by Kal Smagh
Through the phone I heard the man reply, "Of course. And you mean UK size 4, not American, correct?"
"UK, four."
"We can do that. In America that’s a seven."
Everything's bigger in America it seemed.
He said, "We can definitely provide what you want."
"You can? Splendid."
"Charge it to the room?"
"Oh yes, charge them to the room. "
I was going to owe the Beatles a lot of money, surely I had exceeded their expectations with the breakfast alone.
Chapter 27: Buckingham Palace
Whap! Whap! Whap!
"It better be someone I want to see," I said on my way to open the door.
A man entered balancing several boxes in his arms.
He was dressed in a dark suit and slightly out of breath, looking like he had worked quickly to raid the stock room and pull size fours.
"Good morning. From the shoe store. You're expecting me?"
"Come right in."
He showed me several pairs and I picked Mary Janes. They were black with a pointed toe and slight heel. Elegant, and they shined. Seated, I slipped them on.
He said, "Excellent choice. These were the dancing shoes of the ’20s."
"Love the heel, two inches." I cast a glance at Archie, "Now I expect I will feel tall."
The man said, "It has what we call a Cuban heel."
I stood and felt a rush at how my legs looked, thinner somehow, almost shapely.
"The delicate straps really make it work."
"I will take them. Charge them to the room."
"No charge. But if I could, this was the Beatles suite. Is that true?"
"Yes. They’ve gone though."
"I understand. Would you mind looking the other way as I depart?"
"Look the other way? Why?"
"I’m going to take an ashtray or something they used."
Archie’s mouth fell open.
I smiled, "I completely understand."
The man surveyed the room, picked up an ashtray, set it down, then picked up a shoe horn. He smiled sheepishly, and then gathered the other shoeboxes and departed.
Archie exclaimed, "That was fast. Are you ready?"
I gazed back at him feeling like a grown-up woman for the first time in my life and nodded. "Let me call the front desk to have his souvenir added to the bill, since the shoes were gratis."
"That could be called Beatle-Barter."
#
I pinched myself, for real, my fingers at my thigh in the back seat of the taxi.
Was I really going to Buckingham Palace? With Archie, my insider?
Yes. Yes I was.
Like the Mapleton, Buckingham Palace had crowds outside as well. And a fenced security perimeter. No one was screaming for the Queen, which was nice.
Through the taxi's window I saw so many red coated people, and gardeners, and suited men coming and going in the official gates that I asked, "How many people work here?"
Archie smirked, "About half on a good day." Then a broad grin spread across his face, "It's a joke. More than seven hundred."
He took me through the service entrance and showed me into the kitchen.
It was not busy, and it appeared there were no formal activities being prepared for, just a lot of shining steel food preparation areas.
Archie went up to a bulletin board with a few neatly posted papers, silver drawing pins at each of the four corners.
He turned back to me, "It’s the schedule. We have a luncheon tomorrow, however today the Queen will have an evening social at a location beyond the Palace." He shrugged, "So regular meals today for the family."
It all looked way more organized than Freda and I in our mail room.
He showed me the kitchen area, pointing out the large boilers, and the ovens, built to be able to serve hundreds if needed. Everything seemed so shiny and polished.
This was a lot different than the places where I’d eaten, and I had to keep from being overwhelmed by the scope of how many meals they could serve at one time.
He pointed, "Here’s where the plating is done and then we take it to the guests, or the royal family."
An older gentleman in a red coat came up to Archie, casting a short glance at me. "The Queen has asked for tea. Nigel is assigned on duty but has taken ill. Put on your uniform and please take it to her."
"Straight away."
Archie turned to me, "I’ll go put on my uniform and take care of this. It looks like I may have to be on duty after all."
I shrugged, "It’s alright. After hours duty, and coming in on your day off are what I do, too. I am just so impressed with everything here."
Archie smiled, "Sorry, I have to rush."
He disappeared out of the kitchen area and I was left standing there.
His supervisor came back to me and was very polite, asking, "Are you the Beatle girl?"
I felt my face turn warm, "If you mean I work for the Beatles, yes. I am not really known as the Beatle girl as far as I know."
"Around here you are. People have taken notice of you and Archie."
Inside my stomach fluttered.
Outside I just smiled. Awkwardly.
I must have looked like I had gas.
Archie came back from where he had gotten dressed, he was incredibly fast, and striding into the kitchen he picked up a tray with a pot of tea and china as well as sugar bowl and milk in a silver pourer.
It all had the red, blue and gold coat of arms of Buckingham Palace. All the way down to the Gaelic harp.
The harp was last modified in 1952, as Mother would have asked me.
Oh, to live like a Queen, with all of your dishes matching, and an attractive young man to bring it to you.
Archie grasped the tray and began walking.
"See you when you get back."
Then he stopped and turned back toward me looking at me for a long moment, "I’m going to ask a question. Stay here."
