London from My Windows (31 page)

“Enough, enough,” the teacher said. The little girl let go, and then bowed. The other girls clapped.

“That's not CPR,” Ava said. “But it's a good one too. If you'd like I could show you—”

“I think we've had enough demonstrations for one day,” Hillary said. She grabbed Ava by the arm and began to pull her out of the room. The children protested once again, begging Hillary to let Ava come back and show them CPR. Hillary got them out of the room before they could witness her physically assaulting a Septic.

 

They stood in the lobby, facing each other, arms crossed. “How dare you barge into my workplace,” Hillary said.

“I was motivated,” Ava said, thrusting the binder at her. “And I don't think it's nice of you to get Queenie's hopes up.”

“You care about my uncle then, do you?”

“I do. Very much.” She loved him. She loved Queenie. But she wasn't going to tell Hillary that.

“Then let him have the flat.”

“That's not how this works. I'm going to do everything on the list. I've completed several already.”

“I don't believe you. You probably took a taxi here, wearing that bag over your head, and your pathetic driver is probably waiting at the curb for you to return. How much did that cost you? All to come up here. You look as if you're about to die, my darling. So excuse me if I don't quite see you touring the Tower of London or, God forbid, riding the London Eye or, better yet, the Tube.”

“I'm sorry that Jasper broke your heart. But that doesn't give you the right to—”

“Broke my heart? He hasn't broken my heart. He's opened my eyes. He's got no ambition. I don't need to look any further than you to realize that.”

“Then why? Why do you hate me so?”

“My uncle loved and took care of that woman for forty years. And you get the flat? It's a load of bollocks.” There was an immediate gasp from the group of girls who were standing in the hall, waiting.

“She said ‘bollocks.' ”

“Children, let's go wait for the lift,” the teacher said. She glared at Hillary. Only a few girls moved along with the teacher. The rest remained rooted to the spot.

“It's not my fault Aunt Beverly left the flat to me,” Ava said.

“Then do the right thing and let Queenie have it.”

“Maybe he'll get a starring role on the telly and can buy his own flat,” Ava said. “Or don't you believe in him?”

“I want you gone. That's all I believe in right now.”

“How sad for you. Because I'm not going anywhere.”

“Oh, I know you aren't going anywhere. That's what I'm counting on. Stay in your flat and draw your stupid drawings. Tick, tock, tick, tock.” Hillary smiled, then turned on her heel and strode away. The schoolchildren reluctantly headed for the elevators. Ava followed behind them. Somehow, it was easier focusing on the children than the panic waiting to seize her.

“You're going to Buckingham Palace?” Ava asked once again. The girls chanted, “Yes!”

“We're going to see Princess Kate,” a little girl said.

“We're not going to see Princess Kate,” the teacher said.

“The Queen then.”

“No. We'll see the guards. And the outside of the palace. And then we'll go back to class and you can write about how you didn't get to see the Queen or meet the Princess.” The teacher looked at Ava. “Doesn't that sound like fun?” she said sarcastically.

“Yes,” Ava said. “Can I come?”

The teacher looked at her phone, buzzing in her hand. “I couldn't possibly allow a total stranger on the bus.”

“My aunt was Beverly Wilder.” Ava dug in her purse. “I remembered my ID this time.” She showed it to the teacher. “See? Ava Wilder.”

“I'm afraid I've never heard of Beverly Wilder.”

“That's too bad. She was brilliant.”

“Was she a garbage head too?”

“No,” Ava said. “She was brave.”

“You do have a way with them,” the teacher said. “If I let you ride on the bus will you talk more about people with disabilities?”

“I only know about mine,” Ava said.

“They seem to be fascinated,” the teacher said. She leaned in. “But you'll have to watch your language.”

“I will. I swear.” The teacher raised an eyebrow. “I mean I won't swear,” Ava assured her.

“If anyone asks, you're a surprise guest.”

Ava lifted her arms. “Surprise,” she said.

“It's employment day. What is it you do?”

“I'm an aspiring cartoonist.” The teacher didn't look impressed. “And a sketch artist,” Ava said. “For the police department.”

“You'll have to present to them on the bus ride there. But no swearing, and no gory details about criminal activity.”

“I swear. I mean I promise.”

“And you can only ride with us to Buckingham Palace. No farther.”

