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  I pointed out that all soldiers had mothers. She was silent for a bit and then said that her sons were special because they were the only men in her life. I asked her how things were with Charles. She looked at me and I could see the pain in her eyes.

  One of the first differences Ken Wharfe noticed about the two princes was William’s inclination to conform, to obey, in sharp contrast to Harry’s need even then to explore beyond the rigid boundaries of royal life. Wharfe recalls that on occasions when the elder boy told his sibling he was doing something he ought not to, Harry would reply, ‘I can do what I like because I’m not going to be king. You can’t because you are.’ Noticing the distinction the two boys were making for themselves, Diana took to calling her second son GKH which she told him stood for Good King Harry.

  ‘Yes, Harry was always the more adventurous of the two,’ says Wharfe.

  Even when he was a small boy he showed signs of enjoying danger. He used to come to me in that little camouflage outfit Diana had had made for him – he never took it off – and ask me for ‘assignments’, saying that soldiers used them so he needed to know how they worked. On one occasion I lent him a two-way police radio and told him to go and report to his aunt, Jane Fellowes, who lived in a lodge close by, well within the palace grounds. He duly did and radioed in: ‘Ken, this is Harry reporting; assignment complete.’ I then told him to go to the police officer on the gate and report back to me when he got there, but he didn’t. I started to get worried when several times he failed to answer my call. Eventually he came in with the ‘Ken, this is Harry’ call sign. ‘Wow, Harry,’ I said, ‘where on earth are you?’ because I could hear traffic in the background. ‘Just a minute while I check,’ he said. ‘Oh right, I’m outside Tower Records on the high street.’ Needless to say my feet didn’t touch the ground as I ran to fetch him. He was only doing what inquisitive boys of that age do, but of course Harry was no ordinary boy.

  On another occasion Harry was being taught to drive (at no more than seven years old) in his father’s Land Rover Discovery. When the lesson was over he demonstrated the kind of obstinacy which more than once had earned him a smacked bottom from his protection officer. Refusing an instruction to step out of the vehicle, he reached over from the front passenger seat and jammed his foot down hard on the accelerator, causing the car to plunge forward and crash into a stone wall. Miraculously there was no discernible damage to the vehicle but, had there been, how could anyone have blamed Harry? After all, as he pointed out later, it was the policeman who was in the driving seat when the accident occurred.

  Of the frequent appearances by other men (and one woman) in the Waleses’ marital home, Wharfe says that, while William could be circumspect, Harry – who often greeted surprised guests by wearing his American baseball cap back-to-front – was the one who assessed the visitors for their fun factor. And it was James Hewitt who always came top of the pops. By the time Wharfe had been drafted into royal duties by Scotland Yard in September 1986, Diana’s affair with Hewitt was already well known and the policeman was urged to be as discreet as possible.

  There was never any danger of the boys finding Hewitt in Diana’s private suite since their own room was in the attic of Kensington Palace’s apartments 8 and 9 and they were never allowed to go downstairs uninvited until their nanny – who was also in on the secret, as was just about everybody who worked at the palace – had made sure the coast was clear. There was one dangerous moment, however, when Harry was exploring his mother’s dressing table and discovered a ‘piece of treasure’. It was a gold fob watch inscribed with the words ‘I will love you always’. ‘Is this going to be Daddy’s birthday present?’ he asked. ‘Yes,’ she lied.

  Harry liked his mum best when she was her normal self and never was the Princess more so than when she took her sons to visit her mother, Frances Shand Kydd, at the whitewashed farmhouse on the remote island of Seil, a few miles south of Oban, where she lived alone. There, when Diana washed up after their meals, Harry insisted on being ‘dryer-up’ of the dishes. There was no stress and there were no photographers since the visits chez Shand Kydd were always kept a closely guarded secret. Harry marvelled at the sight of his mother doing the domestic chores that over-attentive staff would never have allowed her to do in KP or at Highgrove. She even ironed Ken Wharfe’s shirts and there was much laughter in the house when doing so on one occasion as the bath towel she was wearing slipped off and she was left standing naked for a few moments in front of her sons and the police protection officer. Harry laughed, William laughed and Wharfe politely turned away as she picked up the towel and re-covered herself.

