Free Muriel's Reign by Susanna Johnston

judge dressed tidily; each suit a trifle too tight. But Tommy Tiddler!
    No one, least of all Muriel, had anticipated such an apparition. Scent and stole. He did not wear the brooch made up of copulating goats but a diamante fairy seated on an enamel toadstool. He whispered to Hugh, ‘Onewas creamy round the crutch when one dressed for this. Nearly parked a crafty. I hope one hasn’t overdone it but one was rather pretty when one was young.’
    Hugh, appalled to be coupled with this freak, walked towards Lizzie who wanted to thank him again for having taken her to the supermarket.
    The judge, having made his obeisances, also leered at her. His face was lopsided as if he’d suffered a mild stroke. She sparkled and said, ‘Isn’t this fantastic. Muriel at home to nobs.’ Then, animatedly to both pairs of ears, ‘I’m allergic to royalty myself. Actually allergic. I feel physically sick when they’re in the room. I can’t wait for this afternoon when they leave.’
    The two men, terrified but impressed, laughed loudly but glanced at the causes of the allergy as they did so – wondering which side their bread was likely to be buttered.
    Tommy puzzled Mummy who didn’t know if she spoke to a man or a woman. It was all a bit much at her age – what with Dulcie in the van. He said, ‘One does love Christmas and putting on all one’s bits. What it must be to wear a crown. The mind boggles.’
    Queen Elizabeth, rising above such matters, said, ‘I think there was a rat in my room.’
    Mambles was being charmed by Marco but Flavia had failed to appear. ‘Still getting into her gear,’ he explained,‘that and the little one who’s to be fed in the kitchen again. Good on Ma. And Pa come to that. We’ll soon be off the hook if this Phyllis thing works out.’
    ‘Phyllis thing?’ Mambles asked.
    ‘Yes. Pa and Phyllis. A bit of a twosome. Suits us as she does all the dirty work in the squash court.’
    ‘Hope it’s not too much of a squash,’ Mambles opened her eyes very wide and was happy to have made a joke although she did not approve of cross currents with lower orders.
    Marco laughed lustily and Muriel began to hope that all was going well.
    Tommy’s fingers neared Mummy’s diamond brooch. It had large baroque pearls hanging from it and she put up a hand for protection. He feigned a swoon. ‘What a celestial piece. Would that you’d do swappums with my fairy,’ but she didn’t appear to understand his words.
    A table plan had been worked out by Peter. Mummy sat at the head. Hugh on her right – then Mambles, Tommy Tiddler, Muriel and the judge at the end – opposite Mummy. To the judge’s right sat Flavia, then Peter, Lizzie, Marco and back to Mummy.
    Marco talked to Mummy of her importance to the country as Lizzie struggled with Peter, cross not to be beside Hugh or, at least, the crooked-faced judge.
    Mambles asked Hugh, ‘Has Marco turned over a newleaf since becoming a father?’ Hugh, taken aback with Marco only a few feet away, replied, ‘Yes. The country suits him. Lessens the peer pressure.’ Mambles who, in spite of Mummy’s efforts had never received pressure from peers, sat nonplussed.
    Flavia, also downcast by her place at table, pouted and drank.
    Muriel was saddened that Mummy and Mambles were in no way struck by the splendour of the dining room or of what Mambles had, on other occasions, spoken of as ‘nice things’.
    Tommy Tiddler asked Mambles what it was like to be a bird in a gilded cage. He began to sing, lifting his eyes to the ceiling and a glass to his lips.
    Muriel loathed it all. Mercifully the entourage, it turned out, was set to depart in the afternoon. Return to some sort of reason. She yearned to settle, quietly with Peter and Monopoly, to wallow in the thrill of her unexpected fortune; to sum up her duties, possibly to buy a horse.
    She heard snippets of conversation as courses came and went.
    There was a sixpenny bit in Mummy’s slice of pudding left over from the