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Chapter Text

The newsreel was brought in at special request by the Queen. When the news hit, she wanted to learn as much as she could without having to get it from Churchill. She just couldn’t trust her Prime Minister at that point. He assured her it couldn’t happen again, in spite of the cause never being found.

“Where are your assurances now, Winston?” Elizabeth sighed quietly to herself as the newsreel continued to play.

“A most horrendous tragedy,” The Queen Mother remarked, sitting beside her daughter on the couch.

“An avoidable tragedy,” Prince Philip muttered in his own armchair with his eyes glued to the screen.

The narrator read; “the dream of every enthusiastic traveller turns to a nightmare. A De Havilland Comet crashes off the coast of Naples. Twenty-one souls aboard and no survivors. This is the second crash of the world’s first passenger jet in four months and yet again the fleet has been grounded by BOAC. It’s too early to this stage to say whether the cause of either this crash or that of flight 781 in January will ever be found however the best and brightest of Britain are on the case.”

The footage showed choppy waves of the Mediterranean Sea and fishermen removing scraps of aircraft skin from the surface. Two vessels of the Royal Navy were on the scene.

“Oh good, the fleet has been grounded yet again,” Philip said with sarcastic enthusiasm, getting up from his armchair and fixing his jacket. “Something tells me it shouldn’t have been relaunched in the first place without an explanation for the first crash.”

“Philip,” Elizabeth sighed with closed eyes while shaking her head.

“Thirty-five dead was clearly not enough for you, how about fifty-six?” he called over his shoulder as he ventured for the door.

The Queen Mother shook her head with disgust at the slamming of the door. The newsreel footage concluded with a shot of the chapel where the recovered bodies would be placed, however many would end up being recovered.

“Are we absolutely certain divorce isn’t an option?” her mother pondered aloud, followed by a snicker.

Elizabeth cracked a smirk.

An uncertain smirk.

What she first thought would be a deafening rumble, turned out to be a soothing hum from the four jet engines outside for Elizabeth. She was given a glass of champagne by a stewardess as she stood with her mother and sister, Princess Margaret. It was a VIP flight in order to gain public confidence in the recently-launched De Havilland Comet.

“Thank you,” she nodded politely and made a toast with her mother and sister. “To the future of British aviation.”

They tapped glasses and after sipping the champagne, Elizabeth detected sadness within Margaret. She was looking away and her smile turned to a collapsing jaw. It was a marvel of aviation, how wonderful it would’ve been for her and Group Captain Peter Townsend to have been married by now and aboard together to enjoy the experience of jet travel.

However, sacrifices had to be made for Queen and Country, as Margaret painfully learned the hard way.

“You’ll find someone,” Elizabeth said in as a most soothing tone as she could muster, while reaching out her hand and placing it on her arm, only to be met by a look of hostility and pure resentment from her younger sister.

“There was only one but you got yours in Philip whose brother-in-laws are all nazis so everyone wins I suppose,” she hissed.

“Girls, this is hardly the time or place!” their mother scolded.

“When is?” Margaret asked, giving them both the same venomous glare. “We’re ten kilometres above ground and will soon be passing over The Alps, no shuttering cameras or scribbling on notepads.”

“We all have our duty towards the Queen!”

“Don’t I have a right to be happy? God! I wish I were living under Stalin’s Purge! Either way I’d be out of my misery!”

“Enough! You don’t mean that!”

“This family died with father, and you can’t deny it.”

“Your father died the moment he became king! After that treacherous leach of a brother of his chose some sleazy American over his country and his people.”

“So you’re taking your petty anger out on me by ruining my own happiness?”

“You’re hardly one to lecture on petty anger.”

The squabbling between her mother and sister continued, prompting Elizabeth to just walk away to a corner in the largely empty passenger cabin. She found a newspaper neatly placed over the top of one of the seat cushions.

“Killer Queen” the banner headline read, followed by “Why didn’t you keep the fleet grounded, Your Majesty? It was your government!”

Elizabeth frantically looked up and down the aisle to see who had planted the article and saw Philip suddenly appearing before her. His arms were folded with the same venomous look Margaret possessed. Her argument with the Queen Mother continued behind Elizabeth.

“Philip.”

“Why didn’t you keep the fleet grounded when Churchill told you about the relaunch?”

“He didn’t tell me, I found out the next morning along with everyone else.”

“You still could’ve ordered him to stand the fleet down when you called him.”

“I don’t have such power, Philip. You know that!”

“Some Queen…” he sighed, turning and walking away.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me! Where are you going?!”

