Marion had scanned the telegram, folded it twice and hidden it in her pocket.

Her mother had watched her. ‘Who was it from?’

Marion smiled quickly. ‘I have been called to Balmoral. The King and Queen are returning to London at once. I am needed to go and see to the girls. I shall deliver them back to London in a few days.’

Maggie was white. ‘It’s war, then? I don’t want you going back to live in London. It could be dangerous.’

‘I can only tell you what was in the telegram,’ Marion had said. ‘The Princesses are still at Balmoral and the King and Queen will never put them in danger.’ She snapped her case shut.

‘Marion.’ Her stepfather, panting slightly, was now coming up the stairs. ‘George is downstairs.’ He saw her suitcase. ‘Here, let me take that. Are you leaving now?’

‘The next train I can get to Ballater.’ Marion’s heart was racing but her mind was calm and focused. She hurried down the stairs.

In the hall, George was waiting anxiously.

‘Darling!’ Marion had never been so glad to see him. ‘Would you give me a lift to the station?’

‘Robert just told me you had to go. I understand.’

She reached the bottom stair. ‘You don’t mind? I am so sorry about our lunch. I was so looking forward to it.’

‘Me too.’ He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘We’ll do it as soon as we know what’s happening.’

She hugged him quickly. ‘Thank you, George.’

Maggie was wretched. ‘We are going to war, aren’t we?’

George and Robert swapped quick glances. ‘I hope not,’ said Robert, with a laugh

Maggie began to cry. ‘I don’t want you to be in London, Marion. Please stay at Balmoral. Please.’

Marion was brisk. ‘Mother, dear, all is well. Mr Chamberlain is a good prime minister and I am sure he is doing everything he can to keep us safe.’

She hugged her parents, biting her lip to stem her own tears. ‘I will let you know what the plan is as soon as I can. I love you both.’

George put her case in the car and came back to shake Robert’s hand and kiss Maggie’s cheek. ‘Don’t worry – I’ll make sure she gets the right train.’

Maggie and Robert waved their daughter and her fiancé off in a blur of tears and anxiety, watching as Marion waved from the car window, promising to let them know any change in plans.

At the station, George held the suitcase with one hand and Marion with the other as they marched to the ticket office. ‘Single to Ballater, please,’ he commanded of the woman behind the glass.

‘You’ve just missed one,’ the woman said.

‘When is the next one?’

‘Well, it’s Sunday, so there aren’t that many.’

George snapped, ‘Just tell me when the next bloody train is.’

She bridled. ‘No need to speak to me like that. I can refuse to serve you, you know.’