My love to you and Dad and please give George a hug from me when you see him next.

Marion xx

Buckingham Palace, 22^nd June 1939

‘Your Majesty, welcome home.’ Crawfie dropped into her now-expert deep curtsey.

‘Mummy!’ Lilibet and Margaret jumped up from behind their desks and smothered their mother in hugs and kisses as she stood in the schoolroom door.

Margaret was beside herself. ‘We were very good. We didn’t wake you up even though we knew you and Daddy were home!’

‘Where is Daddy?’ asked Lilibet. ‘I have missed you both so much.’

‘And we have missed you very much. Daddy is working, but you will see him tonight.’

‘Was the boat ride home nice?’

‘Yes, Margaret, it was better than the first crossing. Very foggy with the foghorn booming all night and all day. Daddy slept through it all because he’s used to being on boats, but it took me a while to get used to it.’

Lilibet left her mother’s side and ran to the bookshelf. ‘Look what we have made for you.’ She carefully carried two large scrapbooks to her mother’s lap.

‘Ooh. And what is this?’ the Queen asked. ‘Crawfie, may I sit with you all to look through this? I would like to tell them some stories of the trip.’

‘Of course, ma’am.’

The girls got settled next to the Queen, nuzzling against her as she turned the pages.

‘Look, there’s Mrs Roosevelt,’ Margaret said.

‘So it is. Do you know she writes her own newspaper column called “My Day”?’ asked the Queen.

‘What does she write about?’ asked Lilibet.

‘Oh, she talks about what she does with the President at work and at home.’ She laughed. ‘She tried to persuade me to do something similar, but what on earth would I have to say in a newspaper column?’

‘You could talk about the people you meet,’ Margaret offered, ‘and our gardening and the games we play.’

‘Darling, you will learn that we do not speak to the newspapers. I am certainly not going to write anything about our family life.’

‘But why not?’ asked Lilibet.

‘Because people do not want to know that we are just like them. They’d be bored by us in a moment.’

‘Oh.’ Margaret turned another page. ‘I stuck that one in. It’s the President, isn’t it?’

‘Clever girl. Yes, that is Mr Roosevelt. He is our friend and he has promised to help us if we ever get into trouble with another country.’

Lilibet nodded. ‘That’s good. I like him.’

‘So do Daddy and I,’ the Queen said. ‘And, on our last night Mr and Mrs Roosevelt organized a picnic at their own home, or rather their “backyard”, as they call the garden. Daddy drank beer straight from the bottle and we ate hot dogs.’

‘Hot dogs, euggh,’ said Margaret. ‘I don’t like the sound of them.’

‘You didn’t eat a dog, did you, Mummy?’ Lilibet asked anxiously.

‘They are not real dogs. They are sausages in a large bridge roll, taken straight off the barbecue grill and served on paper plates. I asked the President how I should eat one, and he told me to push it into my mouth and keep pushing until it was gone! Daddy ate two like that, but I really didn’t have the heart to follow suit. After some gentle enquiries, a knife and fork were found for me. It was delicious. I was delighted.’