Chapitre 1
Behind the Royal Curtain: A Life of Extraordinary Contrasts
When Helena Bonham Carter called me in early 2019 about portraying Princess Margaret in "The Crown," I never imagined it would lead to sharing my story with the world. As we sat discussing the Princess's cigarette rituals and quick wit over tea, memories flooded back-our childhood races around Holkham Hall, my thirty years as her Lady in Waiting, and the countless adventures we shared. Though I'd never considered writing a book before, looking back at nine decades filled with extreme contrasts-from the austere grandeur of Holkham to the bohemian paradise of Mustique, from royal palaces to hospital bedsides-I realized my life story might be worth telling. Through devastating losses and moments of pure joy, I've learned that life rarely unfolds as expected, but remains, even in its darkest moments, a remarkable gift worth embracing fully.
Chapitre 2
A Disappointing Daughter in an Ancient House
Holkham Hall rises majestically over North Norfolk's harsh landscape-a testament to the Coke family's centuries of transforming salt marshes into agricultural abundance. When I arrived in 1932, weighing eleven pounds, my father's disappointment was palpable-I was a girl who couldn't inherit the earldom or the 27,000-acre estate. This disappointment would color our relationship throughout his life.
Life at Holkham revolved around tradition. My grandfather taught me about Thomas Coke, who revolutionized British agriculture and brought European treasures to England. The estate thrived on farming and shooting, the latter creating bonds with the nearby Royal Family at Sandringham. These royal connections ran deep-my grandmother Marion had an affair with the future King Edward VIII, my father served as Equerry to King George VI, and my mother became Lady of the Bedchamber to Queen Elizabeth II.
I formed a close friendship with Princess Margaret, just three years my senior. We'd race around Holkham on tricycles while the better-behaved Princess Elizabeth scolded us. We spent summers building sandcastles at Holkham beach and attended Christmas parties at Buckingham Palace where Queen Mary taught me that "valuable things come in little boxes."
My idyllic childhood changed dramatically when war broke out in 1939. My parents left for Egypt while Holkham was partly occupied by the army. At seven years old, I was told to look after my five-year-old sister Carey as we were sent to Scotland, away from Hitler's U-boats. Despite being separated from our parents, Scotland felt like an adventure with my Ogilvy cousins and Great-aunt Bridget, who comforted us with wisdom like "Things have a habit of working out, not necessarily in the way you expect."
Our wartime life involved skating on frozen lakes, collecting sphagnum moss for the Red Cross, and entertaining Polish officers. I was a shy child who often climbed trees for comfort, only to be teased with taunts of "Cowardy, cowardy custard!" Our governess Miss Bonner proved cruel-tying my hands to the bed every night as punishment. I never told anyone, fearing she'd do the same to Carey. Her replacement, Miss Billy Williams, transformed our lives with kindness and fun outings.
Carey and I became convinced Hitler would choose Holkham as his residence if Germany won. We hatched a childish plot to assassinate him, creating a poison we called "Hitler's mess"-jam jars filled with disgusting concoctions hidden under our beds. Our plan involved making Hitler fall in love with us before poisoning him. We practiced on teddy bears, saying things like "We've got a lovely drink for you, Mr Hitler."
Chapitre 3
From Finishing School to Royal Service
After completing finishing school at Powderham Castle, where twenty-five girls learned to run grand houses under the guise of "domestic economy," I returned to Holkham. My grandfather died in 1949, and my father became the 5th Earl of Leicester. At seventeen, I accompanied him around tenant farms as he taught me about the estate, treating me like the son he never had.
By 1950, I had hardly seen Princess Margaret for years, our childhood friendship interrupted by the war. Meanwhile, my mother established a pottery at Holkham that became crucial as stately homes grew increasingly expensive to maintain. I discovered my talent for sales, traveling England in my mother's Mini Minor with suitcases of pottery samples, staying in traveling-salesmen hotels where I was invariably the only woman and certainly the only aristocrat.
As my debutante season approached in spring 1950, I was thrust into a series of dances designed for aristocratic young people to meet suitable partners. Despite being named "debutante of the year" by Tatler, I felt tremendous pressure. I fell madly in love with Johnnie Althorp, who proposed in a London garden. However, after introducing him to Lady Fermoy, her matchmaking instincts took over, and she deliberately introduced him to her fifteen-year-old daughter Frances. Johnnie broke our engagement without explanation, later marrying Frances-their daughter would become Diana, Princess of Wales.