“Great.” It wasn't great. What if she couldn't catch a taxi right away? She shut the thought out. She'd force herself to cross that bridge when she got to it. London Bridge, perhaps.
London Bridge is falling down
. Ava slapped her hand over her mouth even though she didn't say it out loud. If she swore in front of the children again she might be arrested.

“Are you going to wear that bag over your head when we go outside?” a girl asked.

“Probably,” Ava said. The children cheered. Ava looked at them, and when she spoke she was kind. “It's not nice to make fun of someone's disability. Do you like it when people make fun of you?” The girls shook their heads. “Good,” Ava said. “It doesn't matter if it's a wheelchair, or a hearing aid, or a rubbish bag. You should be kind to people. You never know what they're dealing with inside.” Big eyes stared at her, nodding. The teacher gave her a sideways glance. She looked impressed. Ava moved her hand down to her chin, solemnly, as if constructing class lessons in her mind. This was incredible. A spontaneous adventure. Buckingham Palace. Maybe they would see William or Kate, or the wee ones, or the Queen. How amazing if she could hold the royal baby. How exciting. Ava hoped she was feeling all right. Having babies. Ava should be thinking about having babies. That was another clock that was ticking. But God, Hillary was right about one thing. What kind of mother would she be? Would it force her out of the house or would her kids never get to play on the playground?

“Don't make me regret this,” the teacher said. Ava shook her head. “If anyone asks, you're an expert, a guide.”
An expert. A guide.
Two words that had never been used to describe her. Music to Ava's ears. The teacher nodded. “Right so.” She reached in her purse and handed Ava a hairbrush. “My name is Miss Maggie,” she said. “And there's a lady I work with whom I think you should meet.”

“Thank you,” Ava said. She had no idea what that meant, nor did she want to see any more people today than she already had. But Miss Maggie liked her, and so did the children, and she was pretty sure they wouldn't just step over her when Ava finally passed out.

CHAPTER 32

The school bus rumbled through London. The girls with window seats plastered their faces to the glass, wide-eyed and unafraid. Ava had wangled a spot in the aisle, although what she really wanted to do was crawl under the seats. She dug in her purse for her rubbish bag. It was gone. Had one of the schoolchildren taken it? That wasn't nice, but she couldn't accuse anyone without proof and she'd already made enough of a scene walking down the street in the middle of a gaggle of schoolchildren with a rubbish bag over her head. She scooted as far to the edge of her outside seat as she could get. Too bad it wasn't raining. London was bright and clear. London was America's big sister. Older, statelier, a land of tea, and Queens, and schoolchildren clamoring to be the next Duchess of Cambridge.

Bright red double-decker buses, trolleys, bicycles, scooters, motorcycles, and motorcars jammed together on the narrow city streets yet flowed, for somehow the traffic kept heaving and progressing. Spirals, crowns, and statues adorned the buildings. As commonplace as a hat on a Londoner's head. Once in a while, despite her best efforts to look away, Ava caught a patch of the outside world. A fountain, a bright square of green grass amidst concrete, a statue commemorating someone who had done something, sometime, that was more than she would ever do. If anyone ever erected a statue of her, they would have to place it inside. What would it say? Here She Sat. And That Was That.

If Ava focused on the periphery, she could make all the people outside blur into fuzzy colors, a walking bouquet of flowers, and weeds. People, people, people. There were too many.
Stop the bus; I want to stay on
.

“Ladies, quiet down,” Miss Maggie said. Were they noisy? Ava couldn't hear over the roar in her head. “Let's go over our itinerary. First, we'll witness the Mounting of the Guards—”

“—the State Room, the Queen's Mews—”

“The Throne Room—”

Royal toilets. Wouldn't that be funny? The Queen's Commode
.

“Is someone laughing? Who is it? Who is it?”

One by one, hands extended and little index fingers pointed directly at Ava. Miss Maggie turned on her with a withering look. Even the bus driver glared through the rearview mirror. Should she share the joke about the Queen's cats and commode? Probably not. The bus was pulling around a huge stone wall, aiming behind a long row of them, all packed with schoolchildren waiting to take the tour.

“Ladies, we have to remain on the bus for a little while and wait our turn. Remember our manners.”

“Can I just wait on the bus?” Ava said.

“Me too!” one of the girls sang out.

“No,” Miss Maggie said. “Everyone will get out. Ava, this is where we part ways, remember?”

“Maybe the bus driver could take me home?”

“No, madame,” the bus driver said.

“I'll hail a taxi,” Ava said.
Hail to the Chief.
“Could you help me, kind sir?” The girls giggled. The bus driver frowned some more.

