‘I need them with me,’ I said.
‘Of course you do, but you have people around you who love you. Spare a thought for the evacuees, who have no family with them.’
I do feel sorry for those children. I wish they could all come and live at Birkhall and be looked after like me.
Later on, Lilibet and I went into the kitchen garden to look for the last raspberries, and she made me promise not to whinge to Mummy and Papa about them coming back. ‘Everybody’s doing their bit for the war effort, Margaret,’ she said. ‘We can do our bit by being good and not worrying them. They have a lot to worry about already, you know.’
Right then, I decided. I’ll do my bit, too. I won’t make Mummy and Papa feel bad about leaving us here. I’ll do my best to be cheerful and make them happy. I’m good at making people laugh.
October 14th
Lilibet practically made our eyes stand out on stalks today. We were all together in the drawing room, and the wireless was on. The announcer said that one of our battleships, the Royal Oak, had been torpedoed by a German U-boat – that’s a submarine.
Lilibet leapt out of her chair. I’ve never seen her so angry. Her fists were clenched, and she went on about ‘all those sailors’ and how wicked the U-boat captain was. It’s really unusual for her to get het up like that.
I said, ‘Come and sit beside me, Lilibet,’ and I held her hand. She sat with her lips pressed together, and then picked up her knitting. Mummy’s taught us not to show our emotions in public. Even if we’re upset, we mustn’t cry or get cross. I thought perhaps Lilibet was annoyed with herself for being angry, even though we were in private.
I told her a joke about an elephant and three oranges, but she didn’t laugh. So much for trying to cheer people up. It doesn’t always work.
Later
I said I wished the evacuees could come and live at Birkhall, and they are! Well, not in our house, obviously. They’re living in cottages on the Balmoral estate, though. We’ll meet them one day.
November 10th
Mummy said we mustn’t complain if we don’t always get the food we like. All sorts of things will be rationed, she said, like sugar and butter and bacon.
Lilibet said, ‘But we get lots of our food from our own farms and gardens, so we’ll be all right,’ and Mummy said, ‘Yes, darling, we shall. Remind me, where is our sugar plantation?’ Lilibet couldn’t help laughing, but I was wondering about things like icing on birthday cakes, and sugar mice at Christmas.
November 11th
Mummy made a speech on the wireless today to the women of the British Empire. The whole household listened, and everyone nodded and smiled and said her voice sounded beautiful. It always does. Lilibet says she has the sweetest voice in the world, especially when she laughs, and I agree.
November 19th
There’s a show in London at the Victoria Palace Theatre. I wish we could go. It’s called Me and My Gal, and they do the Lambeth Walk in it.
‘We’re experts at that,’ said Lilibet, and we taught it to cousin Margaret. She’s tall and thin, and as elegant as a grown-up dancer.
We must have looked funny, as we’re all different shapes and sizes. Allah laughed at us, so we made her join in, then Crawfie came and she did, too.
I bet we’re as good as the dancers on the stage. I bet I could be in that show. Wouldn’t that be wonderful! I absolutely love to sing. I’d need some singing lessons, though, I expect.
November 28th
Our cousin Margaret’s going home in a few days. She says she’ll miss us, and we’ll miss her, too. We rode out today, and the ponies were especially frisky. It must have been the sunshine, as the weather’s been gloomy lately. Afterwards, Lilibet stayed in the yard when Margaret and I went to get hot drinks. As long as she’s wrapped up, she doesn’t care about the weather. She adores being with horses.
One of the footmen told Ruby he went past a pub yesterday and the people were all singing ‘Rule, Britannia’. Everyone’s proud to be British, she says.
Lilibet just peeped out of the window. ‘There’s going to be a frost,’ she said. ‘It’ll be chilly tomorrow.’ Of course it will. It’s November. It’s Scotland. Oh, how I long for London and our own garden. It never seems quite so cold there.
December 2nd
Lilibet’s allowed to stay up tonight to listen to the last Bandwagon programme. I’m not. I’m cross. I refuse to go to sleep until she comes up. I know she has to do some special things because of learning to be queen, but listening to the wireless isn’t one of them.
December 4th
Papa has gone to visit the troops in France. I won’t breathe until he’s back. Lilibet’s worried, too. She listens to the news whenever she’s allowed to.
December 7th
Scotland is the coldest place in winter. The ground was so white this morning I truly thought it had snowed in the night. But it was simply frost. Not the thin frost we get in London – it’s really thick. Our windows are covered in it by morning, and today my bath sponge was frozen. Ruby said she could crack walnuts with it.
When Papa comes home, I’ll choose the right moment to ask if I can have proper singing lessons.
December 10th
Papa’s safely home. He actually went to the Front, where the fighting is. I think they have a line of British soldiers, with German ones opposite, and that’s the Front. Papa went into a trench and he met the president and got a French medal.
December 16th
Hurrah! The day after tomorrow we’re off to Sandringham for Christmas with Mummy and Papa! I hope Norfolk’s not as cold as Scotland.
