Philip’s way of teaching his son to swim was to jump into the Buckingham Palace pool and loudly order the often-terrified Charles in after him. One Saturday morning, Charles was ‘slightly chesty’, so Nanny Lightbody did not want to let him into the water, but Philip insisted. The little boy ended up with a bad cold. Nana was furious. ‘I was very cross with his father,’ she said later, ‘but the trouble is I can only say so much.’ Philip, still the naval officer at heart, did not tolerate his decisions being questioned.

There were occasions when his manner would soften. He believed in encouraging his children ‘to master at least one thing, because as soon as a child feels self-confidence in one area, it spills over into all others’. And Mabel Anderson publicly insisted: ‘He was a marvellous father. When the children were younger he always set aside time to read to them or help them put together those little model toys.’

There were nonetheless moments when his exasperation got the upper hand. He tried to teach his son to sail, without noticeable success. Charles was often seasick and did not respond well to the hearty disciplines of life onboard. He later recalled: ‘I remember one disastrous day when we went racing and my father was, as usual, shouting. We wound the winch harder and the sail split in half with a sickening crack. Father was not pleased.’ The difference in their personalities opened a gulf between father and son. ‘I didn’t listen to advice from my father until I was in my late teens,’ Charles said.

He was more at ease in the company of his grandmother, who now bore the title Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother. As a mother herself, she had been warm and loving but frequently distracted. Being a grandmother, however, suited her and she brought more affection to the role than Queen Mary had ever been capable of. In her dying days, the old Queen unbent a little, allowing her great-grandson to play with her collection of jade objects, a pleasure she had sternly denied her granddaughters, Elizabeth and Margaret. But, despite the mellowing sadness of old age (she lived to see her husband and three of her sons die and another exiled), she never lost her intimidating air of haughty majesty, even with her own family.