Such arcane niceties were of no interest and less relevance to the multitude outside the palace gates, whose lamentations soon became a cacophony of abuse aimed at the royal family. To venture among the crowds in the days that followed and hear the insults was to be caught by a swell of raw passion which threatened to sweep all before it. Most had been drawn to Kensington Gardens and St James’s Park by the simple wish to share in the communal sense of sorrow, but as the numbers grew, so the ambience shifted and darkened. Young and old, the well-off as well as the dispossessed who had formed Diana’s natural constituency, were asking how the royal family could be so uncaring, so out of touch, so heartless. Her death had turned out to be a catalyst, and resentments that had lain dormant for years came spewing to the surface. A moral audit was being conducted: the royal family was revealed to be deeply into the red and a country that had prided itself on its steadfastness and its stability appeared to be edging to the brink of razing an institution it had been raised to venerate.

By now, the calls to Balmoral had acquired a terrible urgency and the daily bulletins from Prince Charles’s household were becoming increasingly bleak. They reported a growing mood of ‘real hatred’, and urged the prince to try to persuade his parents to order an immediate return to Buckingham Palace.

Reflecting the changing mood, the Queen realised there would have to be a full-blown funeral at Westminster Abbey, so plans were made for a meeting between the Spencer family, Charles’s staff and the Queen’s men. Sir Robin Janvrin remained at Balmoral trying to co-ordinate everything via speakerphone with the palace. There was a disagreement about what role the boys would play at the funeral – if any. The Queen and Philip were opposed to them being involved, as they were in shock. The Spencers’ representatives were saying what they thought the involvement of the boys should be when Philip’s voice came booming over the phone: ‘Stop telling us what to do with those boys! They’ve lost their mother! You’re talking about them as if they are commodities. Have you any idea what they are going through?!’

Prince Philip had virtually lost his own mother at the age of ten when she was committed to an asylum in Switzerland. He also lost his favourite sister and her family in an air crash in 1937 when he was sixteen. So to some extent he understood what William and Harry were suffering. They both loved their grandpa, who would take them shooting, duck-flighting and watch them speed round the go-kart track at Balmoral. They took no notice of his gruffness and acerbic comments. They just liked being around him, and during that strange, surreal week they were glad of his reassuring presence.