Two Weeks with the Queen

by Morris Gleitzman

  ‘Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘excuse me.’

  The low murmur of conversation in the room went even lower. People stared up at Ted.

  Colin stared up at Ted. That’s all he needed. A cup of tea with a loony.

  ‘We’re all here for the same reason,’ said Ted to the frowning and suspicious faces looking up at him, ‘and we’ve all got people in there who need us very much. What they don’t need is for us to turn into misery-guts. If anyone here thinks they might be turning into a misery-guts, I’d strongly recommend a chocolate frog from my young friend.’

  Colin felt the blood rush to his cheeks as all eyes turned to him.

  For a moment there was nothing but a sea of frowning and suspicious faces.

  Then a face just to his left broke into a smile and a hand reached into the box and took a frog. Another smile. Another hand. A murmur went round the room and smiles were breaking out all over the place.

  ‘Go on, Col,’ said Ted, jumping down, ‘do the rounds.’

  Colin took the box around the cafeteria and in two minutes there wasn’t a frog left.

  ‘Have to get some more of those in,’ said the woman behind the counter, grinning hugely at Colin.

  Colin didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t enjoyed himself so much for months.

  He and Ted sat down and drank their tea.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Ted. ‘I know a couple of the doctors here pretty well. What if I have a word to them about Luke?’

  A jab of excitement hit Colin in the guts.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘please.’

  ‘OK,’ said Ted. ‘Tomorrow’s Saturday. I don’t know if they’re rostered on for the weekend. Why don’t you meet me here at midday on Monday and we’ll go and see them then.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Colin, ‘thanks a lot.’

  ‘I’ve got to go back to my friend now,’ said Ted. ‘Write the name of Luke’s hospital down for me.’

  Colin was so excited he could hardly hold the pen.

  He went back to the house, replaced the back door lock, calmed Alistair down, and by the time Aunty Iris and Uncle Bob got home, he was sitting in an armchair looking as though he’d just had a quiet day with the Do-It-Yourself magazines instead of swinging punches at pathologists, meeting incredible blokes who blubbed and gave away chocolate frogs, and arranging to see doctors who were going to save Luke’s life.

  After tea Mum and Dad rang.

  ‘I haven’t said anything about the Buckingham Palace business,’ said Aunty Iris as she handed the phone to Colin, ‘and if you carry on behaving yourself I hope I won’t have to.’

  Mum asked Colin how he was and he said fine. He asked how Luke was and she said that Luke was as well as could be expected. She said she and Dad were as well as could be expected too.

  Colin could hardly hear her because she wasn’t using her usual long-distance voice. Her voice sounded small and very weary and very sad.

  He glanced round to make sure Aunty Iris had gone back into the living-room.

  ‘Mum,’ he said, ‘everything’s going to be OK. You don’t have to worry any more. I’m going to see one of London’s top cancer doctors on Monday and he’s going to cure Luke.’

  He waited for her relief and delight to come pouring out of the phone. But all he heard were faint sobs coming from the other end.

  ‘Mum,’ he said, ‘are you all right?’

  Then he remembered that mums sometimes cried when they were very happy.

  Aunty Iris and Uncle Bob announced next morning that they were going to take Colin out over the weekend to get his mind off ‘things’.

  Saturday morning they spent at The Biggest Do-It-Yourself Hardware Centre in Greater London.

  Colin bought a small screwdriver.

  ‘Never know when you’re going to need one, he said, and Uncle Bob nodded approvingly.

  ‘Alistair, stop biting your nails,’ said Aunty Iris.

  In the afternoon they went to the local park.

  Colin tried to teach Alistair spin bowling, hut it wasn’t easy because it was snowing lightly and the ball wouldn’t turn off the pitch. And every time Alistair bent over to bat, Aunty Iris would call out, ‘Alistair, don’t hunch your shoulders.’

  Then she noticed that next to the park was a large cemetery. Colin saw her look at the graves, glance anxiously at him, and before he could send down another outswinging leg-break they were all back in the car.

  Colin wanted to tell her that it didn’t matter if he saw graves because Luke wasn’t going to die, but he decided not to. He didn’t want to risk them chucking a mental over the back door lock and replacing it with an electronic alarm system or something. Not till after he’d seen Ted’s friend on Monday.