In the morning, Crawfie’s taking us to Woolworths to buy Christmas presents. Shopping’s so exciting. Most children can do it any day of their lives if they want to, but we hardly ever do. Perhaps they get bored with shopping. I never would!
Lilibet said, ‘You must make a list, Margaret, of the people you want to buy presents for. You could also note down any ideas you have.’
Lists are boring. What I’d really like is to have Crawfie take us into Woolworths and say to the manager, ‘Their Royal Highnesses may wander among the counters by themselves for hours, and buy whatever they wish.’ But that won’t happen. Mummy says princesses have many privileges (I used to think that meant toys) so they shouldn’t complain if there’s something they can’t have, or can’t do.
I often wonder what life is like for children who aren’t royal. Do they ever wonder about us? Lilibet thinks they do. She says we must always set them a good example. That can be quite trying.
December 27th
I’m worn out. We’ve had so many guests, and we’ve sung and danced and played games till we’re all exhausted! Christmas is when Lilibet and I make all the grown-ups join in when we play charades or cards or sardines. It gets quite noisy!
I wish we could keep the Christmas tree for ever.
Christmas Day meant Papa speaking on the wireless. He wore his admiral’s uniform for the photographs, and looked very handsome. There were a couple of sticky stammering bits which made us hold our breath, but then he got going and it was lovely, thanks to all his hard work and Mr Logue’s. I am so proud of Papa.
Mummy gave Lilibet and me a gift of a beautiful leather diary, and she asked us to write in it every day. I’m not good at remembering to do things, and I’m sure I shan’t always be able to think of things to write. It will probably end up something like: ‘Ate breakfast. Did geography. Drank orange juice. Played outside. Had drawing lesson. Went for a walk. Had tea with Mummy and Papa. Groomed ponies. Read a story. Went to bed.’
Lilibet says she’ll remind me to write in my diary. I’m sure she will. She doesn’t forget things like that, and if Mummy asks her to do something, she does it. She’s very obedient. I’m sure that sometimes she thinks, ‘Oh, botheration!’ when she’s told to do something, but she’d never say it. I would.
December 31st
Lilibet told me she’s had several letters from Prince Philip. I never knew! He’s in the Royal Navy now, so is quite grown up.
I’m going to write to him, too. I told Lilibet and she said I’m too young to be writing to boys. I said, ‘He’s not a boy, he’s a cousin,’ and that made her laugh.
It’s the end of the year – the year the war began. I hope next year will be the year it ends.
Today I asked Papa about singing lessons. He said not just at the moment.
I was upset, but Lilibet said, ‘Come on, Margaret. Put on a brave face.’
I made such a silly face that she spluttered with laughter, and everyone turned to look at her. That made her go red.
‘Stop it at once,’ she said.
‘You must get used to being stared at if you’re going to be queen!’ I said.
Now Papa made a face. ‘I hope that won’t be for a long time yet!’
I felt sick. I’m always teasing Lilibet about when she’s queen. I never thought. For her to become Queen Elizabeth, my darling papa would have to be.
I can’t write it. It makes tears come, just thinking about it.
January 15th 1940
It’s soooo cold. That’s the bad news. The good news is that we’re soon going to move to Royal Lodge, at Windsor. It’s our country home, and we’ve always spent weekends there. Our ponies are there, and there’s lots of space for the dogs, so it will be lovely. We’re going to live there until the war’s over. Although it’s in Windsor Great Park, it’s about three miles from Windsor Castle, which is in the Home Park.
Papa still has to be in London some of the time, and go out on visits, so Mummy will be going with him, but they’ve promised to come to Royal Lodge for the night whenever they can. That will be lovely. Much better than being so far away in Scotland.
January 19th
Lilibet and I have our own ration books. Mine says ‘Name: Her Royal Highness Princess Margaret Rose’, and for my address, it says ‘The Royal Lodge, Windsor Great Park.’
February 7th
Royal Lodge isn’t pink any more! The house has been painted a gloomy nothing sort of colour. That’s to camouflage it. A German bomber could easily spot a pink house in a park. Mummy absolutely hates the colour, but she says she’ll think of England and grin and bear it.
The first thing Lilibet and I did was run down to see Y Bwthyn Bach, which is Welsh for ‘The Little House’. The people of Wales gave it to us. I was only two when it arrived, so I don’t remember seeing it for the first time. Lilibet remembers, though. It was her sixth birthday and she said she couldn’t believe it was her own little cottage. It has a thatched roof and it’s so pretty. We play house in there, and our friends come, too. We tidy and dust – all the things housemaids do.
We each have a patch of garden, so we went to see that.
‘The gardeners have kept it beautifully tidy while we were away,’ said Lilibet. ‘There’s not a weed in sight. We must find them and thank them.’
We talked about what we’ll grow this year. ‘Flowers,’ said Lilibet. ‘Lots of flowers to cheer everyone’s spirits. What about you, Margaret?’
