Caroline
CLUTCHING HER HANDBAG IN THE ESTUARY WIND, THE queen stood on the dockside next to the brand-new luxury yacht. ‘I name this ship “The Royal Britannia”,’ she announced, releasing the Champagne to smash against the hull.
Hundreds of spectators broke into applause, and a few great cheers came from the shipbuilders, all donned in heavy dark coats to shield themselves from the wind.
After the tour, long black cars arrived to take the entourage to the station.
There the Royal Train was waiting to take them across Scotland to Balmoral Castle.
Equipped with ornate dining rooms, offices and bed chambers, the train had an older decadence than the yacht, the gilt and velvet denoting the glamour of the last century.
Once the royal party was on board, the train sped into the countryside, and before long, the great Highlands rose up like sleeping giants, huge and bleak beneath the grey sky.
The further they went, the fewer the villages and farm buildings, the roads more isolated, until there was nothing except the occasional brook or loch between the great heaving mountains.
It was late afternoon by the time they were picked up from the small town of Ballater.
After only a mile or two, the cars pulled into a driveway, and Caroline’s breath caught as she first saw the hefty granite castle nestled in the valley.
It looked like a fairy-tale tower, a place to hide a forbidden rebel or shelter an escaping princess.
‘If only Annabel could see this!’ Caroline murmured.
The front door opened into a dramatic gothic entrance hall. Pillars, statues and tall windows lined the great room. A grand staircase stood to one side, and a portly housekeeper, Mrs Campbell, led Caroline up to the queen’s bedroom to prepare the queen’s evening attire.
‘What a place to work,’ Caroline whispered, wondering if it was all right to talk. ‘Just think of the kings and queens who must have walked up this staircase.’
‘Well, only the more recent ones!’ the woman said in a warm Scottish accent.
‘Prince Albert bought it for Queen Victoria. It reminded him of his childhood home in the German mountains. Victoria adored the place. It was her haven, and we’re hoping the new queen will make it her special place, too, with plenty of dinners and dances. ’
‘Are there any events happening during this stay? I was told it would be a nice relaxing trip for Her Majesty.’
‘Nothing of the sort!’ Mrs Campbell grinned. ‘Even on quiet nights we have bagpipes and dancers.’
The queen’s bedroom was vastly different from the splendour of Buckingham Palace.
This was a proper castle, with bare grey stone interspersed with thistle-green wallpaper, carpet and curtains.
The sofas were clothed in red tartan rugs, and even the table had a tartan tablecloth.
If it weren’t for the photographs, the room wouldn’t have looked out of place two or even three centuries ago.
‘The dressing room and wardrobe are through the door there,’ Mrs Campbell said. ‘We unpacked Her Majesty’s clothes when they arrived yesterday, so you’ll find them in order.’
‘Thank you. It must mean a lot of extra work for you.’
‘That’s our job, to look after the queen when she visits, and the best bit, too. We take on extra staff, open all the rooms, and the place springs into life. Otherwise, it’s just about maintenance and cleaning. It’s not easy, keeping up a castle.’
‘Doesn’t it get lonely up here, in the middle of nowhere?’
That brought a chuckle out of her. ‘There’s always over a hundred staff, and the town is only a few miles away.
People are always popping in and out, working in the palace, delivering things.
You never get bored.’ She looked around the room.
‘After the queen’s dressed for dinner, come down to the servants’ quarters.
I’ve saved you a good room, so I’ll show you there before supper. ’
‘Do you live in the castle, too?’
‘Not me. I married the man who comes in to mend the boilers. We live in Ballater. It’s a quaint little town. You should see it if you have time.’
Caroline sighed. ‘I’m only here another day – until Miss MacDonald arrives – and I’ll be busy looking after the queen.’
‘The queen spends a lot of the time riding or walking, and there’s a wardrobe assistant to help, too, so I’m sure you’ll have some free time. There’s always cars heading to the town or bicycles to borrow.’
She straightened the bed and headed out, calling, ‘Let me know if you need anything,’ as she closed the door. Caroline was left alone to prepare the queen’s outfit for the evening, but felt her eyes drawn to the mountains. The northern air was getting inside her, thawing her from the inside out.
It wasn’t long before the queen arrived, and she went straight to the window.
‘This is one of my favourite views,’ she mused, turning back to Caroline. ‘It’s good to be back.’