  Harry loved Grandma Frances not only for being ‘normal’ but also because she brought an atmosphere of calm with her when she came to visit the Waleses at Highgrove: Diana obviously thought the world of her and, despite their early differences, Charles respected Mrs Shand Kydd for not interfering, even though she was well aware of the extramarital goings on in both his and her daughter’s life. Harry was especially fond of her for taking him on long walks when she visited, listening to his tales of adventure as they strolled through the countryside. Charles has his late mother-in-law to thank for teaching both his sons that they were human beings first and foremost, and royals second. When the royal yacht Britannia sailed close to Mrs Shand Kydd’s home, taking the Royal Family to Balmoral where the Queen has spent her summer holiday every year of her life, they would assemble on deck and wave to Frances, who would stand at the edge of her oceanside garden to acknowledge the gesture. ‘Oh,’ Harry said to his mother one year, ‘I wish we were going there for the hols.’ Like his mother he was not especially keen on his other grandmother’s castle and the formal welcome by its immense staff – seventeen gardeners, five cooks, four scullery maids and the sixty bagpipers who traditionally gave a noisy performance of what was definitely not his kind of music.

  Although, through sheer determination, William was more knowledgeable than his brother when he was his age, soon after Harry joined him at the pre-prep Wetherby School the younger boy was reckoned to be the cleverer of the two and was quickly placed in the top group whereas William had to settle for a class with the averages. Harry was a chancer and if he didn’t know the answer to a question he made one up and his guesses often proved to be right. Even in the playground he took chances, just as he was to do later in life when he gave no thought to the dangers of going to war. ‘We worried about him a little,’ says an ex-Wetherby teacher,

  because he always did what he wanted with no fear of the consequences. When I warned him about walking in front of oncoming cars, he simply sniffed and said he wasn’t bothered because they weren’t allowed to knock him down. Has anyone told you about their go-kart adventures when they weren’t at school? His mother told me that Harry was a particularly dangerous driver and had many a spill but she just laughed it off and ‘made it better’ by kissing where it hurt. She got Ken Wharfe to arrange a driving lesson for him from [Formula One driver] Jackie Stewart at Silverstone but, to Diana’s amusement, he still went hell-for-leather and inevitably crashed on the bends. Charles eventually put a stop to it, the Queen having complained about the early-morning noise of the screaming engines beneath her bedroom window after, on one occasion, Diana had allowed the boys to take the karts with them for an overnight stay at Windsor. Diana wasn’t happy about that. She was all for allowing the boys – especially adventurous Harry – their freedom. I was told later by someone I kept in touch with at KP that she even laughed it off when she heard Harry had had his first few puffs on a cigarette at the age of eight. It can’t have pleased his anti-smoking father though and, of course, it led to a life-long habit.

  Harry still smokes to this day, although he does his best to avoid doing so when there’s a photographer around.

  Although Harry’s mother continued to be extremely generous to him and his brother (often to Charles’s great annoyance), she never hesitated to put on her frugal face when others were spending money. On one occas
ion, after a shopping expedition to buy ‘surprise presents’ for the boys in Harrods, she went around the corner to San Lorenzo – the Italian restaurant run by her friend and ‘fixer’, the motherly Mara Berni. Prince Philip had previously tried to discourage her from frequenting the venue which, he said, he’d been reliably informed was ‘over-priced and frequented by show-business hangers-on’. In defiance of his advice she arranged specifically to have lunch with a girlfriend there. Ken Wharfe who, as always, had seen her safely to her table, went back upstairs to maintain his protective stance in the entrance area which doubles as a bar.

  Sipping an orange juice, he was informed by a waiter that Diana required his presence in the basement dining room: her friend was running considerably behind schedule and she wanted Wharfe to sit with her at the table. As she ordered her lunch, Ken was offered, and accepted, a bowl of pasta to keep her company. He had barely finished it when Diana demanded, ‘And who’s going to pay for that?’ When Wharfe told her that he would be paying for the £11 starter himself, a suddenly cross Princess declared: ‘And you’ll put it on your expenses so the taxpayer will be paying!’

