‘He’ll be quite safe,’ I told her. ‘The Americans won’t drop one of those bombs on British ships, will they?’
‘I know,’ she said, ‘but after Hiroshima and Nagasaki were destroyed, who knows what’s next?’
‘Papa told me the Japanese will surrender soon,’ I said. ‘Probably next week.’ That last bit was a lie, but I thought it would cheer her up, so it’s a little white lie. No harm done, as Allah says.
August 14th
I must be psychic! I have foretold the future! The Japanese have surrendered! The war’s over, throughout the world. Mr Attlee will announce it on the wireless at midnight. Tomorrow will be another day of celebration – VJ Day. That means Victory over Japan.
How wonderful!
And Lilibet had a letter from Philip this morning, so, as Allah said, all’s right with her world.
August 16th
I’m absolutely worn out. We woke yesterday to rain. There was the State Opening of Parliament before any VJ celebrations. Not even victory throughout the world can stop that! No one cared about the weather, anyway.
Crowds gathered early outside the palace, even more than on VE Day. A report came through that every street in the centre of London was crowded. As the day wore on, there were about a hundred thousand people swarming around outside and along the Mall, Papa reckoned.
Some of the politicians and important army, navy and air force people had dreadful trouble getting into the palace. Even the poor foreign secretary had to use one of the back entrances. He was extremely hot and bothered, Papa said, when he was shown in.
Late in the afternoon the sun shone, and we made several appearances. Lilibet said it almost took her breath away when she stepped on to the balcony and saw the ocean of heads, and felt the warmth of the people and their love for the King.
At nine in the evening, poor Papa had to make a speech. Although it’s something he normally loathes, we knew how proud he was to do it on such a day. He asked everyone to remember those who’d died, or who’d lost a loved one, and to remember the suffering of prisoners of war. He ended by saying, ‘… from the bottom of my heart I thank my peoples for all they have done, not only for themselves but for mankind.’ I think he meant that all people, everywhere, are going to have a better future.
Afterwards, when he was having a well-earned drink, Lilibet took my hand and perched on the edge of the sofa, next to him. ‘Papa,’ she said.
He groaned. ‘I know what you’re going to ask. Do you have to?’
‘It’s once in a lifetime,’ she said.
‘Twice,’ he growled. Then he smiled. ‘Go on, then, out you go –’
She leapt up. ‘And Margaret? Oh, thank you, Papa!’
‘Hold on,’ he said. ‘I want you to come back and tell me who’s going with you.’
Soon we were off out in the streets again. This time more people recognized Lilibet than before. It didn’t matter, because everyone was so good-natured. I was a little annoyed that hardly anyone noticed me, but I suppose she’s in the newspapers more than me.
At one point, remembering how I used to watch her at Windsor in case a German spy was stalking her, I realized there are probably German spies still in London who’ve never been caught. Then I looked at the mass of young people, old people, children on shoulders, and thought of the way they cheer us and love us. If any German thought to harm my sister, he’d be spifflicated.
When we finally staggered home it was all I could do to flop in an armchair and drink my hot cocoa.
I kicked my shoes off. ‘Oh, Lilibet, wasn’t it a wonderful day?’
She sipped her drink. ‘It was. In fact,’ she said, ‘it would have been perfect if Philip had been here to share it, instead of stuck in Tokyo Bay. It can’t be much fun there.’
‘He’ll soon be home,’ I said. She looked so lost, so full of longing, I didn’t know what else to say.
August 18th
Lilibet heard that Papa’s going to have a meeting with the King of Greece.
‘It’s to talk about Greece’s future now the war’s over,’ she said. ‘Margaret, do you think they’ll talk about Philip and me? Oh, they must talk about us.’
I took a deep breath. ‘Do you really think Papa will be happy about you and Philip – you know, being together? He’s got all those German relations, hasn’t he?’
‘So do we have German relations,’ she said, a little snappily, I thought. ‘Don’t forget that until the First World War our family weren’t called Windsor. We belonged to the House of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. We have plenty of Germans in our family.’
‘Yes,’ I said patiently, ‘but not that sort of German. Not Nazis.’
Lilibet picked up her book and said crossly, ‘Anyway, we’re not going to be – together – as you put it.’
So there.
September 3rd
When the news was broadcast that the Japanese had signed the formal surrender document on the American battleship Missouri, Lilibet said, ‘It’s strange to think that Philip’s so near that ship, in Tokyo Bay.’
She looked down at her tea cup and I wanted to hug her so badly, but with all the family there, it wouldn’t have been a good idea.
September 16th
Poor Lilibet was thrown from her horse yesterday. She’s only bruised, but Mummy never takes chances, and has ordered her to rest. I keep her company as much as I can.
She’s been reading piles of magazines. She told me they’re beginning to speculate about who she’s likely to marry.