“Help you how, miss?” She was no longer Madame. Probably because she was reverting to a child right before his very eyes.

“Help me hail a taxi?”
Put a rubbish bag over me head and throw me into the back of a cab, lad!
Why was it so difficult for people to grasp the obvious?

“Why aren't you going on the tour?” a little girl piped up. “Do you not like the Queen?”

Once again all heads turned to her. “I like the Queen,” Ava said. “Well, you know. Not as much as you guys do, probably. But she seems all right. I liked when she pretended to jump out of a plane at the opening ceremony of the Olympics. No? My aunt Beverly jumped out of a plane once. She was an actress. And very brave.”

“You don't have a Queen,” another girl taunted.

“I have a Queenie. He's my flatmate.”

“Men can't be Queens,” a girl said.

“Is he a King?”

“No,” Ava said. “He's a drag queen.”

“Miss Ava!” Miss Maggie said.

“Oh. Sorry. I didn't know I wasn't allowed to say that. I was homeschooled, you see.” Mighty prejudiced of them to react that way to the subject of drag queens, but Ava was on too much thin ice to start a row over it.

“What's homeschooled?”

“I didn't go to school. I stayed home and studied.” Ava wanted to tell them it wasn't a religious thing, she just refused to go to school and her mother had no other choice.

“I want to stay home.”

“Me too's” rang out all over the bus.

“How about that Princess Kate?” Ava said. “Isn't she pretty?”

“The Duchess of Cambridge,” Miss Maggie corrected.

They were so into titles here. What would Ava's be? The Shut-in of Dubuque. The Insider of Iowa. The school bus in front of them was off-loading. Ava couldn't see much beyond the wall, but just within reach was Buckingham Palace, where the Queen's Guards marched, and the monarchy reigned, and schoolchildren learned more about life in an afternoon than Ava had in a lifetime. Could she do it? Could she take the tour? She wanted to ask Miss Maggie if there royal paramedics on standby and if so, would they be able to attend to an American if she passed out in the royal halls? They were probably paved with expensive marble. What if Ava's head cracked open and she bled all over the Queen's floors? She'd make the news. She'd draw more attention to herself than she would ever be able to handle.

She snuck her phone into her lap and texted Jasper.
Can you come get me?

A few seconds later she heard a little chirp. She loved the little chirp.
Where are you?

I'm so sorry. In court. Call Queenie.
Wow.
He was texting her from court? Ava felt bad. And important.
Wait.
Did he wear one of those wigs in court? Ava would love to see that.

“No mobiles on the bus!” a girl yelled. “Miss Maggie, Miss Ava is using her mobile.”

“Ava. Put that straight away and sit properly in your seat,” Miss Maggie said.

“But I was just about to text Queenie.”

“Straight away!” Ava complied. She was afraid not to. Miss Maggie had transformed into a wicked witch right before her very eyes. Ava's fear of whatever was out the window dropped a degree as she concentrated on Miss Maggie's dangerous expression. Ava wondered if she presented that during the interview. It could wither a cactus. Maybe Ava could hire this woman to follow her around all day and scare the bejesus out of her. Ava didn't like Miss Maggie glaring at her, so she did something that astounded her. She looked out the window. A woman entered the bus, dressed in a navy suit. She was holding a clipboard. She looked regal and professional. Ava made a mental note to buy herself a navy suit and a clipboard. The woman conferred with Miss Maggie.

“Children, there is a slight delay. We'll be eating our lunch on the bus while we wait.” The ruckus was immediate. “We want to go home!” they shouted. “No fair!” they shouted. “I hate buses,” they said. “Let's go to the park.” There were wails, and fist-pumps, and even tears. The pint-sized people were revolting. The woman in the navy suit turned red and glared at Miss Maggie. Miss Maggie's stern composure buckled. She looked to the bus driver, who shoved his face in a newspaper. Ava glanced down by the driver's seat. There sat a rubbish bag, empty and waiting to swallow the remains of the girls' lunches. Miss Maggie turned to Ava with a pleading look. She needed her help. Ava stood up, and faced the rioting girls. She grabbed the rubbish bag and placed it over her head. There was immediate silence, followed by a few giggles. Ava ripped off the bag and, one by one, looked each girl in the eye.

