Future Queens of England (3 page)

The mood changed again and George’s body started to shake as emotion took hold.  George sat back down on the bed and reached over, taking Hugh’s hand.  “What about me?”  George asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“Well you’ll stay here, won’t you, whilst I am away?”

George started to sob.  “I don't mean that, Hugh, and you know it.”

“Oh don’t cry,” said Hugh without sympathy. “I knew you’d cry; you always cry.”

“Oh
,
I’m sorry, Hugh, but when the man you love tells you he is going away for a year it tends to hurt a bit.”

Hugh’s head dropped. 

“I'll ask you again.  What about me?  Or should I say, what about us?”

Hugh's cheeks coloured. “I'm not breaking up with you, if that's what you mean.”  He leant over and wiped George's tears.  “Look at me.”

George sniffed and tried to stop the river of tears before looking up, hopefully.

“You know that you mean the world to me and nothing will ever break us up.  You couldn't get rid of me if you wanted to.”  He smiled warmly at George, happy that the conversation was under control.

George stared deeply into Hugh's eyes trying to see whether he really meant it before returning his smile.

“You might not always be able to see me
,
but I'm always there.  Simply put, you're stuck with me to the bitter end.”  Hugh hoped that a little humour would relieve the tension.  His smile was a sincere attempt at reassurance.

They sat in silence for a few moments. “Why are you going?” George said, gently stroking Hugh's hand.

“You know why.  If I am going to become famous I really need to look and act the part.  The teachers there are the best and they'll help me to dress right, act right, and they'll really help with my look.  You won't recognise me once they're done.”

“That's what I am afraid of, Hugh.  Well, I suppose it's only a year and our relationship is strong enough.  And I'll be able to come out to visit you at weekends, won't I?”  George said brightly.

Hugh pursed his lips.

George's face hardened. “What is it?  Is there more to this?”

Hugh broke eye contact.  “Actually, there is one other thing.”

“What other thing?” George said angrily, crushing Hugh's hand.

Hugh winced and slipped his hand out of the vice-like grip. “Well,” he said finding it difficult to decide on the right words, “I don’t want you to visit me there.”

“What?  You’re being ridiculous.  Why on earth not?”

“You'll cramp my style,” came the matter-of-fact reply.

“I didn't think you had any style. I thought that’s why you wanted to go there,” George retaliated.

“Oh, don't be so childish.”

“Look, I'll come back home at Christmas and Easter.  So it's not like we won't see each other,” Hugh
said
in a vain effort to appease the situation, and then he slowly backed away.

“Oh
,
sometimes you really are an idiot.”  George stood up and blocked his exit.  George’s glare shone with such intensity that Hugh almost withered beneath it.

“You can still send me letters,” he uttered meekly.

“Oh
,
thanks a bunch.  Shall I rush out now and buy some
bloody
envelopes and stamps?”

“If you loved me you'd let me go,” Hugh said, desperately attempting to gain back some ground.

George paused and considered
this
. “
Are you really going to try
emotional blackmail
?
”

“Well, I'd let you go if the situation was reversed.  Remember that time you wanted to go on holiday without me?  I let you go without a single complaint, didn't I?”

George almost choked.  “Hey!  You’ve twisted that.  If you recall, I went on
a caravan
holiday with my
Nan
and it only had
one bedroom
.
  And y
ou didn't want to go anyway.”

Hugh blushed. “Well technically that's true, but the principle is the same.”

George let out a big sigh.  “Look, I don't want to argue, but answer me honestly.  This isn't some ludicrous or elaborate scheme that you've cooked up to dump me is it?”

Hugh put on his most sincere face.  “No
,
of course not, darling.”

“Because if it is, just tell me now.  I won't get angry.  I promise.”

“No.  I love you and I am not breaking up with you,” Hugh said, putting his arms around George.

“So are you definitely not breaking up with me?”

“You silly sausage.  No, definitely not.  If anything, I am doing it for us, so we can have a fantastic life together.  If I get famous, we'll be rich, and just think how bright our future will be together.”

“Okay, okay,” George acquiesced.  “You have my blessing”.

Hugh grinned. “Thanks George, you're one in a million.”  He relaxed and gave George one more squeeze.

“Er, Hugh, have you told your parents yet?”

Hugh stepped back and placed his hands on George's shoulders.  “No, not yet, I was hoping that you’d do it for me.”

George's face fell.  “Oh, Hugh.  They are going to be so disappointed in you.”

“I know, I know.  Don't make me feel any worse than I do already.”

“This needs to come from you, Hugh. I can't fight all of your battles.”

Hugh's face contorted at the thought of delivering his news.  “Oh,” he said, simply.

George took the initiative.  “Look, it's no good putting it off.  We'll go and do it now.”

“Together?”

George took Hugh's hand and led him out of the bedroom.  “Yes, together.”

They walked downstairs in silence and paused momentarily as they approached the lounge.

“Are you ready?”  asked a wide-eyed George.

Hugh nodded. “Ready as I'll ever be,” and took a gulp as George pushed open the door.

George entered first, sheepishly pulling Hugh over the threshold.

Hugh's father looked up from his newspaper. “Hmm, this looks ominous.”

“Erm, Brad,” George said nervously, “where's Ron?  You'll both need to hear Hugh's announcement.”

