Prince William (49 page)

Without some timely advice from the Queen, the number of strangers might have been even higher. His office had been doing a little homework and at that first meeting, two days after the announcement, produced a list of guests the Lord Chamberlain recommended should be invited, according to protocol. It ran to 777 names – ambassadors, lord lieutenants, chancellors of universities, all sorts of people William neither knew nor cared about. ‘Oh my God,' he said, ‘I can't possibly do this' – there would be almost as many strangers as there would be friends and relations. So they tore up the list, and without any prompting from his team, William turned to his grandmother. Recounting the story to Robert Hardman, for his recent biography,
Our Queen
, William said, ‘I rang her up the next day and said: “Do we need to be doing this?”And she said: “No. Start with your friends first and then go from there.” She made the point that there are certain times when you have to strike the right balance [between personal and duty]. And it's advice like that, which is really key, when you know that she's seen and done it before.'

‘He had no experience of big state weddings,' says one of the team, so his starting point was very different from his father, who did have a cathedral full of strangers. ‘By the time Charles was married he had been invested in a coronation-like ceremony at
Caernarfon Castle and was very used to big formal events with lots of pageantry, where you're an actor on the stage. William has not had that experience, so he approached his wedding day, genuinely, as, “I take thee, Catherine, to be my wife,” and that was the most important thing about it.

‘He had complete freedom to do what he wanted. It was very interesting. There's this assumption that the Queen is a real stickler for protocol and formality, but not at all. He's learned from her that you take the best of tradition and when you do it, you do it beautifully and well, but you start with what you want out of the event, because only then will it have any integrity, and feel like an event that the principals want to be at.'

In the run-up to the wedding, William saw his grandmother for about half an hour every week – it was timetabled into her schedule – and if they couldn't arrange a meeting, they spoke on the phone at length. They talked through every aspect of what he was planning for the day. His call would always be put straight through to her if she was free, and sometimes he would get her on her mobile phone (yes, at eighty-six she tweets and has a mobile). The conversations would be a mixture of gossip and general chit-chat, with William sometimes asking for advice, and being reminded, humorously, that the last time she gave him advice, he chose to ignore it.

She was the one person he could turn to when he was being pressurised or pulled in different directions. She was of great help to him, both practically and emotionally, in guiding him through his big day and helping him achieve everything he wanted from it.

Early in the process, before they had even confirmed a date, the team sat down to discuss the media plan, knowing it would be in five or six months. They had an idea about how to play it; envisaging a steady flow of information throughout the period. William had a different and very strong view of his own. There had been a tremendous amount of media coverage in the week or so since the engagement; he wanted it to die down and for further information to be held back for as long as possible. The
bulk of the details should be released no more than two or three weeks before the wedding, and he wanted to hold back a few secrets for the day itself. They take their hats off to him. ‘I don't think there's a single person out there who looked at that media plan and didn't think, God, that was a really good strategy in terms of how you don't over-cook it, don't let people get bored. It was entirely his idea.'

There were obviously a few things that couldn't wait: the date, Friday, 29 April (which would be a bank holiday), and the place, Westminster Abbey. The Abbey would inevitably be filled with memories of his mother, and maybe that was why he chose it, but it is also a beautiful building and a big space with the illusion, in the chancel, of a much smaller church. In January a few more details were released, but the rest only started trickling out in the month before. It would be an 11 a.m. start, Kate would travel to the Abbey by car, not the traditional coach; the Dean of Westminster, the Very Reverend Dr John Hall, would conduct the service, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Rowan Williams, would marry them, and the Bishop of London, Dr Richard Chartres, would give the address. They would make the journey back to Buckingham Palace in a carriage procession via Parliament Square, Whitehall, Horse Guards Arch, Horse Guards Parade and the Mall; the Queen would host a lunchtime reception for guests representing the couple's official and private lives; and in the evening the Prince of Wales would host a private dinner at the Palace for close friends and family, followed by dancing.