“Miss Maggie wants peace and quiet right now. And you don't know how lucky you are. You can go outside, and touch the world. You're not afraid. You want to explore. You want to run, and jump, and see, and listen, and feel. You don't want to put a rubbish bag over your heads and hide under the seats, do you?”

An emphatic group “NO!” resounded through the bus. The woman with the clipboard looked impressed. She even made a note on her pad. What was it?
Who is this influential Yank?

“Good on you, then,” Ava said putting on her British accent. “Chin up, Mind the Gap, keep calm, and carry on!” Ava slipped the bag over her head and saluted. The girls applauded and cheered.

“Thank you,” Miss Maggie whispered in her ear.

“Your turn, girls,” the woman in the navy suit said. “Let's file out one at a time starting with Miss Ava.”

“Can I bring up the rear?” Ava said. But the woman with the clipboard was physically dragging Ava off the bus. Perhaps she'd gone too far. They thought she was a nutter.

Oh, God.
There was no place to go. An expanse of landscaped grounds, the palaces, and the entryway, all dotted by men in red suits. Like marching nutcrackers. They weren't allowed inside right away because they were to stay and watch the guards change. Why did the guards have to change? Ava was sure they were perfectly fine as they were.
You reaaly want to change?
Ava wanted to shout at them.
Rebel! Go inside.
Ava turned to Miss Maggie.

“I'd like to go back to the bus now.”

“That's not an option,” Miss Maggie said. “Are you ill?” Ava knew Miss Maggie had just zeroed in on the fact that Ava was sweating and shaking. The panic attack was coming. The little dots would be next. Ava didn't know how to control them once they started. Like a wave, she simply had to let them carry her away. She had no idea if it would be a little wave or a tsunami.

“Miss Maggie, if we don't get inside I'm going to have a panic attack. I think I should sit so that I don't pass out. You might have to call the paramedics.” Ava sat on the ground before Miss Maggie could reply. So many people, all around her, this wasn't the perfect place to draw attention to herself, and all those eyes on her would make it worse. Much, much, worse. Queenie. She texted Queenie.
Help me. Buckingham Palace.

By George, they were all talking alike.

NO! On the ground while the guards are mounting,
Ava typed back furiously.

He sent her an emoticon of a happy face in a wig with makeup and its tongue sticking out. Who knew they had smiley faces in drag?
Oh, please let him get the part.
She tried to send him mental waves of joy. Her joy was only temporary. She was stuck here. Alone. A low wail escaped Ava.
No, don't make a scene. Look at you, you stupid girl. You're in London at Buckingham Palace for God's sake, surrounded by guards, and children, and stern headmasters, and the royal staff. What kind of idiot doesn't feel safe here?

The woman with the clipboard was kneeling down. “How can I help?”

“Can you take me inside?” Ava said. The woman helped her up, and the crowds parted. Waves of dizziness overtook Ava as step by step they headed toward the grand entrance. The woman flashed some kind of badge, allowing them to skip the line. Ava would have to bring her to the drag club next time. They crossed over the threshold, into the queue for the schools. This was it. She was inside Buckingham Palace. She could technically cross it off her list. Jasper wasn't with her, but there were plenty of witnesses to prove she was here. And Beverly never actually said Ava had to tour the entire inside of Buckingham Palace, and she certainly didn't require that Ava enjoy it. As far as she was concerned, been there, done that. The royal commodes and cats could wait for another day.

“May I ask what is happening?” the woman asked. She sounded kind. Ava wanted to answer, but she was having trouble breathing.

“Agoraphobic,” Ava managed to spit out.

“Oh my,” the woman said. “What can I do for you?”

“Do you have any pull around here?”

The woman glanced at her clipboard, then looked around as if to make sure no one was listening, then gave a quick nod. “What do you need?”

“I'd like to hide in the coat closet until a taxi can come get me. And then I'm going to need to wear this rubbish bag and someone is going to have to walk me to the taxi. And if they could also ride with me to the flat and walk with me into the flat, that would be brilliant.”

The woman stared at her. “Miss Maggie called and told me all about you,” she said. “She thought we should meet.”

“She mentioned there was someone,” Ava said.

“I have a son who is dyslexic.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, don't be. I'm very proud of him.” Using her clipboard for support, she scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Ava.

 

HIDDEN NO MORE

 

Join the Fight. Support Individuals with Hidden Disabilities
.

 

“I don't like support groups,” Ava said.
They should change that to “Invisible” so that it sounded more like superpowers.
She'd have to mention it if she ever met with them. Which she was never going to do.