Philip frowns. He has heard of how dangerous it was in Germany in those first lawless days after the Allies moved in. Nobody was safe. ‘How did you get there?’

‘By cart. The children hid under the straw.’ Sophie smiles faintly at his expression. ‘I know, a princess reduced to travelling in a smelly farmer’s cart! That’s just how things were, Philip. There were no buses, no trains, no fuel for cars, even if there were any that hadn’t been requisitioned. It was frightening, though,’ she admits. ‘I was terrified that someone would spot the children and rip the clothes from their backs. Or worse. I tell you, in those days, people were starving. Their cities were obliterated. They were feral, like animals. It was every man for himself.’

Philip thinks about his war, those moments of terror interspersed with, frankly, some bloody good times. He remembers reading Elizabeth’s letter about the euphoria on VE Day. The British have suffered during the war, undoubtedly, but not like Germany.

‘Come, enough of that.’ Reading his expression, Sophie smiles and pats his arm. ‘Let us talk of more cheerful things. Tell me about you, Philip. What are you going to do now the war is over?’

He hesitates. ‘I’m thinking of getting engaged,’ he says slowly.

‘We’ve heard the rumours, of course, but it’s hard to know how much to believe.’ She cocks her head on one side, studying him. ‘It would be a great match.’

‘Oh, I know, I know …’ Philip kicks moodily at the weedy gravel. ‘Uncle Dickie is being very helpful,’ he says, but not as if he is glad about it.

‘I can imagine,’ says Sophie in a dry voice. ‘You don’t sound very keen,’ she ventures after a while as they turn and walk up the shallow stone steps to the terrace. ‘What is Elizabeth like?’

‘She’s decent,’ he says. ‘One of the most decent people I’ve ever met, in fact,’ he adds, almost in surprise, realising it as if for the first time. ‘There’s no side to her. She’s shy, and she’s kind, and she thinks about other people, which is not something that can be said about the rest of that family,’ he adds humorously. ‘The Queen can be charming when she wants, but she never considers anyone but herself. Same for the King, but without the charm, and as for Margaret, she has to be the centre of attention. But Elizabeth … perhaps it’s because she doesn’t have to try to be the centre of anything. She just is.’

‘Your voice softens when you talk about her,’ Sophie observes.

Philip nods. ‘I like her.’

‘Not love?’

‘Come on, Tiny, you know the ropes. For the likes of us, marriage isn’t about love.’

‘I loved Chri,’ she says quietly.

Chastened, he squeezes the hand on his arm. ‘I know. I’m sorry, Tiny. Mama wrote to me about what a hard time you’ve had.’

‘Thank you.’ Sophie musters a smile. ‘But now I am to marry again,’ she says, determinedly cheerful. ‘I will be happy with Georg. I like him.’

‘Not love?’

‘Ah, touché …’ She lets go of his arm to lean against the stone balustrade and look out over the neglected gardens. In the distance, Lake Constance gleams in the late afternoon sun. ‘Georg is a gentle man, a good man. I will be safe with him. I can make a home with him. I want that more than anything. After all the upheavals, I want to stop moving around and making do and finding my way. And I want the children to have somewhere to belong.’ She slides him a glance. ‘I suppose you think that’s very dull?’

‘I don’t, actually.’ Philip knows exactly what a tantalising idea a home is.

‘So now we can stay here at Salem with Dolla and Berthold. Georg is going to be headmaster of the school here. Did you hear that?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

She glances at him, detecting reserve in his voice. ‘A come down for a Prince of Hanover, you think?’

‘I’m a Prince of Greece and I barely own what I stand up in,’ Philip says. ‘I’m in no position to talk about come downs to anyone, Tiny!’

‘But that would change if you married. You would leapfrog over them all.’

He lets out a half-laugh. ‘Perhaps.’

‘So you could marry someone kind who you like and snub your nose at anyone who’s ever looked down at you?’

‘Has Uncle Dickie been talking to you?’ Philip gives her a quizzical look and she laughs.

‘Of course not. Come, what is the problem? You have a girl who is decent and kind – and let me tell you, kindness is the most underrated of qualities – on top of which, she is a great heiress, possibly the greatest in the world today.’

‘Because she is heir to the throne of England,’ he agrees. ‘Which I know is the point. If she weren’t, Uncle Dickie wouldn’t be pushing so hard for me to marry her. But with the throne goes the court,’ he says. ‘God, Tiny, if you knew what they were like! It’s bristling with moustachioed old men who fought in the trenches. Very honourably, no doubt, but their ideas haven’t moved on since. Things at Buckingham Palace have hardly changed since George V. The whole place needs a good boot up its backside, if you ask me.’

He scowls out at the lake, remembering. ‘They’re all living in the last century with their protocols and God knows what. Half of them are having conniptions because sometimes I turn up to a nursery supper without a tie! It’d be like wading through mud trying to change anything, and it needs to change,’ he insists. ‘We’ve just been through a war. Everything needs to change.’

‘If you were married to Elizabeth you could be part of that change,’ Sophie suggests mildly.

His mouth turns down at the corners. ‘I don’t see that lot letting anything change without a fight and honestly haven’t we all had enough of fighting for now?’

‘Well, all I can say is that I was happy with Chri and I hope to be happy with Georg too. Perhaps as women we don’t ask for so much. That might be true of Princess Elizabeth too. But you must do what feels right for you,’ she says, straightening. She takes his hands and squeezes them. ‘I’m just so glad to see you. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you came, Philip.’

‘I’m glad I did.’

Chapter 22

In spite of the tears that make him squirm, it’s true. They have been divided by war, but now they are sitting around a table, a family once more. Philip remembers kindly Berthold, Theodora’s husband, and Prince Gottfried of Hohenlohe-Langenburg, married to Margarita, from before the war. It is surreal to think that until the year before, they were the enemy, high ranking SS officers. Now they are just Berthold and Friedel again.

How he has missed this, Philip realises. The teasing and the reminiscences, the jokes and the laughter. Thinking about his mother usually leaves him seething with conflicting emotions but here with his sisters, he is at last able to see the funny side.

Remember how she used to bless her teacups?

What about the time she climbed out of the window with a bundle of laundry?

Don’t forget when she decided she was a saint and bride of Christ. That creepy smile she had!