‘Yes, it’s Louis.’ May had exceptionally good eyesight. ‘But it’s not Ella he’s with. It’s Vicky.’ Willy’s shoulders sagged in relief and she said, ‘Why would it have mattered if it had been Ella?’

‘Because I’m in love with Ella, and I’m going to marry her. I made up my mind about it a year ago. The last thing I need is Grandmama matchmaking Ella with anyone.’

May’s eyebrows rose. Ella was just fifteen and she thought even Aunt Queen would think that a little on the young side for serious courtship.

Alicky pulled on May’s hand, whispering anxiously to her behind Willy’s back, ‘Ella won’t want to marry him. She doesn’t like him. Do you think we should tell him? It doesn’t seem fair for him to be hopeful, when he’s going to be so disappointed.’

‘I don’t think any good would come of telling him,’ May whispered back. ‘It would only upset him.’

She didn’t add that, as his grandmother would already have a bride lined up for Willy, there was no point. She wondered who the bride would be and rather thought that in four years’ time, when she would be sixteen, it would be Looloo. For what could be more dynastically perfect than another marriage between the House of Coburg and the House of Hohenzollern? That they were first cousins wouldn’t be seen as a drawback. Aunt Queen had never made a secret of her belief that marriages between first cousins strengthened the royal bloodline.

Suddenly Willy said, ‘Time for us to leave.’

May saw why. Uncle Wales was strolling from the woodland onto the beach, and with him were Alicky’s father and the Duke of Connaught.

Willy was already striding rapidly out of the water, but not rapidly enough.

‘Whoa there, Willy!’ Uncle Wales shouted, cigar in hand. ‘What’s this love of the sea? Are you thinking of leaving the Foot Guards for the Navy? And which navy?’ He bellowed with laughter. ‘The Royal Navy, the oldest and biggest in the world, or the Kaiserliche Marine, the newest and the smallest?’

May couldn’t see Willy’s face for he was bending over, rolling his trouser bottoms down, but she see could that he was tense with rage at the slur on the size of his country’s navy.

Certain that his uncle would make more of what he always referred to as his ‘teases’, if he were to put his boots on one-handedly in front of him, Willy scooped them up and, without turning his head to say goodbye to May and Alicky, marched off in the direction of the footpath, his shoulders ramrod-straight, the back of his neck still crimson.