She shivered suddenly.

Maybe the future would not be quite like that.

And anyway, this time next year, she might have a child of her own.

She couldn’t continue to work if she became a mother, could she? No, George wouldn’t want her to work. He was a proud man who would want to look after his family. At least she – they – had Nottingham Cottage. The Queen had made it quite clear that the grace-and-favour home would be hers for the rest of her life. But what if something happened and George outlived her? Would he be allowed to stay? She was definitely going to have to ask someone.

Dermot Morrah’s Club, 29^th September 1947

‘Dermot, old man.’ Tommy loped into the club smoking room. ‘I was told you’d be lurking in here. How the devil are you?’ The two men shook hands and clapped each other on the shoulders.

‘I’m fine. All the better for seeing you. How is Joan?’

‘Marvellous. An absolute brick, as always. And your family?’

‘Good, thank you. Brandy?’

‘Rather.’

The steward was summoned and two large brandies ordered.

‘So, what’s all this about, Morrah?’ Tommy asked.

Morrah looked Tommy straight in the eye. ‘You have a problem and I can help to fix it.’

Tommy raised his eyebrows. ‘I have a problem?’

‘I will be blunt. The special relationship we have with America is at risk unless your employers—’

Tommy coughed delicately. ‘The British Monarchy.’

‘Don’t split hairs, old boy. This is a serious matter. The King and Queen need to help build the decidedly rickety bridge between us and them – the United States of America.’

Tommy sipped his drink, smiling. ‘They do not, and will never, cooperate by selling chummy interviews to ladies’ magazines.’

‘That is exactly what I expected you to say.’ Morrah delivered his coup de grâce. ‘But can we find someone who has inside knowledge? Someone who can paint a very positive picture of life in the Palace and how much the King and Queen value everything the USA did for us during the war?’

Tommy gave a hollow laugh. ‘I am not for sale.’

‘Not you, Tommy, although you would be excellent. Listen, with the royal wedding coming up, and interest in Princess Elizabeth and her handsome Prince growing by the minute, there must be someone in the palace, someone with daily contact, someone the royal family can trust to tell a few innocent, heartwarming stories?’

Tommy uncrossed his elegant, long slender legs and leant in to Morrah. He said, firmly, ‘No.’

Chapter Fifty-Two

Buckingham Palace, early November 1947

‘More wedding presents!’ Bobo came in clutching two parcels, followed by a footman pushing a loaded post trolley.

The large Palace reception room had long trestle tables lined up around it, ready to accept the many thousands of wedding presents for Princess Elizabeth and Prince Philip.

Bobo and Crawfie were part of a team who had been drafted in to help unpack and list every gift that arrived and from whom it came.