Free Diana: In Pursuit of Love by Andrew Morton Page A

Sunday Times and attributed to Patrick Demarchelier had in fact been taken by his client, Mr Donovan. The picture had been used without Donovan’s permission and he wanted £70,000 in payment. O’Mara’s explanation, that we had used the photograph under the innocent impression that it had been taken by Demarchelier, cut no ice with either Donovan or his negotiator. They informed us that they knew exactly how we had obtained the picture, since Donovan had given it only to Diana, and that if we did not pay this inflated price – the usual fee at the time for a picture used in a book was £500 – they would reveal to the world who had supplied the picture. It meant that Diana’s complicity with the book would be exposed in spite of all our attempts to camouflage her involvement. Both sides dug their heels in; at one point my publisher had a group of employees on standby, ready to cut the offending picture out of the book with razor blades. In the end O’Mara paid Donovan a five-figure sum for the use of his picture, a price which also guaranteed his silence.
    Had that story come out at the time it could well have tipped Diana over the edge. For, as Colthurst, Carolyn Bartholomew, James Gilbey, and others, witnessed, the first few days after the book’s appearance in the Sunday Times tested the Princess’s resolve to the limit. But very soon she began to receive the kind of support that always meant so much to her, from her public. ‘The flak was intense and for a time she did get cold feet,’ said Colthurst. ‘Then the letters of support came pouring in. There were thousands of them, many from women who had suffered from eating disorders and accepted their lot in silence. Many told her that they were inspired by her example. She knew that somehow she had touched the heart of humanity and had been able to make a difference. That meant so much to her.’ Just as encouraging was a report from the Eating Disorders Association, shortly after the book was published on 16 June, saying that they had had an enormous increase in first-time callers asking for help. The response was entirely due to the Princess’s courage in making public her private difficulties.
    Even as these supportive letters were landing on her desk, an article appeared in the Sunday Express headlined ‘My Regrets by Diana’, which implied that the Princess wished she had never become involved. She was quick to telephone James to repudiate the article and to apologize for any implication that she was in any way responsible for it. Over the years there have been endless suggestions that she regretted her part in the book, that her involvement was an example of aberrant behaviour which she entered into at a low point in her life. The truth of the matter is that she had put what she called ‘the dark ages’ of her royal life behind her and was keen to move on to a more fulfilling future. Certainly she was nervous but she was also resolved to break out of the prison her life had become. David Puttnam was certain she never regretted her involvement in the book, saying, ‘She owned what she had done. She knew what she was doing and took a calculated risk even though she was scared shitless. But I never heard one word of regret, I promise you. With all her faults she was a good woman.’
    The original idea behind the book was for the Princess to tell her side of the story, and to dispel the myths that had been woven around her marriage, but it soon became clear that collaborating with the book had psychological benefits for Diana. For those intense twelve months, she went through a process of purging the past, a kind of confessional-through-reminiscence in which she was able to give voice to her anger and her regrets, as well as her dreams and ambitions. The book was a biography – but given the extent of its subject’s participation, it was also the nearest the Princess could come to an autobiography and self-expression – and so had the additional