Wartime Princess (2 page)

 

 

Lilibet knows about my diary. She came up behind me while I was lying on the floor, writing. She didn't say anything, and she's never mentioned it. See? She's such a good person. I'd have asked about it if it had been hers, and I know my fingers would have been itching to get hold of it. But not Lilibet. She tries so hard to behave well, and she'd think it was sneaky to take a peek.

But still, I'll keep it hidden. These are my true thoughts, and I'm sure there'll be some I'd rather people didn't see.

I must change now for swimming. We're entering some races at the Swimming Bath Club in Mayfair on Thursday. It's fun there, because we swim with other children. We're usually allowed time to just mess around, as Ruby calls it, and it's so much better when there's more than two of us. Lilibet says I shouldn't grumble about us being alone, because we're fortunate to have our own swimming pool here in the palace. Most children only go to the public baths – if they're lucky. I didn't think about that until she said it.

 

 

We did really well, considering we're not used to racing. Mummy presented the prizes, of course, and there were lots of photographs. All those flashing lights! I got a silver cup and Lilibet got a shield. We were going to put them on the nursery mantelpiece, but Papa said they must have pride of place in the drawing room. He's such a darling.

Wouldn't it be lovely if every country had a king like Papa? I feel sorry for the German people. They don't have a king or queen. Instead they have a leader called Herr Adolf Hitler. Although Mummy and Papa don't discuss him much, one of the footmen, who we really like, said, ‘I expect His Majesty will talk about nothing else but Herr Hitler when he meets the prime minister today.' He was taking the dogs for a run and Lilibet and I tagged along. Not everybody likes our corgis, because they can be snappy, but he does. He takes a ball and plays with them. That's why we like him. I call him Buttons, because he looks just like Buttons in my
Cinderella
book.

Lilibet said, ‘Herr Hitler's a bad man, isn't he?' and Buttons said, ‘He's bad for Germany, that's for sure, Ma'am, and he's bad news for us, he is. That's if there's a war.'

War. Ugh. Horrid word.

After tea, Lilibet and I went upstairs to groom our horses. We keep them on the nursery landing. Some are on wheels, and some stand on their own four legs. They all have saddles and bridles. We groom them all every evening, and feed them and give them water. Well, not really, of course, just pretend. We know how to do it properly, because we watch the grooms look after our ponies when we've been riding.

Actually, Lilibet sometimes sits on the floor with her back against the wall and cuddles Dookie or Jane or one of the other dogs. She doesn't play much these days. It's because she's almost grown up. She even wears silk stockings, instead of socks. I'm glad I don't, because I'd rip them to shreds in no time. But what fun to be grown up. Parties, music and dancing, and lovely clothes, too. And visits to the ballet!

 

 

We're off to sea again! Papa says the royal yacht is almost as old as he is, and this is probably our last chance to sail in her. We're going to visit the Royal Naval College at Dartmouth, in Devon, where Papa did part of his naval training.

 

 

We've had a lovely trip so far, except that Lilibet and I are expected to carry on with lessons while we're travelling. Honestly, we never get a holiday from work. Lilibet groaned when she realised it was arithmetic first (she didn't let Crawfie hear), so I decided to waste time. ‘Crawfie,' I said, ‘I simply must tell you about my dream last night!'

The dream was actually quite dull, and I can hardly remember it. But I did what Crawfie always tells me to do, and used my imagination. She kept saying, ‘Oh, Margaret, do stop,' and, ‘Margaret, don't be ridiculous,' but I know she enjoyed my tale. Lilibet struggled not to laugh, because she knew what I was up to. It worked. We wasted nearly half the lesson!

Later on some of the officers taught us a dance called the Lambeth Walk. The best bit was that every time the words went ‘… doing the Lambeth Walk', we all had to shout ‘Oy!' They said I picked up the steps really quickly. I think Lilibet did, too. When they taught us another dance, the Palais Glide, we joined together and danced in a row. It was more difficult than the Lambeth Walk. Lilibet did better than me because she concentrates more than I do, but we both ended up laughing at the way our legs kept getting muddled.

