But now Elizabeth is glad. There will be no shortage of conversation if Margaret is there, and it will give Elizabeth a chance to observe Philip and decide if she really does like him or whether she has built him up to be something he is not. She doesn’t think so, but how can she be sure? People can change, although she doesn’t feel that she ever does. She never has a reason to change, while Philip has done so much more and seen so much more than she has. He might be different.

Both sisters swing round as the door to Elizabeth’s sitting room opens. ‘His Royal Highness Prince Philip of Greece,’ Cyril says in fatherly tones. He has been the princesses’ footman since their nursery days at Windsor and is a comfortingly familiar figure at Buckingham Palace.

And there Philip is, striding into the room, bringing with him an energy that stirs up the air and makes the cream-papered walls seem to shrink inwards. Elizabeth feels the breath leak out of her lungs, almost as if his presence has sucked up all the spare oxygen.

Her first thought is that he is taller than she remembered. Taller and more … more immediate somehow. She is instantly paralysed with shyness.

‘Philip.’ Somehow she summons enough breath to speak and she smiles, a little shakily, as she holds out her hand. ‘How nice to see you again.’

‘Elizabeth.’ Philip seems amused more than anything by her formality. His bow is cursory, but his blue eyes gleam in a swift upward look as he bends to kiss her hand. His lips are warm where they graze her knuckles and she has to stop herself touching them when he lifts his head.

Turning to Margaret, he makes a big production of bowing and Margaret peeps at him from under her lashes and giggles. ‘We thought you were never coming to see us,’ she complains. ‘You’ve been back for ages.’

Elizabeth is mortified. ‘Hardly ages, Margaret,’ she says sharply. ‘And I’m sure Philip has had things to do.’

She sounds prim and priggish, in contrast to Margaret’s easy flirtation. This has all been a mistake, she thinks wildly. She has waited so long for Philip to come back and now she is too stiff and nervous to enjoy it.

‘We thought we’d have a casual supper,’ she says, gesturing towards the round table that has been set up in front of the fireplace. ‘Just the three of us.’

‘Splendid.’

If Philip is disappointed not to have a chance to be alone with her, he doesn’t show it. Elizabeth doesn’t know whether to be glad or sorry about it.

‘It’s just nursery food, I’m afraid,’ she ploughs on. ‘Fish and jam roly-poly.’

‘Sounds delicious,’ says Philip.

‘You won’t think that if it’s coley again,’ says Margaret, sitting at the table. ‘I am so sick of it. I wish rationing would end!’

‘Coley’s a lot better than some of the things I ate in New Guinea.’ Philip pulls out a chair for Elizabeth and then sits down himself. ‘Believe me, if you’re offered a choice between porcupine and coley, go for the coley!’ He winks at Elizabeth. ‘Coley’s fine by me. I might have had a problem if you’d offered me lobster, though.’

‘Lobster? We should be so lucky!’ says Margaret, talking over Elizabeth’s quiet question.

‘Why not lobster?’

‘It’s too embarrassing to tell you.’

‘Oh, go on!’

‘Well, I must have been about fifteen and I was in Greece for the reburial of King Constantine, Queen Sophie, and Queen Olga, all of whom had died in exile. It was supposed to be a solemn occasion but of course it was a big family reunion too and there were all sorts of get-togethers planned. The night before the funeral service, there was a formal dinner and I wore my first dinner jacket. They served lobster and because I was a greedy schoolboy, I ate a lot of it.

‘I don’t know if one of the lobsters was off, or if I was just being punished for my greediness, but the next morning I felt sick as a dog. There was no way I could stay in bed: this was the culmination of the whole week and I was expected to wear a morning coat and top hat to the service. The ceremony felt endless and I was so sure I was going to be sick.’

‘Oh, you poor thing,’ Margaret says with an exaggerated grimace.

‘It gets worse,’ Philip warns. ‘I made it through the ceremony, but then we had to get into the cars for a procession back to the palace and … well, that was it. I couldn’t keep it in any longer.’

‘Oh dear,’ says Elizabeth faintly. ‘How did you, er …?’

‘I had my new top hat,’ he confesses with a grin. ‘Probably not intended for the purpose, but it made for a very handy sick-bowl.’

‘Eeeuwww,’ says Margaret.

‘Then, of course, there was the problem of what to do with it,’ Philip goes on. ‘I should have just left it in the car, but I didn’t think of that. When we stopped and got out, I just pushed the hat and contents into the hands of an unfortunate aide-de-camp with an apologetic look and walked into the palace. I still feel bad about it,’ he adds as Margaret starts to giggle.

‘Poor man,’ says Elizabeth, but she is smiling too. She remembers Philip as a boy, with his white-blond hair and boisterous manner. She can imagine him bluffing it out.

The ice has been broken and her shyness fades as Philip chats easily about his experiences in South East Asia. He treats her just as he treats Margaret – if anything, he has more fun with Margaret who shows off outrageously and laughs when he teases her. He seems completely relaxed but there is nothing in his manner to suggest that he is doing anything other than having a casual supper with friends.

Not even friends, Elizabeth thinks despondently. He is treating them almost as if they are his younger sisters or cousins.

‘What are you doing now?’ she asks when Philip pauses.

‘Nothing very interesting.’ He makes a face. ‘I’ve got my first command, but it’s just overseeing the decommissioning of Whelp. After that, it looks as if I’m being sent to naval training,’ he says without enthusiasm.

‘Where will that be?’

‘I’m not sure. Possibly Wales, possibly Corsham.’

‘But you’ll be in the country at least?’

Philip nods. ‘There’s that. And I should be able to get up to London at weekends. Uncle Dickie says I can use the house in Chester Street.’

‘Then perhaps we’ll see you again?’ Elizabeth says, although if she had the choice she would spend her weekends in the country, not in town.

He looks straight at her and smiles in a way that makes her heart lurch alarmingly. ‘I hope so,’ he says.

Chapter 17

That went pretty well, Philip congratulates himself, as he runs down the palace steps and out to the car he has parked in the forecourt. Not the most exciting evening he’s ever had, and he’d been momentarily dismayed by the nursery set up, but on the other hand, there was something restful about not having to be witty or sophisticated. Without thinking, he had reverted back to being a teenage boy, showing off and basking in their admiration.

In Margaret’s admiration, anyway. He wasn’t so sure of what Elizabeth thought. She’s harder to read.

The two princesses are such innocents, almost childlike still. Philip thinks of the girls he met on shore leave in Australia, in Sydney and Melbourne: smart, funny, clever girls out to have a good time. There is something almost touching about the princesses’ lack of sophistication, although Margaret has all the makings of a minx. She’s only sixteen and has the potential to be a beauty, but she is obviously spoilt and determined to be the centre of attention.