BloodLies AliFranks

Ali Franks is a teacher with ambitions to be a professional snookerplayer, fly bachatero or writer.

It’sbeenfiveyearssincetheDiamondJubileerepainting,thoughtColonelFitzjames. TheGreat HallofBuckinghamPalace,timesofausterityornot,deservedalickofpaint.Everymorninghewatched thehousekeeperssweepingupflakesofcreamemulsionunderneaththeportraitsaroundtheroom.A monthagoagreatstriphadalightedonGeorgeIV’shead,instantlyrestylinghishairintoaperoxidequiff, untilcuratorshadarrived,removedtheoffendingscrapandcarefullycleanedtheremainingwhitepowder fromhisforehead.Afloodedupstairsguestbathroomhadleftasicklyyellowstaingrowingoutofthe gold-leafedtrimontheceiling. Still,theroomwasmagnificent.Threehundredyearsofmonarchyslung inchronologicalorderonvastcanvasesalongthecrimsonwalls.Capesandfursmorphedacrossthe

centuriesintouniformsdrippingwithheroism.Wigsandcollarsgrewandshrank,goldandjewelscame andwent,thependulumswungbackandforthfromdaintytomacho,facialresemblancesebbingand flowingthroughthegenerations,aprominentchinhere,deep-seteyesthere.Occasionalanomalieslittered thewalls,aportlyprincefromalineofstringbeans,anovelhaircolourorapreviouslyunseenproboscis. Andstilltheirdescendantssatonthethrone,popularityuntouchedbystatecutsandunemployment,that greatboonofmonarchy–stability,morecherishedthanever. Thecolonel’ssecretarywaitedforhiminhisofficeinthesouthwing.Pressclippings,adaily scheduleandastackofcorrespondencesatonhisdesk. “Anythingspecial?’ heasked,hanginghisjacketandwood-handledumbrellaontheirrack. “No,sir.Thoughoneslightchangeofschedule,justcomein.Fogoverthehighlandshasgrounded

airtraffic,sotheheirwilltravelbycartotheagriculturalshow.” “Allwellfortheassentsigning?” “Yes,sir,onschedule.” “Fine,fine.Bringmeacoffee,wouldyou?”Hesatbehindtheolddesk,pulledouttheTelegraph, andbeganreadingtheAshesreports. AfteralunchofDuchyporkpie,theybegantheceremony.TheParliamentaryclerkarrivedand waitedpatientlyinthelibraryfortenminutes,runninghishandoverhisBrylcreemedhairandcoveting thefirsteditions.Inhishandsweretwocopiesofthebillthatwouldkeepgovernmentrunningduringa

timeoffinancialapocalypse.Missing–RoyalAssent. Thequeenarriveddressedinpaleyellow,wide glassesandanentourageofcaninesycophancy. “Ma’am.” “Goodafternoon,Edward.Hereformyautograph,Iassume?” Hechuckled.“Yes,Ma’am.Theemergencybudget.“

Shesatgracefullyattheleather-boundwritingdeskinthecentreoftheroom. “Doesitbearyour namealready?” “Yes,Ma’am.Readinessisall.” Shepullsafountainpenfromthedesk,popsoffthelidandsettlesherelbows.Edwardstandsa discreetdistancebehindher,handsfolded,silentlyrecitingprayersthattheinkcartridgedoesnotexplode again.Justasshelowerspentopaper,hehearsastrangenoise,somethingakintoafart,behindhim.He turnsslowly,andfollowsthenoisetotheceilingabovethem.Astackofpaintandplasterrearsdown towardhim.Thecracksextendfivepaces,stretchingacrosstothechandelier,whereitisasifrootsare beingrippedfromthebrickwork.Thechandelierdropsspasmodicallyuntilitdetachesfromtheceiling andplungesthroughaglass-toppedcoffeetable.Heturnsbacktothequeenandwatchesherinhalea

