Chapter 10
The Glass Coach was ready and waiting when Victoria and her father, King Oliver, stepped into the Palace courtyard.
Even though they couldn’t see the crowd yet, Victoria could hear them, feel their energy.
The buzz made her own heart vibrate below her sternum.
Her fingertips traced the ruby necklace on her chest. She couldn’t wait until the sapphire-and-diamond ring was on her finger.
Her father looked every bit the King in his full naval attire, white sash across his front, gold lapels on his shoulders.
Hot on their heels was Michael, looking equally dapper in his army uniform, replete with many medals from his active time in service.
He’d reached the rank of captain before the family told him he had to give up, and he’d been searching for his role in life ever since.
His smile now he was back in uniform was broad.
“You look beautiful, Vic,” he told her, kissing her hand.
A shiver of happiness tiptoed up her spine. “Are you riding with us?” She frowned, trying to remember what the plan was, then remembered not to do that. She had so much mascara on that any facial movement was likely to stick her eyelashes together, which wasn’t the look she was going for.
Michael shook his head. “I’m with Mother and Gran in the carriage behind you. The ultimate cock-blockers.”
“Michael!” their father said, but Victoria could see him biting back a laugh.
“Aunt Abigail and Uncle Colin are in the next one with our Kent family, but having been upgraded, they’ve gone awol. Mother is less than impressed.”
Right at that moment, the Queen walked out, resplendent in a royal blue dress, matching jacket and a peacock hat with netting. The royal security detail hovered close by. Today was a national event, and this was the sort of thing they were trained for.
“Honestly, Oliver. I despair of your family. Alfie was at the good brandy last night and looks rather green this morning. Colin and Abigail are trying to sort him out.”
Alfie was Victoria’s 19-year-old cousin who’d got a little excited the night before. Her mother checked her watch.
“Desmond has gone to tell them to hurry up, but if they’re not here on time, the procession is leaving without them. Ashleigh and her cars have just pulled in, so we need to leave in ten minutes at the latest.”
Warmth bloomed in Victoria’s chest at the mention of Ash. She was here. She’d made it. Step one complete.
In contrast, her father’s face creased with concern. “I’m sure they’ll make it.” But his stiff demeanour suggested otherwise. “They won’t want to miss this, will they? My brother’s always wanted to ride in a royal coach.”
The Queen sighed. “We’re meant to be focusing on Victoria today. If they arrive in time, I will be telling them that.”
“I’m sure you will.” The King gave a practised smile, his tone weary.
“Anyway, bringing the mood back up,” Michael said, “good luck with all the waving and the getting married. I know you’ll smash it.”
“Thanks, Bro.” Victoria fist-bumped him.
The Queen rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you’d think you two had been dragged up. None of that when the cameras are on, please. Remember, the eyes of the world are on you, and nobody wants to see a princess fist-bumping.”
“On the contrary. I’ve broken with tradition, and by and large, the country are in support. Don’t you think they could absorb a fist-bump, too?” If she couldn’t do it on her wedding day, when could she?
Victoria was just about to get in her coach, when Gran bustled out, looking fiercely regal and Scottish in a tartan dress and matching jacket, silver fascinator standing tall on her head.
“You’re still here. Thank goodness. Let me look at you.” She walked in front of Victoria and gave her a pursed-lipped nod. “Knock-out dress, tiara, youth and beauty. You look delightful. Ready to be married, I’d say. Don’t you agree, Cassandra?”
Her mother jerked her head towards Gran, then nodded. “Of course. She looks every bit the future Queen.”
“That’s a way off, yet. You’ve got to pop your clogs for that to happen, and I’m not ready for that.”
Victoria wasn’t sure how the conversation had turned to her mother dying, but it was definitely her cue to get going.
“Next time you see me, I’ll nearly be a married woman.”
“About time,” her mother replied, but Victoria saw the faint smile on her lips.
When the main iron gates of the Palace cranked opened, the cheers from the crowds gathered outside were some of the loudest Victoria had ever heard. As soon they flooded into her ears, her many fears about homophobes or the rain spoiling her day melted away.
“We love you, Victoria!” screamed someone nearby, which made both Victoria and her father grin. Right now, the feeling was mutual.
She’d avoided the papers and the news, knowing the negativity would drown out everything else. Better to stay in her own head than let strangers crowd it.
But as the Glass Coach slipped onto The Mall, and the horses settled into a gentle trot, her fears began to loosen their grip.
The crowds lining the famous road to the Palace were packed too deep to count.
More to the point, every face she could see beamed.
They waved flags: the Union Jack, yes, but also the colours of the queer community. Her people. Here for her.
They would never quite know what it meant, what it did to her, to see them. There was nothing to fear. The world was on her side. Even the sky had relented, the rain finally giving way.
Ash and Cam had already driven the route in their Bentley, and were now back at the Palace. “The royal fluffers,” Ash had joked, but it warmed Victoria that she was following in Ash’s footsteps. After today, she wanted to walk side by side, hand in hand.
