‘Some people are saying the queen isn’t strong enough to reign, that she’s too easily swayed, especially by her husband – and we all know who’s behind Philip, don’t we?’
‘Don’t we just!’ one of the other men replied.
What are they talking about?Miranda thought.
‘And then there’s Edward,’ the man whispered. ‘He still has his eyes on the throne, wanted to step in when his brother became ill.’
Edward?Miranda scoured her brain.Could they mean the queen’s uncle, the king who abdicated to marry Wallis Simpson?
‘His supporters are using Elizabeth’s weakness, saying she isn’t experienced enough. They want him to step in as a regent and look after the throne until she’s older.’
‘But what about his part in the war?’ an older one said.
‘What part?’
He lowered his voice. ‘Edward helped Hitler in some way or other, hoping to claw his way back to the throne should Hitler take Britain.’
The other men looked shocked, as did Miranda. She’d have to look into that later.
On her way back to her desk, the typing woman looked inquisitively at her, repositioning her glasses.
Friend or foe,Miranda thought. Only one way to find out.
‘Hello there, I’m Miranda.’
The woman’s mouth shifted from a shocked O into a curiously impish smile. ‘You must be Betty’s niece. I’m Hilda.’
Just like that, Miranda made her first connection, and bingo! Hilda could be precisely the type of friend she needed.
Miranda lowered her voice and asked, ‘I don’t suppose you have time for a quick chat, do you? I don’t know a thing about the royals and already feel a little lost.’
‘Anything you want to know, just ask away.’
And so Miranda did just that, beginning with, ‘Do you know anything about Edward’s trying to get back on the throne?’
The older woman’s eyes lit up, and the more Miranda learned, the more she rubbed her hands with glee.
This was precisely the kind of intrigue that O’Hara would adore.
AS SHE TIDIED HERdesk at the end of the afternoon, Miranda couldn’t help thinking how much more efficient the office would be if it weren’t for the clunky palace bureaucracy.
What a curious place,she thought as she hurried to Victoria Station, where she retrieved her suitcase from the luggage room and made her way to Betty’s house.
Camden couldn’t have been more different from the Upper East Side, where she’d been staying with her wealthy friends. Although Miranda hadn’t come from class, she’d been educated into it. It had taken hard work to get a scholarship to college, but she knew it would be her path to freedom. After her mother’s car accident, her father had fallen apart. In his absence, Miranda had to take the reins and look after herself. It taught her to be determined, and if she had to fit into Betty’s old terraced house for a while, so be it.
The door was opened in a rush of great enthusiasm by Betty. ‘A very big welcome to you, Miranda!’
Although greyer and rounder, Betty was just as jovial as Miranda remembered, and she gathered Miranda into a firm embrace before propelling her down a corridor to a large, cluttered kitchen. The place was homey and warm, a waft of a meat stew cooking on the stove. Miranda hoped that Betty’s cooking had improved since her last visit, when she’d been given jellied eels and pickled eggs.
‘Let’s get you warmed up.’ Betty sat her down at a table coated with flour. ‘You’ll have to put up with a bit of chaos – I’m always in a rush, it seems, with my job and volunteering with the shelter. I’ve given you Harry’s old room, and there’s an extra wardrobe at the top of the stairs.’
‘I was sorry to hear about Harry.’ Miranda couldn’t remember thedetails of her cousin’s death, another casualty of the war, but her aunt was busy clearing the table, wiping away the flour and moving a brutish-looking cactus to a windowsill.
‘Thank you, and now I have you here, Miranda. There’s nothing quite like family.’
‘Well, we don’t actually know each other all that well—’ Miranda began.
But the older woman stopped her. ‘We’re still family, no matter what, dear. Do you remember when you were last here, with your mum? You must have been only eight or nine.’ She stared at her for a moment, as if trying to see a resemblance. ‘We were so close, your mother and I. A sister is a valuable thing.’ She shook herself and moved the cactus onto a cluttered sideboard. ‘We’ll be thick as thieves before you know it.’ She nodded decisively. ‘Anything you need, and I’ll be there.’
