From Fitzroy's Private Diary (Extract 15)

Hope has asked me to marry her. She is currently eight years old and at that stage where she is envious of the intense relationship between her parents but is far from understanding the bond of marriage and all it entails.

I declined as gracefully as I could.

We were on one of our long walks on her father’s estate. Of late, Bertram has been plagued with bad headaches, and as he had opened his very best brandy for me the previous night, I thought I would attempt to introduce the child to the concept of silence, and of being stealthy, rather than running around the house like a small and energetic elephant. She derailed my plans almost as soon as we had begun by demanding to know what elephants looked like, where they lived and what they ate. It was only about half-way through our time together, which by now had turned into a lecture on exotic animals, that she began to talk about love.

She loves me about as much as she loves the stuffed toy bear I bought her, and which her mother mischievously encouraged her to call Fitz, or worse still, Fitzy (she has no knowledge of my cover name as both her parents refer to me as Eric under their roof and she merely calls me Godfather). Euphemia was almost crying with laughter yesterday afternoon when Hope attempted to feed Fitzy a cream bun as he was off his food. Needless to say, by the end of the escapade, both the child and the bear had to be taken away by nanny to get washed. Euphemia really is the most indulgent parent!

But I digress. After I declined her proposal, Hope asked me if I loved her, to which I replied, quite sincerely, that I do, but in quite a different way to how her Daddy loves her Mummy. I said I loved her in a way akin to how her own father loved her and as I was unlikely to ever have children of my own…

I got no further. Why would Godfather never have children? Why was Godfather not married? She went on and on in this manner for an embarrassingly long time - or so it seemed. I felt most uncomfortable, but I had only myself to blame. I have always encouraged Hope to ask me whatever she wants. I felt that one of the supports I could offer her, as her Godfather, was the ability to ask me questions she might find difficult to ask her parents. I also felt it was a good way to gain her trust and affection - it has certainly worked well in my professional life with my adult assets. Oh, but what a fool I was!

I explained that my work kept me very busy and I had always felt it would be unfair of me to have a family when I was so preoccupied. Whereupon she opened her eyes very wide and, to my horror, I saw them fill with tears. ‘But who loves you Godfather?’ she asked.

At this point I was almost reduced to the ‘harrumphing’ noises old men in the clubs make when asked about the politics of the day.

Eventually we concluded I was held in the highest affection by the members of her family and, therefore, reasonably happy. She gave me a hug to be sure. She is quite the dearest little thing, but goodness, she has the interrogation skills of the Spanish Inquisition. I managed to sidestep any probing questions concerning if I had ever been in love like Mummy and Daddy by diverting her attention to particular fine tree to climb. She proceeded to do so and give me a heart palpitations by falling out several times.

That evening, when she came down to the dining room to say good night, I had to endure a hug from a rather damp and smelly stuffed bear as she told me ‘Fitzy loved me too’. Euphemia hid her face behind a quivering napkin and Bertram literally barked with laughter.

I sometimes feel being her godfather is the hardest mission I have ever entered upon, and as Hope likes to remind me, I am her Godfather for ever and ever.

God help me.