by Penny Junor
HIS FATHER’S WITNESS
More than thirty years after he first fell in love with her, the Prince of Wales finally married Camilla Parker Bowles on 9 April 2005 in the Guildhall at Windsor. The Queen had taken a long time to come round to giving her consent. The relationship had, after all, practically brought the monarchy to its knees, and while she had no personal animosity towards Camilla, had the earth mysteriously swallowed her up, she would have been delighted. Life would have been very much easier for everyone. But Charles, normally duty personified, had insisted that Camilla was ‘non-negotiable’. He loved her and he needed her and as everyone who has known him any length of time will say, he is a different man now that he is married to her – happy, relaxed, utterly transformed.
But it was never going to be a straightforward affair. As one of his Household says, ‘Their marriage was a matter of huge constitutional and political importance and you had to court the approval of the Queen, Number Ten, the Archbishop of Canterbury and arguably a few others besides.’ Top of the list of the ‘others besides’ were William and Harry; and concern for their feelings was one of the principal reasons why, even after the Queen was on side, the Prince had taken so long to make Camilla his wife. Mark Bolland had worked so tirelessly (if dangerously) during his six years with the Prince of Wales to make their marriage acceptable to the British public, that large sections of them were baying for him to make an honest woman of Camilla after all these years.
The boys had been unashamedly used as part of the process. William’s first meeting with Camilla in 1998, which was leaked to the press, did her popularity no harm whatsoever. The meeting was known to have been amicable, and Harry’s meeting with her some months later was known to have gone equally well. They had both been on sparkling form at Charles’s fiftieth birthday party at Highgrove, and it was known they had invited Camilla.
The next move was for Charles and Camilla to be seen in public together. For years they had engaged in tedious subterfuge to foil the paparazzi, never travelling in the same car (unless Camilla was hidden under a blanket), never arriving through the same door and never being together unless they were certain the location was safe. So in January 1999, when Camilla’s sister Annabel Elliot was having a fiftieth birthday party at the Ritz Hotel in London, Mark masterminded a plan to thwart the paparazzi and test public opinion.
The media were briefed that the couple might be leaving the party that evening together, and during the course of the day the pavement outside the Ritz filled several lines deep with photographers and film crews jostling for position. As predicted, they emerged shortly before midnight through the revolving doors and, without stopping, walked the few steps to their waiting car, Charles holding a guiding hand behind Camilla. It was the picture they had been avoiding for thirteen years, but terrified though they had both been, it brought an end to all the pretence. They were able to behave like a couple thereafter and because all the media had that first shot, the value of it fell through the floor. And to their great relief, the majority of the British public scarcely turned a hair.
Ian Jones was there that night. ‘It was a pivotal moment because from then on they could do things together. When that happened the biggest and most noticeable factor was the closeness of Charles and Camilla as a unit and how happy they were and how good they were together.’
What was needed next was for William to be seen in public with Camilla, and this was another clever piece of engineering. The occasion was a party to mark the tenth anniversary of the PCC (run by Mark’s partner, Guy Black) at Somerset House in February 2001. It was billed as William’s first official engagement, during which he wanted to express his thanks to the media for having allowed him to enjoy his time at Eton unmolested, and appeal to them to allow him the same privacy during his time at St Andrews. The unstated aim was to have Charles, William and Camilla – who arrived and left separately – together in the same room, with every editor in Fleet Street there to witness it.
As one of those involved says, ‘Part of the thinking was that in order for the public to approve of Camilla she had to be seen with the boys or it wouldn’t work. I think the relationship between them all is warm now but if I’m honest, it wasn’t then. I think they found it hard when they were little. I remember Harry being uncomfortable and saying something awkward. It was difficult for them; it was a natural thing. You want your mum, you don’t want her, and she had her own family. To be fair to Camilla, she never tried to be mummy but she was the “other woman” and she was there and taking daddy’s time. It wasn’t all happy families for quite a long time, but William was happy to see his father happy.’
Camilla was sensitive; as a mother herself she entirely understood the need to go at their pace. After that first meeting she started to stay over at York House when William and Harry were in London, but whenever they were at Highgrove, the house in which Diana had at one time lived, she would drive home to her house in Laycock after dinner. Neither she nor the Prince wanted to foist a stepmother on the boys before they had fully grown up and were ready to accept her into their lives.
Their next public get-together included Harry, the Queen, the Duke of Edinburgh and twenty-five of the younger members of the Royal Family – and there were rather more than a bunch of Fleet Street editors to witness it. It was the Party at the Palace, in June 2002, the biggest and most revolutionary of all the Queen’s Golden Jubilee events. For the first time, the gardens at Buckingham Palace were opened up to ordinary members of the public, twelve thousand of them who won their tickets in a ballot, for a star-studded evening of rock and pop. A million people watched on giant screens in the Mall and Green Park, and a further two hundred million watched it on television worldwide. It began with Brian May of the band Queen standing on the roof belting out the National Anthem at goodness knows how many decibels, and ended with a spectacular pyrotechnic display and a tribute from Prince Charles to his mother, which to deafening cheers began, ‘Your Majesty … Mummy …’
The Prince’s popularity rating was riding high. At the time of Diana’s death it had plunged to 20 per cent; by 2002, largely because William and Harry had turned out so well, he was credited with being a good parent, and it was up to 75 per cent. They could have married. There would always have been some people unable to stomach it, but most of the public would have been supportive – as they were when they finally did marry three years later.
