The photographers stand four deep. Bagpipes are being played. The crowds, drinking champagne, are packed together like second-hand paperbacks. Michael Caine has been invited, so has Terence Stamp and, oh, here’s Jeffrey Archer.

‘Clear a space. She’s coming through,’ says one of the security men in the Waterstone’s bookstore in Harrods.

Who are we waiting for? Royalty, at least? No. We’re waiting for a woman who once married a very rich man and has written a book. The same lady who had the bad manners to arrive after Princess Margaret at this week’s Oscar de la Renta fashion show.

Suddenly, Ivana Trump is here: with too much whale-sperm or whatever it is injected into her upper lip, a body courtesy of Michael Jackson’s surgeon, stick-thin legs tipped with satin stilettos and an almost life-sized gold tree on the lapel of her white suit.

‘She’s terrific. But I thought Joan Collins would be here tonight,’ says a disappointed fellow author, Una Mary Parker, shining in sequined jacket. Ivana, whose sole purpose here is to publicise her book, shoots her dazzling smile and poses graciously with bookshop owner Tim Waterstone and author Jeffrey Archer. In public she looks so tiny, perched on ridiculously high heels. ‘I’d like to make this wonderful bookshop open,’ she says, cutting the pink ribbon. Then a mere 10 minutes after she arrived, she leaves with a sulky looking Italian millionaire walking a few steps behind. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, ‘we have another engagement.’

That same morning, in an hour-long interview, I had encountered a very different Ivana. The style of the public Ivana is self-congratulatory and ridiculously royal. You can see immediately why she annoys people. However, on a one-to-one basis, she is charm itself, allowing you just close enough to catch a glimpse of how vulnerable she can be. The mere fact of Ivana’s survival seems to have highlighted the similar ways in which women suffer because of men – however privileged they are. That is why she’s been so popular on this trip.

The people in the queues for her books are clearly consoled by this and believe that Ivana the victim deserves her turn to be queen. She’s 43 years old and still very pretty. ‘I was not reborn by plastic surgery. People write that I transform my body. That is totally wrong,’ says the woman who describes herself as ‘good looking, not beautiful’. ‘I didn’t have my nose done. It is crooked from skiing. I look at yours and you have it a little too.’ So what did she have done? ‘That,’ she insists, ‘is a private thing.’ She considers having a manicure ‘normal maintenance’ for any woman.

Outside the sitting-room in the Draycott Hotel sat her book publicist, a make-up lady and her personal publicist.

Oddly, ‘The Donald’ is displeased, saying the book – which she persists in insisting is not at all autobiographical – was written in violation of a pre-marital agreement which precluded her from writing about him. So how has the private Ivana dealt with the pain of such a publicly humiliating divorce. ‘It hurts, of course,’ she says. ‘But my mother helped me tremendously. Maybe because of my upbringing in a communist country, where you really did have to keep your thoughts to yourself, I don’t open up very much. It still takes time until I open up. Even with my friends. ‘When I’m sad, I cry. I’m sensitive. I can get tears to my eyes quite often. Probably once a week. Somebody asked me yesterday about my dad (he died recently) and I had tears in my eyes in 10 seconds.’

She takes a sip of camomile tea. ‘I’m frightened that something mighthappen to my family. I lost my father and now I’m scared that something might happen to my mother or, God forbid, my children.’

Her faith has also helped her. ‘I go to church on Sundays. Yes, I go to confession sometimes. In Czechoslovakia, we had to hide our religion.’ The next lunchtime, back at Harrods, a very different Ivana is signing copies of her book in gold ink. Lisa Calandra, her personal publicist, stands close by: ‘Ivana loves this. She loves being with the people.’ She’s been with Ivana for 11 years and they have been travelling on this publicity tour for six weeks, starting every day at 7am and finishing at 9pm. Lisa the publicist is homesick. ‘I have these two little toy poodles at home. I miss them terribly.’

There are up to 50 people in the queue. The cameras flash and the fans are clearly in awe. ‘Ivana speaks for all women. You feel the humanity in her. It oozes out,’ says Burran Galib, a Turkish woman clutching £14.99 worth of hardback in her hand.

‘She’s what most women aspire to be,’ says Daniel Harmon, a man who wants Ivana to sign his shorts. ‘Only if you’re not wearing them,’ she replies. Daniel returns wearing another pair and her royal Trumpness obliges. There are many American fans. ‘She’s a courageous woman,’ says 81-year-old Canadian Douglas Kerr, watching Ivana work her way through the queue.

Ivana’s style is super-friendly. Later a woman in black, middle-aged and wearing plimsolls, approaches her as if for a blessing. ‘We live in Israel and we follow you,’ she says. Ivana smiles beatifically.

Harrods boss Mohammed Al Fayed appears and Ivana gives him a hug. ‘She’s wonderful,’ he says. ‘We’ve sold hundreds of the books. But I’m going to look after the money, otherwise she’ll spend it on clothes.’ At this point, Ivana’s words in the hotel room come back to me. ‘I don’t think it is a circus at all. You have to market your product.’ During the interview the private Ivana had talked about her attitude to money. ‘There is no difference between old money and new money. There is nothing wrong with money. I do believe money is not everything. I am not saying that I would like to be poor. That would be ridiculous.’ The following night, the Czech-born former international skier is on Wogan. She looks as if she’s wearing the same outfit as she wore in Harrods, plus the gold tree of course. She sits with her hands perched on her knees, a real professional. And as she answers Wogan’s questions, a funny feeling comes over me . . . the answers were just the same, almost word perfect. Last night was the final party during Ivana’s visit to London. It was held at the Queen’s dressmakers, Hartnell in Bruton Street. There were mirrored walls, chandeliers, swag curtains . . . and posters of Ivana with For Love Alone.

Glamorous in white suit and hair clipped high, Ivana worked her way professionally through the room. Her 150 guests drank champagne, ate canapes, picked strawberries off a special strawberry tree and grabbed free copies of the book.

Who was there? Superstar French designer Marc Bohan and former Moss Bros director Manny Silverman. Now Ivana is in the corner, standing tete-a-tete with American social chronicler, Liz Brewer. Nearby is her boyfriend, Riccardo Mazzuchelli.

‘The press are so nasty to her,’ he says. ‘Maybe because it’s a macho world and the men don’t like to see a woman do well. Maybe people are jealous of her and they don’t like it that she’s done well professionally. But she was up at 4.30 this morning to prepare to go on television. I take my hat off to her.’