“Away from here and just watch me. Fifty-six dead, Elizabeth, would you be as indifferent if it had been myself, Anne or Charles?” he asked, pausing and looking over his shoulder. He then nodded past Elizabeth at her mother and sister who were relentless with their tempers.

“What about them?” Philip asked further with a nod in their direction.

Elizabeth spun her head around and felt the aircraft beginning to rumble and shake. Cracks appeared in the airframe, allowing sunlight and debilitating atmospheric temperatures inside. There were screams from The Queen Mother and Princess Margaret. Elizabeth called their names before watching them being torn from where they were standing and sucked through an opening in the fuselage.

The hum of the engines turned to the deafening roar Elizabeth had once feared. Ripples and ruptures continued throughout the airframe and Elizabeth frantically turned back to her husband.

He had disappeared. Was he sucked out also? No, he was never aboard.

“Philip!” Elizabeth screamed frantically, regardless. “Where are you, dear?!”

The cabin floor broke in the middle, sending the rear fuselage into a spiral towards earth. Fuel within the wings caught fire and turned the remainder of the aircraft into a meteorite.

“Philip! I need you!” Elizabeth whimpered before feeling her lungs rapidly expanding to the point of rupturing.

It wasn’t her emotions, it was the ruthless result of a rapid shift in atmospheric pressure when an aircraft breaks apart above thirty thousand feet in altitude.

She glanced up to see herself being launched toward a section of the airframe. Her skull was on course for a severe and fatal fracture.

Everything went black.

“Philip!” Elizabeth gasped as she shot up from her pillow, her chest heaving and body drenched in sweat beneath her gown.

She looked all around. Elizabeth was safe in her bedroom with streaks of moonlight breaking in through the curtains. No hums or roars of jet engines. Just a quiet night at Buckingham Palace. The fact that Philip wasn’t beside her in the bed was unsurprising. They had their separate quarters.

However she needed to see him straight away.

“Philip!” she called repeatedly with her voice echoing throughout the spacious room before she reached his door. She pounded with a clenched fist on the surface.

“Philip, darling! I need you right now!”

Then came the slightest shifting of weight behind the door, the sound of someone turning in a bed. They were awakening.

“Philip, are you there?”

Chapter Text

January 10th 1954

It was nearing thirty minutes past ten in the morning when the De Havilland Comet flying under the colours of British Overseas Airways Corporation, also known as BOAC, lifted off from Rome Airport. Its destination, London, was two and a half hours away.

Flight 781 began in Singapore with stopovers in India, the Middle East and finally Rome. It was checked over by BOAC engineers and given the all-clear. The plane departed with thirty-five people aboard and swiftly commenced an ascent towards its cruising altitude of ten thousand metres.

With an aluminium skin and capable of seating up to forty-five passengers, the De Havilland Comet was the first ever passenger aircraft to be powered by jet engines. The ‘Ghost’ jet engines were housed within the wing, which meant a more streamlined structure and improved top speed. The Comet was capable of 700 kilometres an hour.

In order to achieve such a top speed, the Comet opted to fly at altitudes in excess of 30,000 feet where the atmosphere is extremely thin, meaning less air resistance and more efficient fuel consumption. As a result, the De Havilland Comet was flying twice as fast as its American rivals Boeing and Douglas. Britain felt poised to dominate the booming market of civil aviation.

Flight 781 flew on a northwesterly heading along the Italian coast, approaching the island of Elba while maintaining radio contact with Rome. The Comet’s flight crew also made contact with that of a propeller-driven Argonaut, also en route to London but at a slower speed and significantly lower altitude.

At 10:51am, a message from the Flight 781’s Captain to the Argonaut ended mid-sentence. After repeated attempts to bring the Comet back up on the radio, the Argonaut’s crew informed Rome, who then made their own attempts, but to no avail.

On the island of Elba, a group of fishermen heard a distant explosion from the sky above, similar to thunder and looked up. They saw flaming wreckage falling from the sky and plunging into the Mediterranean Sea. Rushing out to find survivors, all they found was floating wreckage and bodies.

Thirty-five people were dead.

“Philip! What on earth are you doing?” Elizabeth gasped as she approached her husband, the Duke of Edinburgh.

“What? Can’t a Queen’s Consort have a bit of fun every now and then?” Philip scoffed.

There was a stopwatch in his hand as he sat on the edge of the windowsill, while watching at the ground below. A black car had pulled up with a very important visitor inside.

