Spilling the beans

Joining many of Diana's friends who have published their personal stories, Charlotte Cory has poignant memories of her special relationship with the late Princess of Wales
November 20, 1997

We did not see each other very often-well, she was busy wasn't she, being a princess, but we did not need to. We had a natural empathy. We were very close. We had so much in common and I suppose many of the things we had in common-we were both highly sensitive women in our 30s-helped bring us together. I thank my lucky stars that, despite all her many engagements, we were able to spend the little time together that we did so that I can write this now and set the record straight. I feel I owe it to the world and I know Diana would have wanted me to. I can almost hear her ringing and asking if I have posted it off yet.

Oh, the endless telephone calls, the girlish chatter! What a lot we had in common. We were both victims of our times, of course, and our shared experience and compatible star signs undoubtedly brought us together in the face of so much shared adversity.

There is no denying that our lives were very different. She, after all, was the Queen's daughter-in-law, the Queen Mother's grand-daughter-in-law, ex-wife and mother (and possibly grandmother and great grandmother and so on) of future kings of England-while I, I am just a jobbing writer.

Not that the difference in our status and different ways of life ever made any difference to our friendship. Quite the reverse. It probably brought us closer. I like to think that the occasional reading in Waterstone's before a crowd of crisp- nibbling literati gave me an insight into the pressures in her life, coping with hordes of adoring fans on every street corner. I also like to think that this bond of deep sympathy between us made a little difference to her-though I suspect little difference was exactly what I did make, alas, to the goldfish bowl existence that was her sad lot.

And yet, we had so much in common. Our clothes, for instance. How often over the years when I have had nothing smart to wear have I longed to borrow some of her outfits, and I am sure she would have let me if I had ever actually asked-but now they are all sold off and scattered all over the world, and I never will. Not that they would have fitted me for, sisters though we undoubtedly were under the skin, my extra flesh set us several sizes (at least) apart. But this is no time for regrets!

No! I would rather cherish the intimate time we spent together. How she laughed that wonderful laugh of hers that all who knew her, and loved her, knew so well and will never forget. Of course there were times when we did not speak. Long periods of silence. All friends fall out at some time or other and she seems to have fallen out at times with all her friends, which only goes to show what close friends they all are. I could just picture us now in a nice little trat near Kensington Palace-me tucking into a plate of ravioli, Diana poking a lettuce leaf with a fork. Talking about anything and everything. Our in-laws, certainly. There is not much to say about mine since they live in a bungalow in Bournemouth with a cage of budgerigars. Not the kind of thing to bore a princess with. She, on the other hand-the tales she could tell!

I shall always think of her as she was that evening. I can almost hear her saying: "Make sure you write it up." Oh, the girlish chatter! Not that I will ever betray a single one of her confidences. How could I? And yet, as one of the late princess's closest friends, as close at least as any of her other close friends who are all hard at work now spilling the beans, I feel I owe it to the world to put the record straight.

A few months ago I was crossing the road outside Kensington Palace when a police motorcyclist roared past and I thought: "Aye, aye, something's up!" And hung about for a bit, and was rewarded when a swish black car swept past me, a blonde at the wheel. For one split second she looked at me standing there on the street corner. We were very close. There was complete empathy between us. She had that instinctive feel for what was really important in all our lives-and I could see she saw how disappointed I was that I didn't have a camera with me and couldn't snap the magical moment. A photo to go with this would have come in handy.