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My copy of Prince H a r r y ’s memoir “Spare” arrived this past weekend. I have yet to crack the spine of the book, but I have read excerpts that bring to light an insider’s look at the lives of the not so merry wives of Windsor and their harried husbands.
Prince Harry is the second child of King Charles III (formerly Charles, Prince of Wales) and the late Diana, Princess of Wales. The title of his book refers to his status as the required second child in royal marriages. Each couple in the British royal family is required to produce an heir and a spare. The spare, as the name suggests, is a backup. Kind of like the first runner-up in the Miss America pageant. The spare takes over the duties of the older sibling in case that sibling fails to accomplish his or her duties or dies under mysterious circumstances.
I was enamored with the British royals when I was growing up. While other students at Lexington High School had pictures of Molly Ringwald and Rob Lowe in their lockers, I had pictures of Diana and her brother-in-law Prince Edward on whom I had a crush. I even wrote a letter to him supporting his decision to quit the Royal Marines. I received a reply from his private secretary assuring me that he was pleased to receive my letter.
Diana was my idol. I copied her hairstyle and her makeup, but couldn’t quite replicate her fashion as Leggett did not carry Catherine Walker frocks. I couldn’t afford them anyway.
I subscribed to both Royalty Monthly and Majesty magazines for years and read each periodical cover to cover. I bought supermarket tabloids any time Diana’s visage appeared on the cover.
I never thought that Diana and Charles would divorce, but they did. I hoped that her post-divorce life would allow her the freedom and happiness that she was denied when she was married to Charles. But not long after her divorce, she fell for a man named Dodi Fayed. On an August night in Paris, Diana and Dodi were pursued by paparazzi in the Pont de l’Alma tunnel. The Mercedes Benz in which they were traveling crashed. Diana survived the crash, but Dodi and the chauffeur were found dead inside the car. Bodyguard Trevor Rees-Jones was seriously injured.
I remember that night. I was working the graveyard shift at the Hampton Inn. Guests were watching the news coverage on TV in the parlor across from the front desk. I watched with them. I heard that Diana was in grave condition. I saw the twisted wreck of the car in which she and her lover were fleeing from the paparazzi. I remarked, “She’s lucky to be alive.”
And then she wasn’t. I don’t know who announced that she was dead. I only remember the words. “The Princess of Wales has died.”
Prince Harry’s father informed him that his mother died. Harry did not cry until her burial. He recalls in his memoir shaking the hands of the masses mourning his mother’s passing. Their hands were wet from wiping their tears.
Diana said in an interview with Martin Bashir in 1995, two years before her death, that she knew she’d never be queen. She could only hope to be queen of people’s hearts.
Harry is very much his mother’s son. Diana collaborated with Andrew Morton on the best-selling book “Diana: Her True Story.” Harry has taken one step further – he’s written a memoir with a ghost writer.
Today is Wednesday, my day off. I will begin Prince Harry’s book. I will share my thoughts on the book in my next column.
This is the letter and Prince Edward postcard I received from Buckingham Palace in August 1990.
