Read Online The Final Curtsey by Margaret Rhodes - Free Book Online Page A

would be sensible to move a little further away from the possible danger of
shattered glass. Lady Reading, however, just went on talking and talking. Afterwards my aunt said that she had to strongly remind herself that she was the Queen of England and couldn’t
possibly show any fear.
    I have many memories of my sojourn at Windsor, and the comings and goings of important figures in the war effort. For instance I met the South African Prime Minister, Jan Christiaan Smuts, and I
like to think that decades later when I was introduced to Nelson Mandela that I had rounded the circle as far as South African politics were concerned. But for frivolous reasons I particularly
remember one summer afternoon when we were having tea on a small terrace overlooking the castle rose garden. A long white tablecloth swept to the ground, and the table was set with a silver kettle,
teapot and all the usual paraphernalia. The party comprised the King, the Queen, the Princesses, myself, and my friend Liz Lambart, who, like me, was a bridesmaid to Princess Elizabeth. Liz, a
daughter of the Earl of Cavan, was sharing my shorthand and typing labours.
    Suddenly we heard male voices engaged in transatlantic chatter. The King exclaimed: ‘Oh Lord. General Eisenhower and his group are being shown round the castle. I quite forgot. We will all
be in full view when they turn the next corner.’ It was embarrassing because the little terrace was half way up the castle wall and they would have been clearly seen, but unable to descend or
to communicate in any way with the visitors. Thus without another word, and acting as one, the Royal Family dived under the tablecloth. Liz and I, our mouths gaping open, followed fast. We stayed
there until we thought it safe to reappear. Eisenhower must have been over here planning the D-Day landings at that time. If he and his party had looked up towards the terrace they would have seen
a table shaking from the effect of the concerted and uncontrollable giggles of those sheltering beneath it. Years later, on a State Visit to America, the present Queen confessed to the then
President Eisenhower about it and he thought it very funny.
    I had normal school holidays from the secretarial college and was able to enjoy my usual visits to Balmoral. By then I was seventeen and considered to be sufficiently grown up to be allowed down
to dinner. One night I witnessed the Royal Family experiencing the personal tragedy of war. We were sitting there when in the middle of dinner one of the Pages came in and whispered in the ear of
His Majesty’s Assistant Private Secretary, Sir Eric Mieville. Sir Eric got up and quietly left the room. Minutes later he returned and whispered to the King. The King then left. There was
silence around the dining room table. Conversation was impossible. We sat silently, imagining all the possible disasters that could have happened. At length it became impossible to stay there and,
with a feeling of relief, the Queen stood up and signalled for us to leave the room. She then hurried to join the King, while we all sat in the drawing room, still shocked into silence. At long
last the King and Queen returned, and the King told us that his brother, Prince George, Duke of Kent, who was an RAF Air Commodore, had been killed in a flying accident when his plane crashed into
a mountain in northern Scotland. The weather had been vile that day; a low mist, rain and an east wind; the worst flying weather. That evening the King and Queen left for London. Seven days later,
after the funeral, the King returned to Scotland and made a pilgrimage to the scene of the tragedy.
    There were happier times. Despite the war the King and Queen Elizabeth, particularly the Queen, were absolutely wonderful at making life fun for their daughters and their guests. There was a
game called ‘kick the tin’, customarily played after tea. All the visitors, however grand, had to take part. It involved a great deal of running,