Another early announcement was that they were setting up a Royal wedding gift fund and asking anyone wanting to give them a present to make a donation instead to one of twenty-six little-known charities, which they chose together. It was the first time anything like this had been done and it raised over a million pounds.

There were three things the team agreed to keep secret until the day: the name of the designer Kate had chosen for her wedding dress – and they are astonished that the secret held; the vows, hymns and music – the very personal elements of the service; and
the use of Prince Charles's Aston Martin – his twenty-first birthday present from the Queen – as their ‘going away' car. Their reasoning was simply that with so much information going into the public arena in advance, they wanted everyone to experience some of the same surprises that arise at normal weddings.

There was early speculation that Richard Chartres might marry them, as he was a friend, but that was never a possibility. After the engagement, he did, however, quietly prepare Kate for confirmation into the Church of England. William accompanied her, and she was confirmed in March in a private and very small service at the Chapel Royal in St James's Palace. Only William and her family were present. As she explained, she chose not to do it at school when all her peers were being confirmed as if it were some sort of social rite of passage, but wanted to do it when it would really mean something.

Her husband, of course, will one day be Defender of the Faith, or, more probably, Defender of Faith, which is his father's preferred term, better suited to Britain's multi-faith society. William has a genuine faith, like his father, but he is a typical old-fashioned Anglican, who doesn't shout about it but quietly goes about his life following Christian ethics. He is not an extreme Anglican, as a number of his and Kate's friends are. They are members of Holy Trinity, Brompton (HTB), ‘a vibrant Anglican church in the heart of London' is how it describes itself, ‘with a vision to play our part in the re-evangelisation of the nations and the transformation of society.' It has particular appeal, some would say alarming appeal, to the young, particularly the moneyed, middle and upper classes in Britain, and HTB devised the Alpha course, which is on its way to taking over the world.

William has great respect for Richard Chartres, and over the years has spoken at length to him. He is a charismatic character who has great passion, presence and authority – also humanity and intellect; one can't help but be impressed by him. As one of the Household says, ‘He is William's kind of bishop, the sort who rolls his sleeves up, and who believes in muscular Christianity, not
intellectual, theological Christianity. His is much more William's end of the faith spectrum.'

When a massive earthquake hit the New Zealand city of Christchurch in February, two months before the wedding, William was working flat out, desperately trying to get his hours in because of the time he would be taking off for the wedding. He was flying day and night, and when he wasn't he was dealing with wedding arrangements. Yet, as shocking scenes of destruction filled our television screens, so soon after the horrifying images of floods and cyclones in Australia, his instinct was to show them they were not forgotten. There was heavy loss of life, homes and livelihoods in both countries and he wanted to stand alongside their shattered communities.

His Household knew his affection for the Antipodes, but also knew his workload, and didn't think in a million years that William would consider going. Then they received a phone call. ‘The Royal Family has got to do something here,' William said. ‘We've got to get down there and see them. Can you please ask who's going and if it's being debated, please put my hat in the ring? I really want to do this.' He pushed and pushed and wouldn't take no for an answer, and in the end he simply said, ‘I'm off. I've got permission from my instructors to do this, let's go.'

His office normally clears any potential engagements with his search and rescue bosses, but he had done it himself, ‘so you can't use that as an excuse,' he said. ‘I've done it.'

In both countries people were so happy to see him, and grateful that he'd taken the trouble to come. Repeatedly people said his visit had boosted their morale. He looked in horror at the disaster zones, commiserated with the bereaved, chatted to survivors and congratulated the bravery of rescue workers. It was sombre stuff but he unfalteringly judged when the moment was right to leaven it with a little humour, and in some places he was treated like a rock star. ‘Marry me, Prince William!' shouted a girl in the crowd in Australia. ‘I'm sorry,' he said, ‘you're too late!' Many people asked about Kate and congratulated him on his engagement, and when
a New Zealander, no doubt speaking for thousands, said, ‘We can't believe you've done this just before your wedding,' he said, ‘Come on,' giving it the seriousness it deserved, ‘a wedding is one thing but what's happened here in Christchurch is completely different.'

