May knew it wasn’t an idle threat. She had grown up with the knowledge that her loving, carefree, generous mother was also heedlessly extravagant. Her favourite charities always received huge and regular donations. No one coming to her in need ever went away empty-handed. As Mama was a great party-lover, no one – not even the Waleses – could equal her in the lavishness of her hospitality, and there was nothing she liked better than entertaining and throwing grand dinner parties for her royal relations, especially relations visiting from Germany.

When it came to clothes, too, only the best would do and, as she had tried to explain when her husband chastised her for the enormous expenditure on ‘only the best’, because of her size – at a cautious estimate, her weight was close to eighteen stone – all her gowns needed double material, and so she had to pay double the price.

Having wrapped the angel in cotton wadding, May said with a troubled frown, ‘Perhaps if Mama spoke to Aunt Queen . . .?’

The Duke of Teck removed a silver star from the top of the tree. ‘The Queen is as exasperated as I am at Mama’s inability to live within any kind of a budget and, fond as she is of Mama, she has refused to loan her any more money.’

May hadn’t known that the Queen had loaned her mother money – money that had obviously not been repaid – and her cheeks burned with mortification. She took the star from him and placed it carefully with the other decorations in a large box that was thick with more wadding. ‘What will happen when tradesmen refuse us any more credit, Papa?’

‘I don’t know.’ Her father climbed down from the ladder, his face haggard with worry. ‘A solution has been suggested, but it is not one Mama will be happy with.’

‘But if it gets us out of this hideous debt, surely it will be worth trying?’

There was such hope in her voice that her father, knowing what May’s reaction was going to be when he told her what the suggestion was, could hardly bear it. He fumbled in his trouser pocket for the pipe that he was seldom without and at last said reluctantly, ‘It has been suggested that we remove ourselves to the continent, where it is possible to live much more cheaply than we do here.’

May’s jaw dropped. ‘But if we were to do that, Papa, everyone will know why!’ The horror of such humiliation made her feel faint. ‘It would be too shaming. It would be mortifying beyond belief.’

She thought of the Waleses knowing it; of Vicky, Ella and Alicky knowing it; of everyone at the Prussian court – especially Willy − knowing it. Hard though she was trying not to show the depth of her distress, tears stung the back of her eyes. ‘It is a nonsensical suggestion, Papa. You must tell whoever made it how stupid they have been.’