‘They’ve suggested a duke, a lord, a Guards officer, Englishmen, an American,’ she said. ‘And guess who else?’
‘Clark Gable? Frank Sinatra? Rumpelstiltskin?’
She laughed.
‘Oh, all right then,’ I said, ‘how about His Royal Highness Prince Philip of Greece?’
Now she blushed!
‘It’s so silly,’ she said. ‘I can’t imagine why they’re interested in something that isn’t happening.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ I said. ‘You’re a pretty princess, who’s heir to the British throne – of course they’re interested.’
I doubt if they’ll be as interested when the time comes for me to marry. I’m just princess number two, and heir to nothing very much. I expect I’ll meet someone, fall in love, get married and live happily ever after. That’s my plan, anyway.
October 26th
Lilibet’s so busy, we don’t meet often, but when we do, we can’t stop talking.
After a party the other night, I curled up on the sofa in her sitting room, and we gossiped about everyone. I made her laugh by mimicking one or two (or six!) of the more pompous guests. Sometimes people try to impress us because we’re royal, but it never has the right effect. I’m forever grateful that Mummy encouraged us not to let our feelings show. I can generally keep a straight face whatever happens, but not always. My sister’s expression never cracks. If some poor soul made an embarrassing noise in front of her, they’d be convinced she hadn’t even noticed.
Lilibet said suddenly, ‘You know I love Philip, don’t you? I know you do.’
I nodded. ‘But I haven’t said so to anyone, honestly.’
‘I didn’t think you would,’ she said, which pleased me. ‘Oh, Margaret, I feel so sorry for girls who don’t have a sister.’
So do I.
November 17th
Lilibet said Mummy picked up the photograph of Philip and said, ‘We must have him to stay at Balmoral next summer. What do you think, darling?’
Lilibet told me, ‘I was so thrilled that I said, “Oh yes, please,” and I think now Mummy knows how I feel.’
I’m quite sure Mummy knew already. And if she does, so does Papa.
December 23rd
It’s lovely to see Papa wind down, as he always does at Sandringham. He looks so thin – ‘drawn’, Lilibet says.
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The one wretched thing that spoils every Christmas is Papa’s broadcast. I know he can’t relax until it’s over, and we’re all concerned because he’s doing this Christmas message without Mr Logue’s help. But he’ll get through. He must. We’ll all be there with him.
January 2nd 1946
Lilibet’s beside herself with delight, and cannot wait to return to London. Philip’s ship, Whelp, is being decommissioned, which means she’ll no longer be on active service. This takes time, so she’ll be in Portsmouth for a couple of months, and who’s in charge of the decommissioning? Philip!
‘I should see him often,’ Lilibet told me. ‘Portsmouth isn’t a million miles away from London, and he’s sure to be staying in Uncle Dickie’s house in Chester Street.’
January 3rd
Our poor, darling Allah has died. She’s been ill, but we didn’t realize how serious it was. I can’t imagine our lives without her. Mummy’s terribly upset. Allah was her nanny, too, when she was young.
I’m so glad we still have Bobo and Ruby. And Crawfie, of course. Oh dear, I keep crying. It’s such a shock.
Papa still looks so worn. He was more cheerful now he’s had a relaxing little holiday, but he’s upset about Allah, too.
January 24th
Even though war’s over, food is still rationed. When we drive through London, there are always queues everywhere.
Lilibet often tells me how lucky we are to be driven everywhere, or to travel in the royal train. ‘We don’t have to sit in rows pressed up against other people,’ she says. ‘We don’t have to queue for our bread.’
I wish she wouldn’t say things like that. I know how fortunate I am. I don’t need to be told. When I was little I used to envy girls who could play with their friends in gardens or streets. And I know many girls would love to be a princess like me. But they don’t realize it can be lonely living in a palace, even though there are people at every door and in every corridor. They’re not people you can play with, or sit and gossip with, or dance to the gramophone with. I suppose we all want what we can’t have.
Philip’s in Portsmouth, and every weekend he zooms up to Chester Street in his little MG sports car, so he often comes to lunch, and to parties. Lilibet’s in seventh heaven when that happens and spends hours getting ready!
The only drawback is that Philip’s photograph is sometimes in the newspapers because he goes to fashionable nightclubs in the West End, and often there are beautiful girls in the background. That’s not nice for my sister. He has a cousin called David, and I think they have a good time together. Lilibet would so love to be with Philip, but you can’t have a royal princess whirling round the dance floor in a nightclub!
March 1st
Oh golly gosh! I’ve known it was coming, but I keep putting it out of my mind. I’ve an official engagement of my very own on the 26th. On my own! I’ll have people with me, of course, but I’m doing the opening alone. It’s a play centre in Camden, called the Hopscotch Inn. I don’t have to make a speech, just declare it open, and chat to people. I hope I do it well.
