Future Queens of England (2 page)

“Well, I wish we could still administer hemlock as a punishment,” the magistrate admonished.  “Anyway, I would hardly compare your client to Socrates.”

Tony looked up quickly.  “Oi, who are you to judge me?”

“I rest my case,” snorted the magistrate.  He folded his arms and looked around smugly to see if anyone else found this statement as ironic as he did.

Tony whispered to his solicitor and his solicitor nodded in agreement.

“My client refutes the charges of urinating outside a public convenience,” Bob declared purposefully.

No sooner had the final word left his lips when Tony interrupted.  “I can’t get done for that.  I needed a piss
,
but I wasn’t willing to enter those public toilets.  They were so close to th
at
gay
pub
, I didn’t dare enter them for fear of someone entering me.”

“But urinating in public is still an offence,” said the magistrate gravely.

“Objection!” shouted Tony.

“Objection?” scorned the magistrate.  “Objection? You’ve seen too much American television, Mr Horwood.”

“But pissing in public is not an offence,” continued Tony, appearing not to have heard.  The courtroom fell silent.  “Before I started to piss I raised my hand and shouted aloud three times at the top of my voice, ‘I’m in pain.  I’m in pain.  I’m in pain’.
 
Th
at
makes it legal.
”
 

The magistrate stared in disbelief.  “This is simply not true!” he cried.

Tony began to explain.  “Well, my mate Neil at the pub told me that this makes it legal and he is a clever swine.  He wears glasses and his team always wins the pub quiz.”  Staring defiantly into the magistrate’s eyes, he said: “I rest my case.”  And with that, he sat back down while his solicitor stood bewildered.

The magistrate removed his glasses and rubbed his face with the palm of his hand and let out a sigh.

“I hate to burst your bubble Mr Horwood, but your f r i e n d” – he dragged out the word and hardened his tone – “is sadly mistaken.”

Tony refuted this.  “He also told me it’s legal to piss against the rear wheels of someone else’s car as long as you have your right hand on the vehicle the whole time that you are peeing.”

The magistrate rolled his eyes.  “And at which school of law did ‘your friend’” – making inverted commas in the air with his fingers – “learn all these gems of legal information?”

“Oh, he didn’t learn it at school,” explained Tony, “I think he read it on the internet.”

The magistrate rolled back in his chair.  “Well then, it must be true!”

“Ah, so you agree then?” said Tony.

“No,” scoffed the magistrate, “I was being facetious.  Does the defence actually have a defence?”

Bob’s cheeks coloured, “Erm, actually no, not really.”

“Okay,” said the magistrate, “are you finished then?”

“The defence rests,” Bob
said
softly and sat down, defeated.

No sooner had the seat of his trousers touched the chair when the magistrate bellowed, with obvious enjoyment: “Can the defence stand!”

Tony and Bob rose to their feet.

“How do you plead?” enquired the magistrate.

“Not guilty,” replied Bob.

“Please take a seat while I consider the evidence.”  The magistrates tone was cold and expressionless.  “This won’t take long.”

For a few moments there was an uncomfortable silence, while from elsewhere in the building came the faint but persistent sound of a baby crying.

Eventually, the magistrate cleared his throat and delivered his verdict with a serious expression.

“The court has heard evidence that on the night of 28
^th
July, Mr Tony Horwood committed the following offences: drunk and disorderly, urinating outside a public convenience, and
actual bodily harms
towards the clientele of The Pink Moon public house.  This court finds the defendant guilty on all counts.”

From the dock Bob bowed his head just as Tony looked up and smirked defiantly at the magistrate.

“You are hereby sentenced to
twelve
months’ community service.”

Tony laughed out loud.  “Tw
elve
months
community service
?  Easy!
”
 

“Yes, err, well,” the magistrate said, stumbling over his words.  He wasn’t expecting this.  Maybe he had underestimated his opponent.

The magistrate concentrated for a moment, his eyes darting from left to right while his brain processed his thoughts.  “Perhaps
community service
is not the answer for a recidivist like you.”  His lips formed a sardonic smile.  “Ah, I know.  I have just the thing for you.”  He paused and stared Tony right in the eyes and announced a new punishment.  “I sentence you to an academic year at the Finishing School for Future Queens of England.”

Tony looked genuinely puzzled.  “What’s that?  Is it some kind of boot camp?”

“No,” smiled the magistrate, “although ‘camp’ is one way of describing it.”  He was really enjoying himself now.

Bob leaned over and muttered into his ear.

“You what?” squealed Tony, abandoning all cool and nonchalance.

