Marion was not going to allow her mother to spoil her joy at being given the CVO, so she just laughed. ‘Mother, you will look gorgeous. Now, stop fretting and get yourselves down here. The spare room at Nott Cott is waiting for you.’

‘Is George wearing a kilt, because if he is I will get your stepfather to hire one?’

‘He might, but honestly, Dad can come in his gardening trousers for all I care. Now shush and I will see you next week. Bye, Mother.’

Buckingham Palace, 15^th March 1949

Marion waited nervously in the corridor outside the ballroom with a line of equally quaking honourees. Her mother had almost driven her mad that morning, taking over the bathroom and the kitchen, then the only long mirror Marion had.

George and her stepfather were in full highland dress. Marion almost cried when she saw them. ‘You would both do this for me?’ Her voice had wobbled.

Robert grinned. ‘Enjoy it while you can. I’ll not be doing it again.’

And later, when Marion was ready and walking down the stairs, it was he who shed a tear. ‘You look beautiful, Marion, love.’

Now, standing in the line, she thought of her parents and George seated in the ballroom and it reminded her of the school concerts they had come to when she was a girl, to watch her play the recorder or take part in a display of Scottish country dancing. And now, here she was, about to receive one of the highest awards a monarch could give to a member of his household.

‘Marion?’ Someone touched her elbow.

‘Oh Tommy, I was miles away. What are you doing here?’

‘I came just to wish you luck. You look awfully nice.’

‘Thank you. Are you going to watch?’

‘Sadly not. Lunch date with Joan.’ He took her hand. ‘Congratulations, Mrs Buthlay, CVO. Don’t be a stranger.’

He pushed his way back through the line and disappeared.

And then it was her turn. The door in front of her was opened and the packed ballroom – the biggest room in the entire Palace – was before her. People were craning their heads to see who was coming in next.

She kept her eyes straight ahead as she walked the red carpet towards the dais and its two thrones, where the King was waiting for her.

The equerry by his side called out, ‘Mrs Marion Buthlay, awarded Commander of the Victorian Order for service to the sovereign.’

Marion was sure she heard her mother say something but she kept her concentration on what was happening. This was a day she must not forget.

She curtsied to the King who, in a low voice, called her forward. ‘Crawfie, thank you for devoting so much of your life to the Queen and me and the Princesses. We shall never forget you. Lilibet and Margaret send their congratulations.’

He pinned the beautiful insignia to her jacket as she beamed with pleasure.

Another shake of the hands, a curtsey, and then she was back out into a different corridor, catching her breath.