Future Queens of England

by Ryan Matthews

  “Why was that?” asked Tony, relieved that the sexually charged pause was over.

  Bruce winked. “For trying to bugger Biggles.” He laughed raucously, throwing his head back at the look of disgust on Tony’s face. “So after my dishonourable discharge …” Regaining his momentum, Bruce nudged Hugh affectionately and whispered to his confidant, “Is there any other kind of discharge, huh?” Hugh winced from Bruce’s elbow jabbing him repeatedly in the ribs. “After they discharged me from the RAF, I figured why not get back into education. And I’m hoping t’ get a good education here, if tha’ knows what I mean.” He puckered his lips sordidly and widened his eyes.

  “Right! Moving on,” Hugh spoke quickly in an attempt to stop the awkwardness from making an unwelcome return. “What’s your name?” Hugh asked the next person in line.

  “What. Pardon?” came the reply.

  Hugh looked confused but repeated the question, this time more slowly, “What’s your name?”

  “Giles, what’s yours?” he responded.

  “You know my name, I just introduced myself,” Hugh explained with some amount of confusion, thinking that perhaps he was missing something here.

  “Did you?” Giles replied vaguely. “Oh yeah, that’s right you did, but remind me again.”

  “I’m Hugh.”

  “Oh, hello, I’m Giles,” he smiled.

  “What? I know that. You just told me that a moment ago!” squealed Hugh with exasperation.

  “Did I?”

  Hugh spoke faster. “So where are you from then?”

  Giles squinted as he replied, “Oh, you know … here and there.” Hugh rolled his eyes in despair and let his shoulders fall, but continued with obvious frustration.

  “And why are you here?”

  “For this and that,” Giles responded aloofly. Hugh clenched his fist and gritted his teeth, clamping his mouth shut to belay his frustrated screams.

  Uwe interrupted sternly. “Thank you Giles, that was very informative, now let’s move along. I haven’t got all night.”

  Hugh looked at Uwe and mouthed silently, “Thanks.” He then closed his eyes and breathed deeply several times trying to regain his composure, his chest moved visibly as he sucked in the air through his nose and released it via his mouth.

  “Who’s next?” Uwe asked looking at the remaining three students whilst Hugh continued to calm his nerves. He pointed to one of the remaining three, “what is your name?”

  “Marc”, the next person volunteered uncomfortably. He shifted self-consciously in his chair but did not continue.

  After waiting politely Uwe probed, “Is that all you have to share?” Marc did not respond. “Don’t be shy,” Uwe encouraged.

  “There’s not much to tell,” said Marc, beginning to look uncomfortable.

  “Well, perhaps you should start with where you are from and why you are here,” asserted Uwe.

  “Perhaps you should mind your own damn business, Uwe.” And with that Marc stood up, slid his chair behind him with the backs of his legs and promptly walked off, disappearing into the crowd. The group watched him walk away.

  “What’s he got to hide, I wonder?” Tony commented.

  “Well, we’ve all got our secrets, Tony,” Hugh added mysteriously. Before the group had time to consider the meaning behind this, the next in line spoke with a friendly, lilting voice.

  “Hiya, my name is Keenan.”

  Tony studied him. The soft voice didn’t fit his swarthy appearance. Tony couldn’t quite age him, but guessed that Keenan had lived a little and had some stories to tell.

  “I’m here because I needed to go somewhere that I could escape,” Keenan said enigmatically. “I’m from a small town on the Isle of Man, mainly Catholic,” he whispered. “There are not so many ‘mos where I’m from, you see.” He paused for a moment in contemplation and then added, “Well, that’s not strictly true … the Church has a few of them.”

  The others nodded gravely, not completely sure whether this was a joke or a serious social observation, but never one to let such things bother him, Tony spoke up.

  “Kind of ironic though, eh?”

  “What is?” enquired Keenan.

  “There not being many homos on the Isle of Man. If I had to pick any one place on the planet that I’d say was swimming with ‘em, it’d be there.”

  “Aye, you’ve got a point there, Tony,” Keenan added cheerfully. “It was actually illegal there until September nineteen ninety-two.”

  “Really?” Uwe commented with interest, “Nineteen ninety-two? How backward.”

  “Aye, absolutely, but it’s all legal there now,” Keenan explained. “Some say it’s taken all the fun out of it though,” he added wistfully. “Anyway, when I announced to my Ma that I was gay she had a stroke right then and there on the spot.”

  “Are you serious?” Hugh asked, and placed his hand over his mouth in a camp fashion.

