The Hidden Prince

My recollection of one of the proudest days of my life. At the Meardy Farm, I stood next to my mother and my dad Arthur while she rang France to speak to the Duke of Windsor. The change in my mothers voice from this miserable woman in her sixties, who would moan and groan regardless about life, into a young girl blushing at the sound of his voice. “Hello David, its Rose,” she sounded so gentle. I looked at Arthur and he did not look happy with mum, hearing her conversation, watching her acting in this way. I stood waiting nervously, what would I say to this man? A Prince, a King, and now the Duke of Windsor, but always my father. Then mum passed me the telephone, I put it against my ear and stammered. “Hello, it’s Roy, Roy Albert.” The telephone went silent for a few moments, then a voice on the end of the line replied, “Hello Roy Albert, this is Edward …”

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About The Author

Robert Glasbury