The Duke of Windsor has reappeared after his stint as Governor of the Bahamas (or Bahammers as he now pronounces it, having adopted an American twang). He announced, quite seriously, that he would be the man to improve the USA and UK’s friendship. Naturally, he is harping on again about getting his wife the dignity of an HRH. It is simply not going to happen.

In other, happier news, Princess Elizabeth has revealed a beau – Prince Philip of Greece. He has been seeing action, rather a lot of it I hear, with the Royal Navy and by all accounts is a hero. His ship is due home any day.

This is the same young man who rowed out of Dartmouth to follow the royal yacht all those years ago. I know this because I had tea with Miss Crawford, who told me that letters have been exchanged frequently over the war years, and that Elizabeth had a photo of him with her constantly. I understand the King has decreed they should slow their courtship down. He feels Elizabeth is too young – she is only nineteen, after all – and Prince Philip is too much of an unknown quantity.

With the war behind us, the King is planning to take the whole family away to South Africa for an extensive, lengthy and important tour of the Commonwealth. We are in the planning stages now and they are expected to be away for several months. I shall have to accompany them, but I hope that will be my last big tour. I am too old to be away from you for such long periods of time.

You have been so patient and understanding. Our next holiday will be to any destination you wish. Get my old atlas out and start planning.

My love,

Tommy

PART FIVE

Two years later

Chapter Forty-Five

Buckingham Palace, 9^th July 1947

Crawfie was in her own sitting room, reading a letter from George that had arrived that morning. It had upset her because he was lonely. And when he was lonely, he tended to write peevishly.

Dear Marion,

I write this, sitting alone in my home, thinking of you. I am glad you are happy in London with all it can offer – so much more than Dunfermline ever could.

The war has taken its toll on me – my work in Italy, supplying the many who had so little with everyday items like food and medicine, while all the time going out of my mind with worry over your safety.

The bank has offered me redundancy. So many young men, now demobbed, need to have work, and so an old war horse like me is the first to be put out to pasture. My small war pension will be a struggle to live on until we are married. I shall look for work as soon as possible.

My dear, our wedding plans were dashed so long ago – not your fault, of course, but, if you still want me, I am waiting. I have waited faithfully for nigh on eleven years, thinking of you working tirelessly behind the scenes, caring for the Princesses and their parents. I sometimes think the royal family mean more to you than I do, but my chest fills with pride that I have known you at all.