The Audience (12 page)

The Dressers walk on.

I must have let something slip …

Equerry
If you
were
to believe the gossip … there was
one
you cared for more than all the rest.

Elizabeth
Who?

The door opens. Two tall, thick-set men burst in with Harold Wilson.

Wilson
Quickly, before she comes.

Security Man
Prime Minister, the Palace has their own security …

Wilson
That’s the point. Their security has been
breached
, don’t you understand? I want the whole room checked. Picture frames, telephones, mirrors …

Security Man
Sir, we don’t have the authority to do this.

Wilson
The
chairs
, Sergeant. And then the chandelier. Or must I do it myself?

   
It’s September 1975. Wilson is Prime Minister once again, and back in Downing Street having narrowly defeated Edward Heath in two 1974 elections.
  
The strain of leading his own party and a minority government through a troubled decade shows on Wilson’s face. He is pale. His hair is whiter. He has visibly aged.

Wilson
Don’t be alarmed, Ma’am. These gentlemen are with me. I’ve asked them to check the room.

The Detectives start examining the phone and lights.

Elizabeth
Whatever for?

Wilson covers his lips, indicating ‘Shh’.
  
He goes to the Queen’s notepad, pulls out a pen, and writes something on it.
  
Wilson passes the Queen the pad. She reads it.

(
Horrified
.) No!

Wilson nods solemnly.

By whom?

Wilson writes another note on the pad of paper.

That’s absurd.

Wilson
Sadly not, Ma’am.

Wilson writes another note. Longer. He hands it to the Queen. The Queen reads it, then:

Elizabeth
But we have our own security here. How would they have got in?

Wilson
On this occasion I believe they posed as …

Wilson writes another note.

Elizabeth
(
blurts out
) Decorators?

Wilson
Yes, Ma’am. When the Audience Room was redecorated recently.

Elizabeth
I hate to disappoint you – but this room has not been redecorated in years.

Wilson
Are you sure?

Wilson goes to examine the paint on the wall.

Elizabeth
That paint has not been touched since my grandfather, George V.

The Detectives look up.

Detective
That’s it, sir. All clear. Clean as a whistle.

Wilson
Really? You’ve checked the table light? And the phone?

Detective
Yes, sir.

Wilson
Behind the paintings?

Detective
All done, sir.

Wilson
The Gainsborough?

Detective
(
an awkward silence
) Nothing.

The two Detectives bow in respect to the Queen, and retreat out of the room.

Wilson sits down. Shaken. For the first time it’s apparent not all is well. He is not the same man.
  
He whispers gravely to himself, barely audible:

Wilson
God … what’s happening to me?

A silence.

If I had any doubts before I came today, those doubts have now gone. (
A beat
.) I can’t go on, Ma’am. Not like this.

Elizabeth
What are you talking about?

Wilson
This is no way for a leader to be. Forgetting some things. Imagining others.

Elizabeth
It’s age. Happens to us all.

Wilson
No. It’s not just age, Ma’am.

A poignant silence.

It’s been diagnosed. And has a name.

Silence.

I first noticed it a few months ago. At the Lord Mayor’s dinner. I always speak without notes. Suddenly I dried. Had difficulty expressing myself. Then Mary told me I was misplacing things. Had become more subdued. So I went to see a doctor. Didn’t tell anyone. Pretended it was for my back.

Elizabeth
What did the doctor say?

Wilson
That the symptoms I described could be exhaustion, could be age, but more likely were classic indicators of … Alzheimer’s. They told me to keep an eye out for increasing memory loss. Lack of judgement. Personality changes … (
Tailing off
.) Imagining rooms had been painted and bugged – for example.

Silence.

Elizabeth
I wouldn’t worry. Several of your predecessors had
far
more serious afflictions and continued to govern without the public being any the wiser.

Wilson
Is that supposed to comfort me? No, Ma’am, it’s a mental health issue now, and belongs in the hands of professionals.

Elizabeth
But you forgetting things makes you just like the rest of us. Balmoral, a few years ago. The book belonging to my husband’s sister. The way you memorised that …

Wilson
(
remembering
)
Life in a Top Regiment
…

Elizabeth
Crack
Regiment …

Wilson
‘A Novel of German Military …’

Elizabeth
(
prompting
) ‘… Manners and Morals.’

