Remembering her vow to make things as easy for Philip as possible, Elizabeth tries to discourage the idea. ‘We don’t want to put him off too soon, Mummy,’ she says, but Philip takes her hand.

‘I won’t be put off, Elizabeth,’ he says, but he is looking at the Queen with challenge in his eyes. ‘You don’t need to worry about that.’

Liveried footmen open the doors into the State Dining Room and as they take their seats around the mahogany table, twenty down each side and three at the ends, chants of ‘We want Elizabeth and Philip!’ can be heard from the gates at the front of the palace. Elizabeth pauses in the middle of unfolding her napkin, thinking about how long people have been standing out there in the hope of seeing her with Philip.

‘Should we go now?’ she asks her father across the table. ‘They’ve all been waiting an awfully long time already.’

‘Certainly not,’ the King says irritably. ‘We’ll have dinner first.’

Knowing that so many people are waiting makes Elizabeth a little uncomfortable but it is a wonderful dinner even so. Rationing is still in force, but it hardly matters what they eat when the silver gilt gleams and glasses sparkle the length of the table. Floral centrepieces from the palace gardens scent the air and the gilding on the walls and ceiling is reflected endlessly in the grand mirrors while the shouting from the front of the palace is a good-humoured backdrop to the conversation at table.

After dinner, the King at last agrees that it is time to show themselves to public. They make their way to the room where they have waited to wave to the crowds on so many momentous occasions: her father’s coronation, VE Day, VJ Day … but this time they are waiting just for her.

And Philip.

Sensing movement in the palace, the crowd picks up the chant. ‘We want Elizabeth and Philip! We want Elizabeth and Philip!’

‘They don’t sound too bothered about me being a foreign prince now,’ Philip murmurs in her ear and they exchange a smile.

‘They don’t, do they?’ Elizabeth moves to stand in front of the tall windows that open onto the balcony. Smoothing down the gown over her stomach, she touches the pearls at her throat in an unconsciously nervous gesture.

‘All right?’ Philip asks with a quick frown.

‘I’m fine.’ Elizabeth nods to the footmen, who pull open the windows while the crowd roars in approval. ‘Ready?’ It is her turn to ask Philip and there is something fierce in the way he nods in response.

‘Ready.’

Together, they step out onto the balcony to be greeted by a cheer that rises up like a buffet of wind from the mass of people below. Hundreds of thousands of them are gathered around the Victoria Monument, clambering over the old queen’s statue, pressed up against the forecourt railings and spilling up the Mall.

‘Gosh,’ Philip murmurs inadequately, and Elizabeth knows he is as moved as she is by the joyful crowd.