own to live. At least she didnât have royal family connections to live up to. I wondered where Iâd go now. Would she expect me to move out immediately? In which case Iâd have no choice but to take the next train back to Scotland. Oh golly, I thought. Castle Rannoch with winter coming, lashed by gales, gloomy beyond belief. Iâd have to write to Fig to see if theyâd have me, since it was now no longer my home. And if she said no . . . I turned away from the window, trying not to think about it. Mummy said I was welcome to stay in Germany, but I didnât fancy that eitherânot the way things seemed to be going there these days.
Either way, Iâd have to start packing up my things. Iâd need to collect Queenie from her parentsâ house, which would mean an excuse to visit Granddad. That thought made me smile. Iâd been visiting my grandfather on a regular basis while Iâd been in London. I suppose I should add that Iâm talking about my motherâs father, the retired Cockney policeman who lived in a semidetached with gnomes in the front garden, not the fierce Scottish duke who married a princess. The Scottish grandfather died before I was born, thank goodness, and itâs said that his ghost still haunts the battlements of Castle Rannoch.
But my living grandfather was one of my favorite people. He always made me welcome, even though he had very little himself. Another thought crossed my mind: wouldnât it be lovely if I could stay with him for a while? I pictured waking to the smell of bacon cooking, sitting drinking tea in his tiny kitchen, chatting with him by the fire. I sighed. Unfortunately I knew this would be frowned upon. It had been made quite clear to me that it would create great embarrassment to the family if the newspapers got wind of it. Royal in Reduced Circumstances. Her Highness Eats Down the Fish-and-Chip Shop. I could see the left-wing newspapers would have a field day.
Really my family was too tiresome. I couldnât take a job that might embarrass them. I couldnât stay with the one person who wanted my company. And yet they offered me no financial support. How on earth did they expect me to live? I knew the answer to that one immediately: I was expected to make the right sort of marriage to some half-mad, chinless European princelingâthe sort who get assassinated with monotonous frequency. They had introduced me to a couple of candidates and I had turned them down, much to everyoneâs annoyance. But there are some lengths a girl wonât go to to put a roof over her head.
There must be something I can do, I thought as I tiptoed downstairs and filled the kettle for tea. The trouble was that I wasnât trained for anything except how to behave in the correct social circles. And in these days of depression there were people with real qualifications who were lining up for jobs. I sighed as I made the tea. If only Iâd inherited my motherâs stunning looks, I could have followed her onto the stage. But alas I took after my fatherâtall, lanky, healthy Scottish outdoor looks.
I cheered myself with the thought of going to see Granddad and made boiled eggs and toast before I went to wake Belinda. She looked rather the worse for wear as she sat at the dining table, sipping her tea and nibbling on a piece of toast.
âI feel terrible turning you out now, darling,â she said. âIf only I had a spare room . . .â
âI know. Itâs quite all right,â I said. âDonât worry, something will turn up. Iâll go and retrieve Queenie and she can pack up my things and if worse comes to worst I can stay with my grandfather for a few days.â
âI thought that was frowned upon by the family,â Belinda said.
âIt is, but they arenât exactly offering me an alternative, are they? Iâll pick up a copy of
The Lady
when I go out. There must be some job I