Although only in her mid-thirties, the Princess of Wales was deaf and, when she looked blank, May’s mother, guessing the question hadn’t been heard clearly, helpfully answered for her, saying, ‘As they’re nowhere in sight, May, they will probably be on the beach.’

‘Oh yes, of course, Mama. Thank you.’ The suggestion was so obvious that May couldn’t think why she hadn’t thought of it for herself.

Blowing a kiss to her mother and Alix, and giving the Wales girls and their blanket a wide berth, she began heading across the lawn in the direction of the wooded walk that led down to a private stretch of seashore. It took her a little while to reach the trees, for she had to weave her way between little knots of relatives, the men formally dressed despite the heat, the women a sea of colour in trailing silk gowns worn over bustles to give them a fashionable, swan-like S-shape.

She was so busy skirting around the Crown Prince and Crown Princess of Prussia that she accidentally bumped into one of her aunts.

‘Do look where you are going, May,’ her Russian-born Aunt Marie said, with an air of long-suffering patience. ‘You’re too gawky to wander around with your eyes closed. One of these days you’ll injure someone.’

Aunt Marie had a carrying voice, and fourteen-year-old Georgie Wales, who was standing nearby with his older brother Eddy, cracked with laughter.

May, conscious of how tall she was for her age, felt her cheeks flush scarlet.

‘I’m sorry, Aunt Marie,’ she said, wishing Georgie and Eddy – particularly Eddy − a million miles away. ‘I’ll take more care in future.’

Her aunt gave a nod of her head to indicate she had accepted the apology, then moved her lace-edged parasol from one shoulder to the other and returned her attention to the sister-in-law she had been speaking to.

‘Nice work, May,’ Georgie said, highly amused. ‘You nearly knocked down an Imperial Highness.’

May, who had forgotten that Aunt Marie was the only daughter of the Tsar of Russia, said crossly, ‘Yes, I did, didn’t I? And me only a Serene Highness – something your sister Toria has just left me in no doubt about, and which I don’t need to have pointed out a second time, thank you very much.’

‘No need to be touchy. It’s not your fault. You can’t help not being ebenbürtig and of equal birth. Do you fancy a game of croquet?’