‘Potatoes,’ I said. ‘Then if potatoes are ever rationed, the family will have plenty.’
‘That’s a lovely idea,’ she said. But she’s growing flowers all the same.
It’s too cold and frosty to think of gardening. More snow’s coming, Papa says, so we can do lovely things instead, like building snowmen and playing snowballs.
February 12th
Lilibet had a letter from Philip. He’s being posted to a ship, but he’s not allowed to say where. She was a little moody after she read the letter. I think it’s because she knows she won’t see him for ages.
‘Maybe the war will be over in a few weeks, then he can come to stay,’ I said.
She hugged me and said I’m the best sister ever. I’m the only one as far as she’s concerned, so it’s jolly good luck for her that I am the best!
March 4th
Lilibet’s happy today because she’s had another letter from Philip.
‘His ship can’t be very comfortable,’ she told me. ‘It’s so hot down below that the junior officers prefer to sleep in armchairs in the gunroom.’
‘What’s a gunroom?’ I asked.
She shrugged. ‘Where they keep guns, I suppose, though it doesn’t seem likely.’
Later on, we asked Papa what a gunroom was. It’s the junior officers’ mess. A mess is not what it sounds like – it’s where they dine and read and play cards and so on. Knowing boys, I expect it actually is a mess.
We played duets this afternoon on the piano. You could tell Lilibet was happy; she thumped away at the keys, and didn’t mind at all when I made mistakes. She never actually says anything about my mistakes, but I can tell it’s annoying.
April 12th
‘The beastly Germans have invaded Denmark,’ Lilibet told me this afternoon. ‘How sad for poor Philip.’
‘It’s sad for the Danish people,’ I said, ‘but why is it sad for Philip? He’s probably nowhere near there.’
‘Prince Philip of Greece and Denmark?’
‘Oh,’ I said, as the penny dropped. ‘That’s rotten, then.’
I did think it was strange that she told everyone she met about ‘poor Philip’. She seems to think about him rather a lot. Mummy said he must come and stay when he’s on leave. That cheered Lilibet up no end. She doesn’t get that excited when our other boy cousins are invited.
Then I heard that Hitler didn’t just invade Denmark. He’s invaded Norway and the Netherlands, too. Lilibet didn’t mention them. She didn’t mention any of our relations in those countries, either, but I bet she’ll say a prayer for them tonight. Lilibet doesn’t forget much.
Photographs in the gardens today. Jackets and skirts and jumpers, which aren’t really garden-y, but Mummy likes us to be smart. Lilibet and I looked exactly alike, except I had socks on and she didn’t. We posed and smiled, and crossed streams and did everything the photographer wanted. I was constantly in danger of getting my shoes and socks wet, because I have to charge across stepping stones instead of taking it steadily. Luckily, Lilibet’s always there, ready to grab me when I wobble.
Afterwards we posed on a wall with Mummy and Papa. Jane and Dookie joined us, but no matter how hard Papa tried, they refused to look at the camera. Not everyone obeys the King!
April 21st
Lilibet’s birthday. She’s fourteen – almost grown up. I don’t like her getting older, because she doesn’t like to play so much. I can’t remember when we last groomed our little horses together. She does sit and chat sometimes, when I’m doing it. And she tells me if I’m doing it wrong.
‘It doesn’t matter if I do it wrong,’ I said the other evening.
‘Yes, it does,’ she said. ‘You must always try to do things the right way, Margaret. Anyway, horses don’t like being brushed in the wrong direction.’
‘They haven’t complained,’ I said, and she laughed.
Today she’s had hundreds of cards and telegrams and presents, including the usual two pearls from Papa, to add to those already on her necklace. When she’s twenty-one, it will be complete.
I happened to notice (because I peeked) that one birthday card has made it to Lilibet’s bedside drawer. It’s easy to guess who that one’s from. Philip! She gets embarrassed when I tease her about him, so I haven’t mentioned the card. But I might.
There was one disappointment – no icing on the birthday cake, because sugar’s rationed. But Lilibet said it doesn’t matter, because icing’s so sickly. She didn’t think that last year when she saved her icing till I’d eaten mine, then ate hers very slowly, to make me jealous. But her little plan went wrong, becau
se Crawfie gave me her icing, so I had mine last after all!
April 22nd
I didn’t say anything to Lilibet about her keeping Philip’s card in her bedside drawer. I don’t want to upset her. I’ll remember it, though, in case I need to tease her!
May 14th
We’ve moved again, but only three miles away, to Windsor Castle. Mummy says it’s just for a while, maybe a week or so. I love looking out of the window and seeing people start out for a stroll at the far end of the Long Walk. I go away and do something, and when I come back they’re still going. The walk is over two and a half miles long!
Everyone’s talking about a speech Mr Winston Churchill, our new prime minister, made yesterday. It was about how all he has to offer are blood, toil, tears and sweat, and how we’re aiming at victory. He says we’ll win, however long and hard the road may be.
It doesn’t look as if the war’s going to finish any time soon.
Wartime Princess Page 3