‘Yes. She told me that too. I am surprised she accepted. But then, a gentleman would never attempt to loosen a lady’s tongue, would he?’

‘She didn’t need to be encouraged. I know what she wants, and I have communicated to her, once again, that it is impossible.’

Dermot gave a wry smile. ‘Tommy! This is the twentieth century. We are moving in a free world, in a time of movie stars and rich men. People like to be given a glimpse of how their idols live. You must see that allowing a peek into a small corner of our royal family’s lives will pay enormous dividends in the bank of popularity.’

‘The role of the royal family is not to be popular.’ Tommy moved his napkin to his lap as the waiter placed their plates.

Dermot shook his head. ‘Not to be popular? How ludicrous you sound. Antiquated opinions like that cannot exist today. Listen, I am talking to the Foreign Office who are talking to Bruce Gould, the husband, and all they want are some innocuous stories. In America they adore Princess Elizabeth and the Duke of Edinburgh. It’s perfect. A young and handsome couple, she destined to be the Queen of England. What was she like growing up? What hobbies did she have? What is she reading? Who is her favourite film star, Clarke Gable or Cary Grant? What music does she listen to? It’s that simple.’

‘I cannot recommend any of it,’ Tommy said firmly. ‘Can you actually see the Queen sitting down and writing that sort of guff, when she has spent her entire life being a mystery? Or the Princess? We cannot lose the importance of the family’s otherness. It is because of their enigma that they are so popular.’

Dermot shook his head. ‘Tommy, when I wrote that speech for the Princess’s twenty-first birthday – you remember, whether my life be short or long – you wrote me the most wonderful letter, thanking me for hitting the right note. I am telling you now, that we can hit another right note and open the oyster just a crack, shine a little inside and then put it back in the water. No harm done. The Foreign Office is for it. The Prime Minister is for it. And the Queen, once she has spoken to the King, will be for it, too. You will lose the battle.’ Dermot smiled and sipped his drink. ‘You are on your own, Tommy.’

Chapter Fifty-Five

Westminster Hospital, December 1947

George was unwell. He was in hospital, having tests for possible kidney stones, and Crawfie couldn’t help but feel anxious. She had spent the day at his bedside while he had drifted in and out of sleep. The medication to kill the excruciating pain made him very drowsy But the nurses and doctor were reassuring.

‘The stones may be small and will hopefully pass themselves, which could be rather painful,’ the doctor told her. ‘We are giving him lots of fluid intravenously and have added a little something to help break the stone or stones up. I reckon in a couple of days, he should be home as right as rain.’