Imagining Diana

by Diane Clehane

  Diana had broken the news to Teddy over breakfast a few days ago that she was flying to London for the funeral instead of going with him to California. “I don’t understand why you feel like you have to go,” he said as he put down the Wall Street Journal.

  “I am sorry, darling. The Queen Mother was one of the most beloved figures in Britain—and great-grandmother to my sons. I do want to pay my respects.”

  Diana understood Teddy’s disappointment. She, too, had been looking forward to spending the weekend in Palm Springs with him before accompanying him to his company’s annual business and media conference the following week, where she was scheduled to be part of a discussion about ways to expand global philanthropy. She put down her napkin next to her half-eaten bowl of yogurt and fresh fruit and pushed her chair away from the table.

  “Are you cross with me because I won’t be able to go to California with you?”

  “Of course not,” he said. “I just think even after all this time, you’re still emotionally invested in that family. More than you’re willing to admit.”

  Teddy took a sip of his coffee and looked up at her over the cup.

  “I am only going out of respect. And to support Charles and the boys.” Diana came off sounding unexpectedly defensive.

  “Exactly,” said Teddy as he put down his coffee cup and walked out of the room.

  Diana wanted to go after him to try to explain that as the mother of the future king, she did indeed have an obligation to go to the funeral. When she heard the front door of the apartment open and close, she was relieved she didn’t have to. She had moved away from Britain but in her heart would never truly leave it. The pull of her family, of duty, of country, was something that Teddy, no matter how hard he tried, would never understand. Nor did she expect him to.

  h

  She hadn’t been in London since the end of last year, when she spent a few days at Kensington Palace with her sons for the holidays. Diana enjoyed the new tradition they had of Charles joining her and the boys for a pre-Christmas dinner before the men headed off to Sandringham and Diana returned to New York. She marveled at how her boys had matured in the months she had not seen them. Harry, her “wild child,” finally seemed to have settled down after experimenting with underage drinking. He’d been deeply thrown by Diana’s accident, and while he supported her moving to New York, missed her greatly. For a time, Harry was also keenly aware of the praise being heaped on William while the newspapers questioned when the younger prince would find his way. Diana spent many hours on the phone to reassure Harry that he, too, would contribute significantly to the world when his head caught up with his heart. She knew that when he did decide what it was he wanted, there would be no stopping him.

  Both Diana and Charles were concerned that William had talked about leaving St. Andrews after just one year because he felt quite isolated and found the social life wanting at the oldest university in Scotland. They were relieved when one of his good friends, a girl named Kate Middleton, made a pact with him to stick it out for one more year. “She sounds like a sensible girl and a steadying influence on him,” Charles told Diana, who thought it sounded like William was starting to fall for his friend. “She’s been brilliant about helping me with my studies. Kate is always there with the notes I need or to help with me with something if I’ve missed a class,” William told his mother. Harry was much more easygoing and did not take his studies as seriously as his older brother did. He loved being in plays at school, often nabbing the leading role, and loved to recite some of his lines in character for Diana. Then, when he wasn’t regaling his mother with tales of his victories on the polo field, he talked endlessly of wanting to join the military.

  The post-divorce relationship Diana and Charles built with each other and their sons gave her comfort in the face of what she saw as her in-laws’ continued plan to all but erase her from her sons’ lives. For a brief period after the accident, there had been a bit of a thaw between Diana and “The Top Lady,” as she liked to call the Queen, but now that Diana had moved to America, she felt that the royal family considered her a closed chapter in one of the most contentious periods in the history of the British monarchy.

  Diana’s relationships with the rest of the royal family had soured much earlier. When the men in gray sought to depict Diana as unhinged and a “loose cannon,” her method of getting her side of the story out was by speaking candidly to the media.

  She secretly cooperated with that biography that revealed the full extent of her misery living among the royals, and her tell-all television interview served as proof to the family that Diana was a liability that needed to be cut off. At the time, the Queen, who was one of the last in the royal family to have some measure of affection for Diana, had begun to give credence to her family’s warnings after that explosive Panorama interview. Diana had grossly miscalculated and paid a high price for speaking her mind—in front of millions of people no less. But Diana was most hurt to learn that the Queen Mother had become one of her most vocal critics.

  The Queen Mother, who was close friends with Diana’s grandmother Lady Ruth Fermoy, originally thought Diana’s “sweetness and modesty” made her the ideal wife for her favorite grandchild and would make the perfect Princess of Wales. The two older women saw a great deal of promise in a marriage between the families and encouraged the relationship. Diana had even spent the night before her wedding at Clarence House, the Queen Mother’s residence, with them. Even then, Diana was struggling with feelings of inadequacy on the eve of taking on the role of the future Queen of England. Unaware of Diana’s distress over learning that Charles still harbored feelings for Camilla, the two older women watched television in the living room while the bride to be was in the throes of a bulimic binge in the kitchen.

  After the separation was announced, the Queen Mother would purposely avoid occasions where Diana was to be included. She and the Queen did not understand—or condone—Diana’s and even Charles’s penchant for discussing private marital woes in public. The Queen Mother, who had once decreed all women of the Spencer family to be “difficult,” also complained that Diana was “manipulative.” Diana had come to feel exactly the same about the matriarch.

