I COULDN'T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT DT …
“A golden thread, which runs through the days, through the weeks, through the months and through the years …” It is strangely moving to hear these words from a woman describing her love for the man she has been married to for 35 years—especially in times when marriage vows and divorce papers seem increasingly to be based on a theme of easy come, easy go.
It is the more moving when you hear the words spoken in a sitting-room in Downing Street, by the Prime Minister of her husband Denis—and when she adds, of that love: “It is always there. I am unbelievably fortunate.”
Although their lives have changed in almost every possible way since that cold foggy day of 13 December 1951, when they were married, and although neither of them could possibly have had the slightest inkling then of the scale of those changes culminating in her becoming Prime Minister nearly eight years ago, talking to her and watching them together for nearly an hour you get the feeling that she is still “DT's” biggest fan.
In answer to the question whether there was any opposition to the marriage, either from her parents because he had been married before, or from his because in those times she could be considered to have come from a lower class, Mrs Thatcher responds quite vehemently, “Absolutely not. The moment you know Denis ThatcherDenis, you know you could not possibly have any opposition. He is just a marvellous person!”
Asked to describe in what way Denis is good for her, she pauses for a moment then says very carefully and slowly: “I do not think I could have done what I have done without Denis … You come back home and you know that, whatever has happened outside that day, there is always affection and loyalty, a sense of perspective and a sense of proportion. That is what Denis gives to me and, likewise, what I try to give to him.”
And at the end of the interview as Denis is standing politely waiting for us to finish and the pictures to be taken so that he can dash off to lunch with a rugby crony. I ask [end p1] what she would do if he asked her to give up her job. “He wouldn't,” she says simply.
Contained in those three short answers is a story of a remarkable partnership between not one, but two, remarkable people. Her achievements in becoming Prime Minister and staying there longer than anyone else this century are outstanding enough; his achievement in adapting, with no blueprint, to the role of male Prime Ministerial consort and carrying it out with such subtlety and skill, deserve equal mention. For a couple to have survived at all for 35 years is unusual in this day and age. For the Thatchers to have survived the dramatic role reversal of the last eight is surprising. To be as clearly happy as they are is indeed remarkable.
They will wish each other a happy anniversary when they wake at Chequers next Saturday morning. She remembers the date automatically—she was born on 13 October, married on 13 December and the children were baptised on the same day three years later.
So what is the story of their love and marriage? How has it changed to meet the changes? And has its success made her more, or less, sympathetic to those close to her who have private problems or public difficulties with theirs?
Even though she had on a warm sapphire blue velvet dress as she walked up the aisle of City Road Methodist Church that day in 1951, the 25-year-old Margaret Hilda Roberts, daughter of a Grantham grocer, Oxford University graduate and twice failed political candidate, was freezing cold. It was such a bitter and foggy day that some of the 50 guests had great difficulty getting home afterwards. She laughs about it now. “I always say to people getting married now, ‘I hope you have a nice day, but don't worry what the weather is like because, if ours was anything to go by, it won't make any difference to your marriage.’”
The man waiting at the top of the aisle was 11 years older than her, had grown up in much greater middle class comfort, been to minor public school, served in Sicily and Italy during the war (MBE and Mentioned in Despatches) had gone into, and emerged amicably from a wartime marriage that simply did not work, become managing director of the family chemical company based in Kent, had joined the local Tory party and had been most struck by the girl who had presented herself as candidate for Dartford three years earlier and now came to stand by him.
“What caught my eye,” he said not long ago, “were the same qualities then as now. She was beautiful, gay, very kind and thoughtful … Who could meet Margaret without being completely slain by her personality and intellectual brilliance?”
Her assessment of those heady days of her first job, her first legal studies towards qualifying at the Bar, her first political steps and her first love great enough to contemplate marriage is that they were among the happiest of her life: “We got to know each other over a long period of time and the idea of marriage just grew between us.
“It is the biggest decision you take in your life and, as far as I was concerned, then and now, it was for life. Sometimes today I hear people saying: ‘Well, if it doesn't work, you can always get out of it!’—that never occured to me at the time. It was certainly marriage for life.
“We went in to it hoping to have a family and make a family unit. We had both come from sure, stable backgrounds. It was the strength of that base that mattered, as I had seen from my own family. There had been times when things were difficult. The ordinary standard of living then was very very different from what it is now—it was years before we had anything like a vacuum cleaner—but there was a family stability and permanence and both Denis and I brought that to our marriage.
“It was, for us, a Christian ideal, but it would be a mistake to think that only people who went to church had that background—it permeated pretty well throughout society. It did not matter whether you called yourself a Christian or not, you accepted that families were the basis of society and were for life. Of course, there were and are exceptions, but society can take exceptions—provided they are just that, and the basic stability goes on.
“Neither of us was terribly young. I think we were both of an age when we were quite happy and ready to settle down and to work at it. I think everyone has to make some adjustments and we were no different—but we went into it making adjustments. I had enough interests to know that I wanted to carry on with them. Denis had the same. And we had a lot of shared interests. Separate lots of friends came with each group, but you do not try to stop your partner doing the separate things or keeping up with their other friends. It gives you more to talk about and each of you brings something from outside to it.”
If adjusting to each other was accomplished with little difficulty, it is not surprising to discover that there were greater problems adjusting to change in their lives after they married. The twins, Mark and Carol, were born on the day England won the Ashes in August 1953. She qualified for the Bar, began to practice law, became the candidate for Finchley and entered Parliament in 1959.
Denis sold the family firm to Castrol, who, in turn, merged with Burmah Oil, on whose board he had a seat. Margaret moved up through the Shadow ranks during the Sixties and in 1970 was made Education Minister by Ted Heath. Five years later, after two election defeats, she ousted him and took the party leadership and the rest, as they say, is history. The leadership came just as Denis was contemplating retirement and, though it took him very much by surprise, he never showed the slightest doubt that she would get it or anxiety that she should not got for it, or anything but pride when she did get it.
But which of these changes had the biggest effect on their marriage? “The single most important change in our marriