Free The Real Iron Lady by Gillian Shephard

history records the reality and not the caricature. She was a woman of contrasts who could behave with great kindness, yet who was equally capable of great intimidation. I experienced both these character traits first-hand in the mid-1980s when I was appointed a Treasury Whip.
    At a Whips’ dinner in June 1985, Margaret, accompanied by Denis, was becoming increasingly bored by the pre-dinner chat. John Wakeham, the Chief Whip, accurately reading Margaret’s impatience,
    silenced the room, saying, ‘Let’s begin’, and went on to state that, given Treasury policy was crucial to all our plans, the Treasury Whip should brief the Prime Minister on the current concerns of the parliamentary party.
    I obliged, but perhaps too vividly. I told the Prime Minister that the party was not enamoured of our policy. In fact, many of our members disliked it intensely, and were openly saying so in the tea rooms. Only loyalty was holding back their discontent and that was already being stretched to breaking point. We were close to facing a rebellion.
    â€˜What
exactly
are they concerned about?’ came an icy voice from across the table, as her soup went cold. Unperturbed, I set out a detailed list, most notably that colleagues believed that worthwhile capital expenditure (which they favoured) was being sacrificed to sustain current expenditure – especially on social security (which they did not favour). Every Whip present had heard the same complaints on a daily basis, but they seemed entirely novel to the Prime Minister, and entirely unwelcome.
    Margaret was livid and began attacking me as though the views I had reported from the party were my own. Her reaction was so wildly over the top that my fellow Whips studied their empty soup bowls and shuffled uneasily in their seats. Infuriated by the injustice of her behaviour, I reiterated that it was the job of a Whip to report the party view whether the Prime Minister liked it or not. Unsurprisingly, this did not calm her mood.
    Carol Mather – ADC to Montgomery – intervened to support me. So did Bob Boscawen, blown up in a tank and terribly scarred. These were two of the bravest men I have ever known. Margaret slapped down Carol and glared at Bob. The temperature continued to rise. Jean Trumpington, a Lords Whip, attempted to diffuse the situation but had her head snapped off. It was an extraordinary scene, which significantly delayed the main course until we eventually, and uncomfortably, moved on to other issues.
    At the end of the evening, the Deputy Chief Whip, John Cope, whispered in my ear that I ‘might care to make peace with the Prime Minister’. I did not. I was still seething at the injustice of her attack on me and others.
    Yet the very next day, this extraordinary woman of contrasts came to sit beside me on the front bench, where I was the Whip on duty. All warmth and smiles, she suggested we continue our discussion in the Whips’ Office. I talked. She listened. All was sweetness and light. Three weeks later, she appointed me Junior Minister at the Department of Health and Social Security. ‘It’s a good job,’ said Margaret, ‘It’s where I started.’ And so it was. This was not the only disagreement I had with Margaret, but it was certainly the most memorable.
    In the furore of that Whips’ dinner in 1985, I learned something crucial about Margaret’s
modus operandi:
she did not like people who were pliant. She liked a good row and thrived on it. Indeed, going into battle often helped her reach a decision.
    Working with Margaret was always challenging, but equally stimulating. When she was in agreement with you, she was as forceful in support as she could be in opposition. Moreover, if she felt comfortable with you, a great deal of latitude was offered before your opinion was challenged. This was one of the reasons why she attracted such strong support from almost all those with whom she worked.
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