Elizabeth really doesn’t care where the sofa is but faced with the challenge in those icy blue eyes, she gets to her feet. ‘Where do you want to put it?’

Philip drags his armchair out of the way and takes hold of one end of the sofa while directing Elizabeth to take the other. Contrary to what he said to Margaret, it is too heavy to lift so they end up pushing and shoving the sofa across the room, watched by an incredulous Margaret. Susan keeps getting in the way and is shouted at by Philip when he trips over her, but once the sofa is in place and the armchairs have been rearranged, Elizabeth has to admit the room does look more inviting.

‘There!’ Philip announces, dropping into the sofa and patting the cushion beside him. ‘Come and sit next to me,’ he says, and Elizabeth sits down obediently. ‘Isn’t this better?’

‘It is,’ she agrees. ‘It’ll be lovely in winter, too. We can sit and watch the fire together.’

‘Except we won’t be here in winter, I hope,’ Philip says, crushing her romantic picture of the future. ‘Is there any news about us having Clarence House?’

‘It’s in a terrible state,’ Elizabeth says doubtfully as she settles back against the cushions. It’s a wet night and although it’s not really cold, she is tempted to ask Cyril to lay a fire. But with the country still buckling under the rationing restrictions, it would be selfish to use up fuel for a whim in the middle of summer, however chilly the evening, she realises with an inward sigh.

‘Clarence House was used as a Red Cross centre during the war,’ Margaret points out. ‘It will need a lot of work to make it habitable, let alone comfortable.’

‘We have to live somewhere,’ Philip snaps.

‘I’ll ask Papa about it again,’ Elizabeth says hastily before they start sniping at each other. ‘At least the wedding date has been agreed,’ she tells him. ‘They’ve decided on 20^th November.’

‘Who wants to get married in November?’ Margaret asks. ‘The weather’s bound to be awful. Why don’t you wait until spring next year?’

‘Because we’ve been waiting long enough,’ Philip says before Elizabeth can answer. ‘Anyway, it’s not about the wedding. It’s about being married.’

‘You’re not the bride,’ Margaret retorts. ‘Perhaps Lilibet would like a lovely spring wedding with some sunshine?’

‘I don’t mind,’ Elizabeth says, wondering why she always seems to get caught in the middle of their scrapping. ‘Philip’s right. We just want to be married now.’

Margaret sniffs. ‘Don’t blame me if it’s grey and miserable on your wedding day!’

‘I’m hardly likely to blame you for the weather.’

Elizabeth’s tone is tarter than usual. Margaret been very scratchy lately. She doesn’t like Elizabeth being centre of attention. Elizabeth understands that her sister is used to being the pretty sister, the clever sister, the talented sister, while her own role is just to be the elder sister. Of course Margaret’s nose is out of joint with all the fuss about the engagement, but her carping can get tiresome, especially when, as now, Philip is also in a scratchy mood. The two of them usually get on well, but they are both forceful personalities and when they rub each other up the wrong way Elizabeth is stuck in the middle.