  Having returned to his post by the upstairs bar, Wharfe was subsequently informed that his charge was ready to leave but did not require the limousine waiting outside for her with chauffeur Simon at the wheel. Instead she wished to go a few doors up the street to Kanga – the exclusive (and highly expensive) boutique owned by her friend, Lady Tryon. She picked out three dresses and asked her ever-present protection officer, ‘What do you think of my choices?’ Wharfe, somewhat surprised by the thousands-of-pounds price tags, asked on what special occasions she was going to wear them. ‘Oh, I’m going to Pakistan with my friend Jemima [Khan],’ she replied, adding, ‘and there’s bound to be one or two meetings with VIPs.’ ‘Oh,’ said Ken savouring the moment, ‘so the taxpayer will be paying.’

  Diana learned much about penny-pinching from her husband. Once, on his farm at Highgrove, Charles was asked if he would make a small presentation to a policeman who had guarded his precious chickens for a number of years. The Prince grumbled but, sure enough, he was there on the day and made a glowing speech about the member of the constabulary who had done so much to watch over his treasured birds. Then he handed him a reward for his years of service: half a dozen eggs laid by the very same hens. Most of the royals – certainly the old-school ones – believe that they should receive valuable presents but not give them. It’s ingrained.

  When the Duke of Kent travelled to Poole Harbour to make a presentation he was rewarded by the owner of one boat with a handsome fleece made to his exact measurements. The generous donor had had two others made up to size – one for the Duke’s accompanying private secretary and another for his policeman. Alas, the Duke was not happy when he learned he was not getting all three. When the policeman pointed out, ‘You can only wear one, sir,’ the minor royal replied, ‘I know, but they make rather nice Christmas presents.’

  Years later, following his departure from her service, Wharfe was photographed by the paparazzi talking to Diana in a London mews after she had spotted him and stepped out of her black Audi for a chat. Wharfe was astonished to see the pictures subsequently used in one newspaper with a headline suggesting the chance meeting was in fact a lovers’ tryst. He sued and won damages but when he next saw the fabulously rich Princess she asked him quite seriously for her share. Noticing the surprise on his face she said, ‘Well, they libelled me, too, but obviously I couldn’t sue, so hand over my half please.’

  However, Harry has always been generous and positively despised meanness. He frequently took toys to Wetherby to give to his special friends and was always popular as a result. To this day he donates money, in addition to his time, to charity and when there is a tab to pick up during nights out with his friends, he is the first to grab it.

  Harry and William acquired future playmates with the births of their cousins, Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie. Their Aunt Sarah gave birth to both at the Portland Hospital in London, Beatrice on 8 August 1988 and then Eugenie on 23 March 1990, a time when Fergie’s marriage to Prince Andrew seemed to be sound. The same could not be said for the Waleses’ union. Only days after the Queen had expressed her delight at the arrival of another grandchild, a member of staff walked into a room at Highgrove to discover Charles on his knees picking up broken glass from the floor – he and Diana had had another fight and this time their sons were close enough to have heard the screaming row. A maid, Michelle Riles, had once described the carnage she discovered in Charles and Diana’s bedroom (he’d eventually gone to sleep in his dressing room) at Balmoral after what had obviously been a bitter confrontation. The maid (who had a fling with Prince Edward the same summer) said it looked as though the Second World War had just taken place but, fortunately, at that stage there were no children to overhear the fracas. Nor was either boy present in Japan when Diana came down the stairs to attend a reception in a red tartan Catherine Walker dress. She ran back to their suite when Charles told her, ‘You look like a British Caledonian air stewardess.’

