Conclusion

The Queen replaced the receiver and looked across to Sir Richard, who had been listening in on the other line. She would value his opinion. 

Slowly shaking her head, she said gravely "I believe the lack of oxygen during his illness has not left Mr Johnson in his right mind. "

Richard thought to himself that the p m's current state of mind was possibly preferable, but did not  venture to say so. 

From a necessary courtesy she had informed her prime minister that she had advised his own party to call for a Government of National Unity.

This had released a torrent of mixed responses. "Brilliant. Just what I want. Of course I shall lead it as prime minister. Ah, yes, oh dear, well I might have to ..erm  let Sir Keir Starmer know, because in the Labour party-as I now am, of course, he's .. um.. supposed to be leader."

"Yes, Mr Johnson, I have called Sir Keir and the three of us will have a video conference in an hour. " The Queen was pleased with how measured her voice was, in view of the difficulties. Things were about to become worse .

"Oh, I'm sure he'll agree." 

The Queen was quite certain he would not, but Mr Johnson rattled on, 

" and if not the Commons will, because we  - no, I mean they, the Tories,  are the majority party -oh dear this is a little confusing I see that." 

"Splendid" said the Queen, hoping for a quick miracle of clarity. It was not to be so simple.

"No, no. what'll happen is the new back benchers will all vote for me as leader so we won't have to prorogue. Prorogation is plan B.

Listening in silently, Sir Richard wondered if Boris Jonson had ever before in his life had a plan B. 

"And by 'we,' you mean  you request from me another  prorogation of parliament. "Mmm," the Queen kept her voice measured..." That did not go down awfully well last time, I seem to recall."  She was aware of her private secretary quickly stifling laughter with a large handkerchief. 

A long pause. "Ah, yes, well,....' the fruity voice blustered on, saying that it was only if his backbenchers would not agree to a government of National Unity unless he was the leader, that prorogation would be necessary, "which, of course  " he had said with customary confidence in his ability to win, "was really rather likely." 

Having heard the vociferous backbenchers' heartfelt 'we can't do anything without Boris' the Queen was reluctantly inclined to agree. However, come what may she now had the beginnings of a plan. A cunning plan.(She had so enjoyed Black Adder.) 

 After  further  incoherent eulogies by Mr Johnson on 'Labour's humane equalising politics, contrary to a party of selfish bankers  and global businessmen and that under his leadership our great country....,'  the Queen politely interrupted,  intimating that the Zoom conference with Sir Keir would begin in forty minutes;  the call had ended.

"Well. What do you make of it?" She looked across to her trusted private secretary.

"Much as you said ma'am. He's is clearly still unwell."

"Then we must hope he recovers sense and fitness quickly. Meanwhile Sir Keir will be challenging I know and perhaps make our prime minister -if that is what he remains-see sense." 

The Queen  liked what she knew of Sir Keir Starmer.  They had encountered each other once or twice when he had been the DPP.  She approved of his mild mannered and seemingly kindly disposition. He reminded her of Finn McCullogh, her head gamekeeper at Balmoral., which could only be a recommendation.

The Zoom conference was much as expected. Boris bouncing around and running his hands through his haystack hair. Sir Keir, unruffled and immovable on the question of leadership, while welcoming his counterpart's defection, wisely made little of it. When Boris suggested that as he had won the Red Wall for the Tories, as Labour leader he could win it back for Labour, Keir had solemnly told him that his candidates under his leadership were perfectly capable of winning it back, with or without Boris's help. He added kindly that perhaps as he couldn't become prime minister when the Labour party won, -whenever that might be -  he might like to be Leader of the House.  This had evoked a bit of bumbling and bluster. 

The question of proroguing was dismissed by Sir Keir but not entirely expelled from the agenda if there was an impasse on the vote for a Government of National Unity.

The Zoom ended at three o' clock. 

The Queen had had enough for the day. She dismissed Sir Richard, saying "do have some quiet time at home with the family" 

He had left rather glumly. The exhilaration of the day's events would be replaced by Rowena recounting her frustrations with home schooling three unruly children. It would not be quiet.

