‘I would. Real letters,’ he says. ‘Not polite ones. Let me know what you’re thinking and feeling.’

‘If you’ll do the same.’

‘I will,’ says Philip. ‘I’ll be a better correspondent, I promise, and after the war …’

‘We’ll see,’ Elizabeth finishes for him, and he grins at her.

‘Yes, let’s see.’

Surreptitiously, Elizabeth lets a long breath leak out of her. In the end, the conversation has gone better than she has dared hope. Philip was never going to make a dramatic declaration of love. He is too honest for that, and no vows have been made, but they have made a proper connection. He has not ruled out a future together one day. And in the meantime, she has something to hope for and her pride is intact.

That evening is an enchanted one for Elizabeth. In contrast to the quiet Christmas gathering, the King and Queen have invited a number of guests for an informal party. Normally, her shyness makes such events an ordeal, but tonight Elizabeth is shining with happiness.

‘You look very pretty, Lilibet,’ her father says fondly, and Elizabeth realises with a start that for once she feels pretty. It is because Philip is there, because they are friends.

The King is not the only one who notices. ‘You’re the belle of the ball tonight,’ says Margaret, a little miffed as she is usually the one everyone looks at, the one who makes everyone smile. ‘Is that a new dress?’ she asks suspiciously.

‘Of course not. Honestly, Margaret, where would I get a new dress?’ Still, Elizabeth knows her eyes are sparkling, her cheeks becomingly flushed.

Even stern Tommy Lascelles unbends to compliment her on her looks, only to break off with a frown when he sees Philip and David moving furniture.

‘Your Royal Highness,’ he addresses Philip, tight-lipped. ‘Is there a problem?’

Philip glances up at him. ‘It’s time the party got going. We’re just rolling up the carpet so we can dance.’

‘Have you asked the King?’

Philip actually rolls his eyes at Tommy. Elizabeth is both aghast and impressed at his daring. ‘I asked the Queen, who thought it was a very jolly idea. Is that all right with you?’ he asks, not even bothering to hide his sarcasm.

Clearly it is not all right with Tommy, who likes gatherings to be as decorous as possible, but he can hardly counter the Queen’s agreement. His moustache bristles disapprovingly. ‘In that case, get the footmen to do that.’

‘For God’s sake man, the footmen are all decrepit! David and I can deal with the carpet. Though if you want to help, you could ask if someone can bring down the gramophone from the Queen’s sitting room.’

Margaret is standing beside Elizabeth. ‘Golly, I can’t believe Philip dares to speak to Tommy like that,’ she whispers as Tommy moves stiffly off. ‘I suppose because he’s a prince, he doesn’t need to be deferential.’

‘I think it’s more about the kind of person he is,’ says Elizabeth, but she worries. It’s not a good idea, she thinks, to make an enemy out of someone like Tommy who is not only steadfast in his support of the monarchy but also a man of considerable power and influence.