The Queue: Part 2

Now Steve and Al and Louis are shuffling along together. Louis has politely turned down the hash cookie Al offered to him, but he’s fascinated by the yarn bomb banner she’s working on now (the light isn’t good enough for crochet body parts). ‘Words have such power, and people use them so carelessly’. ‘You’re right Louis. I hope that this all sinks in – sometimes I worry that young people don’t even know what Patriarchy means’. ‘And the Queen?’ Louis knows why Steve is there, but it seems weird that Al is too.

‘Hey, a feminist can’t be a fan of the monarchy? You’re right, this is not about professing my love of the Establishment! But the Queen, she was pretty impressive – think of her as a young woman, surrounded by posh old men in positions of power, telling her what to do. I have no shame in standing here to give her my best feminist farewell’. And anyway, she was a Punk icon, right?’ and she opens her coat to show the men her classic Sex Pistols T-Shirt. 

Pat and Elizabeth walk into the hall. Time, which has become so slow through the long queue, stops completely. This Coffin, mounted high on its flag-draped catafalque (they had to look that one up earlier), with the silent, still soldiers standing on guard (‘we will look those uniforms up on Google’ thought Pat). It could have been something from the middle ages. Or a movie. Somehow that moment was worth it, and Pat and Elizabeth leave, satisfied. Outside they blink in the floodlit dark, and realise that the day is over. They are more sad than they expected to be. ‘Walk to the tube with me Pat?’ ‘Oh yes, that would be nice. Elizabeth, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but your hair….’

Kathy has fallen asleep on the sofa again (it happens more than she likes to admit). The queue is still on. It’s still ‘live’. It writhes across the screen and invades her dreams.

Dave is in the pub. He stayed an hour or two, but then thought ‘fuck it. Don’t know what the point is, it’s not as if the Queen cares’. He bunked off early and is having a last drink before heading home. The queue is on the TV in the pub. Not just this pub, but all the pubs. ‘Sweet dreams your Majesty’ he says, with a spoof salute at the TV as he heads out of the door. 

Phil is 56 but he looks a lot older. He doesn’t know it, but he was in the same Army unit as Keith. But Phil joined the queue as Keith left it. He’s been in and out of hostels for years now, and he knows a night spent in the queue will be just one night he doesn’t have to spend alone at the hostel. The Army broke him. But at the same time he is flooded with pride as he sees the uniforms on the TV, and his loyalty to ‘The Boss’ has been stirred up. In the queue no one wants to stand too close to him. He looks dirty, shifty, maybe he could be violent. He doesn’t smell great. But this queue is for anyone who cares to join, so people allow him to shuffle along with them, as long as they can avoid eye contact.

It's not until 1am that a voice reaches out. ‘Hey, we have been walking together for a while now. That lady over there is making tea for people. Do you fancy a cup?’

The author and Phil sip tea together, and as they talk, the author (he’s called Tim) realises that this man has more stories in him than Tim could ever hope to capture. But no one has ever thought to ask. And in the early hours of the morning the stories all spill out

Tara and Louise are about 5 metres from each other, shivering without coats on, but they wanted to look good on the TV coverage. The 5 metre gap has been maintained very precisely for 10 hours so far. It’s as if they were on opposite sides of the channel – they can see each other, but it would be incredibly rude, maybe impossible, for them to close that gap. They are wearing the same dress. It’s the M&S teal leopard print midaxi all the influencers went wild for. Because of this fashion faux pas they cannot make eye contact. All the people between them are wearing jeans, hoodies, anoraks and comfy shoes, so the two women in their dresses and heels stand out. 

It’s a real mix in the queue, many in practical clothes but the smart ones stand out. It is after all the Queen. Mark is about half a mile ahead. He’s wearing a perfect 40s navy 3-piece suit with matching overcoat. Mark was part of the ‘Vintage dance’ team who took part in the Jubilee procession just a few months ago. It seems strange to him to have these two vastly different Royal events so close together. He hums and taps his foot as he queues. 

It's 2am and a celebrity has joined the back of the queue. No one has noticed him, yet. 

In the hall itself the guard changes and the whole thing pays out like the mechanism of a Swiss clock, a respectful hush is punctuated by the sound of staff hitting stone, and military boots marching into place. Many of the public bow their head in a slow nod towards the coffin, others make the sign of the cross, or make a brief prayer to whatever God or Gods they follow. Middle aged women in bootleg jeans make awkward but well-meant curtsies. 

At one point a man steps too close, and is quietly lead away by police – all this watching the live feed wonder why they suddenly get a view of the outside traffic for a minute or two before the action returns to the hall. 

In cafes and pubs around Westminster the queue companions decide to carry on their chatting instead of going straight home. New friends with little in common but much to say. There is talk of a facebook page, or maybe a Whatsapp group. Mags and the bus driver (Phil) make an incongruous pair on a table upstairs at The Coal Hole, but they are chatting about a neighbourhood they have lived in all their lives, seen from two completely different angles. 

The reporters haunting the queue are hunting down heart-warming stories. Apparently a young couple have fallen in love and plan to watch the funeral together on Monday. Love grows fast in the queue! 

Phil and the Author have the good fortune to arrive in the hall just as the Vigil of the Princes takes place. As Phil approaches the catafalque and sees his King he seems to grow. The bent old man pulls his shoulders back, head up, and to all who see him transforms into a young soldier. He gives a smart salute, and the Author is there with him to give a reassuring tap on the shoulder. Whatever happens after this, he feels he has found a part of himself that had been lost. Kathy sees the moment on the TV, and sniffs. She’s more interested in the constantly changing stream of ordinary people than the uniformed Royals who stand so gracefully around their Mother. 