“He is the most well-respected man in the United Kingdom and for good reason. He guided us through the war from the brink of despair to the triumph of Hitler’s defeat,” Elizabeth said, folding her arms. “Timing how long it takes for him to get from his car to the Palace entrance is most disrespectful!”

“How long it takes him to get to your meeting room, actually, although I’d need a calendar for that,” Philip cackled.

“And he did precisely nothing during the Great Fog two years ago. Spent most of his time whining about me taking up flying lessons as if I’m an automaton with no rights or desires of my own. Every dog has its day,” Philip shrugged indifferently and waited for the door to open and for Prime Minister Churchill to step out before starting the stopwatch.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and shook her head. Sometimes she wondered if she had two boys and a girl, rather than two children and a husband.

“I’m willing to accept any bets, by the way. Cabbage, think of it as a day at the races,” Philip smirked, looking over his shoulder.

Elizabeth shrugged with a sarcastic smile and pinched the skin on Philip’s arm which held the stopwatch.

“Ow! Liz! What on earth?!” he moaned, trying to reach over with his opposite arm.

The sudden spike in pain caused him to open his hand and drop the stopwatch, where Elizabeth’s palm was waiting. She took a step back and wrapped the chain of the watch around her wrist, pausing it and folding her arms at Philip defiantly.

Rubbing his arm, Philip glared back up at her while still sitting on the windowsill. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows with her arms still folded. Problem?

“That hurt!”

“Awh! I’ll be sure to get the Palace Doctor with a bandaid and to give you a gold star for being most brave,” Elizabeth beamed and turning for the door.

“That’s a ‘no’ to placing a bet then?” Philip called after her cheekily.

“How about the length of time to our next conjugal encounter?” Elizabeth suggested over her shoulder, her voice echoing through the vast corridor.

“Your Majesty!” Churchill said, approaching Elizabeth in his typically slouched posture and taking her hand to kiss it.

“Prime Minister. I understand you have some news to deliver? Positive, I do hope!” she replied with a polite smile and sitting down.

Churchill elected to continue standing. He didn’t intend on staying long.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am,” Churchill began with a sorrowful voice. “Foreign Secretary Eden has informed me that one of our passenger aircraft, a De Havilland Comet, has gone down over the Italian island of Elba, perched on the Mediterranean Sea.”

“The Comet’s down?” Elizabeth asked for verification with raised eyebrows.

“You’re familiar with the aircraft, ma’am?”

“Indeed,” she nodded, clasping her hands and resting them on her knee. “Her Majesty The Queen Mother, Princess Margaret and myself were aboard the Comet as a VIP flight a year ago. As I understand it, the world’s first passenger jet and a demonstration of British ingenuity as well as a confidence-booster for emerging from the post-war gloom.”

“The very same,” Churchill nodded, the irony not being lost on him. “There were thirty-five people aboard the flight and I regret to inform you ma’am that none have survived. Bodies were found on the surface and are being brought to shore as we speak.”

“How dreadful,” Elizabeth gasped. “I do trust efforts are being made to determine the cause of such a horrendous disaster?”

“Oh you have my assurance, ma’am! As a precaution, BOAC has grounded their entire Comet fleet and I will be sending the Royal Navy to the Mediterranean to recover underwater wreckage. We have anti-submarine frigates that can scan the seabed below. We live in a truly remarkable age of technology.”

“And tragedy.”

“Indeed, ma’am.”

“Yes, well if it’s approval of the crown you seek for sending the Royal Navy, you certainly have it,” Elizabeth said, rising and allowing Churchill to kiss her hand once again and she watched him leave the room.

She sighed to herself and began thinking of the souls who perished aboard the Comet and how it could easily have been her, her mother and sister who’d fallen from the sky.

Little did Elizabeth know how this thought would later infect her subconscious in the near future.

Then she thought about Philip. He was now an accomplished airman and kept up to date on the latest developments in the aviation world. He undoubtedly knew about the Comet disaster by now and had his theories.

“A bomb! That would be my first guess,” Philip quickly replied as he reached for a glass of scotch in his own room.

“Really? I’m sure you have your friends at that Lunch Club. None of them have more concrete theories rather than a ‘first guess’?” Elizabeth asked from her quarters. She had changed into her nightgown and was sitting in front of her mirror applying moisturiser.

“They do, and the theory regarding sabotage came from eyewitness reports of falling wreckage. Not a falling aircraft, falling wreckage and some of it was on fire. I would suspect communist extremists,” Philip explained, taking a sip of the scotch and nodding with approval.

“I doubt they’d be that mad,” Elizabeth scoffed.

