‘I didn’t realize you had such strong feelings about it, Alah.’

‘Well, I do. I am so grateful that you show no sign of silly girlishness, running after young men and such like. You are single and you are not distracted from your work – just like me. Long may that be the case.’

‘Supposing I did meet someone and wished to be married. What then?’

‘What do you think? You would be dismissed.’

Downstairs the Queen was enjoying the final afternoon tea she was to hold in the sitting room of 145.

‘You will miss this little home, won’t you, darling?’ Countess Strathmore asked her daughter.

‘Bertie and I have some wonderful memories here,’ replied the Queen. ‘It does seem sad to leave. It is not what we were expecting, at all.’

‘Quite a lot to take in, I expect.’ Lady Asquith smiled. ‘I have always hated moving house. Such a bother for everyone.’

The Queen smiled. ‘It is, rather, but it’s poor Bertie who is having the hardest time.’

‘Packing the boxes as we speak, is he?’ Lady Asquith was known for her wit, and everyone laughed.

‘Would you like to see me dance?’ Margaret piped up. ‘Come on, Lilibet, let’s dance.’

And the two girls, like any other little girls, got up and danced for their mother, grandmother and family friend.

Tea was drunk, sandwiches were eaten and gossip was whispered above the Princesses’ heads. When the pretty French clock on the mantelpiece struck four, the ladies moved to collect their spectacles and gloves and the party broke up.

Lilibet escorted her grandmother and Lady Asquith to the door. On the hall table was a letter addressed to Her Majesty the Queen, and Lilibet pointed to it. ‘That’s Mummy now,’ she explained.

As the door opened, a fresh blast of camera bulbs went off – but not at the two women who were leaving. The new King had just arrived and was getting out of his official car.

‘Afternoon, Your Majesty,’ the photographers called, jostling each other, desperate to get a picture of him looking towards them.

‘Over here, sir, Daily Telegraph.’

‘Give us a smile for the Daily Express, sir.’

He politely smiled and waved before entering his home for the last time.

Crawfie had been summoned to come downstairs and collect the girls. She stood in the shadow of the stairs, amused by the slightly chaotic crossover of leavers and arrivals.

Finally, the Countess and Lady Asquith were safely in their cars and the King stepped into the hall. The large black door was closed behind him, shutting out the doorstep clamour.

Crawfie hung back, allowing the girls to welcome their father. They were whispering to each other.

‘Don’t hold on to me,’ Lilibet ordered Margaret. ‘Do it like we used to for Granny and Grandpa when they were King and Queen.’

The King kissed his wife, then the Princesses took a step forward and swept to the floor in graceful curtseys. ‘Welcome home, Your Majesty, Papa.’