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‘Oh, good!’ Tara seemed relieved. ‘I’m planning a weekend break.’
‘Barcelona?’ asked Her Majesty.
Tara nodded. ‘Richard asked me again, and I thought . . .’
‘Very good.’ The Queen smiled brightly. ‘He changed his mobile . . . thingummy then?’
Tara shook her head. ‘I changed my attitude.’
‘Even better,’ nodded the Queen.
Over with the children, Harry was regaling the group with a story about how, earlier in the day, an ancient Highlander had tried to teach him how to recite the first verse of a Robbie Burns’ poem. Kate explained how she had also been the focus of instruction, with a Scots lady encouraging her to learn the steps of a Highland dance, which she demonstrated to the amusement of all.
Charles looked up at his mother. ‘Were you taught anything today, Mummy?’ he asked, jokingly.
‘As a matter of fact, I was,’ replied Her Majesty. ‘A young man almost let nerves get the better of him today. His school friend gave him some advice I don’t think I’ll ever forget.’
As her whole family watched intrigued, the Queen seemed to turn into Andrew Simpson, lanky and bespectacled, her whole posture and demeanour changing. ‘Imagine everyone in the audience as naked, thirteen-year-old freshers,’ she mimicked Simpson, her voice breaking from bass into falsetto. ‘And you’re about to turn the fire hose on them.’ Everyone laughed.
‘You’ll have to remember that next time you open Parliament,’ suggested Harry.
‘What an appalling image!’ said Charles.
‘Or confronted by the media scrum,’ offered William.
Listening to the conversation on a nearby sofa, Philip seemed about to say something. The muscles of his jaw clenched, lips quivering as though forming the letter ‘b’. He seemed to be about to express himself, before thinking better of it and sinking back into his seat.
Observing his father closely, Charles followed up on what William had just said. ‘They seem to have left us alone this summer.’
‘That’s because of all the baby photos we let them take earlier in the year,’ suggested William.
‘Long may it continue,’ said the Queen to general agreement.
‘Looks like the corgis are off the hook then,’ Charles looked down to where I was sitting next to his mother. ‘Didn’t you have the idea, Harry, of offering them up for a photo shoot?’
‘A few years ago,’ Harry agreed.
‘That’s right,’ said William, turning to his grandmother. ‘You were even going to ask Nelson to write something meaningful.’
‘Kate thought he had it in him to produce a whole book,’ Harry reminded them.
‘Indeed,’ said the Queen, meeting my eyes with a twinkle. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t done exactly that.’
