Colin left me a message to check yesterday’s edition of the London Times. There, on the front page, was the Queen, holding the portrait I’d done o... her and her dog from thirty years ago. The story was ten columns long, singing my praises. It was almost embarrassing. It got worse when the Queen said she’d allow both paintings to be shown in the National Gallery for a limited time. Then they would disappear from the public eye, back into her private collection.There was another photo, of Katie. I went downstairs for a drink, deciding that I needed a shot of fortitude if I was going to face Princess Barb tonight. I was drinking it when I heard the front door open. Wonder of wonders, she came home. She was still walking with some difficulty when I came to the bottom of the stairs. “Hi, Honey!” she said with a smile as she hobbled the rest of the way up the stairs.I followed her, suppressing a smile of triumph. “Hi,” I said simply. “How was your day?”“Oh my God!” she groaned. “I was in. More

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