“Hello, Adam,” Cameron replied, introducing his bride. “I must thank you again for going to all that trouble over my invitation.” Turning to Elizabeth, he said, “This is Adam McIver, an old friend of mine from Fettes. It was he who managed to get you in today.”
“Think nothing of it,” said Adam, smiling at Elizabeth’s echoed thanks. “Many congratulations on your wedding. Cameron and I had many good times together. I remember when a gang of us used to meet in the garden at the Dawsons’ house to plan our expedition for getting the Duke of Edinburgh Gold Award.” He pointed to his tie as an indication that they had succeeded in meeting the fitness and service requirements for receiving the youth award. “Cameron, I think the last time I saw you was here at the palace when we received that award.”
“What was Cameron like as a teenager?” asked Elizabeth.
Adam smiled. “A bit shy, I think, and much less good-looking. He always thought I was stuffy. But we in the diplomatic corps go in for subtle humor. Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Dawson. I’m glad you came to Edinburgh for your honeymoon, rather than to some more obvious place for newlyweds, like Ibiza or Rome.” His eyes twinkled.
Cameron, catching the reference, looked stern. “We did consider Nome, Alaska,” he said carefully. “Tell me, Adam, do you get to do much traveling in government service?”
“Alas, no,” said Adam. “But my sister’s flatmate is an air hostess. Good to see you again. I really must dash.” With that he wormed his way through a knot of people and disappeared from view.
“It really was kind of him to see that I was invited,” said Elizabeth. “Should I write him a thank-you note?”
“Only for the wedding present,” said Cameron. “I believe he sent us a used gnome.”
At precisely four o’clock, the military band struck up the national anthem, and the Queen and various members of the royal family appeared on the steps to the garden.
“She’s much smaller than I expected,” whispered Elizabeth. “She looks so… human.”
The Queen, looking like a perfectly ordinary matron in her green straw hat and summer dress, proceeded down the steps, followed by other members of the family.
“Each of the royals takes a row,” whispered a tall blonde woman standing next to Elizabeth. “So you’ll get quite a good view of whoever comes our way. You’ve not been selected to meet her, have you?”
“No,” said Elizabeth. “You mean she doesn’t speak to everybody?” She had spent days trying to think of just the right thing to say to Her Majesty.
“Oh no. Only to a certain few. They’ll have been notified in advance and the ushers know to fetch them out of line.”
Several minutes later the Queen walked by and stopped to chat with an army officer and his wife, who had been directed to the center of the aisle by an attending usher. Elizabeth later explained that she didn’t know what came over her, but that probably it was the Southern bride’s royalty fantasies. After having gotten one’s own way for weeks on end and been the absolute center of attention, it is difficult to revert immediately to one’s usual humble self. Certain of her relatives unkindly remarked that sudden wealth does unfortunate things to some people’s personalities.
Anyway, it wasn’t much of a gaffe, Elizabeth reasoned, because the Queen is an intimidating presence even for diplomats and heads of state. Those invited into her presence may have fantasies about rushing up to her to say hello, but these impulses evaporate entirely when one is actually in proximity to Her Majesty.
But the new Mrs. Dawson felt that the occasion was so momentous that it should not go unmarked. For just an instant as the Queen was finishing her conversation with the military couple, she glanced up at the crowd and straight at Elizabeth. In that split second, flinging a millennium of social protocol to the winds, Elizabeth smiled and waggled her fingers at the Queen in a half wave. Solemnly, Her Majesty nodded in Elizabeth’s direction and turned away.
“Isn’t it amazing?” whispered Elizabeth after the Queen continued on her way. “It gave me chills just to be within ten feet of her. I suppose I should have curtsied, but I was too flustered to think at all. I wish I could have actually met her. Oh, well,” she concluded cheerfully, “I suppose I’ll have another chance when you get your knighthood!”
“Not bloody likely,” said Cameron Dawson.
Sharyn McCrumb
