‘I think it best you don’t see her at the moment. You recall the letter she sent you, asking that you should not have anything to do with the Goulds or accept any money from them?’

Ice slipped inside Marion’s chest. ‘Yes.’

‘Have you accepted money from them?’

Marion wanted to throw the phone down and run away. ‘Yes.’

‘A lot of money, I hope – because after this, life will be hard.’

‘What will happen?’ she asked fearfully.

‘To you?’

‘Yes.’

‘There is little that can be done,’ he replied softly. ‘You have not broken the law. But you have broken a trust for which you will pay heavily. Not financially, but in the way people will view you.’

‘I will lose my friends? That is what she wrote in that letter.’

‘I know. I … helped her to write it. I tried to warn you.’

‘Oh Tommy, please don’t say that!’

‘The Queen will not forgive you for this, I’m afraid.’

‘Yes, she will. In time. When she sees how well loved she and the family are. The book will be a success here and in America.’

‘Is that what they told you? The Goulds?’

‘Yes,’ she said, gathering her conviction. ‘Yes, they did. You will see. I shall be thanked.’

Tommy took a long pause. ‘You know how much I have valued our friendship, but I will not be contacting you again. That is the Queen’s choice.’ His voice was low, and she heard the emotion in it, the resignation. ‘You understand? I do wish you well.’

‘But the Princesses! Lilibet and Margaret, they will understand.’ Marion was distraught. ‘They have sent me Christmas cards.’

‘I fear they will be your last.’ Tommy pinched the top of his nose. ‘Spend the money wisely, won’t you?’

Her throat was tight with tears. ‘I never wanted the money.’

She heard him sigh. ‘I believe you didn’t. I am very sorry for you. Look after yourself, Crawfie. Goodbye.’

He had called her Crawfie. The last person who would ever call her that.

She was finished.

She put the phone back on its cradle. This couldn’t be happening. George would sort it all out when he came home. He would explain to them.

Distraught, she paced the small cottage, flinging her arms and raking her fingers through her hair. Finally she dropped onto the sofa and sobbed.

When it was over, she wiped her eyes and her nose. She had done nothing wrong – nothing at all. The Goulds were the ones at fault. They had misled her. Cheated her into signing the contract. George must have been cheated, too. He would never let her sign something that was wrong. The Queen would understand that it was not her fault. Her only stupidity was loving her employers too much and assuming they loved her. She had done what she had done for them.

But she had taken the money. The twenty pieces of silver, to betray the people she loved.

George had been right to get some money for her. And what a lot of money it was. Better than a rundown cottage and a lifetime of service had brought her. It would not mend the hurt she felt, but it certainly helped.