  On Sunday they went to an Air Show.

  Formations of fighter planes belching coloured smoke swooped low over the crowd and deafened everyone.

  ‘Luke’d enjoy this,’ Colin yelled to Aunty Iris.

  He saw her face full.

  ‘Almost as much as I am,’ he added hastily.

  She gave a relieved smile.

  Later, when he bought a plastic model of a Harrier Jump Jet, he didn’t tell her it was for Luke. But he glowed inside at the thought of arriving in Sydney with Ted’s friend and the one model plane Luke had never been able to find in Australia.

  As they were leaving the Air Show, they saw an air-force officer with gold braid on his cap strolling around chatting to the public.

  ‘Big nob in the Queen’s Squadron,’ said Uncle Bob. ‘Bloody show-off. He should be flying people to Spain for their holidays, not poncing about with pink smoke coming out of his rear end.’

  While Aunty Iris told Uncle Bob to mind his language, Colin ran over to the officer.

  ‘’Scuse me,’ he said, ‘next time you see the Queen could you tell her it doesn’t matter about Colin Mudford’s letter now cause I’ve met a bloke who knows a doctor?’

  The officer looked at him blankly. Colin wondered if fighter pilots ever got brain damage from the G-forces.

  ‘Luke, my brother,’ he explained, ‘he’s going to be OK.’

  ‘Oh,’ said the officer, brightening. ‘Right-oh. Jolly good. I’ll tell her.’

  Chapter Eleven

  First thing Monday, as soon as Aunty Iris and Uncle Bob had locked the doors and gone, Colin rang Qantas.

  ‘Which days this week have you got empty seats going to Australia?’ he asked, ‘And before you say anything, it’s not a school project.’

  The man at Qantas said there were seats available on every flight.

  ‘They can’t be near the dunnies,’ said Colin, ‘one of the passengers is a very eminent doctor.’

  The man at Qantas said seat allocation took place at the airport, but eminent doctors were rarely sat near the toilets.

  ‘He’ll probably be travelling incognito,’ said Colin, ‘so other passengers don’t bother him with their varicose veins and sore fingers.’

  In the kitchen, Alistair was standing in front of the back door lock.

  ‘I can’t let you do it,’ he said. ‘You fluked it on Friday. If you take that lock off again today Mum and Dad’ll catch you.’

  Colin got out his screwdriver.

  ‘We’ll be eating cold baked beans for a week,’ pleaded Alistair.

  ‘I like cold baked beans,’ said Colin, advancing towards the back door.

  Alistair lunged at him and grabbed the screwdriver. Colin kept hold of it and they struggled, Colin grabbing Alistair’s arm, Alistair putting his other arm round Colin’s neck and trying to pull him over backwards.

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ panted Alistair, hurting Colin, ‘just give me the screwdriver.’

  Because Alistair was bigger and stronger, Colin gave him the screwdriver.

  Then he told him about The Best Cancer Hospital In London and Ted and how Ted’s doctor mend was going to save Luke.

  Alistair handed Colin back the screwdriver.


  ‘Wait till you get back to Australia,’ he said wistfully as Colin started to unscrew the lock, ‘you’re going to be a blinking hero.’

  Colin ran into the hospital cafeteria at exactly midday. He looked around for Ted. There he was, sitting at a table in the corner with a cup of tea.

  Colin hurried over.

  Then stopped.

  There was something about the way Ted was sitting, shoulders slumped, staring at the tea. Colin realised what it was. Ted looked exactly like the people had on Friday before they’d got their chocolate frogs.

  Ted hadn’t seen him yet so he ducked over to the counter and made a quick purchase.

  ‘Only one?’ said the brawny woman in the white apron. ‘That won’t go far.’

  Colin moved stealthily over to where Ted sat, still staring at the tea. He quickly sat down opposite and put the chocolate frog on the table in front of Ted.

  Ted looked at it, startled, then his face relaxed. He looked up at Colin.

  ‘Hi, digger,’ he said.

  He’d cheered up, but not a lot.

