Future Queens of England

by Ryan Matthews

  Tony nodded eagerly, “It’s a date.”

  She was about to correct him, but decided that she quite liked the sound of it and left it at that. She hugged at her handbag as she walked away from Tony. The clicking of her heels echoed in the now empty corridor.

  Tony realised that amid the sexual chemistry, they hadn’t arranged a time or a place to meet. Should he shout after her to arrange something? No, that would look desperate, so he simply shrugged. I’ll find her, he thought, as the last of the clicks faded away.

  After another long, punishing workout in the school gym, Tony bounded up the stairs towards their dormitory and was confronted by a large group of students outside his room. He pushed his way past them trying to get to the door; he elbowed them out of the way as he fought his way through. The bustling crowd thinned out as he approached the door, he climbed out of the crowd and reached for the door handle.

  “You can’t go in there,” a stern voice said.

  Without looking up, he responded in his usual brusk manner. “This is my room.”

  The man leant over and spoke carefully, “If this is your room, then we’ll need to speak to you.”

  Tony looked up and realised suddenly that this was a policeman. “You’re a copper,” he said in disbelief. “I haven’t breached my terms, I’ve stuck to the rules. What do you want?” Tony’s pupils dilated as he began to panic, “you can’t do this. I’m not leaving this place. I can’t leave, not yet.”

  “Calm down, Sir,” the Policeman said. “There’s been an incident.”

  “Incident? What incident? I haven’t done nothing,” Tony protested wildly. “Hey, fuck you copper!” Tony said and pushed the policeman back against the door. The students at the front of the crowd took a few steps back cautiously. “I ain’t done nothing,” Tony repeated and started to push his way back out of the crowd.

  “Tony!” a voice shouted, “Tony! Calm down.”

  In a blind panic, Tony barged the students out of his way, a number of them fell like dominoes into each other. Above the fallen students Tony saw Gareth.

  “Tony. They’ve not come for you.”

  Tony stepped on the students as he tried to make his escape. The policeman watched on with confusion.

  “It’s not you that they are here for, it’s Marc,” Gareth shouted to him. “Something has happened to Marc.”

  “What? Is he back then?” Tony said, as he tried to process what Gareth was telling him.

  Gareth took Tony’s arm and pulled him off of the student that he was standing on. “Something terrible has happened to Marc. You have to come with me, they’re waiting for you in the Head’s office. You’re not in trouble.” He led a bewildered Tony away from the crowd as they started to get to their feet. Tony cast a look back at them and looked at the policeman, his heart was beating wildly.

  “Ah, come in, Tony. Thanks for finding him, Gareth,” the Head said. “Please take a seat.” He pointed them to the empty chairs. Hugh, Uwe and the others were already waiting there looking very pale and serious.

  Tony eyed the policemen suspiciously, “What’s going on?”

  The Head pointed to the remaining seats again, “The police need to take some statements and check your room over, so in a minute you will be interviewed separately in the adjoining office. After you’ve given your statements I’d like you to head down to the staff room and we’ll get chef to make you something to eat.”

  “Why can’t we go back to our room?” Tony asked irritably.

  “It’s going to be a late night for you all tonight, but you can go back in there later. Now sit down,” the Head said more forcibly.

  “Just sit down,” Gareth said.

  Suspiciously Tony acquiesced and slowly took his seat.

  The Head took his position and addressed the assembled group. “Earlier today Giles discovered Marc in your sleeping quarters.”

  “What do you mean discovered?” Tony interrupted.

  “Shhh, Tony,” Keenan said.

  “Giles discovered his body,”

  “Marc’s dead?” Tony said is disbelief. “What? You’re talking bollocks. He went away a few days ago, I haven’t seen him since.”

  The Head spoke reverently, “Apparently he returned earlier today. It seems he drank an awful lot of alcohol.”

  Tony thought about this for a moment. “He’s a boozer. He can take it.”

  “Please be quiet and let him speak,” Keenan whispered softly.

