Tommy coughed. ‘Sir, it was a privilege to serve the Prince of Wales.’

‘Ha.’ The King dismissed him. ‘A privilege? I heard it was anything but. My son and heir is a popular and handsome young man, but the Queen and I are neither blind nor deaf to his antics. I know very well that you resigned because you were tired of defending him, covering for him, and clearing up after him.’

Tommy gazed stoically at the carpet.

‘You have nothing to say?’

‘How is the Prince of Wales, sir?’

‘No change. One unsuitable woman after another. Usually married.’

‘I am sorry to hear that, sir.’

‘Yes, well, the Queen worries. If only David could be more like Bertie. Bertie’s marriage to dear Elizabeth, and his two little girls, make him a much better future sovereign, on paper, although his nervousness and the stutter would never do. Accidents of birth, eh?’ The King stroked his beard in thought, staring into the fire. ‘If my elder brother hadn’t died I would never have been king. You know that Queen Mary was engaged to my elder brother, don’t you?’

‘I do, sir, yes.’ Tommy watched his King carefully, noting the pallor in his cheeks and his yellowing eyes.

‘But he died and I got the Throne, Mary accepted my proposal, and here we are. Four sons, one daughter, and the firstborn a rouge and a louche.’

At a soft knock on the door and the arrival of the footman, Tommy knew his designated thirty minutes were up.

The King stayed seated while Tommy stood. ‘Good to see you, Tommy.’

‘And you, sir.’ Tommy bowed at the neck and withdrew from the King’s presence.

Back in his office he buzzed for P-T. ‘Yes, sir?’ her distorted voice asked.

‘Where does one go for lunch around here?’

145 Piccadilly, December 1935

Dear Mother,

Only another week and I shall be back home. Yesterday the King and Queen held the annual household Christmas party. The Palace looks really wonderful, all decorated and lit like a Dickens novel. Princess Margaret galloped around the tree, getting closer and closer to every priceless bauble. Her grandparents take great pleasure in her antics.

I was just about to step in to prevent any accidents when Lilibet managed to catch her. I heard her whisper to Margaret, ‘You will break something, Margaret. Stop being silly,’ in her no-nonsense little voice.

M immediately burst into tears and made a dash for her mother’s skirts.

L is such a thoughtful girl. She knows how to have fun but also how to rise to any occasion. She will make a fine young woman. M on the other hand is so amusing and very good at taking centre stage, but quite a handful too. Imagine the beaus she will have!

The Queen was as gracious as always but the King didn’t look very well.

They both work so hard. I am sure they need their Christmas at Sandringham.

Is there anything else I can bring home with me? I got the marmalade you like but what about Dad? How is he for socks? Vests? I only ask because Ainslie tells me the Army and Navy store is very good for men’s underclothes. I don’t know how we got onto that conversation! But if the A&N are good enough for a royal butler, I think they are good enough for Dad. What colour tie doesn’t he have?