billowingcloudofdust.Hestepsclosertohertentatively,shocked,yetstillwaryofviolatingRoyal contactprotocol. “Ma’am,Ma’am,”hesays,asiftryingtowakeanelderlyrelative.“Areyouokay?” Shecoughsonceandgetsslowlytoherfeet.Herhanddropstoherthigh,andshebeginstoturn awayfromhim.Helookson,terrifiedthathecouldfallundersuspicionofcommittingaCapitalOffence ifthingsgoawry.Thecolonelsprintsthoughthedoorwithsurprisingagilityandgoesquicklytoherside. Thedusthasdousedherinwhite;ahackingcoughshakesherbody.Sheremovesherglassesandturns backtowardstheclerk,whosurveyinghisqueen,canthinkonlyofthepandabearshesawonTVlast night.Edwardavertshisgazeandcringeswiththeembarrassmentofaloyalsubject. ***

“Andthefinallot,auctionedtodaybyourspecialguestonthis,theopeningofthelargestcattle marketinSouth-EastScotland,HisRoyalHighness,whowillgrabthegavelandgetusunderway!”The farmersroartheirapproval,andsettleinforthespectacle.Theprincemountsthepodiumgingerlyand steadieshimselfonthelectern.Belowliesamuddyring,throughwhichhaveploddedthreehundredcows. Butthebesthasbeenkeptforlast. “Goodeveningtoyouall,andthankyoufor….” Amightycrashcracksthroughthesmallarena.Willythebull,possiblysensingthatheisaboutto beputunderthehammerhasputhisfull,one-tonbodyweightintoatremendouskick.

“Onyougo,YourMajesty,”shoutsawagintheaudience.“Don’tworry,hedoesn’thold grudges.” Thebullsettlesdownandtheheirresumeshisspeech,dippinghischintothemicrophone.“Thank youforwelcomingmetodaytothismarvellousnewproject.Ibelievethatwithorganicsustainability,the farmersofFifewillgoonfromstrengthtostrength.”Thecrowd,whosehipflasksareallnowatlowtide,

applaudriotously.“So,LotB34,Willy,Highlandpurebreed,ninehundredandsevenkilograms,starting thebiddingatfivethousandpounds.” Helooksup,andapurple-facedmaninakilthashisplacardraised.Thebiddingshootsuptoten thousand,andthenpauses.Frombelowthepedestaltheauctioneeroffersupsomesageadvice,anda conferencecommences. Impatientchatterfillsthearenaand,throughthedin,theirconversationisbarely mutuallyintelligible.“SELLthething,”shoutsthegrizzledauctioneereventuallyandthePrincelaughs unconvincingly. “Comeon,bidup,chaps,”hesays,andlooksnervouslydownathisadviser.“Impeccablebreeding hasourWilly,andcomesfromtheverybeststock,withaprovenrecordinmultiplesuccessful impregnationsofmanycows.Unimpeachablefamilyhistory,bovineroyalty!”

Thefarmersscreamwithlaughter.“Fifteenthousand”yellsoldpurpleface,andtheheir,witha limpknockofthehammer,closesproceedings. Flushed,andaccompaniedbythelocalmayor,theparty makesitswayoutside,whereasmallsliceofthelocalpresscorpshasgathered. Dopamineisrushing throughhisbody;theconvivialityofrealrurallifeisashotinthearm. Ajournalistdragshercameramantothefrontofthecrowdandindulgeshimwithahugesmile. “YourHighness,couldweaskyouacoupleofquestions?” Themayornodseagerlyandalmostpushestheprinceoutinfrontofthem.“Isupposeso,my dear,”hesays,bendingtowardsher. Sheholdsthemicrophoneclosetohermouth,andasks,“Wouldyoucaretocommentontoday’s videopublication?”

