She acknowledged, as she had to, the qualities which had touched the hearts of so many of the people who could be seen in the background. ‘First, I want to pay tribute to Diana myself. She was an exceptional and gifted human being. In good times and bad, she never lost her capacity to smile and laugh, nor to inspire others with her warmth and kindness. I admired and respected her – for her energy and commitment to others and especially for her devotion to her boys.’

She explained the royal family’s decision to stay in Scotland. ‘This week at Balmoral we have all been trying to help William and Harry come to terms with the devastating loss that they and the rest of us have suffered.’

And she promised a new beginning. ‘I for one,’ the Queen said, ‘believe that there are lessons to be drawn from her life and from the extraordinary and moving reaction to her death.’

The address was designed to pacify and appease a country which, in the space of a few short days, had become thoroughly disenchanted with its ruling family. It was written by Sir Robert Fellowes and checked by Blair’s press spokesman Alastair Campbell, who had added in the sentimental but apposite ‘grandmother’ reference. It was not quite the wholehearted apologia many took it to be, however.

The Queen had been drawn to breaking point and it had left her flustered, perplexed – and angry. Her authority had been challenged, her good intentions called into question, the character of her family cast into the gravest doubt. The Queen was spared most of the vitriol; even in this moment of crisis, the British people’s peculiar, almost mystical attachment to their monarch still held fast. It was the other members of the royal clan – the amorphous ‘them’ – who were being blamed for what had happened. But that was hardly any reassurance. The atmosphere in the Mall was charged with hostility and the Queen had just seen and heard at first hand how incensed so many of her subjects were and how thoroughly disillusioned they had become with the family she heads. It was without doubt the worst juncture of her reign. But if the situation was grave, she was still the Queen – ‘your Queen’ as she reminded the millions who watched her speech – and this elderly lady who had sat on the throne for almost half a century was not going to bow too deeply to the hordes at the palace gates.

As she walked off the makeshift set she asked, ‘Was that contrite enough?’ It was not a question. It was a joke, but one delivered without a trace of humour and there was steely resolve in her voice.