‘Yes. As long as you want them?’

‘Yes.’ She felt her heart warm, and said again more firmly, ‘Yes!’

‘Well, we had better get a move on.’ He took her hand. ‘After all, you are thirty now.’

‘Only just! I may be an old spinster but there’s plenty of life in me yet!’

‘I am not joking, Marion. If a war does happen, I shall volunteer immediately, as I did in the Great War.’

Marion frowned. ‘Surely not? Your age would be against you.’

‘I have the rank of major still, and the active service experience. Unfortunately they will call the experienced service men first. I want to marry you before I die, to know you have a child to remind you of me. If God sees fit, I want a son to bear my name.’

Balmoral, 7^th August 1939

Darling Joan,

Fourteen hours from King’s Cross to Ballater – the royal train does not allow speed to interfere with comfort. I still get the childlike excitement of sleeping on a train and very comfortable my quarters were too. Rather good grub in the lavish dining car also.

The royal cars came on the train. Can you believe it? Driven very skilfully onto the enormous freight wagons.

The horses and dogs, poor creatures, have the misfortune to travel by road.

I have unpacked and was relieved to find I had remembered my slippers, as all royal houses are rather chilly – this one is particularly so.

Tomorrow there is fishing. Rain is forecast but that won’t deter the King. He and the Queen are excellent fly fishers and will be standing waist-deep in the chill river no doubt. I may leave them to it and go riding with the Princesses. They are utterly fearless and I imagine we shall have some fun.

The Glorious Twelfth is almost upon us and I am told that the grouse are plentiful and simply begging to be shot. I shall offer my services as beater and picnic helper. The King likes to unpack the luncheon hampers while sitting in the heather and warding off the dogs.

Now it is off to dinner and charades. Last year my impersonation of a St Bernard’s dog strained my vocal cords so severely I could hardly speak the next day, and I recall that the Queen’s newest corgi, Crackers, was abysmally sick on the carpet. Let us hope for better things from this evening.

It feels good to be away from the worries of London. Do try not to read the newspapers too much – they will only make you solemn. We must trust that the situation abroad will improve.

All love to you and the children,

Tommy xx

Chapter Forty-One

Dunfermline, 2^nd September 1939

Marion was already packing. At 11.15 that morning she had received a telegram from Buckingham Palace, ordering her back to Balmoral. The Prime Minister was expected to give a radio broadcast the following day, announcing that Great Britain would be at war with Germany. Until then, the news was top secret.