Wartime Princess (5 page)

 

 

I hear planes going over at night. They always come just as I'm dropping off. They must be ours or the sirens would sound. It frightens me to know that a bomb could fall on the castle. The Germans did a huge bombing of Holland, Belgium and Luxembourg last month. Who'll be next?

If there's an air raid, and the sirens sound, we have to go down and down stairs, clutching our gas masks, to a part of the castle we've never been to before. It's a sort of dungeon below ground level, and the passages leading to it are damp and cold and smell disgusting. Did they really put prisoners down there? I would have died of misery. Imagine being locked up in the cold, damp darkness, away from your family and the sunshine. Horrible.

We take a small case down with us when we go, full of precious things we couldn't bear to lose if the castle was bombed. I bet prisoners weren't allowed a little case like that. We have chairs, beds, food, books and everything we need in our dungeon. Prisoners had nothing to sit or sleep on but dirty, damp straw.

When we go down, I know Lilibet's as scared as me, but she never shows it, so I try to be like her. It's not easy.

 

 

Her Royal Highness Princess Elizabeth is extremely indignant! In fact, she's fuming!

What happened was the Lord Chancellor wrote to the prime minister saying that Lilibet and I should be sent to Canada. It was because the Nazis had tried desperately hard to capture the Dutch royal family. Mr Churchill told Mummy and Papa what the Lord Chancellor said, and Mummy told him absolutely no! She said Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret wouldn't leave the country without her. She would never leave the country without the King, and the King would never leave his people. It was as simple as that.

Lilibet couldn't believe anyone would think she'd leave England.

‘He's thinking about our safety,' I said. ‘He meant well. You ought to write and thank him, not get cross.'

‘I don't think a letter is necessary,' said Mummy.

I was joking, actually.

Everyone's thinking about safety. Shooting ranges have been set up at Buckingham Palace and here at Windsor, so Mummy and Papa and other members of our households can learn to shoot. I expect the townspeople wonder what on earth is happening when they hear shots. Mind, they're used to odd goings-on in the park. There are aeroplanes parked on Smith's Lawn, near the airstrip, and servicemen camped there, too.

I imagined Mummy in her pretty clothes and pearl necklace, her hat laden with flowers and a gun in her hand. It's funny, but at the same time, it isn't. Not really.

 

 

I stayed up till nine last night to listen to a special
Bandwagon
programme. It hasn't been on for months. Arthur Askey and Richard Murdoch made me giggle, but sometimes the others laughed at bits that didn't seem funny to me. There was a singer called Dolly Elsie, and once I'd caught on to the tunes, I joined in. Papa said I was marvellous, but I don't think Mummy and Lilibet were quite as pleased. My sister likes to listen to the wireless properly, without missing a word.

Once I was tucked up in bed, I started to worry. I don't know why. I thought about the hateful Nazis and how beastly to try to capture Queen Wilhelmina's family. Suppose they captured us? They might demand a ransom before they'd let us go. Suppose they said to Mr Churchill, ‘If you don't surrender to Germany, we'll kill your royal family.' Suppose they said that?

I went to my sister, and snuggled in beside her.

‘What's wrong, Margaret?' she said. ‘You woke me from a lovely dream.'

‘I'm frightened.' I told her what was scaring me.

After a moment, she said, ‘What a dreadful thought. Imagine, the British nation ending up being ruled by Hitler, simply to save our lives.'

‘They might not, Lilibet,' I said. ‘The government might say, “We'll never surrender to you, you horrible bully.” What would happen then?'

‘Then,' said Lilibet, ‘we'd have to be braver than we ever imagined in our lives.' She stroked my forehead. ‘But Margaret, it won't happen, you know. Mummy and Papa are guarded constantly, and you and I are safe here in the castle. We're a secret, did you know?'

‘A secret?'

She nodded. ‘Nobody is to know we're here.'

