The Firm: The Troubled Life of the House of Windsor (32 page)

The Prince of Wales doesn’t have such a good track record. Sandy Henney should never have lost her job over Prince William’s eighteenth birthday photographs, and if the Prince didn’t know the detail of what went on he should have made it his business to find out. She had wanted to find a way of getting some good, relaxed shots of William and knew that if she organized a general photocall dozens of photographers would turn up, William would be tense and none of them would get close enough to produce anything very special. And so, without announcing it to the rest of Fleet Street, she approached two easy-going, likeable photographers, Ian Jones from the
Daily Telegraph
and Eugene Campbell from ITN. She thought they would both get on well with the young, shy Prince and they would get some good shots that could be
distributed to all the newspapers and television channels. It was a good idea; they got on famously and some wonderful photographs were produced as a result. The deal was that there would be no exclusives, no preferential treatment, and the photographs would be embargoed so that they all appeared on the same day. She discussed this entire deal at every stage with Stephen Lamport, the Prince’s Private Secretary, with Mark Bolland, also with Les Hinton and Guy Black at the Press Complaints Commission. Everyone gave it their blessing.

However, when Charles Moore, Ian Jones’s editor at the
Telegraph
, saw the photos, which he had electronically stored on the office system, he liked them so much he wanted to maximize the impact by running them in the glossy Saturday magazine which goes to print earlier than the main body of the paper. He therefore wanted them before the agreed date. Sandy Henney cleared this with Lamport and Bolland and the photographs were released. Shortly afterwards someone tipped off the
Daily Mail
and
The Times
about what was happening and Lamport agreed to let them have a set of photos early for their magazines too. Charles Moore was indignant and refused to let the photographs go. The
Telegraph
had provided the photographer, who had worked for five months on the project, it had provided the facilities and had undertaken to release the photos to every other newspaper free of charge; it was not unreasonable, he felt, for the
Telegraph
to have this slight advantage over its competitors. At this point Piers Morgan, then editor of the
Daily Mirror
, got wind of the story, turned on Sandy, wound up the rest of Fleet Street and it all turned very ugly. Sandy had nothing in writing; she had relied on a gentleman’s agreement and, crucially, had not secured the copyright of the photographs. The final outcome was not catastrophic. The photographs were released to every newspaper at the same time, they all honoured the embargo and Ian Jones
surrendered the copyright of his pictures to St James’s Palace. As one commentator said at the time, it was a storm in a Fleet Street teacup.

Sandy offered Stephen Lamport her resignation as a matter of formality, never for a moment believing it would be accepted. How could it be? She had consulted at every stage, she had had everyone’s agreement at every stage; her mistake had been to trust men she thought were honourable. If it was a cock-up it was a collective cock-up. But she was wrong. Her resignation was accepted and by three o’clock that afternoon she had cleared her desk and was out on the street and out of a job. And the Prince of Wales, to whom she had given years of loyal service, and whose sons she had helped, guided and looked after with such care, didn’t even say goodbye.

Yet Michael Fawcett, his former valet, who has caused terrible damage to the Prince’s reputation – and continues to do so – and who countless people have tried to unseat over the years, remains firmly in favour. Although he resigned from the staff in 2003, and is now running his own event-management business, he continues to work alongside the Prince. He handles all his party arrangements, makes decisions for the Prince in this area and earns thousands of pounds from those jobs and from other highly prestigious jobs that his association with the Prince has brought him.

The Burrell trial opened a very large can of worms and revealed the undisciplined and chaotic nature of the Prince of Wales’s household. Taking home unwanted gifts that had been given to the Prince and/or Princess of Wales had been seen as a perk of the job; some people kept them as mementoes, others flogged them. Gifts of any sizeable value were often sold and the proceeds given to charity, or the Prince might buy something he wanted with the money in place of the gift he couldn’t use. And Michael Fawcett, nicknamed ‘Fawcett the Fence’ by the newspapers, had handled those sales. The media stirred up the nation’s sense of indignation, planting in its mind the image of presents lovingly given by loyal pensioners being callously cast aside. Some things were even put on the bonfire at Highgrove, although, in truth, most of the presents were impersonal corporate gifts that the Prince of Wales had no use for and thought his staff might enjoy. However, it was not good housekeeping and it was disastrous public relations.

But it was what happened after the trial that really caused the damage. Male rape was the topic that gripped the nation – and the intriguing mystery of what the footman saw. The missing mahogany box, which came up in the course of the trial, had contained a tape recording made by the Princess of
Wales, in 1995 or 1996, which Lady Sarah McCorquodale, Diana’s sister, had told the police contained ‘sensitive’ material. It was common knowledge in Fleet Street that the tape was a recording of George Smith, a former valet, telling Diana that another member of the Prince’s household had raped him in 1989, some six or seven years earlier.

