‘I wonder how Willy is reacting to the news?’ Irène said, a frown creasing her forehead. ‘Uncle Fritz is only in his fifties. Under normal circumstances, Willy would have had another twenty years or more of waiting before succeeding him as Kaiser, but with Uncle Fritz’s health the way it is, it’s something that could happen at any moment.’ Her eyes widened in alarm. ‘Goodness, I hope it doesn’t happen before my wedding!’ She shuddered at the thought of Uncle Fritz dying before he became her father-in-law. ‘The truth is, May, I’m finding the thought of marrying into the Hohenzollerns tricky enough, as it is. The only person who is even-tempered and on good terms with everyone is my darling Heinrich, and he’s an angel, but as for the rest of them . . .’

She spread gloved hands out in a gesture of despair. ‘Aunt Vicky is just as argumentative as Willy. Everything is either black or white. There is never a middle way. She simply doesn’t know the meaning of the word “compromise”. And as if the situation over Uncle Fritz’s illness isn’t bad enough, Willy has been neglecting Dona. She adores him, but he spends all his time, both days and evenings, with his regiment – he is a colonel and commander of the Hussar Guards – and so when they are together, which is only at breakfast, all that can be heard are voices raised in argument, and then Willy slamming out of the palace with his six-foot-tall blond aide-de-camp, and Dona crying. It’s hardly happy families.’

There were times when May found her own home life difficult. Four years ago, when they had been living in Florence, her father had suffered a stroke and although he had recovered from it remarkably well, he had since grown increasingly short-tempered and she was constantly being called upon to act as a buffer between him and her mother. It was a trying situation, but one that was not nearly as stressful as the one apparently taking place on a daily basis in Potsdam’s Neues Palais.

They rounded a corner of the gravelled path. Both edges of it were lined by long swathes of sharply yellow daffodils, leading towards a bleakly dry fountain. Seated on its bronze rim, glumly smoking a cigarette, was Georgie.

May’s heart skipped a beat. At family get-togethers such as the present one, Georgie and Eddy were usually inseparable. This time, however, there was no sign of Eddy and she fought her disappointment, her heart steadying.

‘If you’ve come out here to avoid company, we won’t stop and talk,’ Irène said as they approached him.