“Prime Minister Chamberlain thought the same of Hitler after the Munich Agreement, look how that ended up. Look, Stalin may be dead but his deputy and protege Malenkov has taken over, although another bloke named Khrushchev is making moves. At the same time, our comrades on the other side of The Channel are losing their grip on their colonies in Southeast Asia. How soon before communist revolution sweeps across that region as it did in Korea just recently?”

“Alright, I get your point. The world is full of bad people who aren’t afraid to resort to violence.”

“I’m not saying it couldn’t have been an accident but few things would tear a state-of-the-art aircraft to shreds in midair. The crew didn’t report any problems or declare a mayday in the minutes before contact was lost.”

“Yes, well it’s up to the experts to uncover the truth. Thankfully the fleet has been grounded,” Elizabeth said, getting up and walking toward Philip’s quarters.

“For now,” Philip sighed with dread.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, appearing behind him.

Philip turned around and saw Elizabeth gripping her elbows, showing vulnerability. He immediately pulled her into an embrace and rested his chin on the top of her head, feeling the brushing of her hair against his skin.

“With the fleet grounded, BOAC will lose thousands of Sterling per week,” Philip explained in a far softer tone, even though his words were far from comforting. “You need passengers buying tickets to turn a profit and not to mention competition from America. They may be behind but won’t be for long if we stagnate. Those who depend on the Comet will soon become desperate.”

“And money will overcome human lives,” Elizabeth concluded aloud.

“Precisely, Churchill himself may give the green light to relaunch the fleet. Thankfully, the people have you as their Queen,” Philip said, the last sentence giving him a boost in confidence. He planted a kiss on her forehead and continued the warm and soothing embrace.

But what can I do as Queen? Elizabeth thought while gazing out of the window, Philip’s arms securely around her. It is my duty to do nothing; the hardest job of all.

Chapter Text

January eventually turned to February and then March, with no cause having been found in the Comet investigation. Underwater wreckage which had been recovered was transported back to England and reassembled onto a wooden skeleton in the shape of the aircraft. However, the investigation into flight 781 ultimately hit a dead end.

Therefore, to read that the British government had given the green light to relaunch the Comet fleet was quite the shock for Queen Elizabeth during breakfast.

“What on earth?!” she spluttered.

“What? Has *Kim Philby had a change of heart?” Philip chuckled, focusing on his food.

Elizabeth folded the paper to focus on the article, turned it around and slapped it with her palm to get Philip’s attention.

“No!” Philip exclaimed, jumping out of his seat and making his way around the table. “Did they even find the cause of the crash?”

“Nothing in here to suggest so,” Elizabeth shrugged and allowing Philip to swiftly swipe the paper from her hand.

“This relaunch cannot go ahead!”

“Well, what can we do? You know where our powers lie.”

“My power, I meant yours as Sovereign,” Philip replied with urgency in his voice. He looked down at Elizabeth and she could read the ominousness in his eyes. It was the same look he gave in Kenya just before informing her of King George’s death.

Elizabeth said nothing.

“You must stop them. You need to call up Churchill and order him to stand them down.”

“I have no such power, Philip, you know that!”

“You have no such power or you’ve been told you have no such power?”

“I will call Churchill to demand why he did not inform me himself, instead causing me to have to read about it in the paper. However, as Sovereign it is my duty to respect the government’s decision.”

“Do what you must,” Philip sighed, tossing the paper back onto the table and turning his back while folding his arms.

“There’s something you’re not telling me. Have you heard something I haven’t? It seems that’s the norm at the present moment.”

Philip pulled out the closest chair to her and sat to Elizabeth’s left. He brought up his membership at the Lunch Club. One of the many perks was being kept up to date on current affairs. One member was part of the investigation team who had some stunning details to share.

“He informed me of the findings from the autopsy reports conducted by the Italians. They found injuries such as shattered limbs, fractured skulls and ruptured lungs. Their respiratory systems looked as if they’d exploded like balloons.”

“Good Lord!” Elizabeth gasped, her hand covering her mouth. She found herself feeling her chest with her other hand. Ruptured lungs? Is that even possible? Apparently so!

“I was as shocked as you are now,” Philip said, taking her by the hand. “Hearing that and knowing that you, your mother and Margaret were on the same type of plane, the thoughts were unbearable. I ended up having a dreadful nightmare in which I had to witness such things happening to you while aboard the Comet and not being able to save you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Elizabeth whispered, taking a firmer grip of Philip’s hand and kissing it.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you there, Cabbage.”

“You need to understand my position, Philip.”

