Murder Most Royal

There isn’t much to see at the moment, but in summer they’ll be quite splendid.’

When she returned to the house, Julian Cassidy was waiting to see her, as arranged. She received him in the small drawing room. It was a stand-up meeting.

‘I gather you’re leaving us.’ she said.

‘Yes, ma’am.’ The bean counter looked defeated.

‘Well done for making the right decision.’

He had handed himself in two days ago. There would be a hefty fine, and a possible prison sentence for “failure to stop and report an accident.” His belated confession made jail unlikely, but his job was untenable.

‘I’m sorry for letting you down’, he said.

‘It’s Mrs Raspberry’s forgiveness you need, I hope you earn it.’ She wondered if this would be the end or the making of the man. Either was possible.

‘Good luck’ she said, and meant it. He had a long road ahead of him.

On Sunday, Rozie watched the Queen hand out prizes to local schoolchildren after church at West Newton. Back at Sandringham House, the maids and dressers were busy packing for tomorrow’s return to London.

Massed clumps of snowdrops fringed the paths through the tree canopy on the estate. Spring was, if not quite here, then certainly announcing its intentions.

Tomorrow was the 6th of February, when the Queen would mark her sapphire jubilee: the sixty-fifth anniversary of her accession. Her ministers and the press always seemed to find it a cause for congratulations, but to the Boss, Rozie knew, it was, more than anything, the day her father died. She would mark it privately here, before travelling by train to London and a crowded calendar in another busy year.

After the visit, the Queen was, as usual, hosting a lunch. Rozie wasn’t needed, so she called at Katie Briggs’s cottage and drove north-east with her to Burnham Overy Staithe beach, for one last blitz of sea air, sweeping views and vast Norfolk skies. They walked the mile from the car park, along the track that skirted the salt marshes to the gap at Gun Hill, and sat on the sand near the grassy dunes, wrapped in their coats, while Daphne ran joyful rings around them.

Ahead, the sea stretched north to Greenland, with little in between. Low waves crashed onto the shore with seductive regularity. Rozie savoured the moment to hold on to when she was back in town, between the frenetic politics of Whitehall and the traffic din of Hyde Park Corner.

‘OK, so tell me,’ Katie said, having checked that there were no dog walkers within listening distance. ‘Truthfully.