With that he set down the tray and he went and found his supervisor. I saw them speaking just for a moment and the supervisor shook his head, yes.
Archie came back, "Come with me."
With that I followed Archie out of the kitchen and instead of going up the stairs we went outside to a private garden area.
High sculpted bushes and autumn leaves in browns, reds and golds bathed in the November sun lent a warm glow all around us.
There were nannies playing with the children, Andrew and Anne. Charles was away at boarding school.
Thank goodness my mother had drilled their names into my brain.
They were screaming and laughing as the nannies played ball, kicking it back and forth. Andrew was three and Anne at least twice his age.
And there seated on a chair, looking somewhat pregnant, was the Queen.
I gasped, putting my hand to my mouth frozen in place.
Archie didn’t see me stop and continued with the tray towards the Queen.
Arriving at her side he addressed her and I could not make out the words, just Archie’s baritone and her near silent responses.
She accepted the cup of tea and a spot of sugar and then he set the tea service down on a table by her side.
The sun was warm for November and it almost felt springlike.
Archie excused himself and came back towards me, "I thought you were behind me."
"I can’t go up there. It’s the Queen, and you’re doing your work. And it’s the Queen!"
He smiled, "You’re right. My supervisor warned that I would lose my job if I brought you close to Her Majesty."
Just hearing Her Majesty sent shockwaves through me, my legs feeling rubbery. I stammered out, feeling lightheaded, "Is that what you asked him? If you would lose your job?"
Shrugging he said, "I've gained and lost it and gained it all back in the span of two or three days. Why should I worry?"
We turned to go back into the house and in the distance we both heard, "Footman, footman."
We both pivoted.
The Queen raised her hand and motioned for Archie to come back over.
He turned on his heel and went back in her direction.
They exchanged words, again too low for me to hear.
And then both of their faces turned toward me. Queen Elizabeth smiled at me.
Archie came walking back towards me and quickly grabbed my hand, "She would like me to make introductions.
"Introduce me to her?"
My hand went to my mouth.
As excited as any girl was to catch a glimpse of the Beatles, multiply that by a factor of one hundred at the opportunity to see the Queen.
And multiply that by ten times more for the opportunity to be in the presence of Her Royal Highness.
Archie urged, "Come now. Don’t delay."
I followed him, my legs feeling strangely heavy, and I fought the urge to look down checking my feet were actually pointed forward so I didn’t fall down face first in front of the Queen.
How humiliating that would be?
As we came up close Archie bowed his head and I curtsied.
He addressed her so sweetly, "Ma'am this is Helen...uh...Helen..."
He didn’t remember my last name!
Archie turned beet red as fast as a snap of the fingers.
The Queen filled in the gap so adroitly, polished and practiced, "Hello, Helen. So, you’re the girl who has gotten this young man fired. Am I understanding that correctly?"
My face burned with heat. I stammered, "Well… I didn’t mean…"
Archie and I had to be the two most blushing people on planet earth at that moment.
She said, "I’m only teasing. We wouldn’t let a sharp young man like this go that easy, anyway. I understand you have been quite involved in recent activities for the Royal Variety Show."
How did she know that?
"Yes, ma’am."
"Well, I hate that I missed it, but I understand it was a smashing success. And the acts, particularly the one that you are supporting, were very successful. This will be very nice once it shows on television and even more people can view it."
"Yes, ma’am."
Her eyes landed on me so warmly, like I was the only person within her attention, "It’s always nice to see young people making their way in the world. We have all been there at one time or another, starting out. What’s important is that people are on the side of goodness. And bring happiness to one another. The world can be unforgiving, you must be able to look at yourself in the mirror and know that your heart is true to your cause."
She took a sip of her tea and then observed her children in the near distance.
"Be on the side of truth, and things usually work out."
I said, "Thank you very much, ma’am."
"And I like your shoes. Especially the heel."
Oh my god!
She noticed the details.
I gushed, "It's called a Cuban heel. Thank you."
"Cuban. For dancing then. Goes very well with your clothing. I envy that you entertainment people have such an eye for fashion."
Archie must have understood some cue she provided, because he jumped in promptly, "Yes ma’am" and then he bowed his head and took a step backwards.
I curtsied following his lead and also took a step backwards and then we turned to walk away.
I felt such a spring in my step! Like I was bouncing off of the lawn with each step of my Mary Janes on the royal grounds.
It struck me, if she knew about me at the Royal Command Performance, what more could she be aware of?
"Do you know if she was referring to anything in particular?" I asked.
"About what?"
"About truth and things working out?"
His eyes met mine, warm and blue, "I think she’s referring to everything."
Chapter 28: Liverpool Bound
As I left Buckingham Palace I said to Archie, "Thank you very much for showing me your work. And I am floored that I spoke with the Queen. I am absolutely floored."
He said, "It doesn’t usually last that long, however she seems to be comfortable right now with her children playing and the weather being nice."
It was apparent this was where we were going to part ways and Archie extended his hand to shake mine.