  “I cannot say too much at the moment for obvious reasons, but it seems that Marc left a note,” the Head explained.

  “Oh!” Tony said finally accepting the news.

  “Look, let’s all try and support each other at this difficult time. Officer, please start taking the statements and gathering the information that you need. Please deal with this sensitively. My students are very dear to me, so please handle this with care.” He reached over and took a sip from his mug of cold coffee. He winced as he swallowed the liquid.

  The suited policeman nodded. “I can assure you that we’ll gather what we need to know and leave you to grieve as soon as possible.” He picked up his notebook and flipped it open. Without looking up from it he spoke, “So, I need to speak to Giles first. Which one of you is Giles?”

  Giles rose to his feet slowly, “That's me,” he said and walked towards the policeman.

  “The rest of you should wait here until you're called.” He turned to Giles, “We'll just go next door to discuss this in more privacy. I'm Detective Inspector Thompson, by the way, and this is Detective Sergeant Dormer.” The three of them left the room together leaving another plain clothes officer with them.

  They all sat in silence in the room, no one knowing what to say. The clock noisily ticked away the seconds. Tony rocked back and forth on rear legs of his chair and Keenan bit at his nails. As the evening went on the Detectives returned and called for them individually. Finally, the last of the group left the room and gave his statement.

  “Please leave the sandwiches on the table Chef, and could you also bring the boys some fruit,” the Head fussed. “I know you will want to return to some form of normality as quickly as possible, but as I said earlier I’d like you to all stay in the staff room until the charpering omis have finished their duties. It’ll be better to keep you away from all the hubbub. You’ve gone through enough today and you don’t need the other students bothering you tonight. At least you’ll have some privacy here.”

  The Chef returned with a bowl of fruit and some muffins, he laid them on the table and disappeared quietly from the room.

  “Right, now I must leave you for a while boys. I need to speak with the police to contact Marc’s parents.” He shuffled out of the room and left them alone. The door closed by itself slowly and then thumped as the catch fell into place startling them.

  Tony was the first to speak. “I’m sure this won’t take too much longer and then we can head back up to the room and get some kip.”

  Hugh looked at Tony, “How am I supposed to sleep in there tonight or any night, knowing what has happened?”

  “I just don’t understand it. Why would you kill yourself? It’s like ejecting the DVD half way through the movie,” Gareth said.

  “Maybe he wasn’t enjoying the film. Maybe he didn’t want to see the ending.”

  “Don’t you want to know the end though, Keenan?” Gareth replied.

  “I guess he didn’t think the end was worth knowing.”

  “Maybe this was always going to be his ending,” Tony said quietly.

  “This is our fault,” Hugh said, his voice cracking. “We told him to speak to his parents.”

  “It’s not our fault. How could we have known?” Bruce said angrily.

  “I guess there are some things you shouldn’t get involved in,” Gareth said.

  “I knew he was a bit depressed, but I didn’t think he’d end up killing himself,” Hugh muttered.

  “Technically he didn’t kill himself. Technically he choked o
n his own vomit. That’s accidental death,” Uwe said stoically.

  “Then why did he leave a note? He knew what he was doing,” Hugh stated.

  Uwe looked away, “I suspect it was more a cry for help, I just don’t believe he meant to do it.”

  “It’s his parent’s fault. Why couldn’t they just accept him? Why did they have those ridiculous views?”

  “Religion is the masterpiece of the art of animal training, for it trains people as to how they shall think,” Uwe said coldly.

  Gareth shook his head angrily, “Shut up, Uwe! Now is not the time.”

  The group fell silent.

  “Marc’s gone and he’s not coming back. It was his decision and his decision alone. Whether it was a cry for help that went wrong or not, we simply can’t question it now. At least he got to die a young man’s death. None of us really knew him and we can’t take responsibility for his actions. Yes, we played a part, but it was a very small part and as his friends we did what we thought was best. So now we all need to come to terms with what has happened and support each other on the rest of our journey together,” Gareth declared to the group, trying to show some solidarity and give them something to focus on.

