Wartime Princess (14 page)

 

 

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!

 

 

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.

 

 

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!

 

 

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?

 

 

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.

 

 

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.

 

 

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.

 

 

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!

 

 

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.

 

 

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.'

 

 

Lilibet is quite tense, except when she's with Philip. He's spoken to Papa, and there have been a lot of talks. As far as I can gather, Philip intends (if he marries Lilibet) to give up his Greek titles.

‘Who needs a title in the navy?' he said to Lilibet. ‘It sets you apart from your men. Not a good thing.'

 

 

Still no permission from Papa.

I think, but I'm not sure, that the plan is for Philip to take the Mountbatten surname. His grandfather was Prince Louis of Battenberg, and the Battenbergs were German. Prince Louis gave up his titles in 1917, changed his name to Mountbatten, and was created the Marquess of Milford Haven by my grandfather, George V.

This new name will make Philip appear less foreign to the British people. It's a jolly good thing he hasn't taken the name of the royal house he belongs to: Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg!

Philip seems cheerful and relaxed, so things must be going the right way. But then he always is cheerful and relaxed. He has a jokey remark for every occasion. Sometimes, his comments seem almost rude, but they're always funny. They're the sort that make you splutter.

 

 

Papa insists the engagement must be kept secret for now. Lilibet agreed, of course, but I know she's bursting for the world to know that they're in love.

Mummy says the most important consideration is that Philip is kind to Lilibet, and faithful, and that he learns to become a good consort. When Lilibet is queen, he must support her in every way – that's a consort's role.

If Philip remained a prince, he'd become the prince consort. ‘You can't very well have a lieutenant consort, can you, Mummy?' I said. ‘Won't it be rather odd?'

She laughed. ‘Quite right, darling. But Papa will sort that out.'

 

 

Greece are to have the monarchy back after all these years, and Philip's cousin, George II, is to be restored to the Greek throne. He knows about the romance, and Papa is worried he'll let out the news of the engagement.

 

 

The news is out. That didn't take long. There was a report in the paper today, saying that Princess Elizabeth is to become engaged to a distant cousin, Prince Philip of Greece and Denmark.

‘How infuriating!' Mummy said. I know she believes it was King George who let the news slip. ‘Well, we'll see about that.'

Papa immediately told his private secretary to issue a denial of ‘the rumours'.

Lilibet's miserable. The shine's being taken off her happiness.

‘It's only words,' I said. ‘You know what newspapers are like.'

I know why she's unhappy. It's all a lie, and she's an honest, straightforward person. But sometimes lies are necessary. A royal engagement and marriage must be done properly and, anyway, Papa feels this isn't the right time.

 

 

The result of the newspaper leak is a poll showing that not all the British people would be happy to see the elder daughter of their king marrying someone with strong German connections. It's too soon after the war.

 

 

Lilibet and I were bridesmaids at Pamela Mountbatten's wedding at Romsey Abbey yesterday, and Philip was an usher.

We had to hold flowers and keep our skirts out of puddles and when we went to take off our fur coats, Philip fairly leapt to help Lilibet. Then he helped me (good old number two princess!).

The thing was, there was quite a buzz from the spectators when that happened. Newspaper photographers clicked their cameras madly, and I heard the whirr of a film camera.

Afterwards, Lilibet said, ‘I wish we could announce the engagement and get it over with.'

‘Well, you can't,' I said. ‘Philip's going to become a British citizen first. Those things don't happen overnight. Anyway, your engagement ring won't be ready for ages.'

Philip's having the ring made using diamonds from his mother's tiara. I expect that's because he can't afford one himself, but I think it's romantic that Lilibet will wear something all her life that belonged to Philip's mother. Also, when she gets married, it'll fulfil part of the ‘something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue' tradition.

 

 

We had such a grand evening. We went in a big party to a Royal Film Performance. It was held to raise money for a charity that benefits needy people, like widows or the sick, from the film and television world. It's nice that such a fun evening helps people. We all hope it becomes a regular event! The film we saw was
A Matter of Life and Death
. Lots of stars were there, and they shone searchlights into the sky. Leicester Square was packed with people. All we royal ladies were given bouquets by sweet little children. How they stared at us! As we entered our box, there was a fanfare of trumpets, which made me jump. It was a lovely evening, and the only thing wrong was that we were slow getting through the traffic and crowds and Papa got a little bad-tempered. I think he still gets tired. I wish his cough was better. But the hold-up didn't spoil the evening, which was wonderful except for the usual complaint. Philip isn't here.

 

 

Another fantastic evening. Oh, I do love London. Now the war's over, it seems that there's always something wonderful to look forward to. Tonight it was the Royal Command Variety Performance at the Palladium Theatre. It was so thrilling. Our box was decorated with loads of flowers.

‘No gardenias,' whispered Mummy. ‘At least Margaret won't sneeze all the way through.'

‘No,' Lilibet whispered back. ‘She'll just fidget.'

Cheek!

A drumroll signalled the national anthem, then a spotlight shone on Mummy and Papa. Every head in the audience craned to see us! Why do I always feel a giggle coming on at times like that? Nerves, Lilibet says.