In February 1952, King George VI died suddenly at Sandringham. To lift my spirits, my mother sent me to America to sell pottery. I sailed on the Queen Mary in steerage class, occasionally dining in first class with my godfather. These stark contrasts became a theme in my life-one minute dining on caviar, the next bunking in a third-class corridor.
In February 1953, while breakfasting in New York, I received a telegram summoning me home to be a Maid of Honour at the Queen's Coronation. The news spread quickly, and suddenly Americans were treating me like royalty, asking me to demonstrate proper curtsies and royal waves. The Washington Post even published an article headlined "Girl With Pedigree Can Be Pretty Too."
Chapitre 4
The Crown and the Commitment
In May 1953, I joined five other Maids of Honour for twelve Coronation rehearsals at Westminster Abbey. The Duke of Norfolk meticulously organized the ceremony with ninety-four detailed diagrams. When the Queen arrived at the Abbey, we gathered up her crimson train using silk handles. Before setting off, she turned to us and said, "Ready, girls?" We nodded and followed her into the Abbey.
During the ceremony, I nearly fainted and was saved by Black Rod, who discreetly supported me against a pillar. The crowning moment was breathtaking-as the Archbishop placed King Edward's Crown on the Queen's head, cries of "God Save the Queen!" rang out while peers donned their coronets and trumpets sounded.
After the ceremony, we helped the Queen change into the Imperial State Crown and purple velvet train. The Archbishop offered brandy, which I gratefully accepted. At Buckingham Palace, we witnessed Prince Charles and Princess Anne dash under the Queen's dress, and later Charles attempted to grab the crown. The Queen was so joyful that she ran down the Palace corridor with us following, and spontaneously sat on a red sofa kicking up her legs in delight.
Finally, we joined the Queen on the balcony facing an enormous crowd stretching to Admiralty Arch. Standing there, I realized this marked the beginning of a new Elizabethan age after the hardships of war.
Shortly after the Coronation, I began a new chapter in my life with Colin Tennant, who had proposed to me. Colin was dashing, intelligent, and unpredictable-qualities that both attracted and concerned me. His proposal came during a dinner at the Ritz, where he'd arranged for the band to play "True Love" as he presented me with a diamond ring.
I met Colin in summer 1955 at a deb party at the Ritz. Part of "the Princess Margaret set," he was friends with creative people like Lucian Freud and Ian Fleming. Despite his charm, Colin had an unfortunate temper. He would reassure me: "When we get married, I won't need to lose my temper."
My father was deeply suspicious of Colin, seeing the Tennant family as nouveaux riches compared to our fifteenth-century Coke lineage. Princess Margaret had even written to my mother describing Colin as "fairly decadent," though adding he "must be better already" for loving me.
Chapitre 5
Marriage to a Mercurial Man
We married on April 21, 1956, at St Withburga's Church on the Holkham estate. I wore an exquisite Norman Hartnell A-line silk dress. Princess Margaret attended, looking "rather cross"-she reportedly hated when her friends married. Our wedding photographer was Tony Armstrong-Jones, whom Princess Margaret would marry four years later.
Our honeymoon quickly revealed the reality of married life with Colin. In Paris, he threw a tantrum when our hotel room had twin beds. Our first attempt at sex was awkward and painful, and Colin's "surprise" for me was taking me to watch strangers having sex-perfectly disgusting. On the Queen Mary to New York, he raged when water flooded our cabin after I'd left the porthole open. The honeymoon mercifully ended early when I discovered I was pregnant.
Colin was a man of extremes-never boring but often exhausting. He loved attention, dressing in outlandish outfits and changing clothes multiple times in an evening. His mood could change instantly, his face becoming werewolf-like during explosive tantrums. He would insist I remain perfectly still until he calmed, then act as though nothing happened. Colin's psychiatrists described him as having "one less skin than the rest of us"-too sensitive and highly strung. Despite this, I stayed with him for fifty-four years, just as he predicted when he told me he chose me because "you would carry on, you would never give up."