“There are lives at stake so long as the cause remains unsolved.”

“I know, dear, I know,” Elizabeth sighed.

“The Prime Minister’s office, please,” Elizabeth said firmly and in a tone to indicate to the operator to waste no time.

It took a minute in total for the line to be connected and for Churchill to actually answer the phone. Did he want to create the impression of being busy as ever and not wishing to be disturbed even by the person in whose name he had formed his government.

“Your Majesty.”

“Prime Minister.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure, ma’am?”

“I was reading the newspaper earlier this morning and a certain choice by the government gave me quite the shock.”

“I assure you ma’am our budget is not nearly as bad as one may think.”

“Not regarding financial issues, although this would border upon that. I wish to discuss the De Havilland Comet and the fact that it’s been relaunched and the Queen of England finds out at the same time as her people. Not a single word from Downing Street. As Head of State I feel a lack of consideration.”

“My apologies, ma’am. You are also concerned about financial issues surrounding the relaunch?”

“Yes, I believe profit is overtaking safety, not to mention human life. Would I be right in saying that the cause of Flight 781’s crash in January has yet to be uncovered?”

“You would be, ma’am. The investigation is continuing as we speak.”

“Would it not be the safest option for the fleet to remain grounded until the cause is found as to prevent recurrences?”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, crashes are an unfortunate reality with aviation, as it is with automobiles. Losses are a tragedy but we must move on. Those who look to the past are certain to miss the future.”

“Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it,” Elizabeth sharply replied. She could scarcely believe the callousness she was hearing from the other end. “I’ve done some minor research before making this call and as I understand it, there was no adverse weather in the region and no extremist group has claimed responsibility for sabotaging the Comet. That would leave some sort of mechanical issue or design flaw, either of which could easily occur again if we allow it.”

“Ma’am, Sir Miles Thomas the Chairman of BOAC has given me his assurance that they’ve given the aircraft a clean bill of health and believe that it’s safe to relaunch. Therefore I’m giving you my assurance as your Prime Minister.”

“Very well,” Elizabeth sighed, accepting defeat but showing disappointment in the decision. “Thank you for your time, Prime Minister.”

She had to remember where her duty lied as Sovereign. Elizabeth looked up from her desk to see Philip standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. He could read how the conversation had gone from her look alone and he exhaled before walking down the corridor by himself. All he could do was to be glad that the Comet wasn’t carrying the Royal Family anywhere.

Sixteen days later, March had turned into April and a De Havilland Comet departed Rome en route to Cairo. South African Airways flight 201 began in London with its final destination being Johannesburg.

It was 6:32pm at liftoff and the sky was beginning to dim while the Comet commenced its ascent. It was flying southeast along the coast, approaching the cities of Naples and Stromboli. The crew established contact with Cairo via high-frequency radio and reported an altitude of eleven thousand metres at approximately 7:07pm local time.

It was the last time anyone ever heard from them.

The following morning, search and rescue found an oil slick as well as floating bodies in the Mediterranean Sea. However, there was no sign of survivors.

All of the twenty-one people aboard were dead.

Chapter Text

“Are we absolutely certain divorce isn’t an option?” her mother pondered aloud, followed by a snicker.

Elizabeth cracked a smirk.

An uncertain smirk.

Is fifty-six enough for you? Thirty-five clearly wasn’t!

How fucking dare he! Elizabeth hissed inside her head.

“Would you excuse me, mummy?” she calmly said, getting up, flattening the bottom of her dress and heading for the door.

“Certainly, Lilibet,” her mother replied, watching the door close in a much more appropriate manner even though she knew very well that Elizabeth’s mood was far from calm at that moment.

Philip brought it on himself, whatever was about to ensue between them, she sighed.

Elizabeth called after Philip in the corridor, however he disappeared behind a corner. She followed around and saw a door closing, before bursting through it herself. She spotted Philip by the window and he was taking out a pack of cigarettes.

“Those will kill you!” she barked, marching over and snatching the pack from his hand. There was a small relief when she noticed the plastic sheeting was still intact.

“As if you care!” Philip sneered.

“Would I have bothered following you if I didn’t care? How could you possibly blame me for the crash?!”

“I warned you what would happen if the relaunch was permitted.”

“It wasn’t my permission to give!”

“There are people dead because of this! Aren’t you thinking of them?!”

“There are always risks when it comes to pioneering. Casualties are an unfortunate side effect, unfortunate but a reality.”

Philip didn’t say anything for five seconds and let the words sink in. He looked away and raised a finger to signify something to say. He looked back at Elizabeth and took a step closer.

