The Queen and I (27 page)

She thought, it’s a good job that Philip has gone mad. If he knew that his beloved adopted country had been sold like a fish in the market place it would send him, well, mad.

The Queen picked up her Sony portable radio and hurled it against the kitchen wall. Anne appeared in the doorway and said, “Mum, come and see this.”

The television was now showing the Mall which was lined with crowds of people. Some were waving little union jacks but others were waving flags which depicted the rising sun. It was obvious to the Queen, who was an expert on such matters, that the crowds had no idea why they were there. They had gathered because crowd barriers had been erected.

Fitzroy was explaining to Diana that his job could be at stake. He was a recession accountant, he reminded her, and if there was no longer a recession where would that leave him?

The camera switched from the faces of the crowd to show a golden coach being pulled by four plumed white horses as it passed under Admiralty Arch and processed up The Mall. The crowd cheered automatically, even though the curtains inside the coach were drawn and it was impossible to see the occupants.

The Queen yelled, “They would cheer for
chimpanzees
, the fools!”

Anne said, “That’s what
we
were, Mum. We lived in a bloody zoo to be gawped at by the public. I’m glad I’m out of it.”

The Queen noticed that Spiggy had inched slightly closer to Anne on the sofa. The room had become oppressively hot. She felt she would have to get some fresh air soon. Her temples throbbed.

As the coach turned into the gates of Buckingham Palace, Tony Threadgold said, “’Oo’s inside the coach then?”

“How on earth would I know?” snarled the Queen.

The image on the television screen changed to show a Japanese frigate passing under Tower Bridge. Sailors, British and Japanese, were lined up on deck, saluting. The Queen snorted contemptuously. Then suddenly the picture changed again to show the balcony of Buckingham Palace where two tiny figures appeared. The camera zoomed in to show that one was Jack Barker, dressed like a lead soldier in a war game. He was wearing a tricorn hat with a white plume and a scarlet jacket, hung with decorations that the Queen couldn’t identify. The person standing next to him was the Emperor Akihito, resplendent in a silk kimono.

They waved to the crowd below and the crowd automatically waved back. Then Jack stepped to the left and the Emperor stepped to the right and two more figures appeared, one in a shimmering confection of white silk and chiffon and a headdress trimmed with orange blossom. The other in grey morning dress, complete with top hat.

“Who the hell is
that
?” shouted the Queen. The camera obligingly closed in even more to show her. It was her son, Edward, glassy-eyed and unsmiling, holding the hand of his new bride, Sayako, daughter of the Emperor.

The Queen watched incredulously as the Emperor smiled at his new son-in-law and Edward bent forward like an automaton and kissed his new wife. The crowd below cheered so loudly that the Queen’s television vibrated.

“They’ve hijacked Edward!” raged the Queen. “He’ll be forced to live in Tokyo as
her
consort!” The Queen jabbed her finger against Sayako’s image on the screen. She had already taken against her new daughter-in-law.

Her head was filled with a roaring sound, like thunder. The camera switched to show the sky over Buckingham Palace with the empty flagpole in the foreground. Overhead, the former Red Devils, now resprayed yellow, screamed into view and executed daring twists and rolls over the palace, delighting the crowds below. Edward’s glum face watched as the aircraft disappeared over South London.

And then it happened. A flag slowly inched its way up the flagpole and flapped arrogantly in the wind. It was the Japanese flag. The Queen shouted, “Has the world gone completely bloody
mad
?”

Sayako, supported by Edward, was bending down and appeared to be lifting something she hoped would endear her to the millions of watching animal-lovers. When she straightened up, the camera moved over to show what it was that Sayako held under her arm. It was Harris, wearing a collar trimmed with orange blossom.

“Harris! You cowing little traitor!” screamed the Queen.

Harris gazed sycophantically up at Sayako. The Emperor put his hand out to pat the little British dog. Harris bared his teeth and began to snarl. The Emperor foolishly persisted in his attempt to pat the dog’s head but before he could do so Harris had snapped irritably at the Imperial thumb. The Emperor struck out at Harris with a glove and instantly lost the sympathy of the entire watching British public.

Harris bared his teeth in a malevolent grin and then began to bark furiously. The camera continued to close in on Harris until his head filled the screen. The Queen and her visitors drew back in alarm. All that could be seen were Harris’s sharp teeth and his red, liver-coloured tongue.

April

52 The Morning After the Night Before

The Queen woke with a start. Harris was jumping up and down in front of the television set barking with record-breaking ferocity. She was drenched in sweat. The heavy linen sheets pressed on her, clammy and cold. She looked, as she always did, towards the damp patch in the corner but it had gone and had been replaced by what appeared to be a fine silk wall-covering. “Oh do be quiet, you cowing little dog,” shouted the Queen.

Harris continued to bark at the empty screen. To shut him up the Queen found the remote control and turned the television on. It was the morning of the tenth of April 1992 and a red-eyed David Dimbleby was wearily repeating that the Conservatives had won the election.

“Oh God, what a nightmare!” groaned the Queen and pulled the sheet over her head.

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