The Great Queen by Alistair McKillop

“But mum, I’ve got to go to school.” I was in tears, sobbing uncontrollably. There aren’t many days a child with acute tonsillitis pleads to go to school, but today was like no other.
 
A special trip had been organised for the whole primary school. Everyone was going, except me. I was confined to bed.

Today was the day the great Queen Elizabeth 2 was going to sail down the Clyde from John Brown’s yard in Clydebank to get fitted out in Greenock. I had watched the launch of this magnificent ship on TV, and now I was going to miss the chance to see it come past us. We only lived a few miles from the river. The whole village was going to be there. Except me.

I was inconsolable.

“Can’t I just go today and I’ll be off tomorrow?” I pleaded.

“You heard the doctor, you have to stay in bed until you are better.”

Then all of a sudden, my dad was standing behind my mum.

“What are you doing home, have you lost your job?” she asked.

“No, I haven’t lost my job, but I was driving to work, looking at the river and thought that we may never see a sight like this again, so I’ve come home to take us to see it.”

I jumped out of bed and ran to hug my dad, my tears suddenly forgotten. I couldn’t actually say anything, I just clamped on to his legs to make sure they were real and I wasn’t dreaming.

“Come on son, get dressed, warm mind, it’s cold out.” I saw mum smile at him and she went to the wardrobe to get my clothes. I don’t think I ever got dressed faster in my life. I was so excited that I had forgotten about my sore throat. I ran to the front door, urging them both to hurry up.

Dad lifted me up and carried me out to the car. It was cold and the clouds hung low in the sky, but I knew I was going to see the great liner. I was so happy.

As we got to the end of the road, it became clear that the whole village was heading down to the river. I had never seen so many cars, and every one was full. Ahead I could see some busses. They must have been from the school, but I was happy that my mum and dad were taking me.

We couldn’t get near the golf club, and had to park on the road and walk the last mile down to the river. We joined a throng of people, desperate to get to the river in time for the great ship passing. Mum and Dad seemed to know everyone and they were all chatting excitedly. I don’t think anyone was at work that day.

We were walking through a wood and I couldn’t see the river. I had never been there before and was getting worried that we were going the wrong way.

Then all of a sudden the woods came to an end and before us was the river Clyde, full to the brim at high tide. We were at a stretch of the river that is quite narrow, where the Kilpatrick Hills rise sharply from the opposite bank. They are not the highest hills, but you couldn’t see their tops because of the cloud. There were thousands of us, but there was an eerie stillness as people huddled in groups trying to hide from the cold.  We couldn’t see far up the river because it bent away towards Renfrew. There was no sign of the QE2.

The euphoria of coming out to see it was beginning to wear off me and I was remembering I was ill. My throat closed up every time I tried to swallow, the pain brought tears back to my eyes. I started to cry quietly, but I didn’t want to go home.

I don’t know how long we stood there, but I became aware of a growing noise. People were cheering. Not right beside us, but further up the river - their celebrations being carried down the water towards us. But I still couldn’t see anything.

Then a shout went up. “Here she comes!”

Looking up the river I could just make out some of the superstructure above the trees, moving slowly towards us. The atmosphere changed in an instant. People started pointing and talking excitedly. I must have tuned out all the sound at that point, because all I remember was this gigantic structure coming in to view. It was moving very slowly led by a phalanx of tug boats. I couldn’t believe the size of her. She was so big I couldn’t see the hills behind when she made her stately way past us. It was only her hull that was painted black at that time, all the cabins were still bare metal and would be painted when she got to dry dock in Greenock.  But I could make out people on her decks waving at the crowds below. She moved on down the river as we all looked longingly after her, wondering if one day we would get to sail on her.

“Well son, was it worth it?”

I looked up at my dad who was smiling broadly. Tears were running down my face again, not from the pain of my tonsils, but the joy of having seen a sight that would stay with me all my life. I just nodded and we made our way back to the car and home to my sickbed. I could hear people talking about how big she was, what a great feat of engineering, how beautiful she looked, how proud we should be that she is Clydebuilt.

For years after, every time I saw the magnificent QE2 on the news or on her return visits to her birthplace, I always think back to that great day. There never was a sight like it on the Clyde again.