Uncle Dickie didn’t think about that when he was promoting the engagement, and now he’s in India and not available to ask for advice the one time Philip would welcome it.

Alice puts down her tea cup. ‘I have an idea,’ she says.

‘For once it’s a good one,’ the Dowager comments acidly as his mother shuffles out. ‘Not like staying in a war zone to feed orphans or deciding to become a nun!’ She shakes her head. ‘What can we do with her?’

Philip doesn’t answer. He is noticing how bent his mother is. Next to Elizabeth’s glowing youth, she seems thin and worn out by the privations of war.

When Alice comes back, she is carrying an old shoe bag. Elizabeth’s brows lift as his mother pulls open the drawstring and draws out what looks like a musty-smelling mess of yellowing cotton wool which she proceeds to pluck off until she is able to hold up a tarnished tiara.

‘Use the diamonds from this to make a ring,’ she says, passing it to Elizabeth who takes it, flustered. ‘Oh, but we couldn’t …’

‘What?’

Elizabeth clearly remembers the deafness issue. She looks into Alice’s face. ‘It’s lovely but it’s yours.’

‘And how much use do you think I have for tiaras nowadays?’ Alice’s smile is sweet and Philip is ambushed by a memory of her crouching down in a dusty garden somewhere, holding out her arms for him, smiling just like that.

She takes the tiara from Elizabeth and hands it to him. ‘What do you think?’

He turns it between his hands. The metal is tarnished and the diamonds dull, but you can see that it was once a magnificent piece.

‘Your papa gave it to me,’ Alice says reminiscently. Reaching over, she lays a gnarled hand on his knee. ‘This is all I have left to give you, Philip. I sold everything else to help the children but this, this I kept for you.’

Chapter 38

‘If it was cleaned up,’ the Dowager says, ‘it would look better. That central diamond is a beauty.’

Philip lifts his eyes from the tiara to his mother’s face. His grandmother is right. The stones are very fine. This would solve the problem of the ring. ‘Are you sure, Mama?’

‘Of course I am sure. But ask Elizabeth. She will be the one wearing it.’

‘Elizabeth?’

‘I think it’s a lovely idea,’ she says warmly. ‘I would love to wear a ring which has a connection with your family.’

Philip lets out a breath. ‘Then, thank you, Mama.’ He gets up and kisses her cheek and she lifts a hand to pat his cheek. ‘I have not given you much, Philip. I am glad to be able to give you this.’

His throat is tight and he’s glad when his grandmother takes charge. ‘We’ll ask a jeweller to come here and look at the tiara. We can tell him Alice wants the stones reset as a ring. No reason for them to know who it’s for.’

They will probably guess, Philip thinks, but what is the alternative? He can hardly go into a jeweller himself without alerting everyone to the prospect of an engagement. The rumours are flying fast and furious as it is. His grandmother is right; they need to get on with things. It’s not long until July. He wouldn’t be surprised if the King tries to delay things further. It’s time to behave as if the engagement is established fact.

He looks from his mother to the Dowager. ‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘Thank you both.’

Elizabeth decides that she wants a simple design. The jeweller Philip Antrobus is summoned to Kensington Palace and inspects the tiara.

‘I told him I wanted the stones made up as a ring,’ Alice tells Philip when he rings up to find out how she got on. ‘His expression didn’t so much as flicker but I fear he may have guessed that the ring was not, in fact, for me.’

‘Oh, well, I suppose that was inevitable. Will he let you know when it’s ready?’

‘He says it should be done by the beginning of July.’

‘Perfect,’ says Philip.

It is a strange limbo time. He still spends the week on duty at Corsham, but it’s hard to concentrate on training petty officers when his future is being decided by the government and Commonwealth leaders and a king reluctant to let his daughter go. In the long summer evenings Philip and his fellow naval officers play cricket and darts against the team at the Methuen Arms, where it has been a relief to discover that the locals know little and care less about royal politics. To them, he is just another naval type, down for some good-natured banter and renowned as a batsman.

The landlord, Dennis, is polishing glasses behind the bar when Philip goes in after his return from London. ‘Not seen you for a while, Lieutenant,’ he says.

‘I’ve been in London.’

‘You’re always up there. You got a girl there?’

Philip smiles. ‘I do, as it happens.’

‘I thought so,’ Dennis says tolerantly. ‘No other reason to go up to the city when you could be playing cricket here, I reckon. I just hope she’s worth it.’

‘I think so,’ says Philip.

‘Well, that’s all that matters. Now, what can I get you, sir? Your usual?’

It is a Tuesday when a naval cadet tells Philip that there is a telephone call for him. Hoping it is not bad news, Philip follows the cadet down to the office, where he is discreetly left alone with a phone. It is his cousin, David Milford Haven.

‘I thought you should know that your mother was followed to the jeweller’s when she went to pick up the ring this morning,’ David warns him. ‘Two of the afternoon papers have already published the story, claiming that the ring is for Elizabeth. Your mother didn’t say anything to them but the press will be on to you next, so if you’re going to deny it, you’d better have a story ready.’

That’s it then, Philip thinks. He thanks his cousin, puts down the receiver and then picks it up again to ring Elizabeth.

‘The cat’s out of the bag, I’m afraid.’ he tells her.

‘Perhaps it’s just as well this has happened,’ Elizabeth says. ‘It’s only a week ahead of Papa’s deadline of 15 July. Surely he won’t think there’s any point in continuing to deny it?’

‘I hope not,’ says Philip. ‘I’ll ring him now, and with any luck he’ll give me permission to drive up and bring the ring round this evening.’

The King isn’t at all happy about being out-manoeuvred but reluctantly agrees that the engagement can now be formally announced. Feeling as if he has the wind behind him at last, Philip collects the ring from his mother and drives round to Buckingham Palace, parking at a jaunty angle in the courtyard and breezing past the footmen.

‘I know my way,’ he says and takes the stairs two at a time.

Elizabeth is waiting for him in her sitting room. She is wearing a deep yellow frock and her eyes are aglow with anticipation. Picking up on the excitement, Susan starts barking when Philip comes in and shuts the door firmly behind him.

‘Susan, be quiet!’ Elizabeth orders her, bending to shush the dog and when she looks up at Philip, her face is bright. ‘Is this really it, at last?’

‘At last,’ Philip agrees with a grin as he pulls the ring box out of his jacket pocket and opens it to show her the diamonds which have been cleaned and reset in a cluster around the spectacular central stone.