Queens

‘Come on Queenie,’ said bossy daughter number one. ‘It’s time to go. The car’s been waiting half an hour. Here, let me help you with your coat.’

‘Very well dear,’ said Queenie. ‘But I want a few minutes to say goodbye to the house before I go. I won’t take long, promise. Just wait in the car for me. Okay?’

Bossy daughter one looked like she wanted to object to this plan, but had enough empathy to realise that her mother would find this change, this giving up of independence, of her home for forty years, very hard. This wasn’t respite, this was forever, however long that was.

‘Alright mum, but if you’re not out in 15 minutes I’ll come for you.’ She hesitated, then kissed her mother’s cheek and left, leaving the front door open.

Queenie stood still for just a moment, looking around, then very quietly, almost stealthily, she opened the door onto the back patio and crept into the garden, slowly climbed the stairs up to the top terrace and finally reached the single hive. She lifted off the lid then went unerringly to the centre hive body under the queen excluder and hoisted it out. In the centre could be seen the fat little queen. Immediately the bees began to fuss and fly and buzz, though the queen herself did not move.

Queenie sat the tray on the lawn and lowered herself, slowly and painfully, onto a seat beside it. Without further hesitation she reached boldly into the hive body, picked up the queen bee and tried to throw her into the air. The queen kept falling back down and the third time was lost in the grass. The other bees started to swarm around Queenie’s hand and then they began to bite. Queenie bit her tongue so as not to cry out, and then she was unable to cry out. By the time her daughter and son-in-law reached her she was insensible and the queen bee was dead under a man’s boot.