“As you know, Patsy, family members are always seated in the galleries. I’ve been covering Washington for fourteen years and I can’t recall seeing anything like this before. For Madam Speaker’s family to be admitted to the floor suggests something more than a State of the Union…”
“Like what…?” pressed Patsy.
“I know this will only fuel the rumour mill,” Smith continued, “…an inauguration.”
“But Leighton, the ceremonies swearing in a new president are held on the West Front of the Capitol.”
“In modern times they are, but until 1850 they were usually held inside the Capitol, in fact mostly on the floor of the House…”
“Leighton, you’re not suggesting…?”
ED strode down the aisle to the front with Davey nervously trying to keep up behind him. Davey was doing his utmost not to shake out of his skin or rather, his alien coat and tie. He stretched his shoulders back and held his posture as high as possible, trying hard to imitate his father’s natural ramrod straightness, but his hands were useless and, without the comfort of holding Pip his fluffy penguin, they were dangling self-consciously by his side, and he knew he wasn’t allowed to put his hands in his pockets. George had said so.
When Davey and Ed had settled into their seats in the front row, beside the Cabinet, Davey looked up at Isabel in awe, but caught her watching him with a sadness in her eyes, though he thought it was from her injuries.
Quickly, she collected herself and smiled, tipping her head to the side, so he would look over to the right of the Hall—his right, her left—where the signing interpreter she’d told him about earlier was poised so he could follow the proceedings.
Tonight, he would need to.
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AT 9:01 PM, THE Sergeant at Arms re-entered through the main doors and closed them firmly behind him. He walked down the aisle and up to the rostrum. Spencer watched him lean over between Isabel and Senator Mallord, cover his mouth and speak. The three engaged in a fleeting conversation and when the Speaker and Senate President nodded, the Sergeant stepped down to the floor and back up the aisle. At the doors, he cleared his throat, and after a collective intake of air, a hush enveloped the Chamber.
Throughout the Hall, eyes closed in relief and hands clasped together as though in prayer. Then everyone twisted around to see Spencer and the other members of the welcoming committee tipping forward at the doors, set for them to swing open, or at least hoping they would.
Isabel struck her gavel twice, and the Sergeant at Arms announced, “Madam Speaker… the President of the United States.”
A commotion erupted at the back of the Hall and ten plainclothes Capitol police ran up the centre aisle and around the sides. Several clusters of congressmen and women from the rear leapt from their seats and themselves charged to the doors, blocking the view from the front. Everyone rose, this time including George.
Three officers stepped up onto the rostrum to protect Isabel and Senator Mallord, though from what no one seemed to know. Four other officers hugged the front row just to the side, near where Ed and Davey were now standing, with Davey trying to peek toward the back between all the tall bodies.
Those who couldn’t see were straining their bodies toward the cause of the hubbub, only adding to it by asking their neighbours either side if they could see anything.
The Chamber was descending into a rabble. Because of her injuries and the difficulties she’d have using her gavel while she was standing, Isabel had asked Senator Mallord to take temporary control of it and, with her cane, she carefully pressed herself to her feet.
Mallord slammed the gavel with no remit but the only soul who seemed to be paying attention was Isabel who judiciously kept her hands safely away from the bench. Mallord was forced to shout, “Order! Order!” Again and again, he smashed the gavel onto the bench and, stretching out his neck, even he couldn’t detect what was going on in the ruckus down the back.
“Please!” shouted Mallord, “Members, Senators… Do you hear me? Order!”
The Sergeant at Arms was on the case. His single finger held aloft signalled to Mallord that he’d need a further moment as he pushed back through the swarm.
The authorised camera crew suffered similar obstructions though, briefly, a gap opened up among the crowd milling around the doors and, before it closed up again, they managed to zoom their camera through it.
One of the Capitol police officers stationed near the rostrum was pressing on his earpiece. He was refusing to trust what he thought he’d heard, but when it came through a second time he stepped between Mallord and Isabel to inform them.
“Truly?” Mallord exclaimed for everyone to hear, even over the hullabaloo, and pressed his fist to his mouth to suppress a nervous cough.
Never before had so many legislators with their mouths open been as silent.
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