‘Terrific,’ Philip says sarcastically. ‘No speeding, no smoking … this marriage is going to be a barrel of laughs, I can see. Uncle Dickie arranged for me to have lunch with Winston Churchill just so the great man could impress on me what a serious business it is marrying the heir to the throne. As if I thought it was nothing but a joke!’ He blows smoke at the ceiling. ‘Not that it’s been much fun so far.’

‘I know.’ It’s Elizabeth’s turn to sigh as she strokes Susan’s head. ‘I wish we could just be two ordinary people getting married at an ordinary wedding.’

‘But you’re not ordinary,’ he points out, ‘and we wouldn’t be getting married if you were, would we?’

Elizabeth’s fingers still on the dog at his bitter comment. ‘No, I suppose not,’ she says after a moment. ‘I thought once we were engaged all our problems would be over, but it seems they’re only just starting. I hate all the arguments about money,’ she says. ‘It seems as if there’s no end to it: the cost of the wedding, doing up Clarence House … Nobody can agree and you and I are the last people to be consulted.’

‘It’s not really your wedding, is it?’ Margaret puts in. ‘It’s a state occasion. Poor old Lil,’ she adds. ‘You never have anything of your own, not even your own love affair and wedding.’

Elizabeth sighs. ‘Thank you for that, Margaret,’ she says. She turns back to Philip. ‘The Government wants to keep things simple in view of the economic situation. With austerity it seems crass to have an extravagant wedding, but then there’s the view that the country needs a happy event to look forward to and we should put on a show.’

‘And what’s your view?’ Philip asks.

‘I just want to get married,’ she says, but she doesn’t look at him. ‘And for all the arguments to stop.’

‘What else are they arguing about?’

‘The guest list, for one thing.’

Philip stubs out his cigarette. ‘Yes, I wanted to talk to you about that. Why haven’t my sisters received an invitation? Sandra tells me she and Peter have had one, and Michael’s coming from Romania, but Dolla, Tiny, and Margarita have heard nothing.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Elizabeth seems to shrink into herself. ‘I did ask but it was decided it would be too provocative to invite them.’

‘Decided by who? Tommy Lascelles, I suppose,’ he says savagely.

‘I’m sure he was involved but it was down to Mummy and Papa in the end.’

‘And nobody thought to consult me? I am the groom and this is my family we’re talking about!’

‘I know.’

‘What’s the problem? Is it that my sisters are married to Germans?’

‘Not just Germans,’ Elizabeth says carefully. ‘Germans who were senior SS officers.’

‘You can’t expect the country to welcome them,’ Margaret says frankly. ‘It’s on its knees after the war with Germany. Everybody thinks it’s wiser to play down your German connections.’

‘Funny, nobody seemed that bothered about my German connections when they were cheering us on that balcony,’ says Philip, tight-jawed.

‘I’m sorry,’ Elizabeth says again.

‘Elizabeth, they’re my sisters.’

She bites her lip. ‘I don’t think I can get them to change their mind. I’m sorry, Philip. Your mother will be there, of course.’

‘Oh, big of them to invite her!’

‘I think there is some concern about what she’ll wear,’ Elizabeth goes on delicately. ‘They don’t want her to wear her nun’s outfit.’

‘I should think not,’ says Margaret. ‘She’ll look absolutely mad … oh, sorry, Philip,’ she adds carelessly. ‘I know it’s a touchy subject.’

‘My mother may have spent some time in sanatoriums, but she is not mad,’ he grinds out. ‘She’s devout. She spent the war hiding a family at risk from the Germans. She sold her jewels to feed the poor. What did your mother do? Walked around a few ruins and smiled at people!’

‘That’s enough.’ Elizabeth’s voice is sharp as she gets abruptly to her feet. ‘Margaret, you’re not being helpful. Can you give Philip and me some time on our own?’

‘Oh, all right.’ Pouting, Margaret gets up from the sofa. ‘Philip’s so cross all the time I don’t want to stay for supper anyway.’

Chapter 44

Elizabeth waits until her sister has flounced out before sinking down into her chair. She rubs her temples. ‘I’m sorry about Margaret,’ she says. ‘She doesn’t mean to be hurtful. She’s just … thoughtless. And I’m sorry about your sisters, Philip. I really am.’

Philip rose when she did but now he sits down again too. ‘You look tired.’

‘I didn’t realise quite how much was involved in getting married.’ She offers him a weary smile. ‘Isn’t this supposed to be a happy time?’

‘That’s what I thought, too,’ he says with a wry smile. ‘So, let’s hear the worst of it. The cost of the wedding, the guest list … what else?’

‘Clarence House. They’ve estimated fifty thousand pounds to make it habitable. Can you imagine?’

He pulls a face. ‘Well, it hasn’t been used as a home for a while. It’ll need gutting.’

‘It’s going to take at least two years, they think.’

‘Two years?’ Philip echoes in dismay. ‘Where are we supposed to live in the meantime?’

Elizabeth hesitates. ‘Here, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh God, living with the in-laws!’ Philip clutches his head in his hands.

‘We’ll have our own suite of rooms.’

‘It’s not the same as having a home of our own.’

‘I know, but we’ll have to make the best of it – just like everyone else is doing.’

Philip releases a long-suffering, spluttering sigh. If there’s one thing he hasn’t wanted to do it’s to live at Buckingham Palace. It is cold, uncomfortable, inconvenient and stuffed with starchy courtiers and disapproving staff. Given the choice, he isn’t sure he wouldn’t rather live in the converted munitions hut which is his current quarters at Corsham.

‘And now there are problems over Sunninghill as well.’ It seems Elizabeth hasn’t finished. ‘You remember Papa gave it to us as a weekend retreat when we got engaged? The local council want to requisition it for conversion to flats for the homeless.’

‘Oh, great,’ Philip says in a flat voice. A weekend retreat versus homes for those made homeless by the war. Even he wouldn’t have a problem making that choice.

‘I really wanted us to have a home that we could build together,’ Elizabeth says, ‘but …’

‘… What can we do?’ he finishes for her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says miserably again.

‘It’s not your fault, Elizabeth. If there’s one thing I learnt from the war, it’s that there are some battles you can’t win – and they’re always the ones you’re fighting on your own side.’ He stretches his arms above his head. ‘Well, it looks as if I’ll be needing the Thursday Club even more.’