She was a natural.
I said, ‘Can you hear that? Like something…booming out there?’
Lois lowered her window. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘It’s the Thing. Herb warned me about it. It hides out in these swamps, and when it smells prime American steak, it starts hollering.’
Audrey said, ‘Okay, so we’ve got the new queen and she’s waiting it out in London…’
‘Yeah, right,’ Lois said. ‘She’s smart enough not to come trailing up here. She’s sitting at home, trying on all her jewels, got the royal furnace turned up high as it’ll go.’
‘…so who’s gonna be the new king?’
Lois said, ‘Now, even I know the answer to that. His name’s Prince Philip, and he’s a doll.’
I said, ‘Lo, close up your window. I don’t like that noise.’
‘Sure,’ she said, ‘You worried that the Thing’s getting closer?’
‘It’s a bird.’ Audrey leaned forward to tell me. ‘I read about it. It’s just a big lonely old bird.’
Betty was handing round pictures. ‘Now, this is the Duke of Cornwall. He’ll be the next king, after his daddy. And this is little Princess Anne. Aren’t they cute? I just love these darling coats they wear. Gee, I hope Sherry and Deana are gonna be okay today. Deana looked a little sad when we dropped them off. And Lois…’ She turned right round in her seat, so Lois’d understand that what she was about to say wasn’t to be taken lightly. ‘…do you think little Sandie is in safe hands with Gayle? I mean, I’m not one to sling mud but she does suffer with the nerves and sometimes, well, I’ll speak plainly here, she takes comfort in alcoholic drink.’
I took a look at Lois in my rear-view mirror.
‘Betty,’ she said, ‘you’re right. You don’t sling mud. You just kinda creep up behind a person and smear it. Matter of fact, I think Sandie’ll be just fine with her Auntie Gayle. Way I look at things, anybody married to an airman needs a little something to get them through the day. Huh? Bottle a booze, photo album of Princess Margaret, the sound of Frank Sinatra’s sweet voice, it don’t have to look like a crutch to be one.’ And she dropped the pictures of the little Duke of Cornwall right back into Betty’s lap.
‘Why, Lois!’ Audrey said. ‘That’s almost profound!’
She was sitting forward, peering through the windshield with me, and I was driving like a real old lady, what with the mist and the ice and the fact that over there another vehicle was liable to come at you on the wrong side of the road. One minute they weren’t there, next minute they were, about ten or twelve of them, grey as the day itself, stamping their feet, hugging themselves in their poor thin coats, standing right there by the railroad crossing.
Audrey whistled through her teeth. ‘Well, look at that,’ she said, and they all turned together, like a herd of deer, sniffing for trouble. Like they’d never seen a DeSoto station-wagon in their lives before.
Betty said, ‘Okay, girls. Now remember. We are ambassadors for the United States of America, and this is a grieving nation.’
Nobody spoke.
Betty said, ‘Good morning, everyone! Y’all waiting to see the royal train go by?’
Still nobody spoke. I felt her pressing closer to me.
‘Peggy,’ she whispered, ‘let’s hand round some gum or something, show them we’re friendly.’
Audrey roared. ‘Jeez, Betty,’ she said, ‘anybody’d think we were in Sioux territory.’
There were people there wearing black armbands, and a woman carrying a Union flag, no stockings on, just zip-front boots, and her hair rolled up in a scarf, and her legs all wind-burned behind her knees. She kept looking our way.
I smiled and nodded and next time I looked she’d moved a bit nearer.
Audrey and Lois smiled and nodded, and she moved nearer still.
It was Lois made the breakthrough. ‘Hi,’ she said, ‘I’m Lois Moon. You care for a stick of Juicy Fruit?’
Close up she was younger than she’d seemed. Thirty, maybe not even that. She just wasn’t making the best of herself. Matter of fact, sometimes she still don’t. Over the years, I have learned the average Englishwoman has scant interest in good grooming. She’s more likely to buy herself a new garden tool than get her nails done. But I’m running ahead of myself. That morning, back in ‘52, she was plain shabby. And she couldn’t take her eyes off Lois in her red jacket. She came and stood right next to her.
Betty found her voice again. She said, ‘Do you happen to know the estimated time of arrival?’
She took a while to answer. Or maybe just took a while to understand the question. ‘That won’t be long now,’ she said. ‘That’s only got to come from Wolverton.’
Betty said, ‘The funeral train? But I understood it was coming from Sandring Ham?’
She looked at Betty for the longest time. ‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘They’re bringing him from the house up to Wolverton, put him aboard the train and that’s a fair old step, along that lane. That must be three mile. Jim?’ She called across to a man in an armband. Looked like he didn’t have a tooth in his head. ‘Jim?’ she said. ‘That must be three mile from Sandringham to the siding?’
He didn’t answer. Just blew his nose and turned his back on us. Didn’t like her fraternising.
Lois whispered to me, ‘How come we’re getting the evil eye? I thought we were on the same side as these guys?’
Me too. In fact, my understanding was we were owed a little gratitude.
Betty said, ‘Well, we’re very sorry for your sad loss.’ She said it loud, kinda addressing the assembled throng. ‘Your royal family is the envy of the world. And the folks back home are just gonna die when they hear about us being here, so close to it all.’
Audrey said, ‘Well, I don’t know that die was the happiest choice of words.’
Lois said, ‘You guys see them around much? The King and Queen? They drive around in their carriage, waving and be-knighting people and stuff?’
I heard somebody say, ‘Bloody Yanks.’
Then things started to happen. First there was a humming in the rails, and then the ground started to rumble and people were pushing forward, craning and looking left. We could feel that something big was heading our way, bearing down on us, but we couldn’t see it. And then, out of the mist it came, real slow and heavy, a Standard Pacific engine and nine cars, dressed overall in black silk. Someone called out ‘God save the King!’ and every man there held his cap in his hand and bowed his head.
‘And the Queen,’ Lois’s new friend shouted. ‘Don’t forget her!’
I didn’t bow my head. I didn’t intend no disrespect, but we had driven there to see a princess at the very least. I looked long and hard as it passed us, but what with the steam and the mist, I couldn’t even pick out which car the casket was in. Audrey nudged me to look at Betty. She was standing to attention, eyes closed, with a kinda ecstatic look on her face. Then the train slid away, back into the mist, and the ground stopped rumbling and the rails stopped humming and Lois said, ‘Well, I didn’t see a darned thing.’
To her dying day Betty claimed she’d had the best view ever. The Queen, all veiled in black, and the princess, very pale and strained, in a little velour hat and a mink collared coat, who had actually given her a sad wave of thanks.
‘You