As she’d been taught, Caroline helped the queen change into the gown, then guided her to the dressing table for her hair and makeup.
And it was there that Elizabeth began to speak to Caroline. ‘Isn’t it good to be out of the city? Have you been to Scotland before?’
The queen rarely spoke to her when Miss MacDonald was there, and Caroline swallowed hard, trying to sound natural. ‘Yes, Ma’am. I come from northern England, not far from the Scottish border, and we used to go to Edinburgh when I was a child.’
‘How lovely. There’s something very settling about the Highlands.’
‘Indeed, there is.’
‘You should see it for yourself tomorrow. I’m going shooting, and I won’t need you until midafternoon.’ Her eyes lit up, reminding Caroline of the eager child she’d been only a decade ago, leading games and adventures with her younger sister.
‘Thank you, Ma’am. That’s very kind of you.’
Caroline went to the closet and brought out the jewellery cases that had been set aside to go with the queen’s evening outfit – every evening they were brought up from the safe ahead of time.
The first contained a beautiful set of sapphire earrings and a matching necklace.
In the second was a thick silver bracelet, so heavy that Caroline was expecting it to contain more than just this one solid item.
‘Oh, not that wretched thing again!’ the queen said with a sigh, holding out her hand for Caroline to attach it. ‘It might have been my grandmother’s favourite, but it always gets in the way.’ And then she added with a smile, ‘Especially if there’s dancing.’
‘I’m sure there are other bracelets in the safe. I could go down and find a different one.’
‘No, it’ll be fine.’ Her smile had faded. ‘That was how it was set out, and so that’s how it will be.’
As she put it around the queen’s wrist, Caroline couldn’t help but quietly add, ‘I could bring them out for you to look at?’ And then, unthinking, she added, ‘It’s your choice.’
For an unnerving minute, the queen sat completely still in front of the mirror, looking straight at Caroline in its reflection.
Inside Caroline’s temples, her blood pounded faster. Had she spoken too fast, been too forward? Was she about to be told to pack her bags, go back to London?
Then, almost imperceptibly, something in the queen’s shoulders straightened, and she smiled, amused by her assistant dresser. ‘Perhaps I’ll leave the bracelet for this evening.’
As Caroline released a silent breath of relief, a tap came from the door. It was followed by the arrival of Philip, dressed for dinner. He strolled in, smiling as he pushed his hands boyishly into his pockets. ‘Beautiful as ever, darling.’ He gave her a kiss on the cheek.
‘You’re looking very happy,’ she said. And then, more quizzically, ‘What’s happened?’
‘You know that I’ve been working on Churchill and the Duke of Norfolk to allow cameras at the coronation? Well, it looks like I’ve got the television coverage worked out.’ Philip grinned.
The queen eyed her husband suspiciously. ‘I thought the committee said it went against the ethos of the whole investiture. There’s supposed to be an air of awe and spirituality about it, not cameras.’
‘I don’t think we should let that stand in our way, darling.
We have to move with the times, and we need the public on our side.
How many are we squeezing into Westminster Abbey, six thousand?
What about the rest of the nation, the everyday people, not to mention the commonwealth countries around the world.
Are they lesser citizens because they can’t witness it? ’
‘I know, but I thought it was already decided that the coronation isn’t the time to go on television.’
Philip grinned. ‘Well, let’s just say they’ve been encouraged to change their minds. We hatched a plan, and it looks like it’s worked.’
‘What kind of plan?’ Her tone was level.
‘We leaked it to the press.’ He laughed, pleased with himself. ‘Now the papers are polling the public, who unanimously want to watch it on television. Churchill and the Duke of Norfolk can hardly refuse us now.’
The queen let out a small laugh. ‘Very cunning, darling. But do you really think it’s a good idea? I’m not sure I want the world watching while I’m anointed.’
‘We won’t show the sacred part of it, the anointing. The cameras will be switched off, and the television screens will show a plain message for that part of the ceremony.’
‘Well, that’s well and good, but what if I make a mistake? What if I trip or stumble over the words, or the archbishop falls asleep?’
They both giggled as they went to the door, and Caroline hid a smile.
‘The whole thing goes on for such a long time, I can’t imagine that anyone will dwell on one or two little hiccoughs, will they?’
As they walked down the corridor, their voices receding, Caroline began to tidy the room, deep in thought.
The queen was torn between duty and the future, the freedom to make people happy, to bend the rules, or even to make new ones, rules that put people first.