The reticence was over William and Harry, whose allegiance was inevitably torn. They had loved their mother and known that she had been tormented by the woman she saw as her rival. William had watched the Panorama programme and, whatever his feelings about it, Camilla had been the villain in that. Equally, they could see that their father was lonely and that this woman lit up his life; that he was good fun to be with when she was around, and sank easily into gloom and despondency when she was not. And both of them were old enough to know that nothing was as black and white as it had seemed when they were children.
Colleen still feels for them. She believes they have had a tough time although there have been some exceptional and supportive characters along the way who have all played a part in helping them through those tough times. In particular, she sites Sandy Henney, who played a slightly maternal role for a while (as she herself did); Tiggy, who was always there for them; Mark Dyer, who, if a bit hair-brained at times, was a true friend to them and being slightly older provided a useful steer. Edward van Cutsem was also valuable; and Andrew Gailey played a very important part. Then there was the Prince of Wales; and not least of all the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh, who she has no doubt have privately given William a lot of support and a lot of counsel.
‘But at the end of the day there’s no substitute for mum and it’s been very, very hard and then to have another woman thrust into it, and all in the public eye. It’s great that they have turned out the way they have but they’ve had a lot of love around them and a lot of support from the staff as well. And their mum did love them and that h
as stood them in very good stead.’
By the time it came to the wedding, both boys had put their own feelings to one side and were simply delighted for their father. They released a joint statement saying, ‘We are both very happy for our father and Camilla, and we wish them all the luck in the future.’ The news of their engagement, however, leaked and Robert Jobson, then writing for the London Evening Standard, had the story that earned him the Scoop of the Year award. ‘We were planning it,’ says a member of the Household. ‘The circle of knowledge was having to widen each week almost, as we made more plans. We had a target date for announcing it. I said to Michael [Peat], “There’s no way this is going to hold, we’ll have a large glass of champagne if we can hold it, but we won’t, so I will devise a media plan for every single day between now and then, so if it leaks on that day, we’re ready to go. And bless him, Robert Jobson broke it on the one day [in February 2005] that was the best day of the whole three weeks. The Thursday – the Prince was going to visit Goldsmiths in the City, and there was a charity ball that night at Windsor Castle; they were both going to be dressed up in their finest. It was a complete coincidence. Perfect for us. Imagine if it had been a day when they weren’t going to be out and about or seen together.’
After a multitude of obstacles along the way, including postponement for a day because the original date clashed with the funeral of Pope John Paul II in Rome, and arguments about whether it was right or wrong for the country, good or bad for the boys, what kind of service it should be, whether Camilla should be called HRH The Duchess of Cornwall or something more low key, and what the Princess of Wales would have thought, the marriage finally happened. The unknown quantity was whether the public would turn out. I happened to be there that day. I had been asked to commentate by various television companies and when I arrived in Windsor at 5.30 in the morning, there was just one brave family who had camped outside the Guildhall all night. I couldn’t help thinking about the hundreds who had camped for days along the route to St Paul’s twenty-four years before. By 10.00 there was still only a smattering and it looked as though the overriding emotion of the day was going to be overwhelming indifference. But half an hour later the street was suddenly filled to bursting. People of every age chatted excitedly to strangers, hemmed in behind police barriers, all but a few of them delighted that Charles would finally take the plunge and wed the woman he had loved for over thirty years.
Camilla was so nervous, she had to be dragged out of her bed that day, and she looked endearingly frightened, but it was clear that the crowd loved her. The civil ceremony was conducted by Clair Williams, the Royal Borough of Windsor’s Superintendent Registrar, to which only a small group of family and close friends – twenty-eight in all – were invited. William and Tom Parker Bowles, being their elder children, were their witnesses, and William carried the wedding ring for his father. The only notable absentee from the register office was the Queen, who has never attended a register office wedding in her life – and that was perhaps why. She certainly didn’t seem anything other than delighted during the religious service in St George’s Chapel and the reception that followed. It was a Service of Prayer and Dedication conducted by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Rowan Williams, and the Dean of Westminster, David Conner, that was a much more public affair – with newspaper photographers, television cameras and 800 of their closest friends.
Ian Jones was among them, and after years of studying the Windsors at close quarters through powerful lenses, he has noticed every nuance. ‘One of the best, best moments was when they came out of the Chapel. Having photographed him for quite a few years around the world on tours alone, he always seemed to be lacking someone by his side. He was passionate about what he was doing but he had no one to share it with, no one to appreciate what he was doing and you could see the loneliness. It was so different when she was there with him and able to support him. When you think of all the grief she went though to get to that stage … It was transparent that William was happy for them – and Harry, but more so William. Harry is “Yeah fine, get on with it, let’s have a beer”, but the caring side of William came out and from that first moment you could see on that wedding day that what mattered to him was the happiness of his father and how good Camilla was for him. You could see the genuine happiness of them all together. There’s a lovely moment when the newly-weds are leaving by car and William and Harry are there seeing them off. There’s real engagement and real confidence between Camilla and the boys.’
