An even greater relief not to have to visit his mother sitting blank-faced in the sanatorium nearby.

Still, it’s sad to see the state the once great palace is in now. If Windsor Castle is looking tired and Buckingham Palace battered by the war, their dilapidation is nothing compared to the schloss.

It was an impulse decision to come to Germany. He is on his way to Monte Carlo to collect his father’s few effects. That journey is going to be hard enough without complicating matters with a side trip to Germany. But it is nine years since he has seen any of his sisters, and they are all gathered at Schloss Salem for Sophie’s wedding to Freddie’s brother, Georg, Prince of Hanover. How could he not make the effort to come?

Hoisting his kitbag onto his shoulder, he runs up the steps and into the great hallway. An ancient butler with watery eyes starts to confront him in distress at the intrusion, but Philip jerks his head to dismiss him.

‘Don’t worry, I’m family,’ he says, his German coming back without thinking. ‘Where are they all? In the salon? Don’t worry,’ he says without giving the butler a chance to answer, ‘I’ll find them myself.’

Dumping his bag unceremoniously on a fragile chair, Philip strides down the long hallway. The sound of chattering leads him unerringly to the right doors, which he throws open so he can step inside. At first glance, the room seems full of women, but as his gaze sweeps over them, he finds just his three sisters. Margarita, Theodora, Sophie.

Only Cecile is missing.

They are all looking older and thinner, but there’s plenty of the old dash about them, too, Philip thinks.

All three are sitting on uncomfortable-looking sofas but have turned their heads at the sound of the door opening and, as their eyes alight on him in incredulous disbelief, he grins.

‘Hullo.’

There is a moment of absolute silence. Unconsciously, the three women are in the same pose, hands pressed to the base of their throats in shock. They stare at him as if he is a ghost.

‘Philip?’ Sophie whispers at last. She puts a hand on the arm of the sofa and pushes herself to her feet as if unsure her legs will hold her. ‘Philip, is it really you?’

‘You didn’t think I’d miss your wedding, did you, Tiny?’

‘Philip …’

Sophie stumbles towards him and Margarita and Theodora are up too and the next moment they have enfolded him in a warm, scented embrace. They are all crying and babbling in a mixture of German, French, and English, kissing and hugging and patting him as if to convince themselves he is real.

Philip endures it for as long as he can before disentangling himself. ‘Come on, now, let me breathe!’

Margarita wipes her cheeks. ‘Oh, Philip, I can’t believe it! What are you doing here? How did you get here?’

‘I hitched a lift with the Canadian army.’ Philip has spent the past two days in the back of a truck with a platoon of friendly gum-chewing Canadian soldiers. He only made it to the cab to give directions to Schloss Salem. He makes a show of rubbing his backside. ‘Not the most comfortable journey I’ve ever had!’