Death of your father.

Death of your father.

Death of your father.

He is looking blindly out at the clouds and remembering his father’s laugh, the warm weight of his father’s arm around his shoulder.

Pushing the memory aside, Philip puts the car into gear. There has been no time to grieve, either during the war or since, and anyway, he is not the type to weep and wail. He hadn’t seen his father for several years, and no one could say he had been an attentive parent.

But still, he was Philip’s father, and it is too late now for Philip to tell him that he understood the choices he had made, that he didn’t blame him for any of it. That he is grateful to have been his son. His father’s death means that one of the pillars holding up his world has now been knocked askew in a way Philip hasn’t expected, tipping everything to one side.

When they were at war, they all knew what they had to do. Now it is not so easy. Between Andrea’s death and the situation in Greece and the question mark over whether he will be able to continue as a naval officer, is it any wonder Philip feels edgy and uncertain about everything?

Mountbatten has explained that his application for British citizenship is on hold while civil war rages in Greece. ‘I have been informed, delicately but in no uncertain terms, that the situation there is so unsettled that the British naturalization of a member of the Greek royal house is likely to be misinterpreted,’ he wrote. ‘I fear we will have to wait until the situation has stabilised.’

So Philip is in limbo.

Marriage to Elizabeth could still be his best bet. He’s had time over the past couple of years to think about what he wants and he’s still none the wiser, so why not marry her?

He remembers how pragmatic she was when they discussed the matter at Windsor that Christmas but she is very young still. If he has changed his mind several times, why shouldn’t she? She invited him to supper, but perhaps she wanted to see how he had changed? Philip has the sense that he needs to tread carefully. It would be a mistake to take Elizabeth for granted. She is not someone who can be rushed into letting down her guard.

Fine, he thinks. That suits him too. Far better to take things slowly. He will play jolly brother for a while if that makes her feel more comfortable and then, well, then they can see. He would rather not commit himself either.

In the meantime … Philip looks at his watch as he drives out of the palace gates. It’s still early. He runs his tongue round his teeth. Orangeade was the only drink on offer and he was longing for a beer. Might as well ring David when he gets back to Chester Street and see if his cousin wants to make a night of it.