‘I never, ever thought I would love anyone as much as I once loved Frank,’ Maudie had said to her, ‘and this is such a different sort of love, May, that at first I didn’t recognize it for what it was. When I was in love with Frank, it was all fireworks and rockets going off, and feeling that every time we parted I would die if I didn’t see him again soon. With Carl, it is all sweetness and security, and a feeling that when we are together all is right with the world.’

She had hesitated, two spots of warm colour flooding her cheeks.

‘After he had asked me to marry him, and before I accepted his proposal, I told Carl of how I had once thought myself in love when I was much younger, and of how I was what is referred to as “damaged goods”. He was quiet, and for so long that I thought I had destroyed all my future happiness. And then he took my hands in his and said how much my honesty meant to him; that it showed him, more than anything else could have, that there would never be any secrets between us – only pure, shining trust. And he said he hoped I would be forgiving of a couple of long-regretted incidents in his own past. I knew then how different the love we shared was from anything I had experienced before, and what a very, very special kind of person he was.’

When May had waved Ducky goodbye, she stepped into the coolness of the house. From the direction of the nursery came the sound of her eldest two children, three-year-old David and eighteen-month-old Bertie, playing under the watchful eye of their nanny. There was no sound from the direction of eight-week-old baby Mary’s nursery, and she decided not to disturb the peace and quiet by looking in on her and perhaps waking her up.

Bypassing the closed door of George’s stamp room, she walked upstairs to her own inner sanctum, her boudoir. It was what her German father would have described as gemütlich – cosy – and yet elegant at the same time. As was the habit among all Granny Queen’s offspring, framed family photographs occupied every available surface.

Her desk faced the window and she sat down at it. On it stood a photograph of George in naval uniform. It had been a long time since George had captained a ship, but he still felt more comfortable in uniform than he did out of it. Next to it was a photograph of David, awkwardly clutching hold of Bertie.