The ship sailed into the River Dart, and we moored near Dartmouth Castle. Our ship, the
Victoria and Albert
, is surrounded all the time by dozens of sailing and rowing boats. They look like toys compared to our ship. They're full of friendly people, waving and cheering. Dartmouth is a pretty village, with painted cottages clinging to the hillside. I wanted to leap ashore and run up the hill, but we had to be received officially at the castle's quay. Lots of hands to shake. As usual, I was the last in the shaking-hands line. Papa's first, being the King, then Mummy, then Lilibet – partly because she's older than me, but especially because she's the heir to the throne. As I said, she's a Very Important Person. I'm just number two in line for the throne.

Tomorrow we visit the college. Papa's second cousin, Uncle Dickie – he's really Lord Louis Mountbatten – is dining on board tonight.

 

 

What a lovely day! It's been so much fun. Lilibet says it's been one of the nicest days she's ever had in her life. (And I know why!!!)

As it's Sunday, we were supposed to attend a service in the college chapel, but Uncle Dickie sent a message saying that Lilibet and I shouldn't go, because some of the cadets have mumps. I once saw someone with mumps, and it wasn't a pretty sight. He had great swellings each side of his face, and Mummy said the poor boy felt really ill. I don't want that. What's worse is you have to stay indoors for absolutely ages, resting, which would be ghastly.

So off Mummy and Papa went, escorted by some very smart cadets. They're young men who are training to become naval officers.

Lilibet and I were taken to the Captain's House to wait for our parents. The captain's the person in charge of the college. His family are the Dalrymple-Hamiltons, who we haven't met before.

We both felt shy, being in a strange place, but we were introduced to a tall, fair-haired cadet, called Prince Philip of Greece and Denmark. Uncle Dickie had sent him to the Captain's House to amuse us. He's a second or third cousin of ours – I can never work them out, but Queen Victoria is his ancestor, which is the same as us. She's our great-great-grandmother.

To be honest, I think Philip's a bit of a show-off. But it doesn't matter, because he's good fun. He got the Dalrymple-Hamiltons' train set going, and both Lilibet and I had lots of goes. Afterwards, we went for a walk, and when we reached the tennis court, Philip said, ‘Let's jump the net!'

I would have had a go, but it was too high and, anyway, we weren't wearing the sort of clothes you can jump nets in. Lilibet wouldn't have jumped it, whatever she was wearing, not at any price. She doesn't do that sort of thing. But Philip did! Over and over he jumped (showing off).

He's a bit of a tease, and he kept picking on me. I didn't mind. He makes me laugh.

We played croquet, too. It was so draughty up on the hill that we had to keep our coats on. Lilibet's a good player – it's quite hard to be bad at croquet – and she thought Philip was good, too. She kept watching him. In my opinion he cheated, and I told her so.

‘He isn't cheating,' she hissed. ‘Don't be so rude, Margaret.'

I watched his mallet and his feet, not his face, and I say he cheated. Still, everyone cheats at croquet, don't they? It's part of the fun.

Philip was invited to lunch, and he was friendly with everyone. Mummy said, ‘You've met Elizabeth before, Philip, at the wedding of her uncle George, the Duke of Kent. Do you remember?'

‘Of course I do, Ma'am,' he said, but he changed the subject quickly, so I don't think that was true. After all, she was only four. Why would he remember her?

Later that evening, I said to Lilibet, ‘Wouldn't it be lovely if Philip lived in London? We could become friends.'

She went pink and said, ‘Yes, that would be nice.'

I looked her right in the eye until she couldn't help laughing. She really likes Philip, I can tell.

 

 

Prince Philip joined us for dinner on the
Victoria and Albert
last night. Either they don't feed the cadets very well, or that boy has the most enormous appetite! He ate and ate and finally polished off a huge banana split. He even finished before me!

Lilibet and I talked in bed last night.

‘He's a very good-looking boy, isn't he?' she said.

In fact, she talked about him quite a bit. It's odd, because he's not the sort of person she normally likes. He's bouncy and, well, boisterous, Crawfie says. Lilibet usually likes calm, quiet people. Except for me. I'm not usually calm or quiet, and she loves me.

 

 

We left Dartmouth to a very rowdy send-off. The cadets came out in little boats to escort us downriver to the sea. There were so many buzzing round our ship, Papa was worried that someone might get hurt, and asked for them to be sent back to shore.

