But what’s done is done. What matters now is to get the King to agree to an announcement.

‘And we’ve been discreet, as you know,’ he goes on, ‘but there are still rumours about an upcoming engagement. There seems little point in continuing to deny them.’

‘No, I suppose not.’ The King sounds defeated and Philip stiffens hopefully.

‘So … will you make an announcement, sir?’ he asks, picking his words with care. The King is so skittish that Philip wouldn’t put it past him to change his mind.

‘Yes, yes,’ Elizabeth’s father says testily.

Philip just manages to resist punching the air in triumph. ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘I just hope it’s the right thing.’ To Philip’s dismay, the King goes off on another tangent. ‘I got some rather good pictures in South Africa. Would you like to see them?’

No, Philip wants to shout. No, I don’t want to see your holiday pictures. I want to talk about my engagement!

‘I’d be delighted,’ he says instead through set teeth.

‘Wait here a moment and I’ll go and get them. I think you’ll be interested.’

Dear God. Left alone, Philip drags a hand through his hair and stifles a growl of frustration.

The King’s study smells of leather and old books and stale cigarette smoke. Philip wouldn’t mind a cigarette himself right now, but it would be imprudent to light up, he decides. There is a red box on the desk. His eyes rest on it thoughtfully. One day it will be Elizabeth’s job to work through the government papers, day after day, week after week. She will sit dutifully at the desk where her father sits now and she will never say she is bored or tired.

And what will he be doing? For the first time, Philip considers the matter and disquiet uncurls at the base of his spine. What will he do?

The sound of the door opening makes him turn, prepared to feign interest in photos of elephants and lions. But it is not the King who stands there. It is Elizabeth, holding the door handle as if she is not quite sure whether she wants to come in or not, an uncertain smile trembling on her lips.

Philip looks across the room at her and feels something in his chest click and unlock.

Elizabeth.

She has blossomed, is his first impression. She looks taller, more assured. There is a new glow about her, and those clear eyes are bluer than ever.

Philip clears his throat. ‘Hello, you.’

Elizabeth closes the door with a quiet click. ‘Hello,’ she says breathlessly.

He doesn’t think, he just opens his arms, and she walks across the room and right into them.

Chapter 34

‘I missed you,’ Philip tells her. They are walking in the palace gardens, hand in hand. It is a beautiful spring day, or maybe it only seems so because they are both euphoric. Birds twitter busily overhead, drowning out the distant sound of traffic around Victoria Station. The smell of cut grass with its tantalising hint of summer drifts in the air while Susan bustles ahead. Sunlight stripes across the path in between patches of shade as it winds around the lake. A duck chivvies her ducklings into the water.

It is true, Philip thinks. If he is honest, he has missed Elizabeth more than he expected to. At first he was mainly frustrated by the enforced separation which delayed their plans for marriage, but he didn’t think he would miss her quiet presence quite so much.

David Milford Haven pounced as soon as HMS Vanguard had left for South Africa. ‘You’d better make the most of these last months of freedom,’ he announced. ‘You’ll have to behave the moment the engagement is announced.’ He dragged Philip out to clubs and Philip told himself that he was enjoying it but at odd times he would find himself thinking about Elizabeth. Everyone in David’s set – in his set too, he supposes – is so sharp and sophisticated. They are fun, yes, but sometimes too loud, too challenging. In comparison, Elizabeth seems tantalising, like a glass of cool water after too much champagne.

‘I missed you too,’ Elizabeth tells him, twining her fingers around his.

‘Oh, come on, you had a wonderful time,’ he teases her. ‘Admit it!’

She laughs. ‘I did, you’re right. How could I not? Papa wasn’t well,’ she says, a shadow crossing her eyes, ‘but we saw so much and met so many people. Everything was so different and exciting, it was overwhelming at times. On my birthday, the South African government laid on a ball. It was beautiful. I wore a white tulle evening gown, sparkling with diamante embroidery and sequins … I know it sounds silly, but I felt like a princess. And then Field Marshal Smuts presented me with a silver casket. When I opened it, I found twenty-one perfect diamonds. They were so magnificent that I actually gasped.’

She glances at Philip. ‘But I liked your present best.’

‘I’m glad you did. I wasn’t in a position to send you fabulous jewels, I’m afraid, but I wanted you to know I was thinking of you.’

‘That’s why I liked it.’

‘The tour has changed you,’ Philip says after a moment. ‘In a good way,’ he adds when Elizabeth looks uncertain. ‘You seem … more sure of yourself.’

‘I think it made me realise that I could do the job,’ she says slowly. ‘A lot of the job is doing the same things and saying the same things over and over again. It’s not always exciting,’ she goes on in a dry voice. ‘But I watched my parents. I saw how they dealt with everyone, and I saw what it meant to the people who came to see us, too. It didn’t matter if they were at a ball or had ridden a horse fifty miles to wave as The White Train went by. It was … humbling.’

‘I listened to the broadcast on your birthday,’ Philip tells her. ‘You did well, Elizabeth.’

‘Thank you.’ Her face relaxes into a smile. ‘I’m glad you were listening.’

‘Me and two hundred and fifty million others, they say! It was a powerful speech. It made me feel hopeful.’

She turns to him eagerly. ‘Exactly. That’s what I thought. That’s what I wanted to say. It feels as if we’ve all been marking time since the war, and now we should start looking forwards.

‘And us?’ Philip stops and looks down at her. ‘Can we look forward?’

‘We can now that Papa has finally said yes to an announcement. When will it be?’

‘He didn’t say. There’s still a bit of him that doesn’t want you to marry at all. I hope the announcement is soon, though. I don’t see why it shouldn’t be immediately. I’m British now,’ Philip says. ‘I’ve renounced my Greek rights of succession, and now I’m just plain Lieutenant Philip Mountbatten.’

‘Mountbatten? Uncle Dickie must be pleased,’ Elizabeth says, her expression neutral, and Philip isn’t sure whether the comment is pointed or not.

‘Well, it was that or Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg,’ he says. ‘It seemed a bit of a mouthful and not the handiest of names to have in a British passport.’

‘I can see that.’

‘Someone suggested anglicizing Oldenburg, which is where my family originated, but that made Oldcastle and the feeling was that was rather plebeian. Honestly, when it was suggested that I use my mother’s name, I couldn’t think of anything better, so Mountbatten it is.’