“Could you remember that? Word for word? So you can explain that to the families of those who were aboard the two flights? I’m sure they’d be overjoyed to hear that their Queen regards their loved ones as mere side effects.”

“Not side effects.”

“Heroes, then! Heroes who sacrificed their lives unwillingly for the sake of a safer aviation industry. They ought to be given medals, wouldn’t you say?” he shrugged.

“Philip,” she sighed, bowing and shaking her head while covering her face.

“Who is this talking, anyway?” he asked, folding his arms. “You or Churchill?”

“What exactly are you implying?!” Elizabeth hissed, her head snapping up and arms falling by her sides.

“Not implying, questioning! Actually, your blatant avoidance of the question constitutes the need to state; Churchill is the King with all of the power. These Royal Titles are mere words. And of course, everyone knows actions speak louder than words.”

“Are you questioning my power or my conscience when it comes to death?”

“Oh, I already know you’re indifferent to death. Your description of the deceased as ‘side effects’ made that perfectly clear,” Philip sighed and began walking to another end of the room.

“And why are you taking such an interest in this mass causality event?!” Elizabeth snapped, deciding enough was enough. “Why weren’t you so vocal and passionate about the Fog two years ago and the resulting deaths? Could this be your conscience acting up because of a certain causality of another plane crash?”

Philip paused and tilted his head back with his eyes closed. Was this the same woman he married seven years ago? Was this some sort of grotesque dream?

“Don’t go there,” he warned in a grim tone, glaring at her over his shoulder.

“I am your Queen, I’ll go wherever I bloody well please!” Elizabeth sneered ruthlessly and approaching him without fear.

Philip could sense the sudden release of anger that Elizabeth was unleashing upon him. He wasn’t fearful either, just stunned and his own anger wasn’t subsiding.

“Tell me,” Elizabeth continued, folding her arms and closing the distance from Philip to a metre. They could feel each other’s violent breathing.

“Why was Cecile on that plane? A certain younger brother crying like a bloody infantile coward like he always does when things get tough?!”

Philip looked down and nodded to confirm to himself that he wasn’t dreaming and that Elizabeth had indeed brought up his dead sister. He looked away, shaking his head.

“You know,” he began with a sigh and ironic chuckle. “I was always taught to never lay hands on a woman and I never have…”

“Go on! Assault the Queen!” she bellowed, throwing her arms out. “Spend the rest of your life in prison!”

“As if I’m not already? Already stuck in the tower? Stuck in a cult of indifference and general laziness?”

“No one forced you! The deal was you relinquish your titles in exchange for marriage to me.”

“You’re right, my mistake,” Philip sighed and turned for the door.

“Do not walk away from your Queen!”

“Watch me!” he called over his shoulder. “Or give me my titles back and I’ll be on my way!”

“Where?” Elizabeth asked, her tone less angry and more worried. Something in Philip’s voice indicated he was being serious.

“Anywhere better than here, the list of which is infinite! Even Stalin’s gulag!” he spat back, reaching for the door handle and opening it halfway before pausing again and turning to look at her.

Elizabeth’s face was becoming fractious in expression. Her momentary lashing out was a release valve and now that the pressure was gone, she was deflated and thinking over what she’d just said. Her eyes were begging him not to leave, not demanding.

“Tell me, this ‘side effects of pioneering’ sentiment of yours - would you say the same if it had been Charles or Anne aboard that flight?”

“Don’t do this Philip…”

“Or me, or your mother or your sister?”

“How could you ask such a thing?” Elizabeth shrieked, her vocal chords barely able to hold themselves together. She could feel her eyes wanting to well up but her royal mentality was causing a civil war inside her own mind.

“No, your right,” Philip nodded, holding the door. “You couldn’t possibly answer that question. My dear wife Elizabeth could. Sadly she died in Kenya at the same moment as her father.”

The door slammed behind him.

Elizabeth’s jaw dropped and she gripped the nearest armrest belonging to an armchair to allow herself to fall onto the cushion. She buried her face in her hands and began sobbing.

Chapter Text

“Sir Arnold Hall, ma’am,” the servant announced and allowed Sir Arnold himself to enter.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied, nodding to dismiss the servant and extended her hand to her visitor. “Sir Arnold, so kind of you to accept my invitation.”

“Your Majesty,” he said politely and kissed her hand as Churchill would do. He then sat opposite Elizabeth at the appropriate distance and they both clasped their hands.

“I was hoping you could bring me up to speed on the progress of your investigation. As I understand it you’ve made significant headway?”

