Every night at 7.00 pm, the Princesses troop off with their little cases, wearing their new siren suits, as if they are off to catch a train. Then, when the all-clear sounds, Lilibet is told, with a bow from a courtier, ‘You may now go to bed, ma’am.’

It is remarkable how one can make the ordinary out of the extraordinary. Lessons continue. Christmas has been and gone. Time passes, and the war rumbles on.

The King and Queen are often away, touring the country in the royal train and keeping up morale.

The Queen writes to me when they are away, asking after the girls and their wellbeing, and I had a very funny letter from her the other day after she had visited the Sandringham Women’s Institute. I shall copy it here, for it made me smile. They treated her to patriotic tableaux.

‘It was a hoot. Mrs Way, dressed as Neptune(!) glaring through a tangle of grey hair and seaweed. The verger’s daughter, Miss Burroughs, as Britannia, was HEAVEN. The script was spoken by Mrs Fuller’s cook, draped in a Union Jack. Crawfie, dear, you would have loved it. Give my love to the girls and thank Alah for her card. Tinkety tonk, Old Fruit, and down with Hitler!’ I can’t agree more. When will the blasted man give up?

Buckingham Palace, December 1941

Darling Joan,

Ever since Buckingham Palace was bombed, the King and Queen have been determined to increase their visits to fresh bomb sites. They stand and watch the tireless efforts of rescuers digging the trapped or killed from the rubble, or those who drowned in the burst water mains. The Queen hates these visits but never cries. I commended her the other day on her steadfastness and she said, ‘I am a beastly coward. It breaks my heart. The destruction is so awful and the people so wonderful. They deserve a better world.’ It is all so piteous. I pray every night for our John and try as far as possible to check on the whereabouts of his regiment. You know I can’t tell you all I know, but I do know at this moment he is safe.

Meanwhile, the Princesses, with the help of Miss Crawford, are putting on a nativity play. Princess Elizabeth played a wise man and Princess Margaret played the child who gave the gift of herself, and sang to the baby Jesus in his crib. The King told me ‘I wept through most of it. It is a wonderful story.’

Princess Elizabeth is preparing to give her first radio broadcast. She will speak to the children of England, those at home and those evacuated. She worries so much about their fear – their fathers fighting, their mothers alone. She is busy writing a lot of it herself, to be shaped by others later. I am certain it will bring tears to many eyes and a new post bag of cheer.

I will come down on Christmas Eve to be with you all but will have to return on Boxing Day. I think I know where I can get hold of some half decent wine. Ask no questions and I will tell no lies!