Page 27 of Next in Line

Ross continued to watch carefully for anyone who stepped into her path or clung on to her hand for a little too long. Despite having carried out a recce of the site earlier that morning, he knew he couldn’t afford to relax even for a second.

A gong sounded just before one o’clock. The toastmaster stepped forward and, with a booming voice worthy of a sergeant major, invited the guests to make their way through to the dining room as luncheon was about to be served.

The Princess hung back until everyone had left the room except Sir Magdi, who was waiting for the toastmaster to make a further announcement.

‘Please be upstanding for Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales, accompanied by your chairman, Sir Magdi Yacoub.’

Four hundred guests rose and applauded the Princess all the way to the top table, and no one sat down until she hadtaken her place. Not for the first time Ross thought how difficult it must be not to allow such unbridled adoration to go to one’s head.

His eyes continued to move restlessly around the crowded room of chattering guests who couldn’t hide their excitement at being there. He was asked a couple of times if he’d like to sit down and have some lunch, but politely declined, preferring to remain in the wings, just a few steps away from his charge. He hoped he would never have to walk out onto the centre of the stage and play a leading role.

While Diana enjoyed her smoked salmon and chatted to her neighbours on the top table, Ross watched the waiters vigilantly. In Russia, they would be considered the biggest threat.

Once the last plate had been cleared away and coffee served, the speeches began with the chairman’s introduction about the charity’s work, before he welcomed the guest of honour. The toastmaster placed a small lectern on the table in front of the Princess, and her lady-in-waiting handed her the speech, which she’d seen for the first time that morning; just enough time to add one or two personal comments.

The guests listened to Diana’s words with rapt attention, laughed at her jokes and, when she sat down, they rose as one to give her a standing ovation few politicians would ever experience. Not for the first time, Ross wondered if she ever thought about how different her life would have been if she hadn’t married the Prince of Wales.

It was finally the turn of the charity’s auctioneer to coax money out of the guests. He offered them everything from a box at the Royal Albert Hall for the Last Night of the Proms, to a couple of debenture seats for the women’s semi-finals at Wimbledon. After the last item had come under the hammer, he announcedthat the auction had raised £160,000 for the charity, which was greeted with further loud applause. The Princess leant across and whispered something in the auctioneer’s ear.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, returning to the microphone. ‘Her Royal Highness has agreed to sign your tablecloths for any generous person who will donate one thousand pounds to the charity.’

Several hands immediately shot up, and Ross accompanied the Princess as she moved from table to table, signing the white linen cloths, and a number of napkins – for £500 – using a black felt-tip pen supplied by her lady-in-waiting.

When she finally returned to the top table, the auctioneer announced that the charity had benefited by a further £42,000, making a grand total of £202,000 which would benefit disadvantaged children in need of heart surgery.

Once again, the audience rose to their feet, the sign it was time for the Princess to leave. Ross stepped forward and cleared a path to ensure she had an uninterrupted journey back to the main entrance. As she passed the auctioneer she whispered, ‘Thank you, Jeffrey, it never fails.’ The auctioneer bowed, but didn’t comment. During his time in the Met, Ross had often witnessed blatant deception, but never at a royal level. As the Princess stepped outside, the flashbulbs once again began to pop, while Ross continued to scan the crowd, some members of which had hung around for hours, hoping for a second glance.

Ross then witnessed one of those personal touches that made Diana so popular with the public. She spotted someone she recognized as having been there when she’d first arrived, and stopped to chat to them. Ross didn’t relax until she finally climbed into the back of the car, where Victoria was waiting for her.

The Jaguar moved slowly off, allowing Diana to continue waving until the last well-wisher was out of sight, when she breathed a deep sigh of relief.

‘Two hundred and two thousand, ma’am. Not bad,’ said Victoria as the car speeded up and two police outriders, their lights flashing and shrill whistles blasting at every junction, cleared the path for her smooth return to Kensington Palace.

‘What next?’ Diana asked.

‘Nothing else today, ma’am,’ said Victoria. ‘You can relax this evening and enjoyBlind Datewith Cilla Black.’

‘Perhaps I should enter?’ she said wistfully.

Ross had quickly come to realize that Diana never wanted to relax. The rush of adrenaline she experienced at these public functions was what kept her going. He still hadn’t told William that he’d yet to meet the Prince of Wales.

•••

‘It’s good of you to join us, BW,’ said Sir Julian, after Booth Watson arrived a few minutes late for their meeting, which didn’t surprise the home team. ‘I think you already know my junior, who assisted me when you and I crossed swords during Faulkner’s first trial.’

‘You needn’t look forward to the same result this time, young lady,’ said Booth Watson, giving Grace a patronizing smile and receiving a curt nod in return.

‘And my instructing solicitor for this case,’ Sir Julian continued, ignoring the barb, ‘will be Clare Sutton.’ Booth Watson barely acknowledged her before taking his seat on the other side of the table. ‘I thought it might be useful to have a preliminary discussion now that the trial date has been set.’

‘Couldn’t agree more,’ said Booth Watson, taking the Crown by surprise. ‘That’s assuming you have something worthwhile to offer that I can take back to my client for his consideration.’

‘Not a great deal,’ admitted Sir Julian, unwilling to reveal his hand. ‘We will be recommending that the judge doubles Mr Faulkner’s present sentence to sixteen years, which I doubt will come as a surprise to you. However,’ he continued before Booth Watson could respond, ‘Mr Justice Cummings has agreed to knock two years off the sentence if your client pleads guilty, which would save the court considerable time and expense.’

The three of them waited for the volcano to erupt, but no lava appeared.

‘I will put your offer to my client,’ said Booth Watson, ‘and let you know his response.’

‘Are there any mitigating circumstances that you would like us to consider at this juncture?’ asked Grace, delivering a well-prepared line.

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