‘And now you and I are both married and Margaret is living her own life.’ Lilibet threaded a length of cotton through the loop of a red bauble. ‘Do you ever think about what you are going to do next, Crawfie?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Now you are married?’

‘Oh, I am happy as I am. Perhaps when Margaret comes of age, there may be a change. At twenty-one, she really won’t need me.’

‘Do you not want a family of your own?’

‘If it were to happen for George and me, then yes, that would be marvellous. But one cannot assume.’

‘I suppose not.’

‘But you, Lilibet, are young and healthy, and I am certain you have a wonderful family to look forward to.’

A smile lit Lilibet’s features. ‘Well, yes, Philip and I would both like that. He is to be stationed in Malta in the new year, and I shall go with him. Just us. Won’t that be lovely? He is still a naval officer, you know, and has been offered second-in-command of HMS Chequers, which is the lead ship of the flotilla operating in the Mediterranean. I shall be a proper naval wife, looking after my husband and my home.’

Prince Philip appeared. ‘I don’t need any looking after,’ he said, with a laugh. ‘Crawfie, where is your husband’s tool box? I need a spanner.’

When Lilibet and Philip finally said goodnight, the boiler was sounding a little less clanky and the tree looked perfect.

‘Merry Christmas, Crawfie.’ Lilibet hugged her old governess.

‘And you, too.’

Philip shook her hand and as a joke, Crawfie saluted. ‘Thank you for fixing my plumbing, sir.’

‘Any time, Able Seaman Crawfie. Any time.’

Chapter Fifty-Six

Buckingham Palace, February 1948

‘Good morning, sir.’ P-T, as ever on time, brought Tommy’s copies of the day’s newspapers and his cup of tea. ‘Did you have a good weekend?’

‘Splendid, thank you. Joan and I took a long walk over the South Downs. Lunched in a delightful pub. Went home and had a decent snooze. Feel all the better for it.’

‘Glad to hear it.’ P-T turned to go but at the door said, ‘The Foreign Office have asked to see you at eleven. There is nothing else in the diary, so I said I would confirm with you?’

‘That’s fine. I wonder what they want. Do I go there or are they coming here?’

‘Here, sir. They have a meeting with the Queen first.’

‘Oh. Well, I shall be waiting for them.’

P-T knocked at Tommy’s door at two minutes past eleven. ‘Sir, Mr Edwin Jones and Mr Julius Rosenstein from the Foreign Office are here to see you.’

Tommy stood up and came around the front of his desk to welcome his visitors.

Once the niceties were over and they were all sitting down, Tommy raised one quizzical eyebrow and asked, ‘And how may I help you?’

Mr Rosenstein, the older and presumably more senior of the two, spoke first. ‘I am sure you are aware of enquiries as to the possibility of a little lifting of the public profile of the royal family both here and in America and, indeed, globally?’