  No one spoke for a few minutes until Uwe bowed his head and spoke solemnly, “so it goes.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “That was bloody awkward, wasn’t it? None of us knew anything about him,” Keenan said, as they returned from the funeral.

  “And what we did know about him was inappropriate. We could hardly share stories about how we’d found him passed out in various amusing places, considering how he died,” Gareth said, removing his tie and hanging up his suit jacket.

  Hugh sat on his bed and removed his shoes. “His parents made us feel less than welcome.”

  “Why did they bother to invite us?” Tony muttered.

  “I guess they felt they had to, we were the only people there who were his age. Everyone else seemed to be family,” Gareth replied.

  Tony took off his suit jacket and placed it on its hanger. “Two hundred and fifty quid this bugger cost me.” He stood back and looked at it shaking his head. “That’s a lot of money when you’re on the dole.”

  “But, you’re not on the dole are you, Tony?” Keenan said.

  “Well, that depends whose asking.”

  Gareth put his black polished shoes into a shoe box and slid them back into his wardrobe. “Look, we did our bit, that’s all we need to be concerned about.”

  Bruce nodded, “Yes, agreed. I’m just glad it’s all over now.”

  “It’s over for Marc, not for us. We’ve got to live with the fact that we played a part in his death,” Tony said. “Our advice put events in motion that led to this.”

  “We can’t blame ourselves. We did what we thought was right,” Gareth countered. “His parents have to take the weight of the blame.”

  “I suppose so. I don’t understand their mentality though. My old Mum stood by me through thick and thin.”

  “If you had a son, would you stand by him if you found out he was gay?” Uwe said.

  Tony scratched his head. “That’s different though isn’t it?”

  “Is it?”

  Tony looked embarrassed, “No, I suppose not. Look, I guess I need to think about this, don’t I?”

  “You do that!” Uwe replied.

  They all changed out of their suits and into clothes with a bit of colour, all trying their best to avoid looking at Marc’s empty bed. Each of them wished that someone would remove it, but none of them were brave enough to broach the subject.

  Hugh bent down and opened his bedside table drawer. He took out a letter and caressed it in his hands. “Guys,” he said trying to gain their attention. “I know we’ve had some dark times recently, but you’ll all be pleased to know that I have some good news.”

  “Really?” Keenan said expectantly. “We need some of that. Go on, cheer us up, Hugh.”

  “I’m through to the next round in the talent show, darlings,” he clapped his hands together weakly and minced up and down the walkway next to his bed.

  Tony shook his head in disbelief, “I see you’ve gone ‘seventies gay’ again, Hugh.”

  “Nice observation, Tony. Hugh’s gayness does seem to come in cycles,” Gareth chuckled.

  “I should invent some sort of gay barometer to try and predict how gay Hugh’s going to be each day,” Tony said, gently teasing Hugh.

  “If they do an exam here on how to be a stereotypical gay, then you should take it,” Giles said chiming in.

  “Oh luvvies, stop messing about,” Hugh simpered. “Do you remember that I told you I was entering that TV talent show?”

  They all groaned. “You enter every TV show going, Hugh, and it always ends the same.”

  “Well, this time it’s different. I passed the first set of auditions and I am through to the next round,” Hugh sang out gleefully.

  “Okay,” Uwe said. “What does that actually mean?”

  Hugh pulled a face that said ‘isn’t it obvious’. “It means that I am definitely going to be on TV.” He hopped from foot to foot, barely able to control himself.

  “What talent are you showing?”

  “Singing, of course,” Hugh declared, showing all of his teeth.

  “Singing? Are you serious?” Tony cried, “I’ve heard you sing and you’re bloody awful.”

  Hugh waved this away with a flick of his hand, “Nonsense! They loved me.”

  “You know that they’re going to show you in the idiot clips, don’t you?”

