How The Queen Mother was Queen Elizabeth II's closest confidante, staunchest ally and most trusted advisor

The death of the Queen Mother on March 30 2002 at the age of 101 was amongst the saddest days of the Queen’s life. Eleven days later, at her funeral in Westminster Abbey, the Queen’s face was a mask of grief. Her closest confidante, staunchest ally and most trusted advisor was gone.

The relationship between the Queen and the Queen Mother was at the heart of her reign. In times of uncertainty and strife, the Queen Mother was the voice of authority and the embodiment of royalty at its most regal.

The affection in which she was held by the public had helped to sustain support for the monarchy throughout the turbulent 90s, when the activities of the younger royals threatened its future.

There was to be a final, moving outpouring of that affection on the day of her funeral, when 400,000 mourners lined the streets around Westminster Abbey, and another million stood along the route to Windsor, where the Queen Mother was laid to rest in St George’s Chapel alongside her beloved Bertie, and Margaret.

In the days before the service, 150,000 members of the public filed past her coffin lying in state at Westminster Hall. So many came that the hall had to remain open round the clock, and many queued throughout the night to get in.

The Queen was deeply touched by the public’s sense of loss at her mother’s death, and broadcast to the nation on the eve of the funeral. Although she remained composed, there was an air of profound sadness about her.

Her words were simple, but heartfelt. “My family and I always knew what she meant for the people of this country and the special place she occupied in the hearts of so many here, in the Commonwealth and in other parts of the world.

“But the extent of the tribute that huge numbers of you have paid my mother in the last few days has been overwhelming. I have drawn great comfort from so many individual acts of kindness and respect.

“Over the years, I have met many people who have had to cope with family loss, sometimes in the most tragic of circumstances. So I count myself fortunate that my mother was blessed with a long and happy life. She had an infectious zest for living and this remained with her until the very end. I know too that her faith was always a great strength to her.”

She ended by saying: “I thank you for the support you are giving me and my family as we come to terms with her death and the void she has left in our midst. I thank you also from my heart for the love you gave her during her life and the honour you now give her in death.”

Sixty years before, destined to be Queen, the heart of young Princess Elizabeth’s world had been “us four”, George VI’s affectionate - and shrewd - term for himself, his wife and his two daughters.

The King who had come reluctantly to the throne, and triumphed over painful shyness and a stammer that made public speaking an ordeal, treasured the tranquility and love of his family.

He knew, too, that the closeness of the royal family was the keystone of the monarchy. They must be an example to the country and the Empire, an admirable, if aloof, model of how a man, his wife and his children should live with decency and dignity.

The King’s lessons defined the Queen’s approach to her whole life. And if she ever faltered, the Queen Mother did not hesitate to remind her of them.

The Queen Mother was the support on which George VI depended, and when he died on February 6 1952, all her strength was transferred to the young Queen. The King’s death served to draw the bond that united the Queen Mother, the Queen and Princess Margaret even closer.

The Queen’s grief for her father lingered ever afterwards. Until 50 years after his death, she rarely made a public appearance on the anniversary, preferring to remember him privately and pray.

The sense of public duty that he bequeathed her prompted an appearance on the 50th anniversary, but even then there was an undercurrent of private remembrance in her engagement, in that she visited a unit that treated cancer, the disease that claimed him.

But remembrance of the King lingered in the most private and personal details of the lives of the Queen Mother and her daughters. To the end, the Queen called her mother “Mummy”, just as she had in childhood.

In her turn, the Queen Mother used the treasured pet-names for her daughters, Lilibet and Margo. The Queen was at her mother’s bedside when she died; with her died the last tangible link to an idyllic childhood.

The depth of loss she felt cannot be over-estimated. She spoke to her mother and sister by telephone every day when she did not see them.

The three women preferred each other’s company to any other, and would gossip together in French. All were partial to stiff martinis, and enjoyed a pre-dinner drink together. They holidayed together, not just because of Royal tradition, but because they were happiest being with each other.

The Queen and her mother shared a passion for the turf, about which they had lively discussions.

A subject they never saw eye-to-eye on, though, was the Queen Mother’s profligate spending, which annoyed her daughter, who was noted for her frugal habits. Nevertheless, the Queen did not hesitate to offer financial help when it was needed.

There was, too, a playfulness in the mother-daughter relationship that surfaced only occasionally in public.

One such rare glimpse was at a West End premiere, where dignitaries were astonished to hear a muttered exchange between the two.

The Queen Mother, obviously irritated, hissed at her daughter: “Who do you think you are?”

“The Queen, Mummy, the Queen,” came the reply.

But she knew when to defer to her mother, and even, on occasion, did it in public.

At the 50th anniversary commemorations of VE Day, in 1995, the Queen Mother took centre stage. This was an occasion for the veterans of the armed forces, and those who had endured life on the home front.

They held a special place in their hearts for the Queen Mother, who with the King had stayed in London to brave the Blitz just as the city’s population had to, and the Queen knew it.

As the Queen Mother took the salute of old soldiers, and shook the hands of those she met, her daughter followed her.

There was to be one more public display of the Queen deferring to her mother. It came in August 2000, when the crowds gathered outside Buckingham Palace to wish the grand old lady a happy 100th birthday, and the Queen Mother once again took centre stage with her two daughters flanking her.

A little over 18 months later, the Queen had lost them both, and her world would never be the same again.