Robert feigned innocence. ‘Am I? Then why have you asked the whole road to come and “drop in” tomorrow?’

Marion banged her cup down on the tray. ‘Oh, Mother, you haven’t!’

‘Of course, I haven’t. Just Auntie Linda, Bessie and her boy, Sheelagh and Ross and—’

‘Mother!’

Maggie stood her ground. ‘Is it wrong for me to be proud of my daughter?’

‘She wants to show you off,’ said Robert. ‘There’s no harm in that.’

It was a full and exhausting three days for Marion. She was interrogated and marvelled at by all their friends and neighbours. Her mother showed her off like a doll in a box, cueing her responses to make her talk:

‘The Princesses have given her a nickname too. Go on, Marion, tell them what it is.’

‘The Duchess has wonderful clothes, even a mink coat. Marion, tell them all about it.’

‘She’s met the King and Queen too, and the Prince of Wales. He’s very handsome, isn’t he, Marion? Tell Sheelagh how you met him.’

Finally, there was not a person in the street left unsatisfied by Marion’s stories. She kept her details to a minimum and her protective instinct towards the royal family made certain she never disclosed anything that the newspapers had not described already.

On the fourth day, a large white envelope with the royal crest raised in gold arrived on their doormat, addressed to Marion.

Maggie hovered as she opened it.

‘What does it say? Are they calling you back to work?’

Marion scanned the page. ‘You know I said there might be a chance for you to meet the Duke and Duchess and the Princesses?’

Maggie tutted. ‘Ho! As if.’

‘We have tickets for the Braemar games.’

‘Who gave you those?’

‘I did mention to the Duchess that I had never been and would love to go one day. I suppose she must have remembered.’

‘Away with you. I can’t go. Not without your dad.’

‘We have three tickets. He can come too.’

Maggie pulled her cardigan over her chest in defence. ‘How will we get there? It must be almost a hundred miles from here.’

‘We’ll go by train.’

‘But I’ve nothing to wear.’

‘Something warm with a bit of tartan would do you fine.’

Maggie stared at her daughter hard. ‘Have they really invited us?’

‘Yes.’

‘Hm. Robert!’ Maggie called out. ‘Do you want to go to the Braemar games?’

Chapter Nine

Ballater, September 1932

The train journey involved two changes to get to Ballater station, where a healthy queue of taxis was taking advantage of the extra business the games brought in.

The driver was happy to be their guide and royal expert. ‘You’ll be wanting to see the King and Queen, I suppose?’

Marion shot a warning glare at her mother, before replying with a smile, ‘Wouldn’t that be the thing.’

They heard the noise of excited shrieks and the bang of drums and applause as soon as they got out of the car. The party mood was infectious.