I reached forward grabbing his hand, feeling I was being forward in his politeness, feeling the weight difference, his bones definitely heavier.
And then he pulled me in close and I kissed him on the cheek putting my hand on his chest.
We lingered a moment longer, feeling his arms around me, the scent of aftershave on his face. Wonderful smelling.
My voice sounded hoarse to my own ears, a lump in my throat, "Thank you, Archie. For everything. For going out on a limb for me. For risking your job.”
“Got it back alright,” he smiled. His hands were warm at the small of my back.
“And for just being there when I really needed help.”
I could get used to this feeling; warm and safe and happy.
He bent down, and closing my eyes, I felt him closer still and we kissed, our lips touching.
I suddenly felt strange and blissful, our heat mixing together.
It must be the earth was spinning faster somehow, was there a wobble in my knees?
Could I melt and be happy in a puddle right here?
Yes.
A moment later we opened eyes together, red lashes framing his gentle eyes.
Words escaped me. “We’ve been good together.”
“It was a pleasure. Fun times. You’re really a dynamo.” He squeezed me nearly as tight as I was holding him. “And meeting the Beatles was a dream.”
"Beatles? And the Queen. In the same day no less?"
"Well, there is that."
“I hope that we can keep up with one another. I might be back in London.” I shrugged, “Never know.”
"I intend to see you again. I have already written my letter to the Beatles fan club, in Liverpool. I hope it ends up on your desk."
"My desk?"
I didn’t want to tell him, but the truth needed to come out.
"Everything," I nodded, squinting, "and I mean every single letter..."
"Yes?"
"...ends up on the floor."
#
I felt his stare before I could see him.
An indescribable dread washed over me.
I waited at the bus station, my skin feeling creepy-crawly for no reason.
He was here.
Perhaps instinct was what drove me to lift my head from reading my ticket on an empty bench in the terminal.
I recognized him walking through the door but no one else seemed to notice.
He wore a disheveled olive overcoat and a black scarf loosely wrapped around his neck.
Lord Guilford looked haggard and unshaven, gray whiskers causing a pale shadow to his jowls. He half stumbled forward.
What was he doing here of all places?
Coming closer my anxiety grew with each of his shuffling steps. I hoped he wasn’t intending to approach me at the bench, and I put my head down so he would not recognize me, in case he remembered me from the Theatre and Mr. Foley’s pointing.
He stopped at my feet, hands twitching. Tremors of some sort.
He slumped down beside me, reeking of alcohol.
I kept my head down pretending not to notice his horrendous presence.
He exhaled over me, "You’re the girl from the Beatles. The one who helped that travesty of a show to happen."
God, his breath stank like the garbage scow.
I didn’t respond. What would I say to a heavily inebriated man that would make any difference?
He thundered, "Girl! I’m talking to you!" White spittle came to the corner of his pinched mouth.
Heads turned in the terminal at his outburst, many people now looking on. Mothers pulled their children close and men’s faces grew concerned, eyes narrowing to determine what was going on over here.
I was frozen, an icy grip of terror now permeating me to the core.
I said firmly, braver sounding than I felt, "If you touch me, I will scream."
Behind bloodshot eyes that seemed to hang from the sockets, he slurred, "You’ve done a bad thing... hurt my wife. You’ve ruined my opportunity. You’ve been a bad girl…" he trailed off, his head nodding.
Was he falling asleep?"
His chin fell to his chest and the sudden drop seemed to jar him back awake. "Bad girl...crimes against the country...you helped a bad thing to happ..."
Grasping my blue suitcase, I stood to flee and he reached out, grabbing my forearm and squeezing it so tight I thought my wrist would snap.
Pain shot up my arm.
"You’re hurting me."
He was yelling now, "You’ve hurt me. I deserve better!"
I yanked my arm away and heard a Bobbie’s whistle in the near distance.
Guilford shouted, "You’re nobody! You’re disrespectful...awful generation...."
The darkly clad Bobbie stepped between us, asking me, "Are you hurt?"
"No. But Lord Guilford is drunk."
The Bobbie raised his eyebrows, recognizing the name.
"Not drunk!" Guilford protested, belligerent.
The Bobbie blew his whistle again and another black suited policeman arrived, saying to the first, "His car is wrecked outside. He drove into a street pole."
"This is a mess."
I backed away, leaving the Bobbies and Lord Guilford to sort out the very public spectacle.
Lord Guilford was a broken man.
#
I boarded my bus, shaken up but none the worse from my encounter, traversing England from London to Liverpool.
I felt better with every mile. I also reflected in the last year of Beatle adventures the adults acted less like what I previously thought adults were supposed to act like.
My mother and father would say I was learning about being an adult.
Whatever the case, age didn’t mean maturity, not from what I’d seen, at least. I learned to keep my guard up. And never give up.
And probably not agree to have someone else in charge.
Arriving at the busy Liverpool terminal I transferred and took another bus to my normal stop.