‘And create a whole lot more,’ says David. ‘I can’t imagine you settling down, especially not as a Prince Consort. You’re too restless. And you’re an awkward bugger. You’ll rub everyone up the wrong way!’

David knows him well, it has to be said, but Philip only laughs as he swings the car onto the Long Walk. The trees in Windsor Great Park stand stark and rigid in the frosty air, and the avenue undulates, reminding him of the sea with the castle perched on the highest wave.

Swathes of the park have been dug up for vegetable growing but it is still an imposing entrance. Philip, though, has spent his life visiting magnificent palaces and castles across Europe and he barely notices the soldiers on guard as the little car buzzes through the George IV Gate. The tyres kick up a spurt of gravel as Philip stops the car in the Upper Ward and pulls on the handbrake.

‘Don’t worry, David. I’m not going to commit myself yet, but there’s no harm in keeping my options open, is there?’

Chapter 9

There are only nine of them for Christmas lunch. They are served venison and a Christmas pudding bulked out with breadcrumbs which is flaming as a footman carries it into the dining room to oohs and aahs all round. The pudding is decorated with a sprig of frosted holly that sparkles in the candlelight.

‘Apparently it’s done by dipping the holly in Epsom salts,’ the Queen tells them. ‘Isn’t it clever?’

Elizabeth can’t help feeling guilty. She has been reading about the lengths ordinary housewives are going to in order to make Christmas lunch special. Few families will have access to venison, she knows. The lucky ones who live in the country may celebrate with a rabbit or even a chicken, but others will be making do with mock goose, which is apparently some kind of potato casserole, and a Christmas pudding based on grated potato and carrot.

Their lunch is a feast in comparison.

The food makes a nice change from nursery suppers but Elizabeth has unaccountably lost her appetite. Something in her jumped when she saw Philip arrive with his cousin and there has been a jittery feeling in the pit of her stomach ever since.

David is darkly handsome and glossily self-assured but Elizabeth prefers Philip’s rougher-edged charm. He made a beeline for her when he came into the drawing room and his assumption that they are friends has sent warmth simmering along her veins.

Both men are on terrific form and between them keep everyone laughing. That evening Margaret insists on playing charades. She has a flair for acting and loves to stand up and show off, while Elizabeth prefers to be the one guessing, but Philip makes sure that they are in the same team, and under his encouragement she can feel herself blossoming. Once or twice she sees the Queen watching him with an indecipherable expression.

Philip himself is funny as a fit when it is his turn to act out an outraged dowager being caught in the bathroom and Elizabeth laughs until she is weak. Wiping her eyes, she lifts her head to find her mother looking at her closely but the moment Elizabeth meets her gaze, the Queen puts on a bright smile and leads the applause.