Ten days after the collapse of the Burrell trial, at the end of a week of sensational stories in the
Mirror
, the
Mail on Sunday
topped them all. ‘I WAS RAPED BY CHARLES’S SERVANT’ screamed the headline alongside a picture of a dapper-looking George Smith. The aide he accused wasn’t named, but through his solicitor this man strenuously denied the allegation that Smith had been raped in his own home one night in 1989 when he was very drunk. Smith, now in his mid-forties, was a Falklands veteran, who had been severely traumatized. He had a history of depression and alcoholism and was in every sense an unreliable witness, which is why, when the story first came to their attention as a domestic matter in October 1996, the Prince and his advisers quickly dismissed the allegations. He had not reported the rape at the time, and when he did report it to the police in 1996 he almost immediately decided not to pursue it. He had a record of ill health, and, given the situation, could not continue working alongside the man he had accused of raping him. And so, in an attempt to see him right and stave off further accusations, he was given a £30,000 payoff by the Prince – which was inevitably interpreted as hush money.

In the same edition of the
Mail on Sunday
there was a character assassination of Michael Fawcett, who had not made many friends during his years with the Prince of Wales. Promoted to a position of influence never before enjoyed by a valet, he was arrogant and a bully who made many people’s lives in the Prince’s office a misery. He had extraordinary
sticking power, and having the Prince’s ear, he was able to damn anyone he didn’t like or who was foolish enough to cross him. There had long been suggestions that he exploited his friendship with the Prince, particularly in relation to suppliers, but that the Prince chose to turn a blind eye.

Early in 1998 it looked as though Fawcett had finally come unstuck but the rejoicing throughout the office was short-lived. Although Fiona Shackleton was one of a group who persuaded the Prince that Fawcett must be removed – and the story that he was leaving appeared in the press – he never went. The Prince changed his mind, decided he couldn’t live without him and Fawcett was not only kept within the fold but was promoted from valet to consultant responsible for organizing functions – which, to give the man his due, he does extremely well and in precisely the way the Prince likes.

Stung by such a sustained assault on the reputation of his household, the Prince of Wales announced the very day after the
Mail on Sunday
story appeared that he was setting up an inquiry – led by Sir Michael Peat, assisted by Edmund Lawson QC – to look into four areas that had been raised in the press following the Burrell trial.

1. Was there an improper cover-up of the rape allegation made by Mr George Smith in 1996?

2. Was there anything improper or remiss in the conduct of the Prince of Wales’s household with respect to the termination of the Burrell trial?

3. Have official gifts given to the Prince of Wales been sold?

4. Have any staff in the Prince of Wales’s household received improper payments or other benefits?

Four months later, in March 2003, Peat held a press conference – the first time a Private Secretary to the Prince of Wales
had spoken other than through a Press Secretary – to announce the results of his inquiry, which some saw as instantly flawed because of the author’s position in the royal household. Had the pecking order been reversed, had Peat been assisting Edmund Lawson, the results might have been more convincing. Nevertheless, Peat found plenty of faults under the Prince’s roof and admitted that there was work to be done in creating systems and tightening those already in existence.

Essentially, however, he found there had been no improper cover-up of the rape allegation but that ‘A serious allegation of this sort should not, in our opinion, have been treated so dismissively, even though there was universal disbelief as to its veracity, without full and documented consideration of the decision not to investigate.’ He found that, although the Prince of Wales had serious concerns about the implications of Burrell being tried and the information and revelations that would come out and be picked up by the media, ‘there was no improper conduct by or on behalf of the Prince of Wales in respect of the termination of the Burrell trial’. He found that the whole area of official gifts being sold or given to staff was murky and promised that guidance and procedures had already been put in place. And he found that there was no evidence of staff selling, without authorization, gifts given to the Prince of Wales or of staff taking a slice of the proceeds if authorization had been given. Discounts from suppliers, he admitted, were received, but that was not unusual in a number of organizations and there was no evidence of such gifts having influenced decisions.

And as for Mr Fawcett:

Insofar as the press comments and allegations have been directed at Mr Fawcett, our investigation has not produced any evidence of financial impropriety on his part. He did
infringe the internal rules relating to gifts from suppliers, but opprobrium cannot attach to this because the rules were not enforced and he made no secret of such gifts. Press suspicions were understandably aroused by his involvement in the sale of gifts (which, unknown to the media, were all authorized by the Prince of Wales) and by it being widely known that he received valuable benefits from third parties. His robust approach to dealing with some people combined, perhaps, with his having been promoted from a relatively junior position within the household, undoubtedly caused jealousy and friction in some quarters. This has encouraged some to voice rumours as to his financial probity; but they are just that, rumours. There is no evidence to justify a finding by us that he has been guilty of the alleged financial misconduct.

The same morning it was announced that Michael Fawcett had resigned. His settlement from the Prince of Wales was reported to be in the region of £1 million; he was allowed to buy from the Duchy the £400,000 grace and favour house that he and his wife and two sons had been living in and he was guaranteed freelance earnings from the Prince of £100,000 a year. Peat had achieved more than most; he had managed to get Fawcett out of the house but not entirely out of harm’s way.