Speaking to a crowd of 30,000 people at a memorial service for the victims, he began with the Maori greeting, ‘
Tena koutou katoa.
Today I represent the Queen. I convey to you Her Majesty's message of deep sympathy and condolence. My grandmother once said that grief is the price we pay for love. Here, today, we love … and we grieve.'

He went on to say, ‘I also bring a personal message. It arises from seeing this tragedy unfold from afar. It is a message about strength through kindness, about fortitude. For you who are so close to these events, and who have lost so much, it must be hard to grasp the degree of admiration – and indeed awe – with which you are regarded by the rest of the world. Courage and understated determination have always been the hallmark of New Zealanders and Cantabrians. These things the world has long known. But to see them so starkly demonstrated over these terrible, painful months has been humbling. Put simply, you are an inspiration to all people.

‘I count myself enormously privileged to be here to tell you that. This community, more than any other in the world at the moment, can appreciate the full horror of what is unfolding in Japan. Our thoughts and prayers are with them, too.

‘In the last two days,' he concluded, ‘I have heard tales of great tragedy – but also of extraordinary bravery and selfless courage. Throughout, one phrase unites them all. With the Queen's heartfelt good wishes, and those of the Prince of Wales and other members of my family, I say it to you now:
kia kaha
. Be strong.'

William was genuinely moved but also uplifted by everything he saw and heard in both countries. His speech in Christchurch, the most formal part of the visit, hit the perfect tone and was delivered with confidence and authority – also perfect timing. And although by the end of the five days he was emotionally drained, the trip had been a personal triumph.

If one had to pinpoint the moment when Prince William turned from an exceptional young man into a future King, that trip was it.

On his return to work, after a very long sleep, he told Robert Hardman that he had ‘the most wonderful letter' from the Queen, ‘saying “Congratulations and well done, you did well down there,” which meant a lot to me. It's funny but when you get a letter from her or a bit of praise, it goes a long, long way, more so than anyone else saying, “Well done” to you. It's mainly because there's such gravitas behind those words. I say to people, “She's my grandmother to me first and then she's the Queen.” Words that come from her, I take very personally and I really appreciate.'

Curiously, they are not words she has often addressed to her eldest son – praise is not common currency among the older members of the Royal Family – but perhaps the generation gap has made for an easier relationship. Or perhaps the Queen just has a soft spot for her rather special grandson.

A RIGHT ROYAL CELEBRATION

The night before the wedding, the streets outside Clarence House and Buckingham Palace looked more like a festival site than busy London thoroughfares. People of all ages came in their thousands, and some with tents and sleeping bags had been there for a couple of days. They had tables and chairs, picnics, thermoses and bottles of champagne, some were in silly hats, some wrapped in Union Jacks, some waving paper flags, some from London, some from beyond, some from the other side of the world; all of them were in carnival mood and good voice. It was a giant jolly street party; everyone excited about what the morning would bring, everyone wanting to be a part of the big day, and to wish the couple luck.

At 8.30 p.m., to shrieks of surprise and delight, William and Harry appeared from Clarence House to say hello to them all. ‘You're amazing,' said William. ‘These crowds are amazing. Thank you so much.' For ten minutes he and his brother walked up and down chatting, joking, laughing and shaking hundreds of hands. William admitted he was a little nervous about the day ahead but said all he had to do was get his lines right. ‘Will you be here tomorrow?' he asked one group. ‘Oh good. Will you wave? I'll wave back.' It was an inspired gesture that set the tone for the following day to perfection. April 29th was a day that would be remembered and written about for decades to come, a dazzling Royal spectacle, but in essence it was about an ordinary young man, made extraordinary because he happened to have been born to be King. The press credited Paddy and Miguel with what it
called a public relations masterstroke, but it had little to do with the Prince's professional PR team.