Summary
Paris, 31 August, 1997. The car that sped into the Pont de l'Alma tunnel at 23 minutes past midnight was carrying the most famous woman in the world.
The icon of blondeness, whose long legs were crossed in the back seat of the black Mercedes, was at the end of a chaotic night out and her mood was sour.See the full content of this document
Extract
Diana:The Final Chapter ; Next Week:Camilla Thought Diana Was Gormless the Perfect Bride for Charles
You could see her displeasure in the tight expression caught by the security camera as she pushed quickly through the revolving doors of the Ritz hotel's back exit.
Arthur Edwards, the dean of royal photographers, knew that look well. For 16 years there hadn't been a mood of the Princess he had not been witness to. He had taken the very first stolen picture of Lady Diana Spencer at a polo match one year before she married Prince Charles, and he was one of the first British photographers to arrive at the gates of the PitiE-SalpItriEre hospital in Paris where she died.He says the last time he had seen that troubledflushed skin of her face wasn't just peachy, it was softer than a child's velveteen rabbit. Her instinct was to move to America, and it was spot on. She would only ever feel at home now in the culture that invented fame the size of hers.Diana was already worrying at lunch about where she might go in August. Putting out a deckchair at Kensington Palace was not an option for someone with an aversion to books.Besides, it would be lonely. 'It will be so difficult,' she said, 'without the boys.' For William and Harry, August meant Balmoral with their father and deluxe vagrancy for theirmother. Everyone from her old life had withdrawn to family lodges in the Scottish heather or rambling villas in Tuscany. Diana, no longer HRH, was not so welcome in such...See the full content of this document
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