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45.

Meg had spent months trying to soothe her father. There was always something new that he’d read

about himself, something derogatory he’d taken to heart. His pride was constantly wounded.

Every day there was another humiliating photo in the papers. Thomas Markle buying a new loo.

Thomas Markle buying a six-pack. Thomas Markle with his belly hanging over his belt.

We understood. Meg told him we knew how he felt. The press, the paps, they were awful.

Impossible to totally ignore what’s written, she acknowledged. But please do try to ignore them in

person. Ignore anyone who approaches, Daddy. Be on guard against anyone who pretends to be

your best friend. He seemed to be listening. He started to sound as if he was in a better place,

mentally.

Then, the Saturday before the wedding, Jason phoned us. We’ve got a problem.

What?

The Mail on Sunday is going to run a story saying that Meg’s father has been working with the

paps and, for money, has staged some candid photos.

We immediately phoned Meg’s dad, told him what was coming. We asked if it was true. Had

he staged a bunch of candid photos for money?

No.

Meg said: We might be able to kill this story, Daddy, but if it turns out you’re lying, we’ll

never be able to kill a false story about ourselves, or our children, again. So this is serious. You

must tell us the truth.

He swore that he’d never staged any photos, that he hadn’t taken part in any such charade, that

he didn’t know the pap in question.

Meg whispered to me: I believe him.

In that case, we told him, leave Mexico right now: A whole new level of harassment is about

to rain down on you, so come to Britain. Now. We’ll arrange for an apartment where you can hole

up safely until your flight.

Air New Zealand, first class, booked and paid for by Meg.

We would immediately send a car with private security to pick him up.

He said he had things to do.

Now Meg’s face changed. Something was up.

She turned to me again and sighed: He’s lying.

The story broke the next morning and it was worse than we feared. There was video of Meg’s

father meeting the pap at an internet café. There was a series of farcically staged shots, including

one of him reading a book about Britain as if studying for the wedding. The photos, reportedly

worth a hundred thousand pounds, seemed to prove beyond all doubt that Meg’s father had indeed

been lying. He’d taken part in this fakery, maybe to make some money, or maybe they had some

leverage on him. We didn’t know.

Headlines read: Meg Markle’s father a con artist! Staged candid photos for money!

A week before the wedding, this now became the story.

Though the photos had been taken weeks before, they’d been held in reserve until the most

devastating possible moment.

Soon after the story broke, Thomas Markle sent us a text:

I’m so ashamed.

We phoned him.

And texted him.

And phoned again.

We’re not angry, please pick up.

He didn’t answer.

Then we heard, along with the rest of the world, that he’d apparently had a heart attack and

wasn’t coming to the wedding.