Page 117 of Scandal Queen

The Queen had visibly aged overnight. Her usually chic haircut tucked behind her ears, her skin puffed around her eyes.

“Have they drawn pistols on one another yet?” Her voice scraped with dryness and I went to a silver tray stood in the corner and poured a glass of water. Her staff must have been checking in on her, even if she wasn’t moving or doing anything herself.

“Not yet. The King has asked to be left alone.”

She nodded almost absentmindedly as her fingers stroked across Bella’s pillow. “You know when I first arrived here, I thought I could change everything too.” She glanced up, just for a second, before returning to her smoothing action against the pillow. “I couldn’t. It just swallowed me up. I tried to make the children’s life normal, I really did.”

“Margi.” I stepped closer, not really wanting to sit on Bella’s bed to get in her line of vision. “You did give them a normal life, as much as you could. It’s hard though, breaking tradition, breaking lifelong habits.” I chewed on my bottom lip. “I saw it when I went back to those flats the other day. I’d moved on. I hadn’t been there for seven years, but life there wasn’t much different. When that woman, Daisy’s grandmother, opened the door, it was like looking at my own mother. These cycles they don’t really end, we just try to make them better while we can.”

“But you won’t go back to those flats, you broke your cycle.”

I shrugged. “No. I was one of the lucky ones. So was Daisy’s father. He got out too, many don’t.”

“Were you scared when you found out someone had come forward?”

I huffed a breath. “Scared. Petrified. Ashamed.”

“That’s how I’ve felt for the last thirty years. Always thinking that someone would be able to see in and realise we were doing it all wrong.”

“Margi.” My voice cracked. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Breaking with tradition is hard. Breaking the cycle takes an event that can never be undone.”

A knock on the door stopped my words. “Yes.” I called when it was clear the Queen had no intention of doing so.

Dixon opened the door followed by John. “Ma’am, you need to look out of the window.”

I couldn’t be sure if he talked to me at first, but then he’d said Ma’am and not Your Majesty. I stood up and looked through the curtain. By the gates stood a lone figure in black.

I clutched onto the navy velvet hanging from the ceiling.

“What’s he doing?” I gasped. Ollie’s black shape slipped through the gates. I could see the flash of police uniforms the other side, but still, he was by himself. Utterly alone.

“I think he’s doing what you said,” John answered, his voice tight.

“He can’t go out there by himself.”

The Queen tugged on my hand, coming to my side. “Are you strong enough?” She echoed the words her husband said to me in the library. They’d spoken about me, about what he’d said. He’d told her his regret… it pierced deep into my chest.

“I’m not family.”

The Queen met my gaze, but I didn’t stop to say anything else or ask for permission to leave. I ran all the way down the corridor, down the stairs to the second floor where the library sat and then down to the main entranceway where the official state rooms were. Vanessa stood by the door with a black overcoat on her arm, waiting for me like she knew I would come.

Now I knew what a waiting woman was for.

“Thanks.” I shrugged into the coat. “Could you get my daughter please?”

A true professional, she didn’t ask why, or tell me my idea was the craziest one she’d ever heard. She simply nodded.

With my head held high, I stepped out the front door and walked for the gates. The journalists called my name but I didn’t give them any time. My focus remained on the people, those who would forgive everything and come together at the right time.

I saw him, he shook a woman’s hand and leant in to listen to what she had to say. He nodded and smiled tightly and then moved on. I went to his side and slipped my hand into his. His fingers were cold, and I gripped them tight. Heavy eyes met mine but he leant in and brushed a kiss across my cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Always.”

Slowly, we worked our way up and down the line, thanking people for coming, accepting flowers that a police officer would then step forward and take when we held too many. Every so often I couldn’t help myself and I’d wipe at tears that splattered my cheeks.

The love of the nation overwhelmed me.

Not one bit of gossip or slander mattered.