“I’msorry,”hesays,shakinghishead.Bynow,theothersareintriguedandjostletogetcloser. “Avideoclaimingthat…” Butacamerawomanstandsonhercolleague’sfoot,andtheensuingyelpdrownsoutthequestion. “Excuseme,couldyourepeatthat,please,miss?” Shewaitsforquietandthenrepeatsherwords.Thebloodleavestheheir’sface,andthegaggleof mediaturnsintoascrum. *** “Fitzjames, Fitzjames,” he called. “Come through to the Library, wouldyou?” The colonel strode in andsat at the indicatedendofthe prince’s sofa. Pouringa cup oftea forhis personal aide, the heirhad

begun to speakslowly. “DoctorWilcock-Dickens here was just explainingsomethingto me, it’s a personal matter, andas you know, there is nobody Itrust in these things more than you.” The men’s eyes met, andthere was no further needforreassurance. The prince noddedgently to the oldphysician, who then began to speakin a low, raspy yet immaculately educatedvoice. “There is a new test, andIbelieve that the Family shouldhave it. It couldpotentially save their

lives andensure theirhealth foras longas theirmortality remains intact. It will be subject to exactly the same restrictions ofconfidentiality as all medical records. It is the simple matterofa cheekswab.” “So,” saidthe colonel. “Iam not sure Iunderstandthe problem, sir.” The heirandhis doctorstole a glance, andFitzjames’ foreheadgathereditselfin pompous impatience above his Roman nose. Ripples offat squeezedoverthe top ofhis pinstripe collar, andhe emitteda warble, halfthroat clearance, halfindignation. “The test,” saidthe doctor, “is the complete gene sequencingoftheirDNA.” Silence envelopedthe grandoldspace. “Not sure Iunderstand,” saidFitzjames. “DNA’s foridentification, police databases andso on. What’s it got to do with the royal family?”

The doctorlaidhis cup andsaucercarefully on the glass coffee table. “Well, none ofus expected this to happen so soon, but during2012 sufficient advances were made in the fieldto mean that the cost of the test has now fallen from three billion pounds forthe very first genome to be sequenced, to a little over a thousandpounds, andwith that we can establish an individual’s propensity to many diseases… MSfor example, or Alzheimer’s, orParkinson’s, even the likelihoodofcertain cancers.” The prince studiedthe reaction ofhis closest adviser, sitting, cool as ever, alongside him. The scrunchedup foreheadwas screwingup closer, tighter; he hadgraspedthe prince’s concern. “There are otherbenefits too. Forexample, hereditary diseases can be isolated, Cystic fibrosis, forexample. Longterm, this test will guarantee a healthy line.” “Thankyou, doctor,” saidthe prince. “Couldyou leave us a moment, please?”

Fitzjames flaredhis nostrils andinhaleddeeply. When he turnedto his master, he facedthe raised eyebrows that indicatedhe must now weigh in with the advice forwhich he was handsomely rewardedby the UKgovernment. “In my consideration, you shoulddo it, sir. These Harley Street doctors are terribly discreet. The family has hadWilcock-Dickens foryears, thoroughly trustworthy fellow. His office is permanently staffed, terribly secure.” “I’m just wary ofthese new-fangledthings, you see. What was wrongwith the oldways? One’s idea ofprogress will always be a little different from the next chap’s.” “Sir, is there something, any reason why, perhaps, it may be inconvenient forthe family to be…examinedin this way?”

“GoodGod, man, don’t be ridiculous!” blurtedthe prince. “Well, sir, in that case....” Halfanhouraftertheheirhasbeenjostledoutofthemediamêlée,heisonahelicoptersouthto London.Havingneverbeenpronetoairsickness,thefeelingofhavingaporcupineburrowaroundhisguts isnewtohim.Breathcomesfitfully,starsflitteracrosshisvision,thevideoshowntohimonhisPA’s