  “Never been more serious,” replied Keenan gravely. “Anyway, I daren’t tell my Da about my situation or exactly what happened to cause Ma’s stroke and she’ll never tell Da either. So I’ve told them I’ve got a job in England and now I’ve got a year to think up what I’m gonna do when I go back home.”

  Hugh prised back the role of chief speaker. “Thank you Keenan, that was insightful and educational. If any of us can think of a way to help you we’ll let you know.” He turned to face the last of the group. “So that leaves you now Tony.” Tony felt their glaring eyes on his face.

  “Spill the beans!” Hugh blurted impatiently.

  Reluctantly Tony started to speak. “I’m here against my will!”

  “You don’t say,” added Gareth, with mock sarcasm.

  Tony continued, “You’ve probably guessed that I am not a queer.” He stopped himself, realising what he’d just said then quickly added, “Err … no offence, lads.”

  “None taken, Darling,” Hugh responded without batting an eyelid.

  “I’ve done some stuff and as a sort of community service, they’ve sent me here.”

  “And now that you are actually here, Tony,” Bruce asked, “don’t you feel a little like experimenting?”

  “Get out of it!” replied Tony forcefully, putting his guard back up. “There’s not a gay bone in my body.”

  “If tha plays tha’s cards right there might be one later!” winked Bruce.

  “Urggh, I’m gonna be sick,” Tony scowled, then before the conversation could continue further the lights went out and the music cut off abruptly. Suddenly spotlights appeared and swept across the closed curtains on the stage at the far end of the hall. A small crackle came forth from the speaker system and a masterful voice not dissimilar to Richard Burton’s boomed out. He spoke using the same dramatic tone used in movie trailer voiceovers, which was intended to create a sense of awe for the listener.

  “Welcome to the School for the Future Queens of England!”

  Everyone in the hall jumped to their feet as if standing to attention, all eyes fixed upon the curtains completely hypnotised by the white spotlights as they swept majestically from one side of the stage to the other, their paths crossing momentarily and forming a single beam of light.

  “This is it,” Hugh cried out to everyone and no one. “This is it!” The room buzzed with excitement as the crowd jiggled in anticipation. The voice continued: “Anyone who is anyone is gay!” The crowd cheered wildly. “Pink is the new black!” the voiced affirmed. The whoops and whistles were deafening. Then there was a long silence, before the final line was to be delivered. The heavy breathing of the announcer could be heard over the speakers, waiting, teasing and making them almost beg. Their screams and cheers lessened in volume as they waited. The assembled crowd were gasping as if collectively on the brink of orgasm, yearning for the final words to finish them off … and then they came.

  “The 21st century belongs to us!” bellowed the voice.

  Just as they reached fever pitch a rainbow of colour was shone onto the cur
tains and simultaneously the electronic beat kicked in. The throng began to pulsate along with the music as they reached the crescendo.

  “It’s a dog eat dog world and you need to be the best. At this institution we’ll give you the life skills that you need,” the incorporeal voice announced masterfully. “So if you are a friend of Dorothy then stand up and be counted. And so, my nearest, dearest and queerest, without further ado, sit back and watch in awe as we present last year’s graduates and the Future Queens of England!”

  The crowd was almost hysterical, whipped up into a frenzy knowing that they were now a part of this happening. The curtains were violently swept apart to reveal a catwalk and the lighting began to strobe as the first of the men strutted out. The beat continued and more men appeared on the stage soaking up the admiration. Dressed in the most outrageous fashions they strutted along the catwalk working it and working the crowd. Every step, every facial expression executed to perfection as the audience gazed up in awe.

  Hugh, Uwe, Gareth and the others, unable to contain themselves any longer, ran towards the stage. Tony sat alone, left behind. He shrugged and his attention turned to his drink. He picked up his Dirty White Mother and silently took a sip. He held the liquid in his mouth for a moment and let the alcohol burn the underside of his tongue before swallowing. He forced himself to focus on the stage, to focus on his future.

  Chapter Six

  After the party was over the group walked back towards their dormitory tired but with their spirits still high and the buzz of excitement still lingering. The whole school united, sharing the same feelings, exhilarated about their future. As they ascended the large staircase they took care to step over the bodies of a few students worse for wear who couldn’t face the seemingly long trek back up the foreboding steps to their rooms. Everywhere seemed to echo with the laughter and slurred singing of the final revellers as they reluctantly called it a night. Tony was in tow, as usual, and was unusually quiet. As they reached the double doors which led to their living quarters Hugh held the door open in a chivalrous fashion.

