The Real Iron Lady (19 page)
Read The Real Iron Lady Online
Authors: Gillian Shephard
Just two weeks after she left office she gave an interview
to Fiona Millar for
The House
magazine (an incredible demonstration of courage in itself), in which she talked about Denis and the family, and about combining her work as an MP with her family responsibilities.
I was very lucky because my husband worked in town, we lived in town and most of my work was here (in the Commons). It would have been very different had Denis worked in Leeds or Manchester or Glasgow. I couldn't have done half the things I have done. He has been a tremendously important part of my life and we were never far away from the children. When they went to boarding schools we deliberately chose ones which were close at hand so we could always get there very quickly. I didn't stand in the 1955 election because the children were too young, and then Finchley came along about 1958 and I applied and got it. I could only have applied for seats which were close to London. I just didn't feel I could leave the children ⦠The other great thing about being an MP is that some of the holidays coincide with the children's, so I was able to spend some time with them then. Although I was very busy and out and about, I could take them around with me so it fitted in very well.
I think you could just as easily say that the Westminster system isn't geared for men as for women. You do have to sacrifice a great deal but it has worked very well for most people ⦠there are a lot of jobs which involve travel, so I think sometimes you just have to make the very best
of what you've got. Then life is brighter than if you are constantly looking at what you haven't got.
It is interesting that in this interview, she gives no hint at all that there should be special arrangements for women MPs, or indeed for any working women. She continued to insist on an even-handed approach to the interests of men and women. Conservative Party policy continues to oppose positive discrimination for women, a policy most visible in the party's continuing opposition to all-women shortlists for selecting parliamentary candidates.
However, Margaret Thatcher did have concerns about some policy areas which were obviously important to women. She frequently used the Conservative Women's National Committee as a sounding board, as Joan Seccombe remembers.
My first encounter with Margaret Thatcher was in the late 1960s when, as a new women's branch chairman in Yardley in Birmingham, I attended the Conservative National Conference in London. Margaret was one of the speakers and I have a vivid memory of her in a large blue hat with the brim bobbing up and down as she made her points. I did not see that hat again but, fortunately, it would be the first of many encounters I had with Margaret in the years to come.
In those days around 1,000 representatives attended the Conservative Women's Conference each year. Many of these women did not have outside careers and the income which went with this. Money was tight for young families and the branch secretaries used to
collect a weekly amount from all representatives to ensure everyone had the funds to cover the expenses of the bus. The nation was still living through the aftermath of the war and these trips to London were the highlight of a much simpler life than the one we have today.
People were often more involved in the party at a variety of levels and membership levels were at a record high. The Conservative Party had 3 million members at this time. Membership of the party did not just satisfy political interests but allowed people to engage in the full range of social activities which were available. You were able to join the Young Conservatives and then work your way up through either the women's organisation or the Conservative Policy Centre, and all at a branch level. I worked my way up and was delighted when I reached my position as Women's Branch Chairman for the Acocks Green ward in the Yardley constituency. This enabled me to travel to the Women's Conference and see the range of speakers.
Margaret was young, glamorous and very articulate with the valuable asset of always being able to express herself in a simple manner which could be easily understood. We felt her to be one of us, the mother of small children who understood the difficulties of juggling life. We applauded her appointment as Secretary of State for Education in 1970, from where she started on her dazzling parliamentary career.
I came to know Margaret on a personal level when I was made an area women's chairman in 1977 and started attending biannual visits to No. 10. These meetings were an opportunity to discuss research papers which we had written on issues such as âThe Cinderella Service' â a paper highlighting the poor standing and pay nurses were given in the NHS at the time. This particular research paper was instigated by Lady Young and was a landmark for nurses in the NHS.
It was widely discussed by the public and in the media and thankfully helped change the position nurses were given in our society.
These meetings were not just social visits but provided a forum for serious political work and reporting to which the Prime Minister responded. We, in turn, were able to take back news and updates to the constituencies on the local issues they had raised. This clear conduit into the heart of government worked extremely well and showed an admirable engagement between No. 10 and the grass roots.
People often say that Margaret Thatcher was not a âwoman's woman', yet she always told us that she valued our comments more than most because she heard exactly what was happening on the ground in the constituencies. She heard it in a âno holds barred' manner and encouraged us to be frank and open. We formed a group of well-briefed, feisty and fearless women and her welcome to us was warm and generous. I always felt that she gave the impression she had limitless time for us and our opinions.
I found as a new MP, and then as a very junior social security minister while Margaret Thatcher was Prime Minister, that there were certain policy areas on which she was immoveable, because they mattered to women. Child benefit was a case in point. Every year, Treasury ministers (or more probably Treasury officials) try to have a go at reducing the cost of universal child benefit. They certainly tried it on in preparations for the two Budgets when I was in the Treasury, in 1991 and 1992. It was undoubtedly the same with Margaret Thatcher at No. 10. She would say, time after time, âThis is the only payment which goes direct
to the mother. It is hers for her children, and it must not be touched.'
In
The Downing Street Years
she writes about family policies:
There are limits beyond which âfamily policy' should not seek to go. That is why I considered it important to encourage voluntary bodies which had the right values and vision, like Mrs Margaret Harrison's âHomestart', whose 6,000 voluntary workers were themselves parents and offered friendship, common-sense advice, and support in the family home. I preferred if at all possible that direct help should come from someone other than professional social workers.
I was also appalled by the way in which men fathered a child and then absconded, leaving the single mother â and the taxpayer â to foot the bill for their irresponsibility and condemning the child to a lower standard of living. I thought it scandalous that only one in three children entitled to receive maintenance actually benefited from regular payments. So â against considerable opposition from Tony Newton, the Social Security Secretary, and from the Lord Chancellor's department â I insisted that a new Child Support Agency be set up, and that maintenance be based not just on the cost of bringing up a child but on that child's right to share in its parents' rising living standards. This was the background to the Child Support Act 1991.
