forward, like a horse over a hedge, with a bit of whimsy, or some self-deprecating candor to put people at ease.
William discovered Luke by accident one day when he came in to lay the table for a solo luncheon The Queen was going to have that December Monday in her sitting room. Luke was on his hands and knees under her desk, wool worsted stretched across his rump, as he struggled with the computer cords and a power strip. He thumped his head as he was scooting out from under the lower drawer. “Christ!” As he came up on his knees, rubbing his head, he noticed William by the door, appraising him.
“Like the view from up there, then, William?” he said, still pained by the blow to his head.
This was a double surprise to William. He hadn’t thought this equerry even knew his name. Nor had he ever been caught out in recent history looking so unguardedly at young Guardsmen. “Well, sir, have a care for those trousers. They weren’t cut for going on maneuvers.”
“So kind of you to be looking out for my kit,” said Luke drily as he stamped one foot on the floor, and then the other, bringing himself upright. There was a pause while he looked rather fiercely at William, as if he might hit him.
Then, awkwardly, he stuck out his hand. “Name’s Luke, by the way.”
This was a minor breach of palace protocol. The Queen’s upper servants, the private secretaries and equerries and ladies-in-waiting, might call the staff by their Christian names, but they were seldom anything other than “sir” or “ma’am” in return. They might all be quietly on a first-name basis after long years of service together, but not so quickly as this, and there was seldom shaking of hands. Upper-class Englishmen had a horror of shaking hands. They abhorred it. It was one of those arcane rules with them. They only relaxed the rule for dealing with foreigners. It was completely arbitrary.
“My very great pleasure,” said William, swallowing ironically where the “sir” should have gone. “Is information technology now part of the equerry’s job description?” he asked nodding at The Queen’s computer.
“If butlers are also tailors, I don’t see why a soldier shouldn’t know how to make a flipping computer work.”
“Hmm, yes. But does she use it?”
“Well, she had it on this morning. It lost the Wi-Fi and locked up when I was showing her how to do MapQuest. I was down there powering it off to try to get it to connect again. I thought she might like a little online music during her lunch.”
“Music? During her luncheon?” said William laughing. “You must be joking.”
“Well, she might like a little Tony Bennett, now, mightn’t she? Or, let’s see, Noël Coward?”
William looked at Luke skeptically.
“Or Dusty Springfield? Eartha Kitt, now?”
William rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
Luke pushed the joke a little further: “Uh, Bronski Beat, then?”
William replied a little archly, “You seem to know all about that music.”
“Well, we had a bloke in Germany. A gay DJ. He did 1980s nights.”
“And all you big brutes danced together, did you?”
“Stood up against the bar drinking, mainly.”
“Well, it was the bonding, I expect.” There was a pause while both of them looked out the window.
“I do miss them occasionally.” It was the first serious thing either of them had said, and William’s antennae picked up the shift in tone. He’d just been told something relatively private by this young man and he thought it was as well to leave a respectful silence to acknowledge it.
“I mean,” said Luke falteringly, half wincing at what he’d said, and half impelled forward by something he couldn’t quite spell out, “not so many chums around here.”
In the midst of this, the door lock clicked. A page in red brocade, wearing eighteenth-century court shoes, put his head through the doorway, “Look sharp! Herself will be through in three minutes.” Having thoroughly interrupted their
William discovered Luke by accident one day when he came in to lay the table for a solo luncheon The Queen was going to have that December Monday in her sitting room. Luke was on his hands and knees under her desk, wool worsted stretched across his rump, as he struggled with the computer cords and a power strip. He thumped his head as he was scooting out from under the lower drawer. “Christ!” As he came up on his knees, rubbing his head, he noticed William by the door, appraising him.
“Like the view from up there, then, William?” he said, still pained by the blow to his head.
This was a double surprise to William. He hadn’t thought this equerry even knew his name. Nor had he ever been caught out in recent history looking so unguardedly at young Guardsmen. “Well, sir, have a care for those trousers. They weren’t cut for going on maneuvers.”
“So kind of you to be looking out for my kit,” said Luke drily as he stamped one foot on the floor, and then the other, bringing himself upright. There was a pause while he looked rather fiercely at William, as if he might hit him.
Then, awkwardly, he stuck out his hand. “Name’s Luke, by the way.”
This was a minor breach of palace protocol. The Queen’s upper servants, the private secretaries and equerries and ladies-in-waiting, might call the staff by their Christian names, but they were seldom anything other than “sir” or “ma’am” in return. They might all be quietly on a first-name basis after long years of service together, but not so quickly as this, and there was seldom shaking of hands. Upper-class Englishmen had a horror of shaking hands. They abhorred it. It was one of those arcane rules with them. They only relaxed the rule for dealing with foreigners. It was completely arbitrary.
“My very great pleasure,” said William, swallowing ironically where the “sir” should have gone. “Is information technology now part of the equerry’s job description?” he asked nodding at The Queen’s computer.
“If butlers are also tailors, I don’t see why a soldier shouldn’t know how to make a flipping computer work.”
“Hmm, yes. But does she use it?”
“Well, she had it on this morning. It lost the Wi-Fi and locked up when I was showing her how to do MapQuest. I was down there powering it off to try to get it to connect again. I thought she might like a little online music during her lunch.”
“Music? During her luncheon?” said William laughing. “You must be joking.”
“Well, she might like a little Tony Bennett, now, mightn’t she? Or, let’s see, Noël Coward?”
William looked at Luke skeptically.
“Or Dusty Springfield? Eartha Kitt, now?”
William rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
Luke pushed the joke a little further: “Uh, Bronski Beat, then?”
William replied a little archly, “You seem to know all about that music.”
“Well, we had a bloke in Germany. A gay DJ. He did 1980s nights.”
“And all you big brutes danced together, did you?”
“Stood up against the bar drinking, mainly.”
“Well, it was the bonding, I expect.” There was a pause while both of them looked out the window.
“I do miss them occasionally.” It was the first serious thing either of them had said, and William’s antennae picked up the shift in tone. He’d just been told something relatively private by this young man and he thought it was as well to leave a respectful silence to acknowledge it.
“I mean,” said Luke falteringly, half wincing at what he’d said, and half impelled forward by something he couldn’t quite spell out, “not so many chums around here.”
In the midst of this, the door lock clicked. A page in red brocade, wearing eighteenth-century court shoes, put his head through the doorway, “Look sharp! Herself will be through in three minutes.” Having thoroughly interrupted their
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