“He's in the garden.  Let me call him.”  Brad got up and walked across to the patio doors.  “Honey, you'd better come in here.  It looks like Hugh and George have something to tell us.”

“Coming!” a soft voice called back. 

Hugh's father returned to his chair and paused.  “Should I be sitting down for this?”

Hugh and George nodded in unison.

“Okay then, I will.”  As Brad sat down Hugh's other father, Ron, entered the room breezily.

“I hope you're not pregnant,” Ron chortled and took a seat next to Brad, who laughed along.

“Oh don't be ridiculous, darling,” Brad tittered.  “Go on then, son.  You have our full attention.”

George pushed Hugh forward to the centre of the room so he was standing directly in front of his parents.  He looked at them both and he felt his heart quicken.

“Well, come on then, darling,” Brad said, urging Hugh on, “spit it out then.”

Hugh looked over his shoulder at George and gulped.

Ron leant forward.  “Hugh,” he said gently, “come on, son.  How bad can it be?”

Hugh turned to face his parents and took a deep breath.  Somewhere in the house a clock chimed.  Hugh took this as a sign and stood up straight.  “Dads, I have something to tell you and you're not going to like it … ”

Chapter
Three

Tony drove his customised Ford Escort along the leafy country lane.  The car clung to the contours of the road as he sped into the unknown.  The September air had a refreshing coolness that gave a pleasant and welcome relief from the oppressive heat of August.  It signified the death of another summer, which would soon give way to the chill of autumn.

Tony squinted through the blacked-out windows of the Ford looking for the road signs.  His radio was playing AC/DC,
Highway to Hell
.  He laughed and spoke out lou
d to the radio in agreement: “Yes, that’s what the Catholics tell me,” and joined in heartily with the chorus.

Sunlight broke momentarily through a gap in the trees and the harsh light reflected off his rear spoiler.  The silence of the countryside was broken as Tony roared by, and then as he came around the bend he saw a gleaming Audi ahead.  His eyes glanced at the speedo.  Eighty mph.  Tony figured that the Audi must be sticking to the sixty mile per hour speed limit since the gap between them was becoming smaller by the second.  He closed the gap even further but the Audi driver neither increased nor decreased their speed.  He slowed before closing the gap again in order to make his intentions obvious.  Tony repeated the manoeuvre again and again, but still no reaction from the driver in front.  He ground his teeth together in frustration and punched the off button on his radio.  He needed to concentrate.  Tony studied the car in front carefully and noticed the driver was on the left hand side rather than the right.  Tony allowed his car to fall back sufficiently so he could view the number plate.  The letters ‘DE’ boldly stared back at him.  They triggered a feint recognition in him and he searched the archives of his mind.  Then it came to him.  Of course, he’d seen this before when he’d been to Europe to watch the World Cup.  Tony narrowed his eyes and parted his lips.  “German”, he whispered to himself as he let the car drop back even further.

He eyed the fuel gauge and with a jingoistic urge slammed his right foot down on the accelerator.  The Ford surged towards the Audi.  The gap narrowed and when there were only inches left to spare between the two cars he swung out to overtake.  He pulled alongside the Audi, his engine throbbing, and stared through the layers of glass at the other driver, who casually turned to face Tony.  For what seems like minutes his cold blue eyes returned Tony’s glowering stare.  Tony took one hand from the steering wheel and pointed to his Teutonic foe and began singing the theme from the
Dam Busters
at the top of his voice and with gusto.  This xenophobic gesture was wasted though as the engines drowned out all other noise and the only thing that Audi driver experienced was a man making strange shapes with his mouth at him.  Their cars clung to the road in parallel and they turned another corner, the bushes on either side shaking in their wake.

The
Audi driver smiled briefly at Tony and coolly motioned with his eyes to the road ahead.  Tony frowned as he wondered what this meant until suddenly then the penny dropped.  From the corner of his eyes he detected the movement of an oncoming vehicle.  Tony hit the brakes and swerved the car back behind the Audi as the horrified faces in the oncoming car skidded past him with a screech of burning tyres.

After a few seconds the lightning in his chest dissipated and he felt adrenaline and relief pump th
r
ough his body in equal measure.  He consciously slowed his breathing and self-consciously reduced the pressure on the accelerator.  As the car slowed, thoughts of ‘why are we in such a hurry to get there’ flooded into his brain. ‘What impression does that give?  Are we really in that much of a rush to arrive?’

Tony conceded that the voice inside his head had a point.  He reduced his speed even more and watched the Audi slip away.

With his ego still bruised Tony slowed further as he saw a number of cars signalling left.  This was it, the turning into the School for Future Queens of England.

“Oh Bollocks,” he shouted aloud in disbelief as he pulled up behind the Audi and waited uncomfortably in line.  What were the chances that they were both going to the same destination?  Suitably embarrassed, he found excuses to fiddle with the instruments on the car’s dashboard as he tried not to look into the car in front.  He saw another car pull up behind and join the slowly moving queue.  Forgetting himself for a moment, he took his eyes off the mirror and looked directly into the car in front.  There, waiting in ambush, were those cold, steely blue eyes reflecting in the Audi’s rear-view mirror.  Tony stared back hypnotically into those unblinking windows of the soul.  He fought the gaze but was unable to look away.  Eventually the reflected eyes seemed satisfied and dropped their gaze.