Crawfie was shocked that he could speak so candidly and – in her opinion, disrespectfully – about the man who had been King. ‘I met him only a couple of times,’ she replied primly, ‘and I thought he seemed very nice.’

‘You were blinded by his looks, no doubt.’

The whisky was working its way into her system, provoking some bravado. ‘He is as handsome as a King of England should be – a man whose only crime was to fall in love.’ She felt the heat rising in her cheeks. ‘And because of that simple, human emotion, he had his crown taken from him.’

‘Taken from him?’ Tommy frowned. ‘My dear, he gave it away.’

‘I respect the Crown, sir.’

‘You think I’m disrespectful?’

‘I do.’

Tommy’s expression became serious. ‘Good for you, Miss Crawford. But something I have learned in this life of service is to never give respect to those who don’t earn it, or indeed want it. He wanted to love and be loved. Bugger his duty.’

P-T arrived, banging the door open with her hip and carrying a tray full of sandwiches. ‘Here we are, sir. Chicken, ham or cheese?’

‘Chicken, ham, cheese.’ He laughed. ‘The Crown or Mrs Simpson. Life is full of decisions. P-T, our glasses are empty.’

P-T dutifully topped up the glasses, even though Crawfie said no, and she began to tell an off-colour story about a footman, a chambermaid and a bicycle.

Gradually Crawfie relaxed into the comfortable atmosphere that alcohol and food very often induces. She listened as Tommy talked about his children, and P-T regaled them with tales of her flatmate who was working in the cabinet office.

‘There’s an awful lot of anxiety about Germany and Herr Hitler,’ she said. ‘Mr Baldwin is being talked into retirement. Making way for a younger Prime Minister, you know – one with the courage to stand up to foreign aggression.’

‘Poor old Baldwin.’ Tommy reached for a cheese sandwich. ‘The abdication ballyhoo took it out of him. My money is on Winston Churchill for next PM. Mark my words.’

Crawfie read the newspapers every day, fascinated by the accounts of the people and events that she lived with. She had seen Mr Baldwin many times at 145 in the run-up to the abdication and saw how burdened he had seemed.

‘My parents would prefer a Labour government to replace him,’ she said.

Tommy turned his amused eyes on her. ‘Off with their heads.’

P-T pretended shock. ‘I never had you down as a revolutionary, Miss Crawford!’

Crawfie knew she was a little tipsy because her laugh came out more as a giggle. ‘I said my parents, not me. Maybe I used to be a little revolutionary, but not now. Now I see how hard it is for all people in all walks of life.’

‘Very hard indeed,’ Tommy intoned. ‘So many jewels and houses to deal with. The interesting people queueing up to fawn over one. Dreadful life.’

‘I mean it,’ Crawfie said, trying not to laugh. ‘Their lives are not normal. I am privileged to be charged with the education of Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret, particularly now. If the Duke and Duchess are not blessed with a son, Lilibet will be Queen one day. My duty is to show her the real world before the doors close around her.’