iPhonecomesbackinfitsandstarts.Amaninamask,voiceelectronicallydisguised. “Whatdoesthatmean?”askedtheprinceofhisPA,pointingtothesix-figurenumberdisplayed underthevideo. “Sir,thatishowmanypeoplehaveviewedthevideo.” “GoodGod,Ithoughtitwasonlyreleasedfortyminutesago.” “That’scorrect,sir.” “Well,howonearth….”Buthisspeechhasrevertedtoaseriesofindecipherablemutterings. Themaskedmancontinues,theyarehackers,heclaims.ThePAexplainsthenewvernacularpatiently. Thefamilymustdeclareinfavourofarepublicintimeforthesixo’clocknews.RoyalDNArecordswill bereleasedforalltosee.Thehiddentruthofthemonarchywillbeexposed.Theprincelyheadswimsand

thenlollsbackward.HewakesasthehelicopterdescendsovernorthLondon.Belowtohisright,hesees Regent’sPark,strippedtreesinawilderness,justacoupleofluminousdotsbravingthewinter-ravaged parkland.OxfordStreetappearstobebesiegedbyhissubjects. Heimaginesthem,thechattering subservientmasseswiththeirlittleproblemsondinkyredbuses. Theacquiescenthordesconvergingon GreenParkstationtobeferriedbacktotheirdwellingsinthesuburbs.Andthen,BuckinghamPalace,that monumenttosuzerainimperialism,reducedbysomecomputernerdstoacageofchimpsinalab. Inthegarden,thecoloneliswaitingastheprinceeasesoutofthehelicopterandwalkstowardthe palace,onehandeffeminatelytuckedintothefrontpocketofhistweedjacket.Heoffersthecolonelno handtoshake. “Bloodyhell,Fitzjames.Howthehelldidthishappen?”

Theadviserstaysasubmissivehalf-pacebehind,acceleratingonlytopushopentherearentrance tothepalace.“Sir,”hesays,removingtheroyaljacket,“theQueenandtheheadoftheMetropolitan Policearewaitinginthewhitedrawingroom.” AnavyblueoutfithasreplacedtheQueen’syellowone,andshesitsfacingSirNigelBrownersin silence.TheroomhasaviewstraightdowntheMall,wheretheusualcrowdoftouristshasswollen,and TVtrucksareclusterednexttoSt.James’sPark.TheRegencyfurniturecreaksastheprincetakeshisseat andbegins,stutteringly,tospeak. “Absolutely,totallyunacceptable,thiswholebloodyfarce.”

Hislanguageearnshimareproachfullookfromhismother,andthecolonelinterrupts,saying,“Do wehaveconfirmationthatthefileshavegone?” “Yes,”saysSirNigel.“Extractedatninea.m.thismorning.” Theprincebristles.“Howonearthdidtheygetintothebuilding?” “Theydidn’t,sir.Thefileswere,ummm…hacked.”

“Hacked,what?” “Stolenelectronically,YourHighness.” “Can’tyoucatchthesedeviants?” “Wehaveallourfinestpeopleonthejob,buttheyappeartohavebeenveryclever.Thechancesof findingthembeforethe6p.m.deadlineareextremely,extremelyslim.” Theprincesnorts. Thepolicemanbeginstospeakagain,hisvoicehigh,unsure.“Whatif…perhaps…could…would itbesobadforthefilestobereleased?” Theprinceturnscrimson.“Absolutely. Itisamatterofprinciple.Itisaquestionofrespect,a questionoftheintegrityoftheRoyalHouse.”

