Summary of Spare By Prince Harry The Duke of Sussex

By Willie M. Joseph

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Summary of Spare By Prince Harry The Duke of Sussex

 

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Before losing his mother, Prince Harry was known as the happy-go-lucky Spare to the more serious Heir. Grief changed everything; he struggled at school, with anger, with loneliness, with post-traumatic stress. Above all, he couldn't find true love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Willie M. Joseph
• Release date: Jan 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215720721

Willie M. Joseph

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The Royal Burial Ground is the final resting place for so many of us, including Queen Victoria. Also, the notorious husband Edward, the former King and my great-great-uncle. After Edward gave up his throne for Wallis, after they fled Britain, both obsessed about being buried here. "I missed my mother every day, but that day I found myself longing for her. Like so much about her, it was hard to put into words.

How could someone so far beyond everyday language remain so real, so palpably present in my mind?". For months the Windsors had been at war. This was a full-scale public rupture, and it threatened to become irreparable. I asked for this secret meeting with my older brother, Willy, and my father to talk about the state of things.

I'd vowed not to let this encounter devolve into another argument. But I quickly discovered that it wasn't up to me. Pa and Willy had their parts to play, and they'd come ready for a fight. After he'd shut me down several times, he and I began sniping. The thought made me feel colder, and terribly alone, but it also fired me up. I have to tell them.

PART1 OUT OF THE NIGHT THAT COVERS ME

1

To me Balmoral was simply Paradise, a cross between Disney World and some sacred Druid grove. I was always too busy fishing, shooting, running up and down the hill to notice anything off about the feng shui of the old castle. She seemed to like it, and he faded from view.

2

My memory is my memory, it does what it does, gathers and curates as it sees fit - William Faulkner. The Windsors' first week at Balmoral was spent mostly outdoors. What we did outdoors, what we said, wore, ate, I can't conjure. Prince Harry's father was Prince Charles Albert David of Wales, Duke of Wales. He describes her as my kindred spirit, some would claim, my namesake.  He grew up hearing stories about what Prince Charles allegedly said to his mother: Now you've given me an Heir and a Spare—my work is done.

3

On August 30, 1997, Willy and I went for a Highland bath at Balmoral Castle. Pa described it as one of life's finest pleasures—a Highland bath. For me, few pleasures compared with a scalding soak, but especially while gazing out of the castle's slit windows. Dinner was like clockwork: Footmen brought trays of bone china, each topped with a silver dome. Under those fancy domes was just kiddie stuff: fish fingers, cottage pies, roast chicken, green peas.

As we all stuffed our faces we heard Pa padding past in his slippers, coming from his bath. After dinner Willy and I went upstairs to see Granny's piper. Rumpled, pear-shaped, with wild eyebrows and a tweed kilt, he went wherever Granny went. His instrument looked like a drunken octopus, except that its floppy arms were etched silver and dark mahogany. Did I stare at the bar of light along the floor, because I always insisted on the door being left open a crack?

How much of my childhood remained, and how much did I cherish it, savor it, before groggily becoming aware of— Pa? I don't remember crying, but I do remember Pa telling me: It's going to be OK, she writes. I must've remained in that room, saying nothing, seeing no one, until nine o'clock, when the bagpipes began to play.

4

Something about the head of the Church of England worshipping in a Church of Scotland caused a stir. People gathered outside the front gates, some had begun leaving things.

5

Mummy's life's been miserable, she's been hounded, harassed, lied about, lied to. So she's staged an accident as a diversion and run away. It's all so obvious! Why didn't I see it before? Mummy isn't dead!

She's hiding! When the Royal Family returned to Heathrow, Willy and I were kept from the TV, but we heard mournful music as they landed. It was like being inside a crypt, except everyone's wearing trews and keeping to normal routines and schedules.

6

I remember feeling unspeakable sorrow and yet being unfailingly polite. I remember consoling several folks who were prostrate, overcome, as if they knew Mummy, but also thinking: You acted as if you did, but you didn't know her.. What does Mummy really think of Britain?. Has anyone bothered to ask her? I can't recollect anything the family said in that moment, to each other or to the coffin.

It was as if we were so shell-shocked that we'd gone deaf. Prince Charles used his time to blast everyone for stalking Mummy to her death. Her coffin was carried down the aisle by eight Welsh Guards in a leadlined coffin draped in the Royal Standard. After a long wait the hearse drove off through London, which surged on all sides with the largest crowd that ageless city had ever seen. It went past Buckingham Palace, up Park Lane, over to the Finchley Road, then Hendon Way, then the Brent Cross flyover.

It was reported that Mummy's hands were folded across her chest and between them was placed a photo of me and Willy, possibly the only two men who ever truly loved her. My body convulsed and my chin fell and I began to sob uncontrollably into my hands.

7

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Ludgrove School was like a country church, with two hundred acres of woodland and meadows, sports fields and tennis courts, science labs and chapels. I was always trying to keep moving, keep busy. But I was also, most often, alone. (We called it Roundheads versus Cavaliers.). I don't believe one boy so much as mentioned my mother when that new term began,