Miss Knight was triumphant. ‘Thank you, sir.’

There was a tap at the door and P-T nudged it open with a hip. She bore the tea tray in her hands, and Tommy was cheered by the sight of bourbon biscuits.

P-T smiled. ‘Here you are, sir. Tea, as ordered. Shall I pour?’

‘Just leave it on the side table, please.’

When she’d gone, Tommy poured three cups and offered the women the bourbons. To his delight, they politely declined.

Miss Crawford managed a warmish smile for Miss Knight.

Tommy stirred his tea three times clockwise, as he always did, before saying, ‘I hear, Miss Crawford, you would like to pay your respects to the King, yourself. Is that correct?’

She looked up. ‘It is, sir, yes, and I was wondering if I could—’

He raised a hand to stop her. ‘I am going myself today, after luncheon, and the Duchess has given permission for you to take the afternoon off to accompany me if you so wish? No point sending two cars when one will do, eh?’

Miss Crawford beamed as she accepted the invitation. ‘Sir, I would be honoured.’

‘Good. I am glad that is settled. Meet me here at two o’clock sharp.’ He drained his teacup and walked to the door. ‘Very nice to see you again, Miss Knight, and also to meet you, Miss Crawford.’

He saw them off with a charming smile. As they disappeared down the corridor, he shut the door and breathed a sigh of relief.

That, Tommy old boy, he said to himself, is diplomacy in action.

At 2.00 p.m. sharp, Crawfie returned to Buckingham Palace and was met by Tommy’s secretary. ‘Sir Alan will be with you in just a moment,’ she said. ‘Do take a seat.’ She proffered a choice of three chairs in the corridor.

‘Thank you.’

‘He shouldn’t be too long, Miss Crawford.’

‘Forgive me, but I don’t believe I know your name.’

‘Oh golly, sorry. It’s Jane Pepper-Thynne, but everyone calls me P-T. So much easier.’

‘We all seem to have nicknames, don’t we? Mine is Crawfie.’

P-T relaxed, leaning back against the wall. ‘Oh you’re Crawfie! How lovely to meet you. I hear you are working wonders in the schoolroom. And how are the terrifying Alah and dear Bobo?’

Crawfie smiled carefully; she didn’t want to be reported as a gossip. ‘Delightful.’

‘Really? That’s not what I have heard.’ P-T laughed. ‘Sir Alan shouldn’t be too long now. You know even he has a nickname, don’t you?’

‘No.’

‘Everyone calls him “Tommy” – but only when he gives them permission. For now, call him Sir Alan. Ah, here he is.’ Tommy stepped out of his office carrying a heavy coat and his hat. ‘Miss Crawford is here, sir.’

‘Good.’ He smiled at Marion. ‘As you have a warm coat on, I think we shall walk to Westminster Hall. I could do with some fresh air.’

In silence she followed him from his office, down a short, red-carpeted flight of stairs, along the corridor, past the painting of Queen Victoria’s coronation and out through the door that took them to the front of the palace. The cold was fierce, and Marion pulled her coat firmly around her.