  When Charles phoned Diana to tell her the Queen Mother had died in her sleep on the day before Easter, she could hear how distraught he was.

  Charles and the Queen Mother had shared a deep affection since he was a child. He had always been her favorite. She provided the warmth and companionship to her young grandson that his mother could not because of her duties as Queen. The Queen Mother had even lobbied unsuccessfully for Charles to be allowed to attend school closer to home but could not dissuade her daughter from shipping her son off to a strict boarding school in Scotland. “She meant everything to me,” Charles told Diana, his voice catching.

  “I will be there. I want to pay tribute to the woman who meant so much to you and did so much for the country,” Diana said diplomatically.

  “The boys will be very glad to see you.”

  “And I will be overjoyed to see them, although I wish it were under different circumstances. I am sorry, Charles, I know how much you loved her and how much she loved you.”

  “She believed that you and I would make a good team before it all went wrong.”

  There was silence on the line for a few moments.

  “I’m sorry I disappointed her,” Diana finally responded. “We both did.”

  “She was very proud of you, Charles.”

  h

  Diana arrived alone for the funeral at Westminster Abbey. She had chosen a suitably somber black Chanel bouclé suit and cloche hat worn with a triple strand of pearls and blended in largely unnoticed. William and Harry were walking in the procession, so they arrived in the same car as Charles and would be seated with the Queen and Prince Philip in chairs placed on the high altar. As heads of state and foreign dignitaries filed in through the Grea
t West Door, Diana took her seat behind the royal family. She had not spoken to Charles since arriving the night before and thought he looked devastated as he made his way up the aisle. Diana scanned the crowd and saw many familiar faces including Bernadette Chirac, Kofi Annan and Laura Bush, but there was only one face she was looking for.

  The Archbishop of Canterbury began the service with a blessing, then spoke movingly of the Queen Mother. Every story in this morning’s newspapers about her included glowing commentary on her having virtually saved the monarchy during the abdication crisis in 1936. When Diana first read the stories, she was struck by the possibility that she could find herself in a modern-day iteration of the same role if Charles were to step aside and William acceded to the throne. She was lost in thought but was brought back into the moment as she heard the Archbishop say, “The Queen Mother’s strength as a person was expressed best through her remarkable dealings with people. Her ability to make all human encounters, however fleeting, feel both special and personal. Something of it is reflected in the fact that for half a century we knew her and understood her as the Queen Mother. It’s a title whose resonance lies less in its official status than in expressing one of the most fundamental of all roles and relationships. That of simply being a mother, a mum, the Queen Mum.” I wonder what they’ll say about me when I die, thought Diana.

  h

  After the service, Diana rode with William and Harry back to Buckingham Palace for the luncheon. Charles was not attending because he had chosen to make the 23-mile drive to Windsor Castle alone to accompany his grandmother to her final resting place. He told William and Harry he had planned to stay at one of the Queen Mother’s residences at Birkhall for a few days to mourn in private. When they arrived at Buckingham Palace, the boys went off to find to Granny. Diana walked into the Yellow Drawing Room to take a moment before lunch to fortify herself. She hadn’t been in the same room with a large gathering of Windsors in four years. The last time Diana had seen the Queen was when she went to the Palace to talk about her plans to move to New York and ask about keeping her Kensington Palace apartment. She had phoned Her Majesty the month before to extend her condolences when the Queen’s sister, Princess Margaret, died.

  Diana had had an enthusiastic supporter and friend in “Margo” for most of her marriage. She’d even been invited to some New Year’s Eve dinners Margaret had hosted for ‘strays’—those who hadn’t been invited elsewhere. After Diana’s divorce, they’d had a falling out over the hiring and firing of some staff who went from Diana’s employ to Margaret’s, and the princesses became suspicious of each other. Diana used to like to antagonize Margaret by waving to her when she caught her peering out her window when Diana had guests at KP. When she learned of Margaret’s death, she thought back to the early kindnesses she’d shown Diana and regretted that they never repaired their friendship. The private service was a small one, just for immediate members of the family, at Windsor Castle, and Diana did not attend.

  When she entered the room at Buckingham Palace, she immediately felt engulfed by its grandeur and struck by the notion that nothing ever really changed inside these walls. The years passed, kings and queens lived and died, but Buckingham Palace was this monolithic structure that represented the Crown and endured no matter what drama—however big or small—threatened to undermine it. Not too long ago, Diana believed she no longer had any part to play within these walls, but she had since changed her thinking. Yes, her marriage was over and she would never be Queen. But William would one day be King and she, divorced or not, would then be the Queen Mother.