In the wake of the second Comet crash, the fleet was once again grounded and would remain so until a cause was found. Churchill assigned the case to the Royal Aircraft Establishment and Sir Arnold Hall to lead the inquiry. A Cambridge scholar and outstanding scientist, Hall was well-suited for the job.

The case, however, was not without its obstacles. The South African Airways flight, the second plane to crash, was now resting beneath a thousand metres of water and was impossible to retrieve. The hope was that if the cause of Flight 781’s crash from January could be established, it could explain both disasters.

Bodies recovered from the surface following the second crash exhibited identical injuries to those of the first. Fractures skulls, broken bones and limbs as well as ruptured lungs.

Such findings led Sir Arnold to believing that the Comet’s fuselage exploded like a punctured balloon.

“To test the theory,” he explained to Elizabeth. “We constructed a model of the fuselage, one tenth of the actual size. We fitted the model with miniature seats and dummies. Then we pressurised the airtight model to simulate the conditions of high-altitude flight.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and found herself mentally gripping her knees with keen interest. It reminded her of her late father’s stories from when he was in the navy during the Great War.

“Then what happened?”

“We deliberately ruptured the model and a camera was present to capture what ensued. There was a sudden release of energy, ripping seats and dummies from the fittings. The dummies themselves hit their heads against remnants of the fuselage in the heat of the moment which would explain the broken limbs and fractured skulls. This would be the equivalent of a five hundred pound bomb going off.”

“A sudden release of energy?”

“Precisely, ma’am. It’s known as an explosive decompression where the air trapped inside during pressurised flight is suddenly released for whatever reason. Similar to inflating a balloon and then applying a needle,” Sir Arnold explained.

“At the moment of the decompression, I would imagine that passengers were torn from their seats and hit their heads against parts of the airframe while the sudden release of pressure tore the rest of the Comet apart. The flaming debris witnesses saw was a result of metal-on-metal contact creating sparks that ignited fuel within the tanks.”

“Intriguing I must say, as well as tragic of course for the people involved,” Elizabeth nodded.

“Indeed. While we’ve established what exactly occurred high above the Mediterranean, we have yet to find the root cause. While sabotage is plausible, we believe metal fatigue to be far more likely.”

“Metal fatigue?”

“Yes ma’am, when a piece of metal is stressed over time and minute fractures form slowly before eventually reaching breaking point. This can be common in aviation with the Comet especially. During pressurisation, the fuselage expands by a few millimetres before contracting again upon landing. This flexing causes repeated stress.”

“And you can tell from the fractures in the metal what had caused it?”

“Indeed. Tears from a sudden and violent event are jagged and rough. Fatigue cracks are generally flat at first glance and we have microscopes to be extra certain. We found fatigue cracks on wreckage from the first crash, that of Flight 781. We believe that they were induced by the way the rivets fixing the skin to the frame were installed. Rather than drilled, they are punched into the aluminium.”

“Not the best way to insert rivets, I imagine.”

“There is also the issue of the windows and doors. As they are square, pressure is allowed to build up at the corners rather than to spread out evenly. However this is still a theory but we intend to prove it with an upcoming experiment.”

“Oh? Would this be the water tank test I was informed about?”

“Indeed,” Sir Arnold nodded with enthusiasm. “We shall be stripping a Comet of interior fittings and parking the aircraft inside a water tank. It will be constantly submerged in two hundred gallons of water with the pressure increased and decreased in a constant cycle to simulate pressurisation.”

“And you expect cracks to form over time?”

“Yes and we hope for a rupture to reveal itself to further prove our theory.”

“I wish you the utmost success, Sir Arnold,” Elizabeth said with a satisfied beam and they stood up together.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he replied, kissing her hand before curtsying and leaving.

It was that night, with all of the new information, that Elizabeth had the nightmare which resulted in her banging on Philip’s door.

Chapter Text

“Philip! Are you there? Darling, please open up! I know you’re awake! You must be Beethoven not to hear me right now!”

Elizabeth heard a shifting of weight behind the door, and the sound of mattress springs being relaxed. There was a minor grunt that came from Philip and then the mechanical working of the door handle.

“You know, I never locked the bloody thing,” Philip mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes before feeling the full brunt of Elizabeth’s embrace.

He wanted to comment on the fact that her nightgown was damp, most likely drenched from sweat but Philip was stunned when he suddenly felt Elizabeth sobbing and shaking her head. He tightened his arms around her upper back and just let her cry it out.

“I’m sorry!” she whimpered.