“Ah, Mr Horwood.  I believe the penny is just about to drop.”  The magistrate drank in the expression on Tony’s face.  He studied his eyes and the panic within.  He gazed at Tony’s brow and at the appearance and disappearance of the lines washing in likes waves onto a beach.  He imagined for a moment that he could hear the cogs inside Tony’s head as they slowly turned and processed this information.  He pictured Tony’s synapses firing in a random and chaotic pattern like a firework factory that has been set ablaze.  Then suddenly, something fell into place, the atmosphere in the room seemed to change.  He watched Tony intently, half expecting a cuckoo to spring out of his mouth.

Tony’s lips parted and instead of a cuckoo two words sprang out: “Gay school?”

“You’ve got it, Mr Horwood.  You’ll be spending the next few months at the Finishing School for Future Queens of England, or ‘gay school’, as you so eloquently put it.”

“What!  You’re seriously going to put me in there…with them?”

The magistrate began to relax.  He’d won this battle and spoke slowly and smugly.  “Yes, it will do you good to mix with a different sort,” and started to write on his notepad absentmindedly.

“I won’t go,”

The magistrate looked up, “If you refuse to go then you’ll break the conditions of your sentence and I will have no choice other than to send you to prison instead.”

“Prison!  Are you serious?”

“Totally.”

Tony gritted his teeth.  “I
f you send me to that gay school
I’ll smack their heads in
and get kicked out
.”
  H
e clenched and unclenched his fists as if cracking invisible walnuts.  His dirty nails sank into his palms leaving semi-circular indentations that quickly dissipated.

The magistrate looked serious for a moment.  “
If you get kicked out then you break the terms of your sentence and you’ll go to prison.  Also,
Mr Horwood, there will be hundreds of gay men at the school and there is only one of you.”  He had Tony’s undivided attention now.  “You may not be the sharpest tool in the box, but you’re not stupid.
 
I suspect that when you are not with your likeminded friends and when sober you may display a slightly more pusillanimous side to your character.”

Tony scratched his head.  “I have no idea what you just said.
 
I will take them out one by one if I have to.”

The magistrate laughed.  “There are approximately four hundred students there and you’ll be at the school for a full school year.  Simple mathematics, Mr Horwood, simple mathematics.”  He rubbed his hands together with glee.
 
             
“Between classes you will have neither the time nor the energy to duff anybody up.”
 
             
He watched Tony as he appeared to consider the numbers and the
timescales presented to him. 
“Anyway, I suspect that you will start to empathise with your fellow students once you’ve settled in.”  He sighed.  There was no fun in this now.  The battle
had been
won.  His mind wandered, he was hungry.  “Shoul
d I eat in or go out tonight?”

His thoughts were rudely interrupted as Tony spoke: “They’ll all be after me in there, won’t they?”

“It’s hard to interpret your meaning, Mr Horwood.  Was that a statement or a question?” asked the magistrate.

It wasn’t clear but it sounded like fear in Tony’s voice. No, ‘fear’ is too strong a word – ‘uncertainty’ more accurately describes it, the magistrate thought to himself.

“And prison will be different how?” he asked rhetorically.  He had had enough now.  He wanted to wind this up and go home.

“Mr Horwood, it is more likely that you’ll be sexually harassed in prison than at that school.”

Tony started to protest but the magistrate barked his order: “Bailiff take him away!”

As they led him away Tony wasn’t quite sure what had made the loud bang.  Was it the magistrate’s gavel or his jaw hitting the floor?

Chapter Two

“George,” Hugh said in a serious tone, “we need to talk.”  He patted the bed next to him.  “Please sit down.”

“Okay.” George sat down hesitantly.

Hugh took George’s hand and held it gently.  He stared into the middle distance deciding how to start.

“Come on Hugh,” George prompted, “you’re scaring me a bit.”

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing that bad,” he whispered, completely avoiding any eye contact.

“If it’s not that bad then just come out with it.”

Hugh’s hand became clammy, so he let go and gently wiped the perspiration on his duvet.  He took a deep breath and spoke rapidly. “I’ll be going away for a while.”

“What?” George exclaimed, before standing up and firing questions at Hugh.  “Where are you going?  When are you going?  What does this mean?”

“
I knew you’d react like this.” Hugh put his head in his hands.

“Answer the question,” persisted George with growing anger.

“Which one do you want me to answer?”

“All of them.”

“Okay, okay,” replied Hugh. “I’ve been accepted at the Future Queens of England finishing school.”

“What?” screeched George.  The blood ran out of George’s face as the realisation kicked in.  “
Isn’t that the g
ay school?  Oh my god.  You can’t be serious?”

Hugh remained silent, observing the maelstrom.

After a few dumbstruck moments George stopped pacing and spoke calmly. “Okay, Hugh.  I will make this simple.  One word.  When?”

Hugh relaxed a little.  “I leave next Monday and I’ll be there for a full academic year.  But it’s not that long if you think about it.  Just September through to July.”

“Don't patronise me, Hugh.  I know what an academic year is; I
was
at school for most of my life.”

Hugh ran his hand through his hair and sucked air through closed teeth, not knowing what to say next.