They all held their own signs, their gloveless hands clutching to wooden poles, braving the weather for the cause. He wanted to hug them, but feared he might ruin their drag if he did so.
He took in the rest of the crowd. Jenny the influencer, already livestreaming on her Instagram. Bookshop owners prepared to lose a day’s business on Christmas eve to help him out. The butcher, the baker, the café owner and the market organiser, all of them wrapped against the elements, eager to begin. Then there was Emma the reporter, with her camera guy next to her, and Quinn smiled in time for the photo. Sidling up to Ivy, dressed in a gorgeous blue coat, was Blair. His own camerawoman accompanied him, and Quinn realised this was going to make the news again.
Then, running towards him from the butter market, his mother. Quinn laughed at the sight of her. She wore two coats, a bobble hat that almost covered her eyes, gloves, and a scarf. When she approached Quinn and took in his own outfit, she shook her head.
‘Are you warm enough?’ Claire asked.
‘I think my jumper, hoodie and coat will do the trick, Mum.’
She smiled, then looked at the castle. ‘So, we’re doing this.’
‘We are,’ Quinn said. ‘And how does Harold feel about it?’
‘He doesn’t know,’ Claire admitted. ‘He thinks I’m going to arrive before opening.’
‘Well, you kind of are.’
He observed the castle, wondering if he imagined the new gleam on the old structure. It would open its doors in an hour, ready to welcome in the locals of Hay who had watched it fall into disrepair over the years. He silently apologised to the castle and the past, then turned to the crowd before him.
‘Are we ready?’ His voice was like a battle cry, echoing around Hay.
‘Yes!’
‘I said, are we ready?’
‘YES!’
‘Long live Kings & Queens!’ Claire screamed, surprising everyone.
‘Long live Kings & Queens!’ the crowd chanted back.
And with that, they turned their back on the castle and made their way down Castle Street, shouting at the tops of their voices. Some people brought whistles, blowing hard into them so that their high-pitched whine disturbed the rural winter setting of peace and serenity. Well, today was about disrupting the status quo. Those who hadn’t joined the protest stood at their shop doors or came out onto the street and cheered as they went by, taking photos and videos of the colourful crowd.
Blair handed out books he carried in a red sack to anyone who would take one.
He’d stolen stock?
Quinn peered closer and noticed that each one came with a Kings & Queens bookmark.
I’ve always loved that Bloody Blair Beckett.
As one book exchanged hands, a flyer tucked into the pages fluttered out, caught in the winter breeze. Quinn saw it land a few feet away, sinking into the snow, and realised it was instructing people where they could donate. Tears welling up, not from the cold, but from the gratitude he felt to the surrounding people, he shouted louder.
It didn’t matter that it snowed. Nor did it matter that Quinn’s tears threatened to freeze and blind him. It didn’t matter that by the time they left Castle Street and walked onto Lion, their feet were wet – except for Claire, of course, who told them off for not wearing thermals and three pairs of socks.
‘And a good shoe!’ she added.
All that mattered was raising their voices, lifting their signs, and interacting with those who came to see them pass. With rainbow flags flying, the three drag queens both protesting and acting, it was almost like their own Pride parade.
‘Keep Hay gay!’ Ivy chanted, and people followed her lead.
‘Long live Kings & Queens!’ they sang. ‘Keep Hay gay!’
They descended onto Belmont Road, where some people came out of their homes sporting pride flags and joined their march. Others waved from windows like this was a jubilee celebration, and the fish and chip shop began handing out portions of chips for those walking by. Quinn waved at familiar faces as they wished him good luck, and Blair made his way swanlike to every person, handing them books and flyers, flashing that charming smile. A red robin flitted by, and Quinn swallowed his sadness.
‘Where is Noah?’ someone shouted from the side-lines.
It was like someone had thrown a snowball filled with bricks at Quinn’s face. He recoiled, avoiding anyone’s eyes, staring ahead and trying not to let his smile falter. This must be how heckled royalty felt.
