But she forgets her concerns when one of the elderly footmen staggers in with the gramophone and another carries a box of records. Margaret claps her hands in delight and David drops the arm on the first record: ‘That Old Black Magic’. The song could hardly be more appropriate, Elizabeth thinks as Philip grabs her hand to pull her out and start the dancing, swinging her round until she laughs giddily.

Their gaiety is infectious. In no time everyone seems to be dancing, apart from Tommy who glowers from the sidelines. David puts on all their favourite hit tunes from the year, and from ‘Take a Chance on Love’ to ‘There Will Never Be Another You’ it is as if every record has been specially written for Elizabeth. She dances with other men, but it is Philip she keeps coming back to, Philip who makes her fizz with happiness when he takes her hand in his. His clasp is warm and he holds her just a little too close.

Two years ago he asked her to dance, but then he was just being kind to a young girl. Now it feels different. Now he is dancing with her because he wants to and she lets herself relax, laughing up at him as they sing along to ‘As Long As You’re Not In Love With Anyone Else, Why Don’t You Fall In Love With Me’?

When at the end of evening the King leads the traditional conga in and out of the rooms, Philip positions himself behind Elizabeth and takes firm hold of her waist. She can feel his hard hands burning through the satin of her dress, through her corset and onto her skin. The state apartments are all converted to offices, but they dance, feet stomping, the whole way along the Grand Corridor and back, and are all breathless and laughing by the time they have finished.

‘That was a wonderful evening,’ Philip says. ‘I’ll be sorry to go back to London tomorrow.’

Her happiness gives Elizabeth the confidence to say, ‘Why don’t you stay?’

‘I can’t, I’m afraid.’ He is smiling still, but he doesn’t meet her eyes. ‘I’ve promised to spend New Year in London with good friends.’

Friends? Which friends? Elizabeth longs to ask but knows she can’t.

‘Oh, I see …’ She swallows her disappointment. It is a salutary reminder that Philip has another life, one he has already admitted he is reluctant to give up. She is a new friend, that is all.

‘But I think Marina is inviting us all to a lunch at Coppins soon so I’ll see you then, I hope?’

She summons a bright smile. ‘Yes, of course.’ What else can she say, after all? Hasn’t she already decided not to embarrass him by making a fuss or demanding something he so clearly has no intention of giving? ‘That will be lovely.’

Chapter 12

Cairo, April 1944

‘Get out of the bloody way!’ Philip leans on his horn as a street seller veers his cart directly into his path. He is hot and dusty and dying for a beer, and at this rate he’ll never get to Shepheard’s.