The royals - Kitty Kelley [146]
To save face, Barbara Cartland gave a party for the volunteers of the St. John’s Ambulance Brigade. Forgoing her usual costume of ostrich feathers, she wore the tailored brown uniform of the Order of St. John and appeared on international television in a feature about the organization. She asserted that the St. John volunteers were devoted to providing “a Christian answer to the problems of a troubled and materialistic world.”
By then even the spiritual participants were cashing in on the royal wedding. The Archbishop of Canterbury had divulged to the media details of a private conversation he had had with Charles and Diana.* And the three choirs of St. Paul’s Cathedral had collected $1,200 each for 250 singers. By comparison, Barbara Cartland seemed positively benign.
During one of her conversations with Charles in Australia, Diana said she felt overwhelmed by having to learn so much in such a short time. “I’m so excited that I can’t concentrate properly,” she said. “I miss you very much.”
“I miss you, too,” he said, adding that he was late for a party but his hosts would have to wait. “I’ve done my duty all day and now I’m talking to my fiancée, whom I love very much.” He told her about the Di look-alikes who had greeted him at the airport in Australia. “Not as good as the real thing,” he said. She giggled. He complained about the press.
“During the whole trip, this guy had nothing better to do than to try to take photographs of the bald patch on my head.”
Diana laughed. “I didn’t know you had a bald patch.”
“It’s too stupid. I’m doing all of these things and the only thing they want are these ridiculous details.”
“I think it’s very funny.”
“Yes. As children, we were all very amused at the way my father tried to hide his baldness.”
“Oh, I really hope that yours is not as big as his,” she said. “In any event, you seem to have much more fun than I do.”
This was as close as Diana came to complaining about her royal tutelage. She pretended to Charles that she adored the Queen Mother but told friends she was “virtually ignored” for the few days she stayed with her in Clarence House. After Diana was moved into Buckingham Palace, she was given a small office near Oliver Everett, Charles’s assistant private secretary. Everett was amused the first time she bounced into his office wearing headphones and workout tights. He soon learned that her weekly dance class took precedence over every other activity and that she loved rock and roll. “I actually wanted to be a dancer,” she said, “but I overshot the height by a long way.” She watched television day and night and was devoted to soap operas. The courtier began his classes in how to be a princess by giving Diana instructions on her royal engagements, which would average 170 a year and include Ascot, Trooping the Color, Badminton Horse Trials, Opening of Parliament, Chelsea Flower Show, Wimbledon, Garden Parties, Cowes Regatta, Hospital benefits, charities, and anything for the military.
The Queen’s lady-in-waiting, Susan Hussey, helped Everett guide the Princess-to-be through the maze of royal rules: wear hats in public and bright colors to stand out; wave from the elbow, not the wrist; never use a public lavatory. “The worst thing about being a princess,” said Diana years later, “is having to pee.”
Everett hit his first snag when he recommended a course of study and gave Diana several history books to read about her future role as Princess of Wales. In the throes of bulimia, and lonely for Charles, she balked. When the equerry left the room, she told a friend that she threw the books on the floor. “If he thinks I’m reading these,” she said, “he’s got another think coming.”
Weak from losing weight,