NEXT WAS WILLY. I knew he’d kill me if I let it go another minute. So Meg and I popped over one afternoon, shortly before he and I were due to leave on a shooting trip. Walking up to apartment 1A, under the huge arch, through the courtyard, I felt more nervous than I had before the meeting with Granny. I asked myself why. No answer came to mind. We climbed the gray stone steps, rang the bell. No reply. After a wait the door opened and there was my big brother, a bit dressed up. Nice trousers, nice shirt, open collar.
I introduced Meg, who leaned in and gave him a hug, which completely freaked him out. He recoiled. Willy didn’t hug many strangers. Whereas Meg hugged most strangers. The moment was a classic collision of cultures, like flashlight-torch, which felt to me both funny and charming. Later, however, looking back, I wondered if it was more than that. Maybe Willy expected Meg to curtsy? It would’ve been protocol when meeting a member of the Royal Family for the first time, but she didn’t know, and I didn’t tell her. When meeting my grandmother, I’d made it clear—this is the Queen. But when meeting my brother, it was just Willy, who loved Suits.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex