When the policeman eventually go there are a few moments of silence to make sure they have left the building before the whole company collapses into whoops of merriment.

Grinning, Philip slaps Baron on the shoulder. ‘Good work, old chap. But you still owe us five pounds!’

Chapter 45

Buckingham Palace, November 1947

The King is permanently irritable these days, the touching outburst of joy at the announcement of the engagement has descended into scratchiness all round. Prime Minister Attlee is determined to tighten the country’s belt yet another notch with new austerity measures that make it harder and harder to justify an extravagant wedding, and several members of the government are grumbling loudly about the cost as it is.

Every little detail is queried: has the silk for the wedding dress come from abroad? Tommy has had to write personally to Attlee to reassure him that the silkworms were Chinese – our allies – but that the silk itself has been woven in Scotland and Kent. The whole thing is ridiculous, the King complains, ‘having to grovel to the Government for permission about your wedding dress. You’re the heir to the throne! Bloody politicians. None of their bloody business.’

Between her father’s short temper and Philip’s frustration, Elizabeth feels as if she is walking on egg-shells and constantly soothing either one or both of them. Sometimes it feels as if she herself is only tangentially involved in the wedding. The Queen was delighted to approve Mr Hartnell’s design for the dress when he showed them his first ideas.

‘I’ve been inspired by Botticelli’s Primavera,’ he told them in his fulsome manner, snapping his fingers at an assistant who leapt forward with a print of the painting with a flourish. ‘Particularly by Flora – here, you see – in her white garment.’

Another snap of his fingers and there is another assistant, this one producing a sketch of Hartnell’s design. ‘I see the princess’s dress like this,’ he said grandly. ‘White satin, embroidered with seed pearls and crystals in a flower design incorporating roses – York roses, of course! – lilac, jasmine …’

‘Oh, Mr Hartnell, it will be magical!’ The Queen was delighted and the designer beamed.

‘Thank you, Your Majesty. As for the veil, I’m envisaging white tulle and a long train alive with the same flower motifs as the dress.’

‘Exquisite,’ the Queen said as she admired the sketch. ‘A fairy-tale creation.’

‘Precisely, ma’am. Because who amongst us does not need a fairy tale? I thought, too, a diamond tiara …?’ He glanced at the first assistant who hastily replaced the print with a photograph of the Queen wearing a tiara before the war. ‘Something like this?’

‘Oh, yes … that would perfect.’ Elizabeth’s mother smiled sweetly. ‘But Queen Mary has offered her own tiara for the day. Something borrowed, you know.’

Hartnell bowed deeply. ‘Of course. What a marvellous idea.’

Only then did they both turn to Elizabeth. ‘What do you think, Elizabeth?’ her mother asked.