  Harry later made it known to an army colleague that although he was barely five years old, he noticed a distinct change in his mother’s mood when Hewitt was posted to Germany and subsequently to the Gulf, but that mood soon changed when she met a new man. It was in the summer of 1989 that Harry reluctantly acquired a new father figure in the form of James Gilbey, who used to refer to him and William (to their horror) as ‘the lovebugs’. Harry did not like Gilbey and said he was ‘no fun and a bit wet’. With Hewitt out of the country a lonely Diana had accepted an invitation to party with a couple of pedigree chums from the Gilbey and Guinness dynasties. The party was hosted by the former Julia Guinness, daughter of the brewing family. Julia was the sister of one of Diana’s bêtes noires, Sabrina Guinness, who had had a passionate fling with Charles in 1979 that still rankled with Diana when they bumped into each other at the hairdressers soon after her marriage. ‘Somewhat indignantly she asked me, “Is that who I think it is?”’ says the hairdresser Kevin Shanley. ‘I wish you had told me one of his exes would be here.’

  Julia, on the other hand, was extremely popular with the Princess and she was happy to go to her party having been assured that Sabrina would not be there. One of the guests was Gilbey, a member of the Gilbey’s Gin family, whose motto was ‘Honour and Virtue’. Over a few drinks, Diana shared her troubles with the young motor trade executive. She was helpless and angry, desperately in need of a soulmate and Gilbey was the right man to listen: ‘He makes a woman feel special – like she is the only person in the world who matters to him,’ she told one confidante.

  Gilbey, a darkly handsome Libran who had known Diana in her bachelor days, was shocked by the goings-on Diana revealed about her husband and the wife of Brigadier Parker Bowles, and how anxious she was to protect Harry and William from the looming scandal. Before she returned to the Palace, where her sons were sleeping soundly in the attic, Diana gave him her telephone number and urged him to call. He did and they met several times in the ensuing weeks. It wasn’t long before the well-informed photographer, Jason Fraser, was on hand to snap her leaving Gilbey’s one-bedroom flat in the early hours of the morning.

  Harry, meanwhile was preoccupied with two big events – a party arranged for his fifth birthday on 15 September and his duties as a pageboy at the wedding of Diana’s brother Charles to model Victoria Lockwood at St Mary’s Church, Great Brington, close to the Spencer stately home Althorp House. The other pageboy was Alexander Fellowes, son of Viscount Althorp’s sister, Lady Jane. Determined not to be outdone, Harry sat patiently for a fitting of his outfit, even though at one point he described it as a ‘bit girlish’. He especially resented having to wear a dark green hat trimmed with burgundy taffeta and was amused by his mother’s annoyance when his nanny had to tell Diana that someone had got his head measurements wrong and was hopeful he wouldn’t have to wear it. To his great disappointment, the milliner Marina Killery was able to make
some hasty adjustments to the dreaded headgear.

  One of the few Diana told about Gilbey was her sister-in-law, the Duchess of York. By now, however, Fergie was having marital troubles herself: her sailor husband wasn’t coming home on his shore leave but going to his old quarters at Buckingham Palace or Windsor Castle or spending time with Elizabeth Nocon, the wife of his photographic guru, Gene Nocon. Nevertheless, the Duchess had unexpectedly fallen pregnant with her second child and, working hard to promote her first two Budgie books, had little time to listen to Diana’s woes. She was also about to embark on an affair of her own with Steve Wyatt, the stepson of American oil tycoon, Oscar Wyatt.

  One week before Christmas, Prince Charles made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. Lying on his bed in the early hours of the morning at Eaton Hall in Cheshire, home of his close friend Anne, the Duchess of Westminster, he picked up his mobile phone and called Camilla. It was an X-rated conversation, picked up and recorded by a radio scanner and subsequently broadcast to the world. Charles and Camilla could no longer conceal their secret from the world at large and especially not from Harry and William.

  Little more than a week later, Diana was caught in the same trap. It was New Year’s Eve and she was at Sandringham with the Queen. Harry and William had been put to bed and her husband was downstairs with the other royals preparing to welcome in 1990. Quite alone, Diana dialled Gilbey’s number. Gilbey was travelling to spend the night with friends near Abingdon when the call came through. He pulled into a lay-by on the downs near Newbury to listen as Diana began to pour forth her anguish, never knowing that Harry and William would hear what she had to say: ‘I was very bad at lunch and I nearly started blubbing. I just felt really sad and empty and I thought, “Bloody hell, after all I’ve done for this f***ing family”.’