‘It was such a shock!’ Margarita’s voice trembles at the memory. ‘That empty box! It was as if they had taken all our dignity away.’

‘We will have to rely on the Americans to get the jewels back,’ says Berthold.

‘Well, anyway, even before you arrived, Philip, we had decided not to be downcast about it,’ Dolla tells him. ‘We have endured worse than losing our jewels. It would have been nice to have put on a show for Sophie’s wedding, but we don’t need tiaras to hold our heads high.’

‘Good for you,’ Philip says, smiling at her. His sisters were tougher than he remembered.

‘And it means more to have you here than to have diamonds to wear,’ Margarita tells him fondly.

***

Sophie marries Georg in the chapel the next day. Her dress is old, even to Philip’s inexpert eye, and for a royal wedding, it is a quiet affair. But bride and groom look happy, which Philip supposes is the main thing, and Dolla and Berthold do their best to provide a wedding breakfast, helped along by another of Berthold’s secret visits to his cellar for champagne.

‘Your turn next, I hear?’ Berthold says to Philip when they are sitting over the remains of the meal.

Philip suppresses a sigh. ‘Nothing is settled yet. It may never happen, Berthold. Plenty of people don’t like the idea of Elizabeth marrying me.’

‘Because of us?’ Berthold glances around the room.

‘Partly. The German connection is never going to be helpful,’ Philip says honestly. ‘It’s unfair but there it is. Nothing is settled in Greece either, and until it is, it seems I can’t be naturalised as a British citizen. The King and Queen aren’t keen on me.’ He shrugs. ‘Meanwhile the gossip mills are going into overdrive. It was a relief to get away for a while,’ he admits. ‘And the truth is that I haven’t yet asked Elizabeth to marry me – or she hasn’t asked me, which I gather she has to do, technically.’

‘And what will you say if she does?’

Philip meets his brother-in-law’s eyes and smiles a little crookedly. ‘I have absolutely no idea,’ he says.

Chapter 23

Café de Paris, Monte Carlo, April 1946

The white-jacketed waiter sets two martinis on the table in front of them and fades discreetly away. Philip picks his glass up and throws half the martini down his throat.

‘Steady on,’ says Mike. ‘You’ll be blotto before she gets here.’

‘That was the idea. It’s not every day you meet your father’s mistress for polite chit chat.’

The gin is a welcome burn at the back of his throat but Philip puts his glass down. After all the hugging and kissing and tears when he said goodbye to his sisters, he was glad to meet up with Mike Parker. A fellow naval officer, the Australian has been his friend and rival since their days based at Rosyth, escorting merchant navy ships down E-boat Alley. Mike can be counted on to offer undemanding company on Philip’s trip to Monaco. Philip is grateful for the moral support and the knowledge that Mike won’t weep on him or ask him how he feels about his father or anything else.