“For what? I was the one who blamed you for the Comet’s relaunch and the deaths. I should never have done that,” Philip sighed, resting his chin on Elizabeth’s head.

“I brought up Cecile when I knew how much her death affected you.”

“That’s not an excuse for my own behaviour.”

Elizabeth brought herself back slightly so she could look up into Philip’s eyes. She placed a hand on the side of his face, while he brushed tears away with the side of his thumb. Her blue eyes glistened in the moonlight which was sneaking in between nearby curtains.

“I don’t wish to fight, Philip,” she pleaded.

“Nor I,” he assured her. “Can we just accept that no matter how we appear in public we’re imperfect human beings and our emotions can get the better of us sometimes?”

“Agreed,” Elizabeth beamed, before her face crunched up with the need to weep again. “You know I can’t cope without you!” she wept, burying her face into his chest.

“You’ll have to when my time comes, no one is immortal.”

“Don’t say that!”

“It’s the truth, Elizabeth.”

“Can we please just have positivity for the remainder of the night. I’d like to spend the night with my husband, if he’ll have me?”

“He would indeed. I love you, Elizabeth.”

“And I love you, Philip,” she smirked, before scanning him head-to-toe and making an observation she was surprised not to have made before.

“Philip, you’re nude.”

He smirked and shrugged. “Yes I thought I’d be spending the night alone. If Her Majesty would like me to properly dress for bed?”

Elizabeth said nothing.

“Would Her Majesty like her gown to be removed instead?”

She beamed, turned around and undid the buttons on her gown. Philip then placed his hands on her shoulders and moved the top of the gown away.

“Which room?” he whispered, planting kisses on the back and side of her neck.

“Up to you, dearest,” Elizabeth whispered back, her head slowly arching back with her eyes closed.

*

“Do you really think I died the moment I became Queen? Your wife Elizabeth, I mean?” she asked as soon as their breathing returned to normal. Her head was resting on Philip’s shoulder while she drew invisible circles on his chest with a single finger.

“I exaggerated profusely and while I agree that it’s your duty to remain neutral and reserved in the public eye, I just wish you left that at the door when returning from public duty. When you talked about the risks associated with pioneering I felt like I was just another subject on the other side of a microphone and pre-written speech. I always saw Buckingham Palace as our safe zone. Where we can be human beings again.”

“You’re concerned I’m slowly transforming into a colder, automated version of myself?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Philip, I’ll always be your wife Elizabeth no matter how demanding my duty may become at any moment,” she assured him, propping herself up on her elbow. “Of course I’m saddened by the losses aboard the two Comets. If I agree to make this bedroom a safe zone where a servant or anyone else wouldn’t interrupt us and we can be ourselves, can I trust you won’t suddenly pick up and leave unless it was dutiful obligations?”

“Shall we shake on it?”

“Philip, we’ve been married for three quarters of a decade it’s safe to say we’re past shaking hands.”

“You thought I actually would leave you?”

“It sounded rather convincing,” she shrugged.

“A credit to my acting skills,” Philip sighed, reaching over and caressing the side of her face with the side of his hand.

“Will I be treated to a royal variety performance sometime soon in the future?”

“At an air show in Farnborough maybe.”

“I trust you’re staying within the regulations when you’re flying?”

Philip pulled together a playful face of uncertainty, looking away and felt a playful brush of Elizabeth’s hand against his arm. She then returned to resting her head on his shoulder and they waited for their recent physical exertion to put them to sleep.

Chapter Text

By the end of 1954, Sir Arnold Hall’s investigation had reached its conclusion; the action of punching rivets into the metal during manufacturing produced fatigue cracks that grew larger with every flight. In addition to the manufacturing defect, the corners of the square windows and doors allowed pressure to build unevenly and more cracks spread.

These conclusions were firmly backed up by the water tank test, which successfully induced a fatigue failure within the aircraft skin. Consistent changes of water pressure proved to be a fine substitute for changes in atmospheric pressure.

One of the changes which came about as a result of the Comet investigation was that windows should be circular, rather than square. Such an appearance is seen on aircraft today. De Havilland ended up reviewing how it manufactured its aircraft.

While the De Havilland Comet did fly again, it could never gain the success it once hoped for. Advancements in the United States brought on the Jumbo Jet era , where manufacturers Boeing, Lockheed and McDonnell Douglas produced their individual versions.

The Boeing 747 would prove to be the most successful of the three, becoming one of the most easily recognisable aircraft in the skies with its distinctive ‘hump’ shape in the forward section which housed a second deck.

Commercial jet travel was there to stay.