Steve and Al are also in a pub, the back of The Round Table (one of those dingy places right in the middle of things yet always empty). Louis was with them till an hour ago but politely swapped numbers then went home to his waiting wife. Al has finished her banner and is now working on an intricate crocheted willy. It is made using various stitches and colours of wool. Steve is fascinated by Al. She is completely at ease with who she is and she has found a way to live life the way she wants to. Both of these things have always seemed so far out of reach for Steve, despite his neat East London flat, cute boyfriend, cool (until it ended) job. 

‘What do you WANT Steve? THINK about it – be honest’. 

‘Well, I know it sounds really, well, middle-aged and stuff….but… Bees.’ 

‘Bees?’ she says, ‘Yeah, Bees, a house in the country, dogs, real Country Living sort of stuff.’ ‘Well bloody do it then you stupid boy. It’s not an impossible dream you know. Go home, have a sleep, tell Graham, then start looking – and tell me all about it please. I do NOT want to hear that in a year’s time you are still living a life you hate. 

On the BBC live coverage of The Queue there is a ‘watch from the start’ option. Will people really use it? Maybe the people who were in the queue will watch the queue when they get home. The Guardian says ‘Ebay listings for Queen’s lying in State wristbands selling for up to £70k removed’. Really?

A surprising number of babies are in the queue. They are carried into the hall in the arms of their mothers or fathers and look at the brightly coloured scene with the same fascination they would have shown on a visit to a farm or zoo. 

One of the soldiers fainted and now Kathy can’t help herself, she looks at the soldiers guarding the Queen and tries to spot a wobble or sway. The tap tap of the staff has trained the viewers like dogs. We take a break to put the kettle on but come rushing back to the screen when we hear the tap and know the guard is about to change. 

It is Saturday night now. When will they say ‘no more’ to those hoping to join the end of the queue? An edge of urgency has taken hold. A University has sent a team of academics down to study and record the queue. Is it possible to capture and pin down the ephemeral magic of The Queue?

Em and Becca are still there. They are still raking it in, but have stopped actively asking for money. They have had so many interesting conversations over the last few days. Begging is usually a speedy transaction – but these people are going nowhere. There has been no judgement – instead the people in the queue are genuinely interested to ask the girls about who they are, why they are in London, what they plan for the future. It’s more interest than anyone has shown them for years, and they open out like flowers, talking to this weird collection of slowly shuffling people. 

How often these days does life slow down to a crawl? The members of the queue have their phones in their pockets. They are offline, chatting, thinking, being. Like a secular modern pilgrimage the queue has become the point, rather than the brief moment at the end with the coffin perched high in an ancient hall. What seems strange to those watching the live feed is that some people barely pause in the hall, they hardly give the coffin a glance. Having reached the end of the queue, their job is done. Professor Rob Johns says The queue is “a collective gathering that is as much about the queue as it is about reaching the end of all the queuing.’

The public have now been told ‘don’t join the queue – there is no more time, it will end at 6.30am on Monday’. In a statement, the culture department say "a decision will be taken later on when entry to the queue will close as it reaches final capacity". 

If you thought about joining, you have missed your chance. 

The queue numbered paper wrist bands are being sold on ebay – with the ‘day one’ bands worth more. Day one queue, like day one D-Day, or the first people to arrive on the Mayflower – they are the insignia worn by queue pioneers. 

A few of those ‘first in the queue’ people have decided to reunite and watch the end of the queue together on Monday morning. 

Wikipedia has been updated. The Queue now has a whole wiki page of its own. The old word has a whole new meaning. How else has the Queen’s death changed the English language? Well, it’s been a long time since so many people knew what a catafalque is. 

The Queue has seen its last sunset now, and there is a tangible sense of sadness, but it’s not clear whether people are mourning the Queen, or mourning the end of The Queue. Blankets worn like battle colours and paper bracelets on display, the last Queue is braced for the night ahead. 

A posh lady takes her turn in the hall and pauses to curtesy. You can tell she’s posh, her pearls are real, and even more tellingly she curtsies like she’s done it before. All the women behind her who had planned a head nod change their mind and go for an awkward dip at the knees instead.  

Parents continue to guide their children through. They look at the coffin then look down at their kids – willing them to understand the importance of what they are witnessing. The kids blink in the artificial bright light and are drawn to the bright uniforms and sparkling crown – but they are too young to mourn the death of an old lady from the TV. 

One of the last to join the queue is Graham. As soon as he spoke to Steve he realised that this was going to be a turning point in Steve’s life. He had a choice – share it, or be left behind. So there he is – and whatever happens now (he knows a big change is on the way, Steve has been unhappy for months), The Queue is something they have shared and ‘post-queue’ life is something they will tackle hand in hand. 

King Charles and Prince William have been hand shaking outside. The sections of the Queue who didn’t get a hand shake are feeling a bit abandoned but there are still enough reporters to make them feel seen again. King Charles – that name seemed so strange a week ago but already it’s sounding more normal. Life is already becoming used to the second Carolean age. 

Kathy’s on the phone again ‘Oh my God, do you think they can see The Queue from space?? Yeah, they must be able to!’. Earlier she was a bit worried about what she might do after The Queue ends. But then she remembers that Bake Off and Strictly are back, so it will be fine.