All the little boats, with the cadets still waving, turned towards shore. All except one. It was easy to guess who that was. Prince Philip of Greece and Denmark!

Papa was cross. ‘Young idiot!' he said. Mummy just smiled, and Lilibet and I waved like mad.

An officer shouted at Philip over the loudspeaker, and he finally turned his boat away from us. But he never stopped waving.

When we went below (that means downstairs), Crawfie said he was too full of himself. Lilibet said, ‘He is rather, Crawfie,' but I said, ‘Well, I think he's fun.' And when Crawfie left, I whispered to Lilibet, ‘You do, too, don't you?'

She went pink again.

 

 

I feel scared, but a little excited, too, because we might have a war against Germany. There was one about twenty years ago, and it lasted four years. Our soldiers fought in places like France and Belgium, and it was utterly ghastly, Crawfie says.

Mummy and Papa don't talk to us about war. They don't like to worry us. At least, they don't talk to me, but I do think they talk to Lilibet. I expect she needs to know about these things, for when she becomes queen.

I'm glad I won't be queen. I don't like thinking about nasty things. And I'd hate to have to be serious all the time, like Papa. Well, most of the time. He's always lots of fun when he's with me. I like to make him laugh.

 

 

We'll be late going to Scotland for the summer, and it's all that awful Mr Hitler's fault. This war business is spoiling everything. When I said that to Lilibet, she said, ‘Oh, Margaret, you don't understand. Papa's meetings with the prime minister are far more important than a little girl's summer holiday.'

It annoys me when she says I don't understand. And it really annoys me that she says it so nicely that I can't get cross with her.

I just hope we get to Balmoral in time for my birthday. We actually stay at Birkhall, which is cosier than Balmoral Castle, but very close to it. It's not quite as tartan as the castle, which even has tartan carpets and curtains. Too much tartan makes my eyes go fuzzy.

 

 

It's all horrible. Papa came to lunch looking very serious.

‘My loves,' he said, ‘I'm afraid I have to leave Scotland. I must return to London tonight.'

‘Why?' I asked. ‘Is it Mr Hitler again?'

‘In a way,' he said. ‘Germany and Russia have joined together, and that's not a good thing.'

Poor Papa. Poor Mummy, too. She never grumbles. She keeps on smiling. I shall try to keep smiling, too.

 

 

We all went for a lovely ride this morning. It was misty, and I love riding in the mist. I imagine I'm one of King Arthur's knights. Mummy was late, as usual, and I thought the sun might break through before we got going, but it didn't.

Before we turned for home, Lilibet called, ‘Margaret, see that tree with a drooping branch?'

‘Yes.'

‘Race you!' And she was off. That was annoying because it gave her a good start.

‘Cheat!' I yelled, as I kicked my pony on. We thundered along, catching up with Lilibet quite easily.

While she was still just ahead, she made the mistake of slowing down as she reached the tree. But I kept up speed and passed Lilibet right at the last moment, simply by charging past the tree and cantering round in a wide circle, back to where she was.

‘I won!' I said. It felt good to be better than Lilibet at something.

Mummy laughed and told me I rode too hard, because my face was as red and shiny as a ripe tomato!

Lilibet doesn't mind losing, as long as the person who wins plays fairly. She gets cross with herself, though, if she doesn't do as well as she knows she can.

 

 

Mummy had some news at tea time and I didn't like it.

‘I had a long talk with Papa on the telephone last night,' she said, ‘and I feel that he needs me with him in London.'

‘Oh no!' I said.

‘Hush, Margaret,' said Lilibet. ‘Mummy must have a good reason.'

‘But we've only been here for about two weeks,' I said. ‘It's not fair that we have to go.' I made the sad face I use when I want Mummy to know I'm really, really upset. It sometimes helps me to get my way.

Mummy smiled. ‘You're not going. I shall go, and I'll be back before you know it. You'll have a lovely time with Crawfie and Allah fussing over you. Picnics, rides, friends to stay … all manner of good things.'

‘Goody!' I said, and then I felt bad, because I thought I'd hurt Mummy's feelings. She knows I don't want her to go, but I'm glad Lilibet and I are staying. Some cousins are coming to stay soon, but not for a while, so thank goodness for sisters!