But there had been a delay from the Russian end in putting what had been agreed into practice, and during those delays a huge swathe of the British public, sympathetic to the Bolshevik cause, had made their feelings known. The revolution in Russia had sparked a countrywide revolutionary movement in Germany, as Irène had indicated in her recent letter, and the same kind of political unrest was happening in Britain. All over the country there were worker-led strikes, and trade-union leaders were loud in their support of Comrades Lenin and Trotsky. Buckingham Palace was deluged with letters from outraged members of the public, all expressing the belief that a dynasty that had ruled as autocratically and despotically as the Romanov dynasty had deserved all that it got and was most definitely not wanted on British soil. In Parliament, Labour and Liberal MPs vehemently expressed the same opinion. Labour clubs from Land’s End to John O’Groats let it be known that the Tsar and his family were most definitely not welcome.

George had been appalled. ‘I thought my decision was simply a family decision,’ he had said to May, ashen-faced and bewildered. ‘And look at the outcry it’s aroused. In today’s Times a letter to the editor has suggested that all the ancient trappings of throne and sceptre should be done away with! By which I take it he means I should be done away with.’

In the end George had decided that he could not risk inflaming revolutionary passions in Britain by giving Nicky and his family asylum. The risk of it triggering a wholescale revolution in Britain that would sweep him from his throne was too great for him to be able to do so. He had changed his mind and, without telling her, had withdrawn the offer of asylum.

‘It isn’t as if Britain is the only place Nicky can resettle,’ he had said when the regret-telegram had been sent. ‘There are other countries Nicky and Alicky have links to. Denmark, for instance. Or Sweden. Or even Maudie and Haakon’s Norway. Later, when the war is over and the dust has settled, that will be the time for them to come to England – assuming, of course, they still want to do so.’

As she stepped inside the palace, May was greeted by a euphoric George.

‘Great news, May! Wonderful news!’ He nearly knocked her off her feet. ‘The German Navy has mutinied. The sailors are demanding political reform and Willy’s abdication. Your old boyfriend Max of Baden is talking of an armistice.’

May’s knees gave way in relief and she sank down onto the nearest chair. An armistice. A truce. An end to the hostilities while a peace was negotiated. Never had any news been so welcome. ‘Oh, thank God,’ she said weakly, from the bottom of her heart. ‘Thank God!’