The Queen and I by Sue Townsend Read Free Book Online

been taught to do, “And did you marry again?”
    Violet, who hadn’t needed prompting, laughed. “I’m on my fifth.”
    All the women in the room laughed.
    “Five husbands. Eleven children, fifteen grandchildren, six great grandchildren, and there’s a bloke at the British Legion I’ve set me cap at.” Violet applied scarlet lipstick to her mouth using the mirror on the inside of her plastic snakeskin handbag.
    “You’re a dirty bugger, Violet,” said Mandy Carter, Diana’s other next-door neighbour, whose fence Prince William had brought down the night before. Mandy nursed her new baby, called Shadow, on her shoulder. Diana looked at Mandy’s clothes and barely suppressed a shudder. Stretch denim jeans with white stilettoes – ugh. And that blonde candy-floss hair with more split ends than a Chinese spring onion – gross. And those pale breasts spilling from that pink acrylic scooped neck top – mega vulgaris.
    “Your ’usband and ’is mam ’ave bin a long time,” said Violet.
    “Ya,” said Diana. “Is the hospital far away?”
    “Two mile down the road,” said a young woman with a spider tattooed on her neck.
    “I were there six ’n ’alf hours that time Clive broke me jaw,” said Mandy.
    “Gracious,” said Diana. “Who’s Clive?”
    “’Is dad,” said Mandy, darkly, pointing to Shadow.
    “I cun’t eat, cun’t smoke, cun’t drink.”
    “Din’t stop yer shagging though, did it?” said Violet. “I ’eard you – and I’m two doors away.”
    Diana blushed. Gracious, she was no prude, but she hated to hear a woman swear. She looked up just as Inspector Holyland passed by the dripping privet hedge. He glowered into the crowded living room. The women catcalled and the tattooed woman whistled, as though calling a taxi in London.
    Holyland marched down the path. Diana picked her way through the women and answered her front door. Inspector Holyland coughed to give himself time. He had forgotten what he was supposed to call her. Was it Mrs Windsor? Mrs Spencer? Mrs Charles?
    Diana waited until the policeman had recovered from his coughing fit. Eventually he spluttered, “They shouldn’t be in there,” pointing to the women in the living room. “You’re not supposed to receive any special attention.” He had got a grip on himself now. “So I’d be obliged if you’d ask them to go, madam.”
    “I couldn’t possibly. It would be so rude.”
    A cheer came from the living room and Violet bustled to the front door, hands in the pockets of her satin bomber jacket, an imperious expression on her wrinkled face. “We ain’t payin’ her any special attention; we’re ’er neighbours. We’ve come to see if she needs owt doin’.”
    “Oh yes,” sneered Holyland. “Do the same for anybody , do you?”
    “’S matter of fact, yes, we do,” said Violet, truthfully. “We stick together in Hell Close.”
    She turned to Diana. “Right, shall we start on them cupboards?”
    Holyland turned away. The records showed that Violet, her husband Wilf and seven of their adult children had not yet paid this year’s poll tax – in fact, they had not yet paid last year’s poll tax. He would get his revenge.
    Just then, Diana saw the shape of Princess Margaret running down the middle of the road, high heels clacking, fur coat flying, hair escaping from its elaborate top knot. She ran up to the barrier and began to grapple with a young policeman. Inspector Holyland spoke into his radio and seconds later a klaxon sounded and the street was suddenly illuminated by harsh white light.
    “Christ!” said Violet. “It’s like bleedin’ Colditz.”
    “It’s Margo trying to break the seven o’clock curfew,” said Diana, watching from her doorstep. It was Inspector Holyland himself who escorted Princess Margaret back to her house.
    Diana heard her say, “But I must get to Marks and Spencer before they close. I can’t cook.”
    Diana shut her front door and went back to her neighbours. She