” the man said, taking Hugh’s hand and shaking it.  “I’m the Headmaster here, and who might you be?”

“Hugh, Sir.  Pleased to meet you,” he said genuinely.

The Head continued to shake hands for a moment and then commented, “Hmmm, that handshake is much too firm, but worry not, that’s what you are here for.”  He leant closer, “We’ll soon iron out these flaws.”

Hugh loose
ne
d his grip and let his wrist go limp.

The Head burst out laughing.  “Only joking my boy, just a little stereotyping.”  Hugh didn’t know what to think, and stared silently at the Head, still shaking hands.  “Righty-ho, Hugh,” said the Head, pulling out of the handshake, “you’d better be running along now.”