by Mary Carter
“Have you ever met the Queen?”
“No.”
“What about Princess Kate?”
“The Duchess of Cambridge?” Hopefully chins tilted up, waiting for her answer. “No.”
“Prince Harry?”
“No. And before you ask, I’ve never met Lady Gaga either.”
“Who?” echoed around the room.
“Never mind.”
“Well, who you have you met?” asked one cheeky little girl.
“I work hard for the people. The everyday British citizen. I make a difference in people’s lives—” The door burst open. Hillary expected to see another child, or teacher. Instead, there stood Ava Wilder. Good Christ, she was actually out of the flat. And she looked unhinged. Her eyes were wild, her hair hadn’t been combed, and she was visibly sweating. In her right hand she appeared to be clutching a rubbish bag, and some kind of binder in the other. She glared at Hillary and marched toward her as if she was completely oblivious to the room of eight-year-old girls.
“You’re wrong about me,” Ava said. She raised the binder. “You can take this back, because this Septic ain’t going nowhere.”
The children looked on, mesmerized. “What’s a Septic?” a little girl asked. Ava turned and seemed to notice them for the first time.
“What’s in the bag?” another one asked.
“She wears it over her head,” Hillary said.
The girls giggled. Now that was a nice sound. “Why do you wear it over your head?” the same girl asked.
Hillary glanced at Ava. She was about three shades of red in the face, and little dots of sweat peppered her cheeks. Her hair looked a lot better than Georgie promised her it would. Cheeky bugger. She’d see how he liked it when she revoked their cushy gig at the club.
The teacher stood. “Off we go. We don’t want to be late for Buckingham Palace, now do we?”
Ava straightened up. “You’re going to Buckingham Palace?” she asked. The girls nodded their reply, their eyes glued to Ava. Ava stood for a moment as if lost, and then curtsied. The children laughed. Ava laughed, and then did it again. Several of the girls curtsied back.
“Are you one of the bad guys?” the girl who spoke up earlier asked.
“Me?” Ava said. “No. Why?” Ava stepped forward and lowered her voice. “What have you heard?”
“We heard you wear a rubbish bag over your head,” the little girl answered.
“Rubbish head,” another girl added.
“Where I come from,” Ava said, “that’s ‘garbage head.’ ”
“Garbage head,” they repeated. They all laughed.
“Ladies, your manners,” the teacher said. “I’m sure she doesn’t wear a rubbish bag over her head.”
“Sometimes I do,” Ava said. The class laughed again.
“Why?” several called out.
“Because I have a condition. A disability. Do you know what a disability is?”
“A disability?” Hillary said. She was calling herself disabled? She was a freak, that’s what she was.
“Disabled people are in wheelchairs,” a girl said.
“And they get to park in the front of the lots,” another said. “But they don’t get a ticket like my mummy does.”
Ava laughed. “There are many kinds of disabilities, ladies,” she said. “Some you can see, and some are invisible.”
“Like a superhero?”
“Exactly,” Ava said. “Like a superhero without any powers.”
“Come on now,” Hillary said. “Enough nonsense.”
“Are you saying people with disabilities shouldn’t be treated with respect?” Ava asked.
Everyone was looking at Hillary. How could this be happening? “You are not disabled,” Hillary said.
“I have a biological and mental condition which severely inhibits my everyday functioning,” Ava said. “What would you call it?”
It’s all in your head. You just want the attention! “You seem to have mastered it, if you’re standing here now,” Hillary said.
“You have no clue what it took for me to get here today. It’s not wrong to be unaware of someone’s disability, unless and until you are educated. If you remain ignorant and dismissive after that, Ms. Swanson, then you are a bigot.”
“What’s your disability?” a girl asked.
“I have agoraphobia,” Ava said. “It means that I can’t just walk outside and enjoy it like you can. My body reacts as if the outside is dangerous. I’m terrified. Have you ever been terrified of anything?” The girls started calling out their fears. Snakes, spankings, tests, ghosts, grasshoppers, and at least one girl pointed to her teacher. “Most fears are pretty mild. You’re afraid if you come into contact with that thing, but you can still lead a pretty normal life. But my body reacts to my fear immediately and so when I go outside my heart beats really fast, I get hot, and I can’t see because little colored dots appear in front of my eyes.”
“Off you go, then, ladies,” Hillary said. “Don’t want to keep Buckingham Palace waiting, now do you?”
The teacher nodded, and against their protests she started rounding the children up and herding them to the door. “Wait,” Ava called. “How many of you know CPR?”
“Ava?” Hillary said. She stepped up and pinched the back of Ava’s arm. Hard. Ava jerked away and scanned the room. None of them had their hands up.
“I think we’ve had enough for today,” Hillary said.
“CPR is a lifesaving skill,” Ava said.
“I know it.” One little girl shot up. She grabbed the girl next to her and yanked her up. “Do this,” the little girl said. She wrapped her hands around her own neck to demonstrate the universal sign for choking. The little girl next to her followed suit. The first girl grabbed her around the waist from behind and squeezed. “Spit it out!” she screamed. “Spit it out!”
“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—”
Did she just say “Mounting”?
“—the State Room, the Queen’s Mews—”
What was the Queen’s Mews? Cats? Did the Queen have royal cats? Did they feed them Fancy Feast?
“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.
Jolly jerk.
“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.