“My word, you’re a popular woman,” her father said, waving his hand in that peculiar royal fashion that was not quite a wave, more a sign for people to hurry up, but in slow-motion.
Victoria grinned and waved too, trying to make it look normal. She wasn’t sure she succeeded. “My popularity is down to you and Mother. You’ve rallied the monarchy, stabilised it, made it more approachable. It’s up to Michael and I to build on what you’ve done.”
She glanced at her father, who gave her a small smile.
“Thank you, that’s very nice to hear,” the King replied. “But surely I should be buffing you up today, rather than the other way around.”
“You can in a minute.” The coach rolled on, through Admiralty Arch and into Trafalgar Square, where the noise swelled to something almost physical.
Nelson’s Column glinted in the sunlight, and at its base a vast screen broadcast her own coach back at her: a strange, dizzying mirror.
Across the capital, in parks and squares, more screens had been erected so the city could watch their future queen marry.
Victoria’s heart thudded as she tried to take it in. Up Charing Cross Road, past Covent Garden. Within the hour, she’d be standing at the end of the aisle.
Marrying Ash.
Heat surged through her. She needed to take her mind off it, otherwise she might get overwhelmed. She leaned back and waved at a young girl with a cardboard sign that told Victoria she loved both her and Ash.
Her breath quickened.
“Is this bringing back memories?” She’d get her father to talk, that would do the trick.
He nodded. “Although I wasn’t in this grand a vehicle.
Your uncle and I were taken to Westminster Abbey what felt like hours before, which was a bad idea.
It meant there was far too much time for me to get antsy.
Your Uncle Colin didn’t help, either. Your mother was running late — bride’s prerogative, she told me — but Colin kept saying: ‘Maybe she’s got cold feet and done a runner to Spain’. Really helpful things like that.”
That caused a laugh to fly out of Victoria’s mouth, easing her underlying tension. Uncle Colin was not a shy man, and she could so imagine him saying that. She hoped he made his ride today.
“Were the crowds this big for you?” she asked, spotting a posse of lesbians waving rainbow flags.
Emotion lodged in her throat, thick and hard.
She hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on the effect this was having on the queer community, but she hoped it was opening up conversations countrywide.
Was there a young lesbian who’d been able to come out to her parents because of her and Ash?
Victoria knew how difficult that still was.
She swallowed down the lump in her throat.
She refused to ruin her makeup this early on.
Sensing the change in her demeanour, her father leaned over as the horses trotted slowly down Aldwych, then the Strand.
“Can I give you a piece of advice?”
Victoria turned to him. He’d always been there for her, but she knew that wouldn’t always be the case. She wanted to soak up whatever wisdom he had to give.
“I would love some.” She took his hand in hers.
“Always be true to yourself.” He glanced out at the screaming crowds.
“I know you have, and I’m so proud of you for doing this wedding on your terms. But you’ll still face more criticism and observation than other monarchs.
Tell them all to bugger off and live your life.
That’s my advice. Your mother has done it to a point, but she also loves tradition.
I think you need to make tradition work for you. And make your own traditions.”
He drew her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckle. “Also, deep breaths today. Try to take it in, and remember, everyone wants you to succeed. We’re all on your side. And you’ve chosen so well in Ash. She’s a wonderful woman.”
I’m not going to cry.
I’m not going to cry.
“Thank you, Papa.” Victoria breathed deep, just like he told her to. “I will try to follow what you said.” She paused. “I love you.”
She didn’t tell him nearly enough.
“I love you, too,” he replied, his eyes glassy.
They waved all the way back along The Mall to the crowd’s delight, and when the coach finally swung back into the Palace courtyard to where they started, both Victoria and the King exhaled, then sank back into their seats.
“No matter how many times you do that, it never gets any less weird, does it?” her father remarked, not needing a response.
The footman helped Victoria down, and she went into the nearest bathroom to refresh herself, her aide Tanya appearing by her side, telling her she looked incredible. She hugged her tight.
“My mascara still good?”
“You look like a goddess,” Tanya replied.
“Remind me to give you a raise when we get back from honeymoon,” Victoria told her, smiling.
“I’ve been told to tell you that Ash and Cam are in the marquee, Ma’am.”
Fuckity fuck.
Victoria nodded. “Okay.” She checked her watch. It was time.
But then again, what had her father said? “It’s the bride’s prerogative to be late.”
“I just need to do one thing,” Victoria told Tanya. “Will you help me up the stairs?”
Getting upstairs was no mean feat in a dress with a train, but Victoria managed it, and made straight for the back window of the Red Room. “I just want a moment,” she told Tanya. “Wait at the door?”
She crossed to the window and looked down into the garden, where the white marquee glowed in the afternoon sun. This was it. The biggest day of her life, and she was about to marry the love of her life. So many before her hadn’t been able to. So many still couldn’t. How lucky was she?
When she glanced up, her smile was so wide she was certain it would do something terrible to her makeup. She didn’t care. She moved closer to the glass, then squinted.
There. She wasn’t imagining it.
Arched faintly above the marquee, threading through the last of the clouds, was a rainbow.
On her wedding day.
Maybe god really did love the gays.