Lilian was looking past the memorial statue to the palace itself, majestic behind its high, ornate gates. “I actually remember when they refaced this whole side. It looked quite different before. It was just before the war.”
Evelyn tore her attention away from the memorial and looked properly at the palace. “It looks as though it’s been here forever.”
“Doesn’t it? I suppose that’s the idea. And look, seems like His Majesty is at home today.” Lilian pointed to the flag flying from the pole in the centre of the roof. “That’s the Royal Standard. They fly it when the King and Queen are in residence.”
Evelyn watched the colourful flag flutter in the breeze, then looked down at the many windows in the pale, Portland-stone facade. The palace looked just as it had in the postcard she had gazed at years ago, only so much bigger than she’d imagined. And now she could almost see into the windows. She pictured the grand interior, wondered what King George and Queen Mary would be doing at this time of day. Did they look out of the window at the tourists clustering around their gates? How did that feel? To be the most important and famous people in this city full of people. Evelyn knew she would hate to be so conspicuous, for all the wealth and luxury that came with it. “It really is beautiful,” she said to Lilian, who was clearly waiting for a reaction. “Very grand.” In reality, the palace was almost too grand for Evelyn’s taste. Although she was impressed, even captivated, part of her felt repulsed, excluded by the grandeur. It was a revelation to her, to realise that she was not awestruck by such a place. Lilian did not seem to be in awe either.
“Of course, I’ve seen plenty of the place, but I can see why visitors want to see it. It’s so famous. You know, during the war, they moved all the important fixtures and fittings out, in case it was damaged. But nothing ever happened. Made the King lock his wine cellar too, to set a good example. Not that it made a difference!” Lilian laughed. “I know a few girls who came out in there, of course.”
“Came out?” Evelyn asked.
“Yes, as debutantes. It’s when a girl comes of age and is presented at court for the first time. You get to meet the King and curtsey and then there’s a dance, with everyone in their best court dress. I used to be frightfully envious over it, of course. Now I think it’s all rather silly, parading the marriageable aristocratic girls like that. Awfully stuffy too. Although I hear the King has had jazz at the palace, so times are changing.”
Evelyn wondered now what it would be like to be one of those aristocratic girls. She was inclined, like Lilian, to think it was a rather silly notion. Still, she was aware of just how many different worlds there were, how many different ways life could be lived. The chance nature of where and when a person was born made such a difference to what they would experience. Only Evelyn had chosen to challenge that, by coming to London. She’d broken a pattern, done something thoroughly modern and independent. Of that she could be proud, even if she would never be a debutante.
They crossed the road to stand right up against the black painted gates. Evelyn peered through to see the red-coated guards in their black bearskin hats. Motionless, they looked like the toy soldiers Edward had played with as a child. It was odd that a soldier could still be a ceremonial, red-coated toy, when the reality was khaki and mud and death. There almost seemed a wilful ignorance of reality where soldiering was concerned, she thought. This was how storybook soldiers were still presented. The war was a dreadful nightmare, an abhorrence that would never be repeated. The witnesses to it were dead or damaged and the myth of red-coated glory could be restored. Very clearly, Evelyn saw what Dorothy had been trying to explain to her. This was a new world, a world their generation would make their own. They were not Victorians anymore, and they would break away from their love of Empire and glory and live as never before. This was the dream she had shared with Edward and now it seemed more than just a hope, but a duty.
“You look rather thoughtful, darling,” Lilian said.
“I suppose I am. I can’t say why, exactly. It’s only, this place seems to be such a symbol of the past.”
“Oh, it’s the perfect symbol of the past.” Lilian smiled. “Of course, when I see these gates I always think of the brave suffragettes chaining themselves to these very railings. But even that’s a thing of the past now. It seems so ridiculously quaint, since the war, doesn’t it?”
“It’s something along those lines that I was thinking.” Evelyn looked along the gates to the crowd of other sightseers who were peering through the railings. Was the fascination just that the palace was so famous? Or was it also the glimpse into the past, a yearning for days gone by, that drew them?
“Never ceases to amaze me how many people come to stand here,” Lilian said, seeing where Evelyn was looking.
“I’m still surprised to see