  Colin decided not to ask him about his sick friend. He didn’t look as though he wanted to talk about it right now.

  ‘This doctor friend of yours,’ said Colin, ‘is he a quick packer?’

  ‘A quick what?’

  ‘A quick packer. Does he do his packing quickly when he’s going somewhere? Or is he like Russell Hinch’s mum, always making lists and losing them?’

  ‘Colin . . .’ said Ted, taking a deep breath.

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Colin, ‘he doesn’t have to bring much.’

  ‘Colin . . .’ said Ted.

  ‘He can borrow some of Dad’s shirts. Unless he’s got a really fat neck.’

  ‘Colin,’ said Ted, standing up, ‘I think we’d better go and see him.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Colin, ‘he has got a really fat neck.’

  ‘Colin,’ said Ted, ‘this is Doctor Graham.’

  ‘Hello, Colin,’ said Dr Graham, holding out his hand.

  Colin shook it, looking at Dr Graham’s neck. It wasn’t fat at all, what was Ted on about?

  Dr Graham was tall and slim and, Colin was interested to note, balding with glasses.

  ‘Doctor Graham is one of the most experienced cancer experts in the world,’ said Ted.

  ‘Great,’ said Colin. ‘When can you leave? They’ve got seats on all flights, including tonight. What’s your collar size, by the way?’

  ‘Have a seat, Colin,’ said Dr Graham.

  Colin sat on a hard leather chair.

  Dr Graham sat on the corner of his big, polished-wood desk.

  ‘You don’t have to worry about getting a seat near the dunnies,’ said Colin. ‘I’ve checked it out. You’re OK cause you’re eminent.’

  ‘Colin,’ said Dr Graham, ‘I’ve been in touch with the hospital in Sydney where Luke is.’

  Colin was impressed. They didn’t mess around, these top blokes.

  ‘I rang early this morning and I spoke to one of the doctors treating Luke,’ continued Dr Graham.

  ‘Mum and Dad’ll want to pay you back for that call,’ said Colin. ‘Or perhaps Dad’ll just give you a couple of shirts.’

  Dr Graham shifted forward slightly on the corner of his desk.

  ‘The doctor told me exactly what type of cancer Luke has, Colin. He told me the exact locations and exactly how far advanced it is. His diagnosis is correct, Colin. Luke can’t be cured. He’s going to die.’

  Colin stared.

  His body had stopped working.

  His mind had stopped working.

  He was dimly aware of Ted touching his shoulder and someone else standing close to him. A nurse.

  ‘Bull!’ Colin heard himself say.

  The doctor was still talking.

  ‘. . . greatly increased recovery rate these days for young people with cancer. Up around fifty per cent. I’m afraid Luke is one of the unlucky ones and there’s nothing I or anyone can do.’

  ‘Bull!’ Colin heard himself shout.

  His body still wouldn’t work.

  He watched the doctor open a large book and hold it up so Colin could see a diagram of a person with coloured wires running all through their body.

  ‘Glandular system,’ Colin heard the doctor say, and ‘very rare type of cancer’ and a whole lot of technical stuff.

  ‘Colin,’ said the nurse, ‘would you like a pill to make you feel better?’

  No he wouldn’t. He felt angry and that was exactly how he wanted to feel.

  Suddenly his body started working.

  He stood up, pushed the nurse aside and ran for the door, through the door, down the corridor, nurses and patients looming up and bouncing off him, down another corridor, Ted’s shouts behind him, past the uniformed attendant, out into the cold bright air, cars parked everywhere, bumping into bumper bars and icy paintwork, to a corner, down into a corner, brick walls all around him, where hot tears of anger poured down his face and he didn’t care.

  Ssssssssssssssssssss.

  The search party had given up.

  The doctors and the nurses and the uniformed attendant . . . and Ted had hunted through the car-park and the hospital grounds and then gone back inside.

  Why did they want to find him, thought Colin bitterly. To make excuses about why the doctors couldn’t stop Luke dying?

  Ssssssssssssssssssss.

  He knew why. They were failures.

  Ssssssssssssssssssss.

  Failures.

  Ssssssssssssssssssss.