Different in style, temperament and every aspect of their lives, there is no doubting the huge affection both Princes feel towards their father.
IN HIS MOTHER’S FOOTSTEPS
In January 2005, five months before William graduated from St Andrews, Jamie Lowther-Pinkerton was appointed part-time Private Secretary to both Princes. Harry was just coming to the end of an extended gap year and was due to start Sandhurst in the autumn. William, after his graduation in June, had six months to fill before he too began the gruelling forty-four week officer training course. Both were young adults, and charities were circling, hoping to interest one or other of them in their causes and to become patrons. With full-time education at an end, there would be royal duties to prepare for and organise. There was also a need for some strategic planning about their future – and more immediately, a plan to devise for William’s next six months.
Mark Dyer had been fantastic in showing them the world, particularly Africa, which he knew so well. He had been a good, loyal friend, and remains one, but he was not the one to take them on to this next stage in their lives. He had worked unpaid (as so many people who work for the Prince of Wales do) on a part-time basis for eight years, but he had a business to run – a chain of gastro pubs in London – and wanted to get on with his life.
The only other person working specifically for William and Harry was Helen Asprey, a member of the jewellery family, who had worked as a PA in the Lord Chamberlain’s office and then the Duke of Edinburgh’s. Although young, she is described by someone who knows her well as, ‘Very old school, very formal, very Buckingham Palace,’ but also very good fun. Their father had brought her in when the boys were teenagers as someone less intimidating than anyone from his office, who could begin to guide them into the world they would soon have to inhabit. She set up a private office for them, initially with just her, but later a secretary to help answer correspondence. She handled their diaries and personal lives, organised house parties, shooting weekends and birthday parties. She managed big events for them and their polo matches, fixed dentists’ and doctors’ appointments, did their shopping, booked flights and holidays, handled personal invitations, liaised with the police about their plans and helped in their relationships with family friends and other foreign royal families. And in the early days, when both William and Harry turned eighteen, she also went to their first official engagements with them. She no longer has anything to do with the public side of their lives – purely the private and personal – but she is still with them, a trusted and much-loved member of the team that has gradually grown around her.
Jamie Lowther-Pinkerton was perfect for the job of taking William and Harry on to the next stage in their lives, and already knew the Prince of Wales, having been one of the Queen Mother’s favourite equerries. He is a former SAS man, then in his mid-forties, who came with all the right credentials. He had been a professional (and colleagues say ‘completely brilliant’) soldier for twenty years – perfect for two young men about to go into the military. He had served in the first Iraq War and in the Balkans, and at the time of his appointment was working as a part-time consultant to an international security firm and co-running a company that advised gap-year students and others on how to stay alive and avoid trouble when travelling abroad. He is an old Etonian, married with three young children (one of whom was a pageboy at William’s wedding) and he won an MBE in the early 1990s, busting drug cartels for the government in Colombia. His experience of working at Clarence House was a
bonus. At the age of twenty-three he had done a stint with the Queen Mother and there is no doubt his stories about their great-grandmother will have endeared him to William and Harry, who were both very involved in his selection, along with Prince Charles, Sir Michael Peat and Mark Dyer, who was already a friend of Jamie’s.
Jamie had been ‘dozing in a frozen trench with fellow Irish Guards somewhere between West and East Germany’ when he got a call telling him he had been chosen for the job at Clarence House. Within forty-eight hours he was sitting down to lunch with the Queen Mother, nervously discussing how best to judge distance when flicking peas into a crystal chandelier with a fork.
Some time later, after a boisterous stag party, he invited all his friends – already well oiled – back to his equerry’s room (with free bar) at Clarence House. It was the night before the Trooping the Colour ceremony and the Queen Mother was in residence. As he has often told the story, ‘The next morning, with the Private Secretary eyeing me darkly and my room strewn with empty bottles and glasses, I crawled into my uniform just in time to attend Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother as she mounted the carriage to take her to Horse Guards. “Did you have a party here last night, Jamie?” I stared at my boots and mumbled, “Ma’am, I’m terribly sorry. I hope we didn’t disturb you,” knowing full well they had. “I’m so glad to see the place being properly used,” Her Majesty sparked, hopping into the carriage.’
First item on the agenda for William was an eleven-day trip to New Zealand at the invitation of Sir Clive Woodward to support the British and Irish Lions rugby team on what turned out to be their fateful 2005 tour. Sir Clive, former England coach, had been appointed coach for this tour after he had heroically led the England team to victory in the Rugby World Cup in 2003. The tour was a huge event: he took fifty-one players and forty-four back-room staff – the biggest party ever; thirty-thousand fans travelled from the UK, but Woodward sadly failed to work his magic on the Lions. His captain, Brian O’Driscoll, was lost to injury in the first few minutes of the first test match and they comprehensively lost the series 3–0 to the All Blacks. As a genuine rugby fan, William shared their pain – he had taken part in a training session with the team and had lunch with them, and was as disappointed as anyone.