  “After you,” he slurred comically.

  “Why, thank you Sir,” Uwe slurred back to Hugh.

  “Come on, everyone in,” directed Hugh.

  They stumbled past Hugh almost falling into the room, more through exhaustion than from alcohol. Their clothes damp with perspiration. Tony stood before the threshold and hesitated.

  “You too Tony. Time for bed,” Hugh ordered.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay up a bit longer,” Tony said, “the night’s still young.”

  Hugh stifled a yawn, “Come on Tony, we’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

  Tony faltered, “I might go back down and get some fresh air.”

  “Oh I get it,” Hugh said slowly having worked out the reason for Tony’s reticence. “You’ll be a lot safer in here than down there by yourself,” he assured.

  Tony nodded, “Yes, I suppose so,” and with that he gingerly entered the room.

  Bruce looked up as Hugh and Tony walked in.

  “What was all that about then eh?” Bruce enquired.

  “Keep your nose out of it Bruce,” Tony snapped.

  “Ooh, no need to be so rude,” replied Bruce camply.

  Tony gave Bruce the finger.

  “Promises, promises,” Bruce said suggestively.

  Just then Uwe shouted from the bathroom, “Hey, look what I’ve found!”

  Gareth, Hugh, Keenan and Bruce all ran to the bathroom to see. There laid out blind drunk in the bath tub was Marc.

  “I have just the cure for this,” Uwe said. He reached over and turned the temperature control on the shower as far anti-clockwise as it would go, then he twisted the pressure control dial as far as it would go in the other direction. A jet of ice cold water erupted from the shower head and blasted Marc’s head and body.

  “Oh ducky, you are cruel,” laughed Hugh.

  Marc rose from the bath tub, scrambling to escape but losing purchase on the sides of the bath several times and sliding back to his original position. The screams of laughter bounced off the tiled walls as Marc extricated himself from the bath and the torrent of freezing cold water.

  “Here,” said Gareth handing Marc a towel, “dry yourself off.”

  Marc snatched the towel and dried his face and hair. He wandered back into the main room looking like a drowned rat.

  “Now,” announced Uwe, “I must get ready for bed. Please give me some privacy.”

  They vacated the bathroom as instructed, returning to their respective beds and left Uwe to enjoy his privacy. The room was filled with activity as drawers and wardrobes were opened and closed, hangers were jangled and curtains were drawn.

  Tony stared at his bed and thought deeply about how he was going to get surreptitiously undressed with them all in the room with him. As he pondered this conundrum he pulled back the duvet on his bed to reveal something drawn on the sheet that protected his mattress.

  “Who the bloody hell did this?” shouted Tony angrily.

  They all stopped what they were doing and hurried over to Tony’s bed to see what the fuss was about.

  “I said who the hell drew this?” Tony demanded irately his voice growing more furious by the second.

  They all studied the drawing on Tony’s bed, it appeared to be cartoon ghost drawn with a thick black marker pen onto the bed sheet. It was almost comical in appearance, it had a Klu Klux Klan hood but with a wilted point that bent twice at ninety degrees, once at the top of its head and again at its peak. A thick v-shaped mono-brow sat above its laughing eyes and a sinister smile sat in the far corner of its face.

  Puzzled, Hugh asked, “What do you think it means?”

  “I think it means that someone is going to get a good kicking if they think that they can take the piss out of me,” replied Tony angrily.

  “Now try and relax Tony,” Hugh said softly and calmly, “if you actually hit anyone I imagine that you’ll breach the terms in which you are here.”

  Tony’s face was filled with rage, “I don’t give a shit!”

  “Well, you might feel differently about that in the morning,” Gareth said trying to rationalise things.

  “No one screws with me and gets away with it Gareth,” threatened Tony.

  “Look Tony, I don’t think it was a personal attack,” reasoned Hugh.

  Tony started to calm a little, “Yeah, maybe. But what am I gonna do about it?”

  “If I were you I’d sleep on it,” chortled Keenan.

  The others fought to stifle their laughter.

  “Yeah, you’re a funny guy Keenan,” Tony said bitterly.

  “Sorry Tony,” Keenan said, “I couldn’t resist. What’s it supposed to be anyway?”

  “How am I supposed to know? It’s a ghost I suppose,” Tony said staring at the crude drawing.

  “Or a ghoul,” said Hugh, “I hope you don’t get grabbed by the ghoulies in the dead of night Tony.”

