Prince Harry is doing important things, in his own way. And alone.

We were told Charles was ‘too busy’ to attend Harry’s Invictus service. Really? Here is a father who won’t see a son yearning for reconciliation, yet found time for David Beckham.

Prince Harry, the Duke of Sussex meets members of the public as he departs The Invictus Games Foundation 10th Anniversary Service at St Paul's Cathedral. Picture: Chris Jackson/Getty Images

Imagine being stranded in the midst of family; the wall of their backs turned upon you. Could there be anything lonelier? Thinking of Prince Harry here. Of his recent cold-shouldering when he attended an Invictus Games service for injured veterans. In his home town, London. The actions of the royals felt Shakespearean as well as quotidian, the stuff of future plays and yet also, prosaically, of an everyday broken family – in all its destructive smallness.

This year is shaping up to be yet another royal annus horribilis, and an annus confusum for us. Because, well, what exactly is going on? It feels like a year of diminishment, amid cancer diagnoses, ageing ranks, muddied messaging, misguided Photoshopping, briefings and counter-briefings to selective press, shunnings. We were told both Charles and William were “too busy” to attend the Invictus service. Really? In this ongoing family psychodrama, restive subjects crave transparency. The release of forgiveness. A letting go. A moving on. For realm’s sake. I wanted father and son meeting in a rejuvenating unlocking of emotional maturity; they did not. We subjects looked on, cracking out the popcorn, aghast at such a dysfunctional display. How could this family be so … normal? Just like the worst of us.

The crown’s mystique lies in the fallacy of a monarch better, braver, nobler and wiser than the rest of us; one who leads by example. In King Charles we had a father who wouldn’t see a son publicly yearning for reconciliation, yet found time for David Beckham. Charles is the head of a Church that preaches forgiveness. A reconciliation would have buoyed us, and quite possibly them. This destructive rift must weigh heavily upon the crown; another stress to add to the health stresses. But during the Invictus episode a troubled child was rejected yet again, and a chance at familial healing was lost.

Then the Spencers stepped forward, in what felt like a master stroke for Harry. Diana’s brother and sister were there for their nephew; rejoice. This was the Uncle Charles who’d promised to look after Diana’s boys at her funeral: “We, your blood family, will do all we can to continue the imaginative way in which you were steering these two exceptional young men, so that their souls are not simply immersed by duty and tradition but can sing openly.” The outcast was enveloped by his mother’s family in his hour of need; and of course Diana, too, had been an outcast. The tug of history, the moving resonances.

And not a single royal, apart from Harry, was there for the veterans who’d fought for their country. The optics: self-interest over community interest. Wounded soldiers as collateral and in the midst of it all, the lost boy.

Who then flew to Nigeria, and shone. It was a radiant rock star tour for Meghan and Harry; they didn’t put a foot wrong. It all felt modern, inclusive and energising, harking back to the exhilaration and warmth that accompanied Diana on her foreign tours. The message: Harry is continuing his mother’s legacy. He’s a young man doing good things, important things, in his own way. And alone. He’s connecting.

Is it time to think about gathering Harry back into the fold? The lack of royal grace towards him felt triggering. What of the tonic of forgiveness and generosity in these troubled times? The choice of joy, of healing, is sorely needed in so many arenas of power right now. The cry from the people, over so many things: Let it go. But too often that plea falls on deaf ears for those trapped in the cage of their fury.

As our era is submerged in grimness, we yearn for uplift; are drawn to those who create joy. Fat chance, for so many holding power’s gift. They’re all too human, predictably and stubbornly. The royal family is overdue an annus mirabilis – a wonderful year. But right now that seems a long way off.