The Queen stares.

Have you shared this concern with anyone else?

Wilson
No one. Not even Mary.

Elizabeth
I suppose I should ask … what the next step would be?

Wilson
I will inform the Cabinet Secretary of my decision to resign. That will trigger a leadership election within the party.

Elizabeth
It will come as a
terrible
shock.

Wilson
Maybe. But no shock lasts longer than
forty-eight
hours. There is too much appetite for the next shock.

Silence.

I never wanted to go on beyond sixty anyway. That’s long enough in any job, especially one in public life.

Elizabeth
Is that a hint?

Wilson
Certainly not. There’s a surfeit of good people available to take over my job. Not so many for yours.

Elizabeth
Now, now …

Wilson
C’mon, don’t pretend you don’t agree. The way he shoots his mouth off and gallivants around it’s hard to imagine you and the Prince of Wales are from the same family – let alone mother and son.

Elizabeth
I’m sorry. Was that a compliment?

Wilson
It was. But it was from Huddersfield. So it came in through the tradesman’s entrance.

The Queen smiles. A silence.

Elizabeth
I will miss our sessions. I don’t mind admitting I let out an unconstitutional cheer when you beat Mr Heath this time.

Wilson
I always said you were a leftie at heart.

Elizabeth
Nothing to do with the politics. You’re just a better companion, that’s all. Though I didn’t imagine I’d ever say
that
when we first met.

Wilson
No. You thought I was going to rough you lot up. And look what a softie I turned out to be.

Wilson smiles. They get up. The Queen manages a smile.

Elizabeth
So we’ll continue as normal. (
She hesitates
.) At least for the time being?

Wilson
Yes.

Elizabeth
See you next week.

The Queen extends her hand.

Wilson
Not next week, Ma’am. It’s the by-election, if you remember.

Elizabeth
Oh, yes. Woolwich West. They’re expecting that to be close.

Wilson
A perfectly safe Labour seat. Our man had held it for eleven years. Then he drops dead. Hill-walking. (
A beat
.) I could have murdered him.

The Queen laughs. Wilson’s smile fades.

Elizabeth
What’s the matter?

Wilson
I’ve forgotten his name.

Now it’s undeniable. No more brave smiles.

Elizabeth
Oh Prime Minister. William Hamling.

A silence.

Wilson
Of course. (
Fighting tears
.) Thank you, Ma’am.

Wilson bows low, with difficulty, but genuine deference, then goes. Before he reaches the door:

Elizabeth
(
calling after him
) Prime Minister …?

Wilson turns in the doorway.

If you saw fit to invite your Queen to supper at Downing Street before you left, she would be delighted.

Wilson stops, and stares, realising the significance.

Wilson
But that’s an honour previously only given to Churchill.

Elizabeth
The Duke of Edinburgh and I would like that very much.

Wilson
So would Mrs Wilson and I.

He turns and goes.

The Queen is left alone. Sad to see him go. A
fifty-year
-old woman. She goes to the window. Looks out. As always, taking care to hide to one side so she cannot be seen.
  
Presently the little eleven-year-old Elizabeth comes in with two dogs. Corgis.

Young Elizabeth
You still here?

Elizabeth
Yes.

Young Elizabeth
Anything interesting?

Elizabeth
Not really. A dog chasing pigeons.

They both crane their necks.

What have you been up to today?

Young Elizabeth
Just had a lesson.

Elizabeth
With Vice-Provost Marten?

Young Elizabeth
Yes.

Elizabeth
What was the lesson about?

Young Elizabeth
(
rolls eyes, bored
) ‘The British Prime Minister’.

Elizabeth
And what did you learn?

Young Elizabeth pulls out a notebook.

Young Elizabeth
Mainly what a strange creature he is. Marked by shyness. (
Reading
.) ‘Often lonely and unhappy at school, having suffered a trauma in childhood – leaving them haunted by a compulsive and obsessive need for love and power.’ (
A beat
.) Basically they’re all mad.