Barnes and noble

I was in that twilight world between sleep and consciousness when the text message alert announced the inevitable - that Wills and Kate had split. A few moments later, the Today programme - with typically absurd BBC pomposity - 'confirmed' it. In the hours that followed, Guy and I were besieged in a way we had not been for half a dozen years: broadcasters wanting Guy, as a former director of the Press Complaints Commission, to comment on the alleged harassment of Kate Middleton; the papers wanting me to write about what it all meant. It brought back horrible memories of weekends swallowed up by the monster of royal intrigue. And we both declined to speak to anyone about it.

Guy and I helped put together the pact between the Royal Family and the media when Prince William went to St Andrews that allowed him four happy years, free (apart from a brief moment when his Uncle Edward decided to try to make an unauthorised film about him) from media scrutiny - and free to form a relationship with Kate. Many said it could never be done, but it was done, thanks to the commitment of the press, and it was an enormous success, although it did propel us a bit too much into a spotlight we didn't enjoy. And both the Prince of Wales and William did all they could to make this pact work.

The problems only started when William and Kate left the media-free bubble of St Andrews and started appearing to court the headlines, not on purpose, but because William couldn't see that his game of playing 'normal' was going to have to come to an end.

So, going to nightclubs with Kate and even having her at his passing out parade at Sandhurst (where Kate clearly performed for the cameras), all sent unintended signals. It's near impossible to get right, and I doubt William either asked for advice or was forced to take it. So, they paid the price of getting it wrong - too many thinking they were on track to St Paul's for a fairy-tale wedding. And William jumping from Kate's ship into an army tank.

To help us over the weekend, I suggested we go to Sonny's, a great French bistro in Barnes, owned by another power couple - the wonderful artist/restaurateur Rebecca Mascarenhas and her brilliant husband James Harris.

The evening could not have been more different from the weekend. The phone only rang once and Sonny's helped us banish the memories of those difficult days. It was an ambience that enabled us to have some of the best, least interrupted and most relaxing conversation we'd had for weeks.

It's a very gentle place: light and airy, with tables set well apart, and smart and efficient, but discreet, service. Guy complained that there was nothing very light on the menu, but that was his fault for having gone to lunch at La Poule au Pot. However, that did not stop him from downing an entire plate of Bayonne ham and celeriac remoulade - which he described as perfect, and 'even better' than that of Racine on Brompton Road - and then attacking a cassoulet. Although this was a delicious combination of pork and Toulouse sausages, it did beat him in the end.

I think I was rather more modest. A light salad and then a steak were polished off with some very fruity Rioja. Guy always 'does' wine and observed that the list was slightly too slanted in favour of the New World. We agreed that this was a first-class bistro; the only thing we disagreed on were the frites - I thinking them a bit pallid (but downing the lot), with Guy praising them to the skies.

Although a Monday night, Sonny's was quite full - a splendid combination of courting couples, the more settled who couldn't be bothered to cook, and people simply in search of good food. It's not difficult to see why: whether for relaxation, romance or business, Sonny's provides good food, good service and a great atmosphere.

But there was a spectre at the feast. Kate and Wills should have been there in the corner. For if they'd spent more time relaxing peacefully at a place like Sonny's - rather than teasing the media outside nightclubs - they might still be together. Then we might really have had a royal fairy tale that proved enduring.

Sonny's Food Shop
Church Road, London, SW13 0DQ