The next morning, Marion woke early. She winced when she turned over to check the alarm clock – 6.30. It was a beautiful day by the look of the light creeping around the edges of her curtains. George was next to her, out cold.

If she had any tears left, she would cry.

But what good would that do?

She was married to a man who liked a drink and when he was drunk, and sometimes sober, he liked to lash out. She shouldn’t have stayed the extra hour with Tommy. It was her fault. Poor George had a jealous streak.

Her body felt sore. With the aid of the bedside table, she stumbled to her feet and silently got herself ready for work.

She made sure she got home early that night.

George was waiting for her, sober and sheepish, with a bunch of roses in one hand and a letter in the other.

She tested the water. ‘Hello, dear. How are you?’

‘Ashamed.’

She shook herself out of her coat. ‘No need.’

‘These are for you.’ He offered her the flowers, looking as anxious and sweet as a seven-year-old boy.

Her heart softened, as it always did. ‘Thank you.’

‘I am so sorry. I don’t remember anything that happened yesterday. Marion, listen to me – I am not well. I have been very sick today. I think it’s my kidneys. I have an infection.’

Marion knew he was looking for sympathy, while batting away the obvious. ‘Well, we had better go back to the doctor, hadn’t we?’

‘And this came for you.’ He handed her the envelope – it was thick and cream, with the royal cipher stamped in red. ‘It’s from the Queen.’

‘I can see that.’

‘Will you read it to me?’

He groaned as he sat down, and she rubbed the small of his back. Her ribs were still sore from yesterday, but she said nothing. She opened the envelope and slid out the single sheet of paper.

My dear Crawfie,

The King and I wish to show our great appreciation for the service you have given us over so many years.

It is in our special gift to recommend that you be made Commander of the Victorian Order to show you the gratitude you deserve and the esteem in which we hold you.

You will be invested on 15^th March next year in the Ballroom of Buckingham Palace. Three guests may be invited.

King George VI Elizabeth R

Chapter Sixty

Nottingham Cottage, 8^th March 1949

‘I have nothing to wear!’ Maggie bleated down the telephone.

‘Mother, why don’t you come down a couple of days early and we can go shopping?’

‘There’s nothing in London that can’t be bought here in Dunfermline. Hats are expensive everywhere. I have seen a very nice green suit. What do you think? Will a suit be too warm? What will you be wearing?’

‘I have a cream dress with a navy jacket and navy hat.’

‘Oh no. If you are wearing blue, I can’t wear green, can I!’