TheQueen,hersonandthecolonelexchangefranticglances,andtheatmosphereinthegreat roomshifts.Panicengulfsthem.Afteraminuteofsilence,theQueenasks,“Howhasthepublicreaction been,Fitzjames?” “Well,YourMajesty,obviously,theyareutterlyshockedbythisdemand.Appalled.”Heknowsit wouldbevulgartomentionthegrowingpubliccuriositythattheBBCisreporting,allfromsourcesinthe bafflingworldofthe‘socialnetworks’. “Mother,wemustdosomething.Anything.Thatinformationabsolutelymustremain confidential.”Thereisapitifulboyishnessintheprince’svoice.Itisabouttobreak.Hisrighthandis squeezingtheupholsterysohardthatitiswhite. “Somecomfort,Isuppose,thatoursubjectswouldsupportusinsuchagravematter.Infact,such

supportcouldbeharnessedperhaps.”Shestandsandtellsthethreemenconfidently,“Bringacamera fromtheBBC.Iwilladdressthenationathalfpastfive.“ “Ma’am,”saysBrowners.“CouldIenquireastothenatureofyourannouncement?” “Donotworry,SirNigel.Myfamilyhasruledthiscountryformanycenturieswithconsiderable skillanddiplomacy.Iintendtoresolvethissituationmyself.” Forthenexthour,thequeenislockedinherstudy,draftingandredraftingwhileacameracrew preparesinthedrawingroom.Amakeupartisttouchesupherface,andataquartertosix,sheisinher chair,serenelyposedagainsttheneardarknessofthewindowbehindher.Heradvisersandsonwait,

apprehensive.Thelightontopofthecamerapopsupred,andshebegins,slowly,deftly,toaddressthe nationinelocutionaryperfection. “Today,theroyalfamilyofthisUnitedKingdomhasbeenblackmailedinadespicablemanner.To holdourprivacytoransomlikethisisanunprecedentedandobsceneact.Wewillnotaccedetothese cowardlythieves,butratherweshallrespondtotheminkind.

“TheconstitutionofthecountryincludestheprovisionofRoyalAssent,wherebyallparliamentary billsmustbesignedintolawbythemonarch.Underlaw,actionsundertakeninself-defencearelegal measures.Forthisreason,IwillwithholdRoyalAssentonallbills,includingtheEmergencyBudgetlaw duetobesignedtoday,untilsuchtimeastheperpetratorsofthiscrimeagainstmyfamilyturnthemselves in.Godblessyouall.”Theredlightonthecameraisextinguished. “Ma’am,”saysthecolonel. “Thatwasmasterful.” “Oh,mother,”addstheprince.“Quitebrilliant.” Abottleofsherryisopened,andthemoodeases.Ofcourse,suchapromisefromaheadofstatewillhave theintendedeffect.Itisonlyhalfanhourlater,whenalowroarcanbeheardinthewhitedrawingroom, thatthecolonelgetstohisfeetandgoestothewindow. AvastcrowdhasgatheredaroundtheVictoria

memorial.Herelaysthenewstothegleeofmotherandson,andgoestorefilltheirglasses.Butwhenhis youngsecretaryknocksontheopendoor,deliversastiffcurtsy,andthenrequestsawordwiththecolonel inastaccatovoice,thattriumphantatmosphereistempered. “Sir,”shesays,“badnews.”Hepullsthedoorshutbehindhim.“Thepublichaven’treactedquite asplanned,sir.Infact,itwouldbefairtosaythatopinionhasgoneagainstus.Thenumberonetrending hashtagonTwitteris‘revolution’.” Hiskneesgivealittle,hisbreathingfailshim,andhereachesouttosteadyhimselfonher shoulder.“Fuck,”hesays.“Andthethieves?” “Theyhavebeenratheremboldened.Itseemsthevirtualcommunityisoverwhelmingly demandingtheyreleasethefiles.Andtheyaregoingtodoso.Maybeit’stimeforsomedamage

limitation,sir.” FitzjamesrushestohisofficeanddialsWilcock-Dickens’snumber.Heanswerswithalanguorous “Evening.” “Doctor,Fitzjameshere,thebloodyfilesarecomingout. Whatshouldwebereadyfor?” “How,exactly,doyoumean?” “Comeon,man,whoarethebloody filii nullius?” “No,nocolonel.Allisquiteinorder,Iassureyou.” Fitzjamesgroansdowntheline,“Areyoucertain?”