They’d obviously met a few times, and they exchanged smiles as he bent his head in a simple bow, saying the wordsYour Majesty,making it sound perfect for the occasion – not overly decorous, yet simple and correct. How easy he made it look.
Without warning, he gestured to Miranda and said, ‘And this is Miss Miranda Miller. She’s part of the Coronation Office, working on the procession route.’
That’s when everything seemed to slow down, as Queen Elizabeth II of Great Britain turned to Miranda and smiled. For a moment, Miranda felt thrown. The young queen exuded a quietude, a stillness, that was disarming.
But then she realized that she was expected to bow or curtsy even – did people still do that? So she took a simple bow and said, ‘Your Majesty’ under her breath, hoping she was getting it right.
‘And how are the preparations coming along? I can’t imagine it’s an easy task.’ The queen’s gaze was direct and friendly, her voice clipped – exactly as it was on the radio. How odd that it was now directed at her.
‘It’s quite a task, but we have it in hand,’ Miranda said with a smile.
The queen’s eyes pierced Miranda’s, and she saw a glint of steel behind the beautiful exterior. ‘Thank you for all that you’re doing,’ she said.
Unsure how to respond, Miranda dipped her head in a bow once again.
The queen nodded to Sinclair, and the group continued on its way to the stairs, one of the men carrying on where he left off.
Once they were alone, heading down the corridor, Miranda said ponderously, ‘Does she always remember people? She knew you immediately.’
‘I’m very memorable, don’t you know.’ He smiled. ‘But truth be told, she remembers everyone. She takes the role incredibly seriously, does everything with precision and politeness. And she never, ever complains. After the coronation, she has a few weeks packed with coronation events – driving through London, visiting parks and buildings and schools and so forth – and after that she’s off on a six-month Coronation Tour. As far as she is concerned, she is the monarch. That is what she has to do.’
As they passed various rooms, Sinclair popped his head inside before showing her into some of the most lavish rooms she’d ever seen.
‘The Crimson Drawing Room,’ Sinclair declared, taking her into the infamous, red-cloaked room, richly adorned with gold and red.
But Miranda was still thinking about their meeting with the queen. ‘How does the queen know you so well?’
‘I was sent to Kenya to help with the royal trip last year.’
‘Was that when her father died?’
He nodded solemnly. ‘It was awful. Radios everywhere were announcing his death, and no one could find her because she was on a safari. Then we had to organize a quick departure to get her home. It wasn’t easy.’
‘No wonder she remembers you.’
‘And now I’m on the coronation committee, and she’s come to a few of our meetings. She’s very astute, you know, on top of politics and world affairs. When she was young, tutors gave her a complete understanding of the constitution and her duties as the monarch. She truly is just what the country needs.’
‘But,’ Miranda said, her voice reduced to a whisper, ‘is anyone unhappy about having a young woman on the throne? Surely the men around here would have preferred a king?’
He laughed. ‘On the contrary, they see it as an opportunity to tell her what to do.’
Miranda grimaced. ‘Let’s hope she doesn’t let them.’
They were the first to arrive in the large, wood-panelled room. A long table ran down the centre, and arched windows overlooked the quadrangle. Miranda peered out to see an array of people preparing for some kind of ceremony.
Hundreds of children of different ages were lined up, adults and nurses dotted among them. A band was playing a rousing rendition of ‘God Save the Queen’ as a gusty wind had picked up, fat drops of rain starting to fall.
But the ceremony went on regardless.
Miranda had been in London long enough to know that there had to be a veritable storm before the British would roll up the red carpets and call it a day.
There, making her way down the queue of people, was Elizabeth. With a smile on her face, she stopped to shake hands with some of the children, nodding at others, occasionally sharing a few words.
Then umbrellas began to come out, some of them turning inside out in the strong gusts, yet the queen kept smiling regardless, mounting a podium for a prize ceremony. Excited children hurried to the stage to shake hands as they received various medals and badges.
‘They hold this event every year, always here in Windsor.’ Sinclair had come up beside her. ‘The queen and Philip are great supporters of children, especially orphans.’
Miranda chuckled. ‘I had no idea she shook hands with orphans. That’s kind of her, isn’t it? I always thought of the queen as spending her time with other royals, cutting ribbons and being fed Champagne in grand palaces – that’s what I’d do if I had the chance.’