But there was another, more sinister strand to George Smith’s story, which was said also to have been on the missing ‘rape tape’ and which began dribbling out over the next year and more. He claimed to have taken breakfast on a tray to a principal member of the family and witnessed an ‘incident’ between a member of the Royal Family and a Palace servant. Once again, the story had been circulating in Fleet Street and among people in the know for a long time; the implication
was that it was a homosexual incident. Some people thought it referred to the Prince of Wales, others that it might have been the Duke of York or Prince Edward. Either way it seemed unlikely the story would ever see the light of day. George Smith was a likeable and honourable character, no doubt, who had had a rotten time of it, but, with his history of alcohol, post-traumatic stress and depression, he was not a reliable witness and it was widely accepted that there was no evidence at all for the allegation. As a money-spinner this story was irresistible and in November 2003 the
Mail on Sunday
, which had been looking after Smith, now out of work, divorced and a broken man, prepared to publish a second interview with him in which he told the story of what he had seen, naming both the servant and the member of the Royal Family. It was a gamble – the evidence was insubstantial and they knew it – but it was one that paid off. On the Saturday night in advance of publication, an injunction was obtained to stop the story appearing in all its detail, giving the
Mail on Sunday
the best of all possible outcomes – a banner headline that couldn’t have been more tantalizing, ‘Royal Servant Gags
Mail On Sunday
In Court Drama’.

But the injunction was not enforceable in Scotland and, although they were not seen south of the border, the
Sunday Herald
published the allegations. Meanwhile, the same royal servant tried to stop the
Guardian
from naming him, but the newspaper, which had been intrigued by the curious nature of the injunction, successfully mounted a challenge in the High Court and won the right to name the man who had sought the injunction to gag the
Mail on Sunday
– but not to specify the allegation.

It was becoming a farce. Those people who knew what it was all about were greatly amused; those who didn’t were simply bemused. And to add to their confusion, four days
later Sir Michael Peat issued a statement from Clarence House which said:

In recent days, there have been media reports concerning an allegation that a former royal household employee witnessed an incident some years ago involving a senior member of the Royal Family.

The speculation needs to be brought to an end.

The allegation was that the Prince of Wales was involved in the incident.

This allegation is untrue. The incident which the former employee claims to have witnessed did not take place.

Many thought Peat’s statement was lunacy – to be denying an unnamed accusation, to be involving the Prince in tawdry tabloid tat – but the story had already appeared in an Italian newspaper, it was floating around the internet and was the subject of much sniggering in saloon bars. I happened to think it was rather a good idea; confronting the issue head-on did take the sting out of it.

No one knows exactly why the Prince of Wales is so reckless in his determination to keep Michael Fawcett. The press has repeatedly tried to assassinate his character – this is the man, it was revealed, whose job had been to put toothpaste on the royal toothbrush during his years as a valet. One answer is that he is very good at what he does. He is a brilliant fixer and he has very good taste. Parties he organizes – and I have been to several – run like clockwork; the decor is rich and flamboyant – as is he – the parking arrangements perfect, the food delicious, the wine excellent, the service good and everyone feels that they have been somewhere special – as they should if they have been entertained by the heir to the throne.
The Prince entertains on a grand scale – nearly nine thousand people a year. Every Christmas he gives a couple of parties at Highgrove, which is a goodwill exercise for neighbours and locals; but most of the people he entertains are big-time donors to his charities, or stars and show-business personalities who have donated their time and talent to the Prince’s Trust. Either that or they are experts and advisers from any one of his fields of interest who have volunteered time and expertise in some way, and it is important that these people should leave Highgrove or Clarence House feeling their generosity has been appreciated and having had a very good party. Fawcett organizes the Prince’s shooting weekends at Sandringham, and any private or charitable entertaining in any of the other royal residences he may use. He also organizes the Prince’s family events. Shortly after moving into Clarence House (where Fawcett had been involved in the refurbishment), the Prince held a dinner for his parents and other members of the family (to which Camilla was invited) to mark the 50th anniversary of the Queen’s coronation. It was just weeks after the Peat Report, just weeks after Michael Fawcett’s resignation, and yet he organized it. He also organized Prince William’s twenty-first birthday party at Windsor Castle, which was overshadowed by a gate-crasher dressed as Osama bin Laden in a pink frock. Aaron Barschak called himself a ‘comedy terrorist’; not only did he manage to get into the castle grounds without being stopped, it wasn’t until he was on stage with microphone in hand, before the entire Royal Family, that anyone realized he was not part of the cabaret.

Charles knows that if Fawcett is in charge, barring the odd intruder everything will be perfect. After so many years in close proximity, both as the Prince’s valet and his party organizer, Fawcett knows, probably more than anyone else alive, the Prince’s likes and dislikes. And Camilla likes him and leans on
him, as she once did on Mark Bolland. She has known him for nearly twenty years and he was a friend to her when the press were camped outside her door and the hate mail was at its height. The Prince sent him and Bolland to look after her on her first trip to New York in 2000; he helped her refurbish Birkhall, the house in Scotland that Charles inherited from his grandmother; he helped with her house in Wiltshire and he helps her when she entertains.