The Queen’s Limousine
T he champagne spurted out of the bottle like golden fireworks inside the limo. The Queen and Margaret squealed with mirth as Jack and Lorina kissed. For a moment, the Queen felt jealous and would have gone as far as kissing Margaret, but she ended up kissing her own hand instead. Nothing wrong with being in love with one’s self.
“What are we celebrating?” Margaret said.
“The death of Alice!” the Queen chirped and played a song from her pinkish iPhone. A famous old song with explicit lyrics, but one that every bar in Britain knew about. It always ended with a phrase: Alice? Who the %$@* is Alice?
“Ah?” Margaret scratched her head. She still couldn’t swallow Jack’s eagerness to kill Alice. It just didn’t make sense, but it seemed the Queen had managed to influence the boy and lavish him with her generous offers.
“And how is Jack going to kill her while she’s still hiding inside the asylum?” Margaret had to ask.
“Who said she’ll stay inside?” the Queen said. “That’s why we made up the whole thing about the police breaking in so soon.”
“So it was a bluff?”
“Life is one big bluff, Margaret.” The Queen grinned. “Soon, Alice and her friends will have to give in and come out. That’s when Jack’s role comes into play. Isn’t that so, little Jackie?”
“All in the name of the Queen.” Jack raised his glass of champagne, Lorina giggling behind him.
“This is going to be a day to remember.” The Queen sighed. “Alice killed by her boyfriend while the public thinks she is a terrorist. Brilliant.”
Margaret said nothing. She’d begun sympathizing with Alice, which was actually a bit strange. Margaret had never been known for a soft heart. She’d committed atrocities that would book her a business class flight to eternity in hell. But she could not imagine how Alice felt, being told how her family had been brutally murdered. Having kissed the queen’s ugly butt to get her son back, Margaret began to realize the importance of family bonds. She, herself, had sold her soul to a devil called Black Chess for her son, Humpty. She couldn’t imagine Alice’s rage when she found out about her own family.
Instead of celebrating, she wondered who’d organized this whole gathering in the asylum again. Who was this mysterious messenger and what was the grand plan behind this meeting?
No solid answers came to mind, so she occupied herself with the news on her phone. This channel didn’t cover the situation at the Radcliffe Asylum, but insisted on broadcasting the events at the Vatican. Masses were still gathered, waiting for the new pope’s announcement.
Margaret suddenly felt uneasy about this. What was the fuss about this pope? Could he have anything to do with what was going on in the asylum?