In 1958, Colin took me to Trinidad to see his family's land holdings. While I returned to England to care for our son Charlie, Colin heard about an island for sale called Mustique. He impulsively bought it for 45,000 without even setting foot on it-a risky investment with no running water, electricity, or telephone lines.
My first visit to Mustique was challenging-a complicated journey ending with a rough two-hour crossing. Upon arrival, Colin met me on a white sand beach bordered by manchineel trees. I found the island barren, mosquito-ridden, and primitive. When he asked what I thought, I replied honestly: "This is sheer madness!" Colin defiantly responded, "You mark my words, Anne. I will make Mustique a household name."
Chapitre 6
Creating a Caribbean Paradise
In 1960, Princess Margaret and Tony Armstrong-Jones visited Mustique during their honeymoon Caribbean tour aboard the Royal Yacht Britannia. The royal couple toured the island in our trailer, Princess Margaret smiling at the relaxed atmosphere. On their final visit, Colin offered their wedding present: "Would you like something in a little box or would you like a piece of land?" Princess Margaret chose land without consulting Tony, who never returned to Mustique. For Princess Margaret, however, Mustique would eventually provide a whole new life.
By 1963, Colin's attention divided when he inherited Glen, his family's Scottish Borders estate-a baronial castle I was thrilled to live in. We restored its original William Morris wallpapers and plasterwork. By 1964, our lives settled into a routine between Mustique and Glen.
While most of our aristocratic friends remained fixed as custodians of their ancestral homes, Colin constantly sought novelty, moving us through a succession of London residences. Our social calendar during the sixties was relentless-nightly engagements in London and weekend stays at grand country houses like Boughton, Hatfield, and Chatsworth.
Gradually, Mustique became more appealing. In 1965, Colin's Eton friend Hugo Money-Coutts arrived by yacht with his wife Jinty. They stayed, with Jinty importing horses and Hugo teaching himself to fly, using the cricket pitch as a landing strip. Colin proudly showcased the island's Sea Island cotton in pyjama-style suits he created, boasting "I grew it myself" when complimented.
The island gradually developed with a new school, improved housing replacing tin huts, pensions for older residents, and jobs for everyone else. In early 1968, Princess Margaret unexpectedly called Colin about the wedding gift of land on Mustique. When she asked if it came with a house, Colin immediately offered to build one. Upon arrival, Princess Margaret adapted remarkably well, using our bucket shower in a tree and tolerating basic food and plastic furniture.
Princess Margaret suggested her friend Oliver Messel, Tony's uncle and a renowned stage designer, create her house. Colin was delighted and commissioned Oliver to design all the houses planned for Mustique, as the cotton business was failing and he'd pivoted to developing luxury villas.
Chapitre 7
Motherhood Amidst Mayhem
In 1959, I happily returned to England after discovering I was pregnant with our second son, Henry. The transition between primitive Mustique and London society was jarring-from bucket showers to formal dinner parties, from island isolation to the revolution of mini-skirts and beehive hairdos.
Our 1960 Christmas at Holkham revealed why Colin might prefer Mustique's freedom. My father's rigid shooting traditions ranked participants by title, leaving Colin "to walk with the beaters" rather than shoot in line with the aristocrats.
Colin and I were astonished when Charlie's form mistress revealed his Nazi collage-his desk contained our son's artwork showing Colin's father's head stuck to a Nazi general's body covered with swastikas. Charlie was diagnosed with "neurosis" by a psychiatrist-what would now be called obsessive-compulsive disorder.
In 1968, our third son Christopher arrived with a lovable character. In 1970, I was thrilled to have twins May and Amy, for whom Colin rushed to Paris to buy Baby Dior outfits. The age gap between my children created almost two separate families-Charlie twelve years older than the twins, Henry ten-with the younger three benefiting from stability provided by Barbara Barnes, a wonderful nanny who stayed with us for twelve years before becoming Princes William and Harry's nanny.
Our family enjoyed wonderful holidays together-touring European capitals, camping in the Himalayas, and playing "Rescue" at Glen where Colin would theatrically hunt for hiding children. Princess Margaret would visit Glen each August with her children.
Though I taught all my children to sail as my mother had taught me, I was rather fierce with my instructions. They all loved visiting Holkham, enjoying the same activities I had as a child. Despite these happy memories, saying goodbye when they returned to boarding school was always difficult-something Charlie later reflected on when he described Colin and me as "remote figures in his childhood."
Chapitre 8
Royal Service and Personal Trials
In 1971, Princess Margaret asked me to be one of her ladies-in-waiting. The position was unpaid but prestigious, involving accompanying her to engagements and managing correspondence. I joined a team of six ladies who took weekly turns, with Lady Elizabeth Cavendish as her lady-in-waiting for over thirty years.
The role required complete discretion and loyalty-never speaking about the Princess to anyone, including Colin. I would attend events, arrange her transportation, carry her handbag containing cigarettes and lighter, and ensure everything ran smoothly. Despite the formality of our relationship in public, privately we enjoyed a warm friendship filled with laughter and shared interests in music, art, and fashion.
My duties paralleled my mother's role as Lady of the Bedchamber to the Queen. Being married to Colin had prepared me well-I'd become adept at anticipating needs and solving problems discreetly. Princess Margaret maintained strict routines-lunch at half past one with three courses, tea at five with weak Earl Grey and a ginger nut biscuit, and always lemon sorbet with cream for dessert.
On Mustique, Princess Margaret found privacy and relaxation. She wore whale-boned swimming costumes that became transparent when wet-when I delicately mentioned this, she replied, "Oh, Anne, I don't care. If they want to look, they can look." Our days involved leisurely picnics, swimming, and evenings at Basil's Bar watching for the green flash before dinner and late-night card games.
In summer 1973, a fortuitous cancellation at a Glen dinner party led me to invite Roddy Llewellyn, son of Olympic gold medalist Harry Llewellyn. When Colin and Princess Margaret picked him up at Edinburgh station, they immediately connected despite their seventeen-year age difference. Their romance blossomed quickly, and they remained together for eight years, bringing Princess Margaret happiness after years of unhappiness with Tony.
By the mid-1970s, Princess Margaret's marriage was at breaking point. Though reluctant to divorce due to religious beliefs, Tony forced the issue when his mistress became pregnant in 1978. During this difficult time with constant press intrusion, Princess Margaret often stayed at my Norfolk farmhouse or Glen to escape.
Our friendship was refreshingly ordinary-we spent days gardening together or visiting churches. In the evenings, she'd sit by my fireplace asking for "another little drinkie-winkie" while we talked for hours. People complained about Princess Margaret being difficult, but I found she was simply bored or fed up with formal obligations.
Chapitre 9
Mustique's Golden Era
Our house on Mustique, The Great House, was Oliver Messel's final creation, completed in 1978. It featured a central circular room with a domed roof inspired by Istanbul's Hagia Sophia and ornate open tile screens from Asia and Indonesia. Colin's pride and joy was an intricately carved temple from India that resembled lace.
Colin's eccentricity helped put Mustique on the map, using his flair to entice visitors. We gained publicity through Janie Stevens, whose husband Jocelyn edited Queen magazine and sent photographer Patrick Lichfield to capture Princess Margaret surrounded by islanders and expats. These photos helped establish Mustique as the new "place to go" by the mid-seventies.
Colin's fiftieth birthday Golden Ball in 1976 secured Mustique's reputation as a hedonistic paradise. The all-expenses-paid week of parties featured boat trips, calypso singers, and performances by Dana Gillespie. For the finale, Colin had trees, grass, and even the beach covered in gold glitter. Local men were oiled up wearing only gold-painted coconuts strategically placed. The highlight was Bianca Jagger arriving on a litter carried by golden boys, while Mick wore a gold-sprayed pixie hat.
The Queen and Duke of Edinburgh visited in 1977, cementing Mustique's reputation as a playground for aristocracy. The Queen, who rarely swims in public, even took to the water at Macaroni Bay, protected by the island's strict privacy policy that prevented press access.
Despite Mustique's success, I quietly resented Colin's extravagant parties that cost hundreds of thousands of pounds. Money was hemorrhaging out, with both Mustique and our estate at Glen draining our finances. When we needed more money, Colin would simply sell paintings, claiming that once he'd walked past a painting enough times, he could close his eyes and still see it.
Mustique attracted the world's elite, with Mick Jagger becoming part of the local community, funding a new school and playing cricket. David Bowie was charming, immediately bonding with my twins. Despite its small size and lack of amenities, Mustique maintained Colin's bohemian spirit, continuing to draw royalty and celebrities.
Chapitre 10
Heartbreak and Healing
By 1988, our family was experiencing profound turmoil with my eldest son Charlie, who became addicted to heroin at sixteen. After six years of failed interventions, we finally took doctors' advice to cut him off completely. Several weeks later, Charlie reappeared, declaring he wanted to quit-the first time he'd expressed genuine desire rather than just making promises.
As my other children flourished, our family briefly stabilized. Henry and Tessa's 1983 Mustique wedding was perfect, the last time my mother visited before her death from emphysema in 1985. But soon after, our lives were upended when Henry revealed he was gay, leaving Tessa and their son Euan. Though I struggled with his decision to abandon his family, Colin was surprisingly understanding.
My concern shifted to Henry's health during the AIDS epidemic, and devastatingly, in December 1986, Colin told me Henry had been diagnosed with HIV. Just months later, Christopher had a near-fatal motorcycle accident in Guatemala. Left untreated in a local hospital, Christopher was saved only through Princess Margaret's connections, which mobilized the British Army to airlift him to Miami.
I temporarily stepped down from my duties as Lady in Waiting, dedicating myself entirely to Christopher's recovery. Colin and I sat beside him day and night at the Wellington Hospital, watching our previously vibrant son lie motionless and attached to machines. When a doctor bluntly told me Christopher would be "a vegetable all his life," I refused to accept this verdict.
Following advice from a doctor whose own son had recovered from a coma, we implemented a rigorous stimulation routine using a "coma kit"-spending fifteen minutes of every hour engaging Christopher's five senses. The breakthrough came when Barbara tried giving him a baby bottle-he began to suck and swallow reflexively. After four agonizing months, Christopher finally woke up. When I found him crying and started talking about cars to comfort him, his first word was "Lamborghini"-in that moment, I knew he would recover.
Meanwhile, Henry's condition deteriorated. Some hospitals wouldn't accept AIDS patients, and when they did, his 6'8" frame wouldn't fit standard beds. Henry found comfort in Buddhism, even traveling to a Japanese monastery after his diagnosis. Henry died in January 1989, just eighteen months after diagnosis, at only twenty-nine.
After Henry's death, people avoided me, terrified of saying the wrong thing. My friend Margaret Vyner took me to India, where death is embraced as part of daily life. In temples, I found acceptance and healing.
As time passed, the pain of losing Henry slowly eased. Charlie had amazingly stayed free from heroin and fallen in love with Sheilagh Parsons. When their son Cody was born in 1994, Charlie told me, "I have never in my life felt so happy, and I feel like I have suddenly realized what life is about." But his happiness was tragically short-lived. Charlie was diagnosed with hepatitis C from his years of heroin addiction and died shortly after.
Once again, the family descended into grief. Colin was riddled with guilt, Christopher distraught. I hadn't thought anything could be worse than burying one son until I stood in the churchyard burying another. The press intrusively revived the myth of the "Tennant Curse," surrounding the church and appearing over graves during the funeral.
Chapitre 11
The Princess's Final Chapter
As a loyal friend throughout my life, Princess Margaret supported me during my family crises, always welcoming me back to the Household when I was ready. By the nineties, after twenty-five years as her Lady in Waiting, our lives were completely intertwined.
In 1993, Peter Townsend came to lunch with Princess Margaret at Kensington Palace. They hadn't seen each other since the 1950s when she'd been forced to choose between him and her royal duties. After he left, she confided, "He hasn't changed at all"-touching words given the forty years that had passed.
Though we still enjoyed our annual February trips to Mustique, Princess Margaret's health had been declining since her partial lung removal in 1985. In 1994, while on Mustique, she suffered her first official stroke during dinner.
The following year on Mustique, Princess Margaret scalded her feet badly when she accidentally turned off the cold water instead of the hot in her bath. Despite the darkened room and constant buzzing of my bleeper, we managed to create a boarding school atmosphere, watching videos together from twin beds.
Princess Margaret suffered more strokes and lost her eyesight almost entirely. Once surrounded by admiring men, she now refused their company, preferring only female companions. I would read to her regularly, from a dreadfully boring book about seeds that Roddy had given her to books about different religions.
On February 8, 2002, Princess Margaret suffered another stroke, and she died early the next morning at King Edward VII's Hospital. Her funeral took place at St. George's Chapel, Windsor, fifty years to the day since her father's funeral in the same place. Wanting to be buried with her beloved father but with no reserved space, Princess Margaret was cremated so her ashes could fit beside him in the royal vault. Her absence left an enormous hole in my life-I still miss her extraordinary perspective and our shared laughter.
Chapitre 12
The Final Chapter with Colin
By the millennium, Colin had spent most of the previous forty years in the West Indies, returning to England less frequently. After inheriting the title 3rd Baron Glenconner in 1983, he joined the House of Lords with the Liberal whip, advocating for Caribbean interests.
In the early nineties, Colin spontaneously bought an elephant from Dublin Zoo and shipped it to St. Lucia. Named "Boopa," she became part of our family life, bonding with pigs after officials denied importing more elephants.
Colin made quite an impression on St. Lucia as a tall Englishman with flamboyant mood swings who wore signature white kurtas and pyjama trousers. Though improved since our early marriage, Colin remained highly strung. Throughout our married life, Colin needed someone constantly available to calm him-first me, then Kent after Christopher's accident changed my priorities.
After Christopher moved to London, he cleverly met women by asking for assistance crossing zebra crossings. Through this strategy, he met Anastasia, a half-Greek lawyer who became his wife and mother to their daughters. When their marriage failed, Christopher came to stay with me in Norfolk. After I once stormed into a pub when he hadn't called, he revealed he'd met "the most brilliant woman"-Johanna, whom he later married.
With newfound freedom in my mid-seventies, I embarked on spontaneous trips worldwide with eccentric friends. With Mary Anna Marten, I traveled to Russia carrying an enormous Parma ham that Moscow birds devoured overnight.
In 2005, May married Anton Creasy at St. Withburga's with the reception at Holkham. By 2009, Colin had secretly developed prostate cancer, hiding it with face lifts to maintain his business image. When his health deteriorated in 2010, I flew to St. Lucia to care for him, enjoying a peaceful time together before returning to Norfolk. Three days later, Colin died of a massive heart attack.
Colin's death left me completely shocked, especially as we'd recently reminisced about our lives together, with him acknowledging "It wasn't all bad, was it?" The funeral was a spectacular Caribbean affair-no hint of black, a carnival atmosphere with swaying congregants singing "Lord of the Dance."
That night, the lawyer revealed Colin's shocking will: "I hereby leave everything to Kent Adonai, and I trust he will carry out my wishes towards the family." Standing on the balcony of the house that no longer belonged to us, I screamed into the pitch-black night, devastated by this final humiliation after fifty-four years of marriage.
Chapitre 13
Life Goes On
Nearly ten years after Colin's death and twenty since Princess Margaret's passing, I've settled into a quieter but fulfilling life. At eighty-seven, I'm happily living in my Norfolk farmhouse-the one my father wisely advised me to buy due to Colin's unpredictable nature.
My days are filled with family-children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren-and wonderful Norfolk friends. I still visit Glen to see Bill and Euan with his children, and I maintain connections with Cody in Edinburgh and my sister Sarah near Perth. My travels continue-yearly visits to Mustique and summers on Omer Koc's yacht with friends.
Most days I garden and until recently sailed from Burnham Overy Staithe. I walk along the creeks and dunes, remembering building sandcastles with my children and playing with Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret. Holkham Hall continues to flourish under Thomas, the 8th Earl of Leicester, and his wife Polly. When I visit, tourists see only the grand architecture, but I see Tommy Kinsman's band playing, Princess Margaret dancing with Billy Wallace, and young Elizabeth scolding Margaret and me for mischief.
Though my father's death ended our branch of the Coke family line at Holkham, my children and grandchildren continue our legacy. Amy has settled in East Anglia, May and Anton live nearby with daughters Honor and Greta, and Christopher lives down the road with Johanna. While I'm proud of my living children, the pain of losing Henry and Charlie never fades. Still, I focus on the present rather than dwelling on sadness. My 87 years have been extraordinary-good and bad-but I have no regrets. I'm happiest now and intend to live to 100, always wondering, "Whatever next?"
