Broken Vows by Tom Bower Page A

princess and that’s how she will stay, how she will remain in our hearts and in our memories for ever.’ An outstanding performer delivering the perfect words with the appropriate gestures, Blair proved his genius as a communicator to mourners across the globe.
    The Queen, by contrast, was criticised for failing to respond to the country’s mood by remaining in Balmoral to console the two boys rather than returning to London to lead the nation’s mourning. The symbol of her alleged insensitivity was the refusal to break protocol and raise Buckingham Palace’s flag to half-mast. Amid open and growing criticism of the monarch, Blair would claim the credit for persuading the Queen to return to London five days later, inspect the vast floral tribute outside Kensington Palace and address the nation on TV. The public’s anger dissipated, but the reason for it was not forgotten.
    For Blair, the public criticism of the Queen validated his agenda to modernise the country. As he claimed credit for rescuing the monarchy from embarrassment, the rousing phrases tripped off his tongue: Britain as ‘the beacon to the world’; ‘Britain as the best’: ‘The glory of the British people’; and ‘We must be able to build from this a more compassionate Britain.’ His words offered no answers to the problems his country faced, but they did sprinkle stardust on their speaker. The media was briefed about the ‘deep involvement’ of Blair and Campbell in the funeral arrangements. The prime minister himself would deliver the reading on faith, hope and love from 1 Corinthians in Westminster Abbey. Blair was in his element and, according to Campbell, was praised by the Spencer family. ‘Tony Blair has this week taken on the mantle of Disraeli and Baldwin’, wrote Peter Riddell glowingly in The Times, ‘as a bridge between the people and the Palace.’
    The royal family was less grateful. Its relations with Blair had been ‘frosty’ from the outset and did not improve after he emerged from theprime minister’s traditional annual September weekend at Balmoral to explain that the monarchy intended to ‘change and modernise’. The Queen was entitled to expect sound advice from her prime minister, but Blair failed to accept that it should remain secret and not be read by the royal family in the media, as briefed by Campbell.
    ‘Modernisation’ was the theme of his speeches during that month, both in attacking the trade unions and in enthusing the party at its annual conference. ‘Our destiny’, he said, was to modernise Britain and Europe. The conference was ecstatic, while the polls showed he enjoyed a 93 per cent approval rating.
    Three months after this unexpected success, the frisson of joy within Downing Street had evaporated. Rivalries, jealousies and personal insecurities were plaguing Blair’s household. At the centre of the bickering was Cherie. Insecure about her unphotogenic appearance, she was sensitive to media criticism about her clothes and later about a pendant she wore to ward off evil spirits. Contrary to newspaper profiles, she was not the outstanding lawyer they proclaimed and was not pursuing a glittering career at the Bar; on the other hand, she was instinctively political and keen to participate in her husband’s government. But, if her ambitions were realised, she knew the consequences would be fatal, so she festered with mounting resentment over her exclusion by Blair’s entourage from the discussions about the affairs of state constantly echoing around her own home.
    There were other problems. Money was a serious concern. Having agreed with Gordon Brown that the Blairs would use the larger flat in 11 Downing Street while the chancellor occupied the flat at No. 10, she had complained to Robin Butler about the shabby state of the accommodation. The carpet was worn, the kitchen old, her daughter’s mattress needed replacing and the stale smell of Ken Clarke’s cigars stuck to every fabric. ‘I won’t