A few minutes later than scheduled, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex pull up in a Range Rover on the first stop of their quasi-official, royal-not-royal, ‘yoo hoo we’re over here’, legacy-not-privacy tour of Nottingham, a blameless city that has done little to deserve this febrile attention.

We are here outside the Community Recording Studio, a youth charity Harry has supported since 2013, and which is dedicated to helping disadvantaged youngsters from the area develop confidence and life skills.

There is little in the way of glamour in the St Ann’s area of the city, on a street bordered by a Dulux decorating centre, a Kick Fit gym and a garage workshop.

Yet the Sussexes step onto the pavement and wave as if they were greeting the honeyed crowds at the Hollywood Bowl instead of this desultory turnout on an industrial estate on an overcast Thursday morning here in the East Midlands.

What on earth is going on? Who is kidding who?

There is a crowd of about 200 in the street outside the centre, but unfortunately for Harry and Meghan, at least 70 per cent of them are the hated media and, even worse, one of them is me.

The Duke and Duchess of Sussex pulled up in a Range Rover on the first stop of their quasi-official, royal-not-royal, ‘yoo hoo we’re over here’, legacy-not-privacy tour of Nottingham

There is a crowd of about 200 in the street outside the centre, but unfortunately for Harry and Meghan, at least 70 per cent of them are the hated media and, even worse, one of them is me, writes JAN MOIR 

‘You are that witch from the Daily Mail,’ says an angry woman, waving a bunch of supermarket flowers she has brought along to give to Meghan.

Now hang on a minute, I say. Which witch? Competition for that title in my office is fierce, lady.

Another woman carrying a unicorn balloon and a huge bouquet of tissue-wrapped lilies also declines to talk. ‘I am just here to support the charity and give these flowers to Meghan. I don’t want any publicity,’ she says.

Fair enough, although I do wonder if this is the official bouquet, and if buying expensive flowers for a multi-mansioned millionairess wearing Jennifer Chamandi shoes, a pencil skirt from The Fold, a jumper and coat from Joseph and a diamond-encrusted Oura fitness tracker ring – as darling Meghan is today – is the best use of anyone’s funds, official or not.

And I don’t even laugh when a gust of wind blows the legs off her unicorn. For I am not here to fight with the Nottingham chapter of the Sussex Squad. I am here to reminisce, to share – and to wonder where it all went so horribly wrong.

For on a cold December day nearly nine years ago, I stood on the High Pavement in the historic Lace Market of this city to see Prince Harry and his new fiancée Meghan Markle make their first official public appearance together. And it was a truly magical day.

The couple visited the Himmah Hub, a Nottingham charity tackling poverty, food insecurity, racism and social exclusion and took part in a cooking demo

Thousands of people lined the streets as Nottingham came to a standstill. There was cheering and bunting! Love was in the air! I even shook Prince Harry’s hand as the couple made their way down the street on a 25-minute walkabout that echoed with laughter and good cheer.

Meghan was a natural, showing off her engagement ring, poised and confident, glowing like any bride to be who had found her Prince Charming at last.

Here is what I wrote about her back then: ‘The newest member of the Royal Family took everything in her stride.

‘Charming all who had queued in the cold to say hello and wish her well, she could engage, talk about the weather, admire babies and even smile when people told her repeatedly that ‘Diana would have loved you’.’

I went on to describe this ‘dazzling and confident debut’ from ‘a remarkable young woman… who was not born to be a princess but moves with ease in her brave new world’.

It was indeed a new dawn –newspapers were calling her appearance on the scene ‘the Markle Sparkle’, unaware that the bubble would burst sooner rather than later. Little did anyone know on that hopeful morning that we were witnessing not just history in the making but the beginning of a royal fairytale that was to curdle quicker than a £5 As Ever chocolate left to rot in the Californian sun.

Harry licks icing from his hand as he and Meghan decorate birthday cupcakes at Epic Partners

Not only that, but it was also the start of a calamitous period that would rock the monarchy, tarnish an entire country and cast a shadow over the last years of those doughty royal stalwarts, Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip. And that was a fate they did not deserve.

