the girl. She was very nice. They knew her family. They respected her privacy.

What do London tabloid journalists do? Go through garbage? There's a law against that in these parts. Stakeouts? Instead, I wrote up a flyer asking people to call if they had information. I delivered it door to door in her neighbourhood.

The next day I was denounced on the city's biggest English-language radio station. The two old ladies who hosted the programme had received one of my notes. They thought my request to be an outrageous intrusion.

I then got a list of Autumn's classmates and wrote to several dozen of them asking for photos, info, anything. Silence had never been stonier.

A local journalist called Casey McKinnon turned out to have been to school with Autumn. She proudly paraded her friendship with Mrs Phillips-to-be and then denounced my quest for knowledge, a position which seemed hypocritical given we were fellow journalists in the sacred quest for public enlightenment.

Everybody in the suburbs seemed to be

circling the wagons in the name of their home girl's dignity. Then, out of the blue, I received my one and only firm tip. A lifelong classmate of Kelly's contacted me. Her assessment of Kelly ­ whom she had gone to school with for over a decade ­ was particularly negative.

Kelly, she told me, was a giggler, not a deep thinker, and tended to follow the crowd in moments of classroom bullying. When her two best friends won university soccer scholarships - and she scored no such triumph - Autumn was deflated.

And that was it. My determination to satisfy the world's legitimate curiosity of this 33-year-old ­ - three years older than her royal mate - ­ had at least been a little sated.

The tale of Autumn Kelly seemed about as typical as could be. She was born and raised in a sleepy suburban area, had a typical upbringing and met a well-off guy and moved to London. No big deal. In fact two of my own sisters had also married well in London.

My hours of cajoling, emailing and banging on doors had proved that hardcore tabloid journalism doesn't always get results in a town unfamiliar with the rhythm of intrusive journalism.