  Hugh frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, that you’ll be shown in one of the first few episodes where they show clips of the oxygen thieves who think that they can sing or dance,” Tony explained. “They’re going to ridicule you.”

  “He’s right, I’ve heard you singing in the shower. You’re pretty bad,” Giles agreed.

  “Well, the producers really liked me,” Hugh said as he folded his arms. “It says so here,” he said pointing to his letter.

  “They haven’t actually filmed it for TV yet, have they, Hugh?” Gareth said with concern.

  Hugh shook his head. “No. Of course not, that’s what this letter is about.”

  “Then take my advice, don’t go back to the next auditions,” he warned.

  “But, this could be my big chance. This could catapult me into stardom.”

  Uwe pulled his wise face, “I’ve told you this already, but my view is that the longer a man's fame is likely to last, the longer it will be in coming.”

  “Look at it this way. If you do ever make it and become famous, they’ll be dragging out the clip of your failed audition for the rest of your career. It’ll make you a laughing stock,” Gareth explained with as much sincerity as he could muster.

  Hugh sat down on his bed looking deflated. He appeared to consider these words for a moment before deciding to totally disregard the advice. “Oh stuff and nonsense,” he said before breaking into song. “I am what I am. I am my own special creation. So, come take a look.” He sprang to his feet and belted out the song to his audience.

  “Oh, sweet baby Jesus,” Keenan said shaking his head. He walked towards Tony’s bed and pretended to look at something on the wall. “I’m consulting Tony’s newly invented gay barometer, and it reads ‘trying too hard’.”

  Hugh stopped singing mid-line and glared at Keenan, “Eff you!” he screamed before storming out of the room.

  The team stood huddled on the hockey pitch, jiggling about to keep warm in the cold winter air.

  “I’m absolutely frozen, Tony,” Bruce complained. He looked at his legs; they were pink and mottled with goose bumps.

  “Pull yourself together, man,” Tony said sternly, emitting plumes of steam from his mouth.

  “But I can barely hold my hockey stick.”

  “Then wear thicker gloves next time,” Tony replied.

  Bruce opened his mouth and started to complain again.
/>   “Look,” Tony said stopping him in his tracks, “this is the quarter final. We need to concentrate today. Who’d have thought we’d have gotten this far?”

  “But it is exceptionally cold today,” Hugh reasoned.

  “Oh, for Frith’s sake!” Tony said rolling his eyes.

  “Who are we playing today anyway?”

  “Oh, it should be a piece of piss. We’re playing against the weight watchers team,” he chuckled.

  “Well they won’t be cold with all that extra meat on them,” Keenan pointed out.

  They laughed as the umpire blew the whistle and shouted to both teams to take their positions. The home team duly moved to their allocated places as Tony marched towards the two umpires and the other team captain.

  “The away team get the call,” the umpire said.

  “Heads,” the away team captain called.

  The umpire flipped the coin into the air with his thumb and clapped his right hand onto the coin as it landed on the back of his left hand. He lifted his right hand to reveal the outcome.

  “Yes!” cried the away team captain, as he punched the air. “Result!”

  “Twat,” Tony muttered at the ridiculous display of machismo.

  The away captain stepped towards Tony. “Got something to say have you, pretty boy?” He towered over Tony, his chest level with Tony’s eyes.

  Tony laughed out loud, “Pretty boy? I’ve never been called that before.”

  His massive opponent grimaced, “you won’t be laughing by the end of the game. We’re going to flatten you sissy boys.”

  Tony, still grinning, craned his neck to look up. “If you sit on any of us then you’ll definitely flatten us you fat fuck.” He rotated his hockey stick in his hand nonchalantly as he waited for the inevitable response.

  His opponent pushed himself forward and barged into Tony with his chest, but Tony had already predicted this move and had steadied himself accordingly.

  “I hope you’ve put some Vaseline on your nipples, otherwise your massive moobs are going to be red raw by the end of the game,” Tony said, with his head pressed against the away captain’s chest.