I have a very clear memory of how her interest in a possible child support policy was aroused. I was answering Social
Security Questions in the Commons, as departmental teams of ministers have to do monthly, fairly soon after I had joined the Department in July 1989. One of my questions was on the subject of child support in the event of a mother being abandoned by the father of her child. I answered that a group of officials from the Department were currently in Australia looking at the arrangements there which required absent fathers to pay maintenance. I added that we would be looking with interest at their findings, as we were concerned about the plight of mothers and children in this situation. The
Evening Standard
reported my answer that evening, and No. 10 came straight on the phone to the Department. I was immediately summoned to be dressed down by Tony Newton, the Secretary of State. How dare I make policy at the despatch box? What did I think I was doing? Why would the Prime Minister be interested in anything I said, as the most junior minister in the Department? And so on and so on. Tony Newton was the most mild-mannered and kindly man imaginable, but he was clearly terribly rattled. I weakly pointed out that I had been following the official departmental brief in my answer, but by this time he was beyond listening.
What followed was truly dramatic. He in his turn was summoned to No. 10 and told that Mrs T. wanted to pursue the policy. He was as knowledgeable as any official about all aspects of social security policy, and he could see that a morass of difficulties could attend the implementation of such a scheme. Moreover, the Lord Chancellor, Lord Mackay, had
principled objections to maintenance arrangements being made outside a court of law. When Mrs Thatcher writes of opposition from Tony Newton and the Lord Chancellor she understates their views, but the legislation went ahead. History has proved that maybe they had a point.
While she appeared to be reluctant to accept that there were still real injustices for women in the workplace, in the City and in the professions, in which government might have intervened, she had no scruples about using her own gender to the utmost, for personal publicity as an MP and to give the best possible presentation of her case as party leader. She was not a vain woman, but she had at least two major makeovers during her career in order to look her best at all times. She considered it part of the job, but I believe she also enjoyed it.
Michael Jopling, her first Chief Whip when she became Prime Minister, writes,
I first met Margaret Thatcher soon after my election to the Commons in 1964. During the years of opposition until the Heath victory in 1970, I did not come to know her very well. But I recall being surprised and disappointed that such a good-looking woman dressed in a way that did not do her justice. I do not mean miniskirts, which many younger women wore; but the 1960s were a time of snappy dressing generally. When she did become Prime Minister her dress sense became much smarter and more elegant. Although the statue of her in the Members' Lobby at Westminster is meant to be in her later years, the poorly sculptured suit reflects the earlier days.
Soon after she became Leader of the Conservative Party, she met Gordon Reece, a television producer, and with his advice set about changing her image. He advised her on the best outfits to wear for television appearances, and to abandon her hats (although she insisted on continuing to wear her pearls, a gift from Denis after the birth of the twins). He advised her of the importance of the tabloid press, popular radio programmes and women's magazines. And so it was that she underwent a makeover at the hands of
Woman's Own
. The magazine's editor, Jane Reed, describes how Mrs Thatcher gave a whole afternoon to the exercise, which took place in her house, where she made tea for everyone in âher impeccably tidy kitchen'. At one stage she had to be photographed in a wonderful, long evening dress â so long, in fact, that she had to stand on a pile of telephone directories in order for the shot to be taken. She loved the whole thing and, true to type, took it all very seriously.
She realised that her voice needed improvement. She went to a voice coach from the National Theatre. As a result she managed to lower her voice, and gained approval for the result at a meeting with Sir Laurence Olivier.
Her hair was all-important to her, as it is to many women. She was much persuaded of the utility of heated rollers and took them on overseas trips with her, frequently offering to lend them to staff who were accompanying her. The hairdresser came to No. 10 at least three times a week, so that her hair would always look its best. She was
very interested in fashion and would check what was being worn in Paris before visiting France. She strongly believed that to look immaculate at all times was an integral part of the job, and that it indicated that you were an organised and controlled person, important if you were a woman in an overwhelmingly male world. She also, quite clearly, enjoyed clothes, make-up and dressing well. It may even have been a relaxation for her, a kind of feminine hinterland into which she could allow herself to retreat, on the grounds that it was all part of the job.
She took advice from her great friend Mrs Cynthia Crawford, who organised her wardrobe so that the Prime Minister could change outfits quickly. Special occasions, like state visits or royal banquets, required outstanding but not overwhelming outfits, like the wonderful gown, designed and made by Aquascutum, which she once wore for the annual Lord Mayor's Banquet in the Guildhall, a great City and government occasion. It was a fabulous gold and black fur-trimmed evening suit, against which her blonde coiffure looked dazzling under the Guildhall lights.
Her clothes aroused great interest, which endures in some circles to this day.
The Times
of 31 August 2012 announced a sale of some of Mrs Thatcher's clothes with the headline: âThe closet that ruled the Cabinet: your chance to be an Iron Lady'. Nicolas Martineau of Christie's, who were organising the sale, said, âShe was the ultimate power dresser. She was very aware of the
power of television and the power it could have, and she dressed accordingly.'
Before the 1987 election she decided that she needed, again, to update her appearance. Her adviser, Margaret King of Aquascutum, told Brenda Maddox that âShe was a delight to dress. She loved trying on clothes and would twirl around like a little girl. She loved materials and buttons and told me about her mother, Beatrice, who was a dressmaker.' In the end she was the complete master of power dressing, and although she was mocked and lampooned for it, she set a style for a generation.