  Nobody laughed and Hugh blushed accordingly with embarrassment.

  “Actually, it’s a phantom,” stated Uwe.

  The group stopped staring at the bed sheet and moved the gaze to Uwe.

  Uwe continued, “Technically a ghost is the soul of a dead person and this does not appear to represent a human. A ghoul is an oriental demon that robs graves and this childlike figure bears no Eastern traits,” he explained authoritatively. “A phantom, on the other hand, is a visible spirit and that, however badly drawn, meets this criteria.”

  “I’ll be sure to remember that Uwe,” Tony sarcastically replied.

  “Ah yes Uwe, that’s axiomatic,” Hugh said trying hard to sound intelligent. He gritted his teeth and waited for someone to correct him, when no one did he smiled.

  Uwe ignored Hugh and continued, “Though since none of these entities actually exist it is all irrelevant,” he went on. “If you want a real explanation of what this is, then it’s actually a very stupid drawing. Nothing more, nothing less.”


  “So you don’t believe in ghosts, phantoms or ghouls then Uwe?” asked Hugh appearing to seek some sort of reassurance.

  “After your death you will be what you were before your birth,” Uwe stated matter-of-factly.

  “And what’s that?” Hugh enquired tentatively.

  “Absolutely nothing,” he stated coldly.

  “So you don’t believe in the afterlife then Uwe,” Keenan questioned.

  Uwe sneered at Keenan, “Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?”

  They all pondered this thoughtfully for a moment until Tony broke the silence with a raucous outburst.

  “I’ve seen a few fairies here tonight though,” shouted Tony. “In fact, I’m looking at a bunch of them right now.” He reaffirmed his observation by pointing at them all individually, much to their chagrin.

  “Will you shut the hell up,” Marc shouted from his bed, “some of us are trying to sleep!” He turned over and pulled his pillow onto his head to drown out the noise and groaned.

  “Touchy bastard,” Tony muttered still laughing to himself, “it’s not my fault that you can’t handle your alcohol, sunshine.”

  Gareth nudged Hugh and whispered, “Hey, at least it took Tony’s mind off of the phantom.”

  Hugh nodded and stretched, “Right. Time for beddy bye boo now I think.”

  “Aye, we’ve got a big day tomorrow,” added Keenan.

  Tony scanned the room at regular intervals making a mental note of where everyone was and what they were doing. Uwe was out of the bathroom now and undressing and everyone seemed preoccupied with preparing themselves for bed. Giles sauntered into the bathroom with his bag of toiletries. Tony quickly looked around the room again, then picked up his duvet and shook it out until it laid flat across the bed. He needed to stall for a few more minutes and he crouched down to the floor. After a few minutes Giles exited the bathroom and Gareth wandered in. Squatting Tony reached into his bag and fumbled about trying to buy himself a few precious seconds without arousing suspicion. Whilst his hands were in his bag they came across a magazine. He pulled it out of the bag, Max Power Motors, it read and he placed it on his bedside table. He reached in to his bag again, then out of the corner of his eye he saw Gareth wander out of the bathroom towards his bed. He quickly lifted his left foot and removed his shoe followed by his sock. He threw them onto the floor, he then repeated this for his right foot. Tony now stood bare foot but fully clothed from the ankles up waiting for the right moment. Across the room Gareth started to unbutton his shirt, this was it, this was the moment he was waiting for. Tony squeezed his fists and cracked his knuckles and took hold of the bottom of his t-shirt. Gareth had finished unbuttoning his shirt and started to remove it, around the room all attention turned to Gareth; even the pillow over Marc’s head appeared to move slightly and Tony seized his moment. Quick as a flash he whipped off his t-shirt and discarded it on the floor, next he hastily undid the button on his jeans and unzipped his flies; Gareth was now taking his jeans off too. Tony pulled his jeans down to his shins then he lifted his left leg to pull it out of the trouser leg, he then repeated action quickly for his right leg. This went unnoticed since all attention was fixed on Gareth as he disrobed. Tony’s jeans were around his ankles now and he stamped frantically trying to remove his feet from their denim shackles. He hoisted his left leg up which caused him to lose his balance and he fell backwards onto the floor with a bump. Everyone in the room turned to see what had caused the commotion and saw Tony scrambling on hands and knees towards his bed in his pants with a pair of inside out jeans following close behind. Leaping into bed Tony pulled the duvet over him covering his body, then he quickly freed his right leg and kicked the jeans onto the floor near the base of his bed sweating slightly. Everyone in the room stared at Tony.