  Just as Diana perched on the end of one of the couches covered in silk brocade, she saw her. Camilla was standing at a window that looked onto the Memorial Gardens. She had her back to the room and was smoking a cigarette. Diana sat watching her for a few moments. For years, she had imagined what she would say to Camilla if she had the chance to be alone with her, but the opportunity had never presented itself. Now that it had, Diana felt the best thing she could do was remain silent. No good could come of having a row with Camilla now that Diana had established a good relationship with Charles on her own terms and was happier in her own life. The longer Diana sat there, the more she felt the years of frustration, injustice and hatred she’d endured because of Camilla’s relationship with Charles come to a boil. This woman had made her life hell. Diana knew that if she opened her mouth to speak, she wouldn’t be able to stop. As she got up to leave, a noise in the hallway made Camilla spin around and quickly put the hand that held the cigarette behind her. The two women stood for a long moment, staring at each other.

  As Diana fixed her steely gaze on her longtime rival, Camilla raised the cigarette, took a puff and expelled a cloud of smoke into the air.

  Neither of them had noticed William standing in the doorway until he cleared his throat to let the women know they had an audience.

  “Mummy, I’ve come to collect you for luncheon,” he said sounding exceedingly polite. “Would you excuse us, Camilla?”

  Diana picked up her clutch from the side table and took her son’s arm. “Perfect timing,” she whispered to him as they walked out of the room. “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “Never better,” his mother replied.

  June 14, 2006

  h

  As Diana sipped her morning coffee and leafed through the New York Post, a blind item on “Page Six” jumped out at her:

  Just Asking. . . . What high-profile blonde is going to be royally furious when she finds out her Prince Charming is just another rich frog?

  She considered canceling her meeting this afternoon at Michael’s with super-agent Lois Shadley. No doubt, the paparazzi would be hovering on the sidewalk waiting for her at 55th Street and Fifth Avenue. Diana knew what the well-heeled crowd would be thinking when she walked into the midtown power lunch spot later that day.

  Poor Diana can’t keep a man.

  Although things with Teddy had been a bit tense of late, Diana never considered the possibility that he would cheat. Yes, he’d always had a weakness for beautiful women (that’s what had drawn him to Diana initially), but she never questioned his fidelity. Later that morning, as she picked out her outfit for her lunch with Lois, it bothered Diana that the thought of Teddy with another woman did not upset her as much as she had expected it would.

  While Diana had been wearing the nine-carat diamond engagement ring from Teddy on her left hand for quite some time, she had resisted setting a wedding date. He had been pushing her for the past few months to commit to finally getting married, bringing it up weekly. “Who’s engaged for four years?” he’d gripe. They had worked out their prenuptial agreement with little debate. Teddy didn’t blink when Diana’s lawyers proposed that she receive $100 million in cash and the New York apartment as well as use of a private jet for life in the event of a divorce. The last time he broached the subject, Diana again evaded giving him an answer.

  “Teddy, you’ve been so patient,” she said. “I have been so busy with the foundation. And I just want to give the planning of our wedding the attention it deserves.”

  “You know, it’s not like you have to do everything yourself,” he said. Diana thought he’d sounded more annoyed than usual when they last talked about setting a date.

  The dress had been another source of unwelcome stress. Diana had no intention of devoting anything close to the amount of time she’d spent working on creating her first wedding dress, but designers from around the world inundated her with sketches and letters once the engagement was announced. Donatella had invited her to Italy for a week after the announcement, and they’d talked about how excited Gianni would have been to design Diana’s dress. When she attended the Chanel show in Paris, the bride who always closed Karl’s shows was a Diana doppelganger in a dramatic all-lace gown. Afterward, as Diana and Karl exchanged air kisses backstage, he whispered, “I have the perfect dress for you, Diana. You will be the Queen of Al
l Modernity.” She and Teddy had agreed they’d have an intimate affair at his Southampton estate or possibly even elope and have a party for their families and closest friends at a later date. If they did get married at the beach, Diana had envisioned a very simple, sexy, floor-length, ivory column dress that showed off her shoulders. She loved the feminine dresses she’d seen at the Oscar de la Renta show and was planning on talking to the designer about what he might suggest. She had also visited Jacques Azagury the last time she was in London to talk about what he thought she should wear. Since he had designed many of her favorite evening dresses, she was sure he would create something beautiful that showed off her still enviable figure perfectly.

  Now, the more Teddy pushed, the less Diana would capitulate. “I just want it to be the right time,” she told him.

  “And when will that be?”

  “Teddy, please—”

  “Why do I feel like it’s never going to be the right time?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “This isn’t fair. What are we doing here, Diana?”

  Diana had begun to realize that Teddy was losing his patience with her—and if the item in the paper that morning was to be believed, perhaps he was losing interest as well. The time had come for her to either set a date with Teddy or face the very real possibility of a breakup. This had been her longest relationship since her marriage, and she had thought they were happy together. Or at least happy enough. They had begun living together in his Fifth Avenue apartment and shared the house in Southampton. She had given up her dream of having a daughter. Maybe one day she could adopt, she thought, but for now had contented herself to have her beloved sons. She traveled between New York and London to visit them when she could, spending a week with them at Kensington Palace every year at Christmastime. Diana and Teddy both traveled separately a great deal for their work, and while they made a concerted effort to accompany each other on their respective trips abroad, it was becoming more difficult to do so.