She hopes Philip will understand that things are so tense that there is no question of raising the subject of announcing their engagement. She worries about her father. His nerves are so on edge that he seems unable to relax. Once, by the Indian Ocean, he ordered the train to stop by a broad beach. Looking out of the window, Elizabeth saw the police roping off a path across the sand between two vast crowds of people. She watched her father climb down from the train wearing a blue bathrobe and carrying a towel, watched him walk across the sand to the sea. It seemed to take a long time and by the time he reached the ocean he was a tiny solitary figure, jumping up and down in the surf. Elizabeth remembers the tightness of her throat as she watched him. He looked so terribly lonely.

With pity came a trickle of disquiet. Was that her future? Was that what being a sovereign meant? Always divided from the rest of the world, always watched, always alone?

But her father has her mother, Elizabeth reminds herself, just as she would have Philip. She wouldn’t be alone any more than the King is. It was just a solitary swim, after all.

Elizabeth refills the pen with ink and remembers to tell Philip about their visit to Cecil Rhodes’s grave in the Motopo Hills, set atop a bare hillside among strange round boulders.

Mummy set off in ridiculous high-heels, totally unsuitable for climbing a steep, rocky mountain. So like her! Of course they were soon pinching horribly and she could barely walk. I gave her my sandals in the end and I walked up in my stockinged feet, which was a novel experience for me.

The path had been dusty and she’d been able to feel the grit digging into the soles of her feet, but it had been strangely liberating too, to feel so connected to the hot earth.

There is so much to tell Philip! Every day there are new experiences. Elizabeth’s favourite time, though, is the early morning when the sky is glowing with the gold of the sun hauling itself over the horizon and the air is cool. The train stops at night, and someone has provided horses so she and Margaret can ride before breakfast across the veldt or along some empty sweep of beach. Peter Townsend usually accompanies them, with one or two security guards following at a distance.

Elizabeth tucks the letter into its envelope, writes Philip’s name and address carefully on the front and seals it up before sending it to the train’s post office. She likes to write to him and feel the connection still. Her senses are so overloaded here, she is afraid she might combust, and thinking about Philip keeps her anchored. This trip is wonderful, but knowing she has him to go home to is the next best thing to having him here.

She is still thinking about Philip the next morning when she gets up early and jumps down from the carriage to find Margaret and Peter already waiting for her. Three young South African boys are holding a horse each and they smile shyly in response to Elizabeth’s greeting. Elizabeth is given a frisky chestnut mare with dark, liquid eyes and a saucy toss to her head.