‘Marion!’ Maggie would not be shaken as she caught Marion’s elbow. ‘George is so nice, isn’t he?’

Marion managed a brief smile, picked up the bowl of roast potatoes, and whispered, ‘Mother, he’s too old for me.’

George had brought with him a box of six crackers, and although his other gifts were stowed under the tree – not to be opened until teatime, a custom ordered by her mother years before – she did relent where the crackers were concerned and had laid one on each place setting, with the remaining two in the centre of the table.

‘George!’ She twinkled as she said, ‘You are spoiling us.’

Robert picked his up and shook it. ‘I didn’t think you liked crackers, old girl.’

‘She doesn’t,’ Marion added.

‘It’s not that I don’t like them.’ Her mother rubbed her hands nervously. ‘It’s just that the bang can be a bit unnerving.’

‘Well, I tell you what’ – George smiled at Marion sitting opposite him – ‘you cover your ears, Maggie, while Marion and I pull the first one.’

He offered up the cracker to a hesitant Marion.

‘Come on,’ he said, waggling it in front of her. ‘A cracker for a cracker.’

‘Oh dear.’ Maggie put her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut.

Marion held the cracker and pulled hard. It snapped, leaving George with the winning end.

Marion tapped her mother’s arm. ‘It’s done. George has won.’

George found the party hat inside the cracker and placed it on Maggie’s head.

‘I now pronounce you: Queen Maggie.’

‘Oh!’ Maggie giggled. ‘You are a card. A real tonic.’ She turned to Marion. ‘Tell George about the Duchess’s diamond tiara.’

George raised his eyebrows. ‘What Duchess is this, then? I am intrigued. Do tell?’

Marion, mortified, remained silent.

‘She’s probably not allowed to tell you.’ Maggie giggled again. ‘But I can.’

‘Maggie, no,’ Robert said quietly.

‘Why not? I’m proud of my daughter, even if you’re not.’

Marion looked down at her clenched hands. Robert gave his wife a warning stare. Maggie ignored him.

‘Marion is governess to Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret.’

‘And who are they?’ George asked, as if he had no idea.

‘The King’s granddaughters, of course. She works for the Duke and Duchess of York!’

George’s mouth dropped open. ‘You’re having me on.’

‘No, no. It’s the truth. Tell him, Marion.’

Marion shifted slightly then said, ‘It’s true.’

‘My word.’ George sat back in his chair, then sat forward, saying earnestly, ‘I would never have pressed you if I had known. Well, you have surprised me, in a good way.’

Robert pushed his chair back. ‘I think we need another drink.’ He stood and went to the drinks trolley. ‘Whisky, George?’

George smiled. ‘It is Christmas.’

Robert brought over two whiskies and two sherries for his wife and stepdaughter. ‘A toast, I think. To Christmas.’

‘To Christmas … and the King,’ George said.

All four glasses were raised. ‘To Christmas and the King.’

The atmosphere had shifted into something rather uncomfortable.