March 26th
Lilibet said she’s very proud of me, because everyone says what a fine job I did opening the play centre. I kept smiling, and shook every hand I saw, and watched the children playing and asked questions – sensible ones, I hope!
April 19th
Poor Lilibet hoped Philip would come to her birthday celebration, but he’s visiting friends in Paris. Shame. Papa knows she’s missing him. He doesn’t say anything, but he pats her shoulder as he passes. What does he think? Does he imagine Philip might propose to Elizabeth one day? Does he mind?
May 25th
Yesterday was Empire Day. Lilibet made a speech and in it she hinted at something exciting. Next spring, we – the four of us – are going to South Africa! For Lilibet and me it will be our first visit abroad. We’ll be away three or four months. I’m so excited.
June 3rd
Philip’s now a teacher! He trains petty officers at HMS Royal Arthur in Wiltshire. It’s amazing to think that when we first met him, he was being trained, and now he’s training others.
He’s going to join us at Balmoral this summer, so Lilibet’s walking on air.
July 26th
Lilibet has been to stay at Coppins, Aunt Marina’s home. And who should happen to be there at the same time? None other than Prince Philip!
She comes back from those visits with her head in the clouds. Nine times out of ten, when I go to her sitting room, she’s playing, ‘People Will Say We’re in Love’ on her gramophone.
‘Margaret,’ she said one day, gripping both my hands so tightly they hurt. ‘I’m going to marry Philip!’
‘Has Papa given permission?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘and you mustn’t say anything. Promise me you won’t?’
I crossed my heart. ‘Of course not.’
‘You see, Philip hasn’t proposed. Not yet. Oh, I’m sure he will,’ she said, and went to gaze out of the window.
I do hope he does. He’ll make a very good brother-in-law. And as I’ve never had a brother, he’ll do nicely.
But I’ve a horrid feeling Papa won’t be happy. Imagine. The future queen, engaged to a man with no home, no money, no close family, and those sisters, married to Germans.
Oh dear.
August 9th
Here we are at Balmoral. Sunny days, fresh air, and all together.
What’s even better is that Lilibet has a permanent smile! Anyone could see she’s in love. But does Philip love her? Really love her? He’s very attentive, and the other day I saw them holding hands, but that’s all. I’ve never seen them kiss or anything.
Philip told me he’s not mad about Balmoral. ‘All that ruddy tartan,’ he said, ‘chilly rooms, animals’ heads on the walls. Whole place needs modernizing.’
That was a bit rich, considering he doesn’t even have a home. He also doesn’t have proper clothes – not ones suitable for Balmoral. He wears old shoes, and when Lilibet pulled the back of his dinner jacket straight, he said, ‘No use fussing – it doesn’t fit. It’s Uncle Dickie’s.’ His pockets are permanently saggy, because he always stuffs his hands in them – except when he’s holding my sister’s hand, tee hee!
August 10th
Philip nearly had me in stitches tonight. He wore a kilt for the first time, and when he was shown into the drawing room where Papa was waiting, he pretended to curtsey. The King was not amused, but I was!
Actually, although Papa obviously likes him, I think Philip gets on his nerves sometimes. He doesn’t think before he speaks, and he behaves as I imagine he would with his fellow officers. It doesn’t go down well in our dining room, that’s for sure. I can see Lilibet getting anxious sometimes, as if she dreads what he’ll come out with next! I think he ought to consider her feelings.
Philip’s also rubbed one of Papa’s equerries up the wrong way. I don’t think he and Philip like each other much. I hope he doesn’t say anything bad to Papa. I’ve a sneaking suspicion that Papa’s secretary isn’t keen, either.
August 12th
Ooh, I’m bubbling with excitement! Lilibet practically fell into my room last night.
‘What d’you think, Margaret? What d’you think?’
I patted my bed. ‘Tell me!’ I sort of guessed, but in case I hadn’t guessed right, I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.
She clasped her hands together. ‘Philip proposed!’
I threw my arms round her. ‘Oh, Lilibet, I’m so happy for you. What did he say? Tell me everything!’
I know what authors mean when they say someone’s eyes were shining. ‘He loves me,’ she said. ‘He wants to spend the rest of his life with me, and there’ll never be anyone else for him. Oh, Margaret, I’m the happiest girl in the world!’
I looked innocent. ‘Did you give him an answer?’
She grabbed
a pillow and hit me over the head with it. Then her smile faded. ‘Do you think Papa will give his permission?’
I stared at her. ‘You mean you’ve said yes, and Papa doesn’t even know?’ I believe that’s normal for ordinary girls, but Lilibet is a royal princess and heir to the throne. She could never marry – nor could I – without the King’s permission.
She nibbled her lip. ‘They do like Philip, I know they do.’
‘They like the footmen who walk the dogs, but they’d never consider you marrying one of them!’
We both laughed.
‘Everything will be fine. You’ll see,’ I said. ‘Make Philip talk to Papa tomorrow.’
August 19th
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