  Colin watched as the air hissed out of the tyre of the Mercedes. Soon the tyre was flat, like the other three on the car.

  Colin crawled along to the next one, a Jag.

  Ssssssssssssssssssss.

  How dare they drive cars with automatic aerials and dual anti-lock braking systems and wipers on the headlamps when they couldn’t even cure cancer?

  Sssssssssssssssssss.

  How dare people use up all the technology on cars like this, and jumbo jets, and microwave ovens, and spray-on stain removers that worked like magic, when they couldn’t even stop Luke dying?

  Ssssssssssssssssssss.

  Failures.

  Ssssssssssssssssssss.

  Colin looked back along the row of Jags and Mercedes and BMWs and Audis, all with flat tyres.

  Serve them right.

  He crawled along to the next car.

  Leaning against it was Ted. He pulled Colin to his feet.

  ‘You’d better scarper: he said. ‘I’ll look after this lot.’ He pushed a piece of paper into Colin’s pocket. ‘Leg it.’

  Colin looked away.

  He stared at the last deflating tyre on the Jag.

  Sisssssssssssssssssss.

  Failure.

  It was saying it to him.

  He ran.

  Chapter Twelve

  He’d failed.

  The thought made him ache all over as he put the lock back on the door.

  Angry tears filled his eyes again and he couldn’t see the screw or the screwdriver.

  Why am I bothering with this, he thought. I couldn’t care less if they catch me or not. They can lock me in a cupboard between 8.30 and 5.30 each day for all I care. I deserve it.

  He let the screw and the screwdriver fall to the floor and stood up.

  Alistair grabbed them and started screwing the lock on frantically.

  ‘They’ll be back in ten minutes,’ he shouted.

  Colin went upstairs and threw himself on his bed.

  He’d failed.

  He pictured Mum and Dad meeting his plane in Sydney, their weary faces lit up with hope and pride, waiting to catch sight of him walking towards them with the doctor who could save Luke.

  Then seeing him, alone.

  Their disappointment.

  Colin buried his face in the pillow. He could never go back.

  Later he heard whispering outside his room.

  ‘He’s just sort of lying there.’
r />   ‘Asleep?’

  ‘Think so.’

  ‘It’s delayed shock, I saw it on TV once, sometimes it can take weeks to crop up. Alistair, leave your scalp alone.’

  ‘Had to happen sooner or later, poor kid. Alistair, you heard what your mother said.’

  ‘Wonder if we should get the doctor in?’

  ‘No, plenty of rest’s what he needs, I’d say.’

  ‘I’m just worried he might be sickening for something.’

  ‘Let him rest.’

  Don’t worry, Aunty Iris, thought Colin. I’m not going to get sick. Not now I’ve decided what to do.

  Later still, as he lay in the darkness staring upwards, mind racing, he became aware of someone standing next to the bed.

  ‘Colin,’ said Alistair, ‘are you awake?’

  Colin said he was.

  ‘I got the lock on in time,’ said Alistair.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Colin. ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘And I didn’t tell them about your friend’s doctor friend.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Didn’t it work out?’

  Colin told him.

  ‘Oh,’ said Alistair.

  ‘But it’s OK,’ said Colin, ‘because I’m going to university to discover a cure for cancer.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Alistair. ‘Brilliant.’

  Colin switched on the bedside lamp.

  He saw Alistair thinking about something and looking uncomfortable.

  ‘By the time you get to university,’ said Alistair, ‘won’t it be a bit, you know, for Luke. Late.’

  ‘No,’ said Colin. ‘I’m going tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow? But you’re too young. And you’ve got to pass exams before you can go to university.’

  ‘I haven’t got time for all that,’ said Colin, ‘so I’m starting tomorrow.’

  ‘They won’t let you in.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘If you change your mind,’ said Alistair, ‘I’ve got a new board game. Explorers. We could play it tomorrow.’

  ‘I won’t change my mind,’ said Colin.

  Next morning Colin had changed his mind.

  ‘The Amazon?’ said Alistair, wide-eyed.

  ‘It’s a river,’ said Colin, ‘in South America.’

  ‘I know,’ said Alistair. ‘It’s miles away.’