In her sitting room, the Queen relaxed in her favourite arm chair. Max, the corgi at her feet a wood fire burning. She thought a little guiltily of Charles impressing on them the need not to burn wood. It was just a little luxury for Easter Monday, she thought. A rare treat and she hadn't had any Easter eggs, after all.

Reflecting on an exhausting day, she felt surprisingly relaxed. Her cunning plan a comfortable cushion to rest on. She smiled to herself.  Boris reminded her of Winnie. Not the Winnie he aspired to be like, but Wnnie the Pooh. Dear Winston. Impossible for anyone to be like him. 

Just at that moment Philip put his head round the door. "Hello old thing. All done for the day? How was it?"

Pleased to see him she nodded and smiled. "Odd, difficult and as yet unresolved. Tomorrow is another day."

"How gnomic of you. Shall I get the scrabble board out? " 

Not waiting for an answer he delved in the bottom drawer of the bureau and set everything up on the coffee table, just as the Queen's private telephone rang.

She frowned and stretched an arm out. Few people had access to her through this direct line.

"Hello, who is this?" even to herself she sounded a little short. Philip was scowling, shaking the bag with the tiles in  and mouthing 'who is it?'

"Oh good afternoon Archbishop" her tone softened. "Yes indeed, a beautiful warm day." She felt more guilty than ever about the fire.

"I'm so glad you are pleased with it, my pleasure.  Goodness. Toasted tea cakes, how delicious. And it didn't set the smoke alarm off, wonderful. So annoying when that happens."

She was silent for some time. Evidently His Grace was saying something at length. Eventually she replaced the receiver, having said a quiet, "Thank you, Archbishop, you too"

She looked across to Philip. "You know he visits St Thomas's. The Covid 19 wards. To give comfort, last rights and prayer. It's remarkable work Other faith leaders too. Anyway he said he met a porter there called Roland and he is our Ronald's twin brother. "

"I meant to tell you," Philip was evidently cross with himself for forgetting. "I went out with Ronald in the gig this morning and he told me then about Roland. Said he worries for him in the thick of it all" 

"But of course it does." Her voice reflected the concern she felt for her head groom. " I'm glad we know. It makes me feel a part of the anxiety that everyone is involved in. Justin asked me to tell Ronald he has spoken with Roland and that he is well and taking care. So kind. He also said he's finding such love everywhere at this time. It was somehow very comforting."

"Good!" Philip stared briefly into the fire thinking with thanks, of his son's good recovery. Then briskly, "Now how about scrabble."

"Oh he also made me think of ordering toasted tea cakes for us, now!" and she rang the bell. "Tea and toasted tea cakes, with Highgrove organic raspberry jam please. Yes, for two. His Royal Highness and myself, Molly. Thank you" 

Scrabble and tea were completed. Prince Philip more than satisfied, had won by 212 to 190.

In her room at ten o' clock that warm evening, the Queen stood at the open window giving on to a walled garden below the castle turret. The night sky, free of unbearable levels of  pollution, was velvety dark and small stars winked. She heard what she had been listening for, a  Barn owl's mellow hoot. She had an image of it swooping on soft wings round the ancient walls, maybe perching on the flagpole, blinking those night vision eyes and turning its head through 360 degrees. Did they really do that? She must call Sir David sometime.

She fell asleep quickly once in bed. The dreams came; they always did. This night, she was playing scrabble with Margaret Thatcher. Mrs Thatcher was annoyingly in front. The Queen held on her tile stand an 'a' an 'e' and three 't's. The only letter free to use on the board was an 'e'  She picked two tiles out. Miraculous! A 'g' and a 'z'. she made the  word gazette with triple letter score on the 'z'

 Triumph!  Mrs Thatcher burst into tears and disappeared. The Queen woke with a start.

Ah yes, the plan. Prorogation was a nightmare possibility. In Privy council she might try and override the normal situation of the executive's priority but she would be reluctant. 

 In the morning Sir Richard would be calling first,  Mrs Gina Miller, and then, out of retirement  Brenda, Lady Hale. The Queen pondered on which brooch she should wear. She would not want to compete if they met on video. 

She fell asleep again and dreamed of Macbeth with untidy fair hair, and the three witches confronting him.