With their public accusations of racism, bullying, lack of support, general peeve and never being asked if they were OK, Harry and Meghan changed everything – but ultimately what they changed most of all was the way the British public felt about them.

In 2017, the people of Nottingham came out to see them in their thousands. Today, that number is barely in the dozens.

The Sussexes couldn’t have cleared the streets here more efficiently if they had turned a water cannon on the crowds – and perhaps, in a way, that is exactly what they did. However, there is still excitement in some quarters at their royal presence. Not everyone is disgruntled.

At first sight of the royal couple, a few women in the throng at the Community Recording Studio start ululating. Then one lone voice shrieks: ‘We love you Meghan!’ What can I say? It wasn’t me.

Some curious onlookers in trackies shuffle forward like extras in a zombie movie. A group of schoolchildren in red fleeces are corralled in front to greet the royal visitors. ‘Are you Californian?’ one of them asks Meghan. ‘Yes, I am. Have you ever been to California?’ she replies.

The Duchess means well, of course, but what kind of question is that to ask a little girl in scuffed trainers in a low-income area of one of the most deprived cities in the UK?

Meghan gives her a big duchessy smile and moves on down the line, chic in her luxe plum separates. Harry is in front of her, his waxen head bent low to talk to the children. ‘What class are you missing? Where are your teachers? Gimme some,’ he says, holding up his palm for a little boy to slap.

When the children tell him they will be off on half term soon, he delivers a lecture. ‘No photos, get off social media, get outside,’ he says, waggling a finger.

They both pass by me within inches, keeping their attention focused on the children.

Harry is all furze and stubble, like a clumsily clipped red squirrel, but do you know what Meghan looks like up close and personal? Rich.

She’s got the unmistakable sheen of one of those wealthy, five-ply, ‘600 thread count’, glossy-posse women who marinate in serums and luxury and never have to wonder where their next £2,000 is coming from so that they can buy a pair of oversized Ralph Lauren clown trousers.

For this trip, their first quasi-official outing since returning to the UK, the duke and duchess have put together a little schedule of do-good works and ‘spread the charity bread’ appointments, mostly visiting the kind of grassroots organisations they have been involved with for years.

If this was a first step in resurrecting their public life in the UK, it was a very small one – perhaps even timid. After the Community Recording Studio, the couple visited the Himmah Hub, a Nottingham charity tackling poverty, food insecurity, racism and social exclusion – quite the full menu there.

Afterwards they left via a rear entrance, annoying the small crowd who had waited for 90 minutes to catch a glimpse of them. Apparently, there had been cooking demos and a bracelet-making class.

Did Meghan enjoy her time there? ‘Yah, it was really meaningful, thank you for asking,’ she told ITV, before slipping back inside her car.

The Duke and Duchess of Sussex were ferried around the city in a convoy of two Range Rovers, with beefy bodyguards stacked in both.

There was also backup from Nottingham Police, with at least one unmarked police car and one traffic police car in attendance. Three community policemen were also on hand to help with crowd control, but their services were not required.

As the couple pitched up at the last stop of the day, a television reporter shouted: ‘Do you feel safe today, Harry?’ – a query that was icily ignored.

We were at Epic Partners in Edale Road, an acronym which is Empowering Positive and Inspirational Change.

As with all the causes espoused by these various companies over the course of today – coaching and unemployment, bringing communities together, coping with the prospect of financial hardship, building family skills, creating opportunities – it crossed my mind that the people most in need of these skills are the Sussexes themselves.

Again, a small crowd had gathered outside the community centre, which had a tattered strip of bunting wrapped around the barbed wire on the roof. If one were looking for a metaphor, there it was in all its ragged glory. The leader of the centre embraced Meghan as she approached the entrance. ‘So pleased you are here,’ he enthused.

‘Yeeees,’ was all she could muster by way of reply. Well. It had been a long day in Nottingham.

It had also been a revealing day, a very cringe day, a day in which two people couldn’t seem to decide if they were public figures or not, if they were privates on parade, ghosts in the machine, or royal contenders once more. And, to be honest, neither could I.

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