‘But hundreds of people know we're here,' I said. ‘The staff, the guards, our friends, our family, our music and French teachers…'

‘They're all loyal to Britain,' said Lilibet. ‘It's the newspapers and the wireless who are keeping quiet about where we are, so no German spies read or hear about us. All they say is that we're “somewhere in the country”. It's all for the good, so nothing can happen to us. You mustn't worry. Come on, I'll take you back to bed.'

As she tucked me in, she said, ‘Anyway, who'd want to kidnap a cheeky monkey like you? You're not the queen, and you're not the heir to the throne. You'd be more trouble than you're worth!' She kissed me good night.

I thought about what Lilibet said. It's true. I'm not important, not the heir to the throne.

But she is.

 

 

Italy's declared war on us now! Everything's getting worse.

It's Prince Philip's birthday today, and Lilibet's fretting about whether or not he's received the birthday card and letter she sent.

I'm fretting about my sister. We cycle in the gardens sometimes, and we're often completely out of sight of anyone at all. I keep imagining a horrid Nazi hiding in the bushes, waiting to kidnap her. Then a nasty ransom note, saying, ‘People of Britain, we have the heir to the throne. Surrender now or it'll be the worse for her,' or something like that. I'm afraid to let Lilibet out of my sight. If it happened, at least I could scream and shout and bring the guardsmen running.

I imagined how proud everyone would be. ‘Gosh,' they'd say, ‘Princess Margaret's not even ten, and she's saved the life of the heir to the throne.' Then I imagined someone saying, ‘The amazing girl's done more than that – she's saved Britain from the Nazis – singlehanded!'

Suddenly I noticed Lilibet staring at me oddly.

‘Margaret Rose, you are a funny little thing! Why on earth are you talking to yourself and making such strange faces?'

I burst out laughing and ran to hug her. ‘Come on,' I said. ‘Let's go and groom our horses.'

She followed me upstairs, but I think she's too old for toy horses now. All she did was talk about Philip and wonder what it was like to spend your birthday on a warship. He's probably having a party.

 

 

There are terrible air raids night after night. Papa told his secretary (I was listening) that this is the battle for Britain. It started with lots of small aeroplanes trying to shoot each other down over the English Channel, between us and France. The Germans are so close.

Our grandmother, Queen Mary, has gone to live in Badminton House, in Gloucestershire. She's an evacuee! Lilibet and I think she's sensible to leave London, because when you're older you can't run so fast during an air raid.

Last week, Mummy took us to London for the day, so we could see that everything's still all right at Buckingham Palace. The garden looked different, because the gardeners have dug up great chunks of it to grow vegetables.

There's a special room where Papa and Mummy go during air raids. It's a housemaids' sitting room that's been made very strong with wood and steel. It's plain, but Mummy says it's perfectly serviceable. Better than our dungeons, anyway. I hope it keeps them safe.

 

 

I overheard something today and I wish I hadn't, because it put ghastly pictures in my mind. I told Lilibet, and she said I shouldn't snoop. I really don't, but when I hear people saying interesting things, well, naturally, I listen.

I heard that Papa was visiting a village, and a few minutes after he left – minutes – the village was bombed. Did the Nazis know he'd be there? Are they spying on him?

It hasn't put off my brave papa, or Mummy. They've been touring towns that have been bombed, and visiting the poor people who have lost their houses. Mummy always wears something pretty and bright, because she hopes it will cheer the people up. You need a lot of cheering up if you haven't got a house to live in.

I can't get it out of my head that the Nazis are watching Papa, and that if they're watching the King, they might be watching the girl who'll be the next queen. My sister, Elizabeth.

Well, I'll watch Lilibet, too. I'll keep my eyes peeled whenever we're out. If anyone's watching her, I'll see them first. The trouble is that I don't know how to tell someone is a spy, unless he speaks.

 

 

There are German planes everywhere. We're not allowed to leave the castle, just in case.

 

 

The south-west of London was badly bombed yesterday. It was Friday, so lots of people were at work. It must have been just terrible. Lilibet said she's heard that one of our kitchen maids went home because her mother was ill, and found no house at all – just a pile of brick, wood, broken glass and a bath. Luckily her mother's in hospital.

 

 

There's bombing all the time. I hate it. I'm frightened for Mummy and Papa. Every day they're either out visiting, or they're in the palace. I'm so afraid a bomber will fly over London, see our home and bomb it. Every time Mummy and Papa are due back at Windsor, I can't bear the wait until they appear.

But I never tell them how worried I am. Lilibet told me I can do my bit by keeping my chin up, so I'm trying, but it doesn't exactly help the war effort! She says as soon as she's old enough she'll join up and become a lady soldier or something. ‘That's how I want to do my bit for the war effort,' she said, ‘but don't tell anyone, Margaret.'

Granny won't like that.

Everyone's doing their bit except me. I can't do anything. I haven't got a bit to do.

We hear the bombs sometimes. Crawfie does her best to ignore them, but I think even she is nervous. The maids are. I hear them talking. They're really scared, but they keep going, so we must, too.

 

 

Lilibet was quiet this morning. She didn't want to say what was wrong, but I made her.

‘You mustn't worry, Margaret,' she said. ‘What's happened has happened, and everyone's all right.'

‘What was it?' I asked. ‘Tell me, or I'll imagine something even worse. I'll have bad dreams, you know I will.'

She smiled. ‘Your dreams are exciting, not bad,' she said. ‘Not that I believe half of them.'

I grinned. ‘Tell me!'

I stopped smiling when she told me that a bomb had fallen on our terrace at Buckingham Palace. It didn't blow up straight away, but it exploded later on and blew out windows and smashed the conservatory.

‘Our swimming pool was blown up, too,' said Lilibet.

‘They'll mend it, won't they?' I asked.

She was shocked. ‘You mustn't think of things like that when people are fighting for their lives, Margaret.'

I folded my arms and stuck my lip out. ‘I was actually thinking about it being mended after the war,' I said, which wasn't strictly true.

 

 

I noticed that Mummy and Papa are quieter than usual. Mummy's pale and wants to rest a lot. It's only today that I've found out what happened when the palace was bombed.

Lilibet and I are truly upset. I hate the Nazis, hate them, hate them, hate them. We're not sure exactly what happened, because our parents have only told us bits, but we've managed to piece it together.

A German bomber flew straight up the Mall and dropped six bombs on Buckingham Palace. Mummy and Papa were sitting together in the maids' room, and one of the bombs blew out their windows. They were covered in broken glass. I can't bear it. Another bomb ruined the chapel, but we haven't found out what the others have done.

We begged Mummy and Papa to stay in Windsor, but they say they've their duty to do, however difficult. The people have to keep calm and carry on as usual. So will they.

Lilibet tried to explain how important duty is, but it doesn't help to know all that stuff when your parents have been practically blown up.

‘They weren't anywhere near being blown up,' said Lilibet. ‘That afternoon they visited the East End of London. It's far worse there.'

No one's to know how close they came to disaster, so we mustn't write about it to anybody. Lilibet said she won't tell Philip. I wonder.

No, if she says she won't, she won't. She does her duty.

 

 

Something so thrilling is happening. My sister's going to talk on the wireless. Princess Elizabeth on
Children's Hour
!

‘Are you excited?' I asked.

She made a face – not the sort of face I pull, but a mouth-turned-down one. ‘I'm nervous,' she said.

‘It'll be fine,' I said. ‘You'll read your speech. You won't have to learn it like we have to learn all that poetry with Crawfie.' I do struggle with learning by heart. Except songs. I learn music and songs as quickly as anything.

 

 

A German Messerschmitt aeroplane crashed in the park! It's been screened off and they're charging sixpence to see it. The money's going to a fund for our Hurricane fighter aeroplanes, so that's a splendid idea. Crawfie took us to see it, and they let us in free. The cockpit's tiny. I could never sit in there. I hate being in small spaces. When I saw the mess it was in I was surprised the pilot wasn't killed. He was captured, though, by a Hurricane pilot!

Not enough German planes have crashed, because it's been bombs bombs bombs, raids raids raids, night after night and even in daytime.