Ensigns
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Frederick
- 1 -
The nation was in mourning. King Frederick was dead. It was expected but still his nation felt a shock. King Frederick had been out of the public eye for many years. The nation all knew that his health was declining. At last he had gone.
King Frederick was 86 years old. Despite his ill-health over the last decade he had simply died during his sleep.
It was a peaceful ending.
Frederick had had a peaceful reign.
The nation mourned.
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Fred
- 1-
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Fred was a despot. Fred was a tyrant. Fred ruled his family with a reign of terror.
He was king of the castle. His own castle.
When Fred died, nobody mourned.
Especially not his consort.
Queenie could not mourn.
Because Queenie had killed him.
Good riddance to bad rubbish.
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It hadn’t always been the way. When they first met Queenie had been courted – courted in an old-fashioned way. Her father had approved. Herbert was of the old school so when Fred approached him about whether he could step out with Queenie, Herbert’s pride took the better of him. When Fred asked Herbert’s consent to ask for her hand in marriage Herbert’s pride took the better of him. It was only right and proper Herbert thought.
No bother.
A bit of bother.
A lot of bother.
Herbert ignored it all. If he had doubts or questions, he did not air them.
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Queenie was never sure when it first began.
The anger.
Everything that he had previously praised he now criticised – how she looked, what she wore, everything. Then there was the possession of her – some might call it jealously. Queenie could never speak to another man without accusations. At first, she was flattered – it showed how much she meant to Fred.
At first it seemed natural. It was not natural.
Queenie paid the paper boy as usual but this morning it wasn’t usual. This morning there were accusations. He was a mere boy, a mere youth – Queenie was astounded.
Queenie was pounded.
That was how it started and that was how it continued.
That became the routine.
A shining light had been replaced by constant shiners.
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Frederick
- 2 -
It wasn’t that Frederick had been a particularly good king, it was that Frederick had kept the status quo. In other words, he had not done a lot. That was the highest expectation of a king – to deliver nothing and Frederick had delivered nothing – that was why Frederick had been loved.
And that was why, now, Frederick was mourned.
People look up to a leader. Nations need a figure-head and Frederick fitted the bill.
The national press ran extensive coverage – and they covered the details of his life in detail and they covered them quickly. The press had been prepared. Everyone expected Frederick’s death so the obituaries had been long written.
There were no other stories.
Frederick’s son would succeed. His son, also Frederick, would keep the status quo. He would not do a lot. That was the expectation of the nation, the expectation of the role of a king. That was why the younger Frederick would be loved.
So, the nation mourned a king that had not done much for a minute’s silence and then they got on with the rest of their lives; on with the next chapter.
The next king.
A minute’s silence.
The flags at half-mast.
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Fred
- 2 -
Fred’s son hated him, but more than else, he hated himself – hated how he had been so weak. Fred’s son, Charlie hated the fact that he had never stood up to his father, he certainly did not look up to him. Fred’s son hated the fact that he had not stood up for his mother.
It was easier to look away. It became the routine. Diane, his sister, did not seem to notice. However, Diane did not notice much. She was secluded in her own world. Charlie could not remember whether she had always been the same but his memories were vague and some things he had chosen not to remember at all. Diane barely spoke, she barely coped with school or life or the world. Charlie found it difficult to comprehend why their father left Diane alone. He didn’t touch her.
Fred touched everyone else.
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Charlie ran, escaped. Charlie had escaped to a normal life. He never visited his parents. He rang once a week and only spoke to his mother Queenie, who always answered the phone. That was the routine. Always pretending he did not know; he did know. The two of them, Charlie and his mother, putting on a brave face. Discreet make-up hid hers.
Queenie loved his calls.
Queenie hated his calls.
Afterwards there would always be a beating.
Charlie pretended not to know.
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The truth will out.
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It was another regular day; the day Charlie would call. Routines are what define us. There would be another beating.
There was just the two of them now. Charlie had left and Diane had been removed. A care home was better than their home, Queenie conceded – a home without care. She did not contest the decision. Charlie and Diane had gone. Now it was just the two of them.
Queenie was glad.
Queenie did not have to protect her children anymore.
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It was another regular day; the day Charlie would call. Routines are what define us. There would be another beating.
It seemed as if Fred hated life, hated her and hated Charlie. Fred never spoke of Diane.
Queenie could accept Fred’s angst as she could accept the beatings.
In the end what Queenie could not take was the truth.
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Fred never spoke of Diane but today he did.
Fred almost boasted. Queenie knew he was bad but her choice to accept him was bad – so she had to accept it.
Fred never spoke of Diane, but today he did.
Fred called her an imbecile. His own daughter. The one that Charlie and Queenie thought he had never touched.
Fred almost boasted, and then Fred did boast.
Fred boasted.
Fred thought it was right that Diane had been put away. Fred thought it was good that Diane had lost the bastard child.
Fred thought it was good that Diane had lost her child.
Even though the child was his.
Fred knew that Queenie had not known. Fred knew the hurt it would inflict on Queenie and he had always wanted to hurt Queenie. Queenie had thought that she knew the extent of her wrong choice. She did not.
Fred was boasting about his actions.
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Nobody mourned Fred’s death.
The boasting stopped.
The silence continued.
The silence was not respectful.
As ever Fred had been half-cut.
When Queenie cut him in two.
Flags were not at half-mast this time.
King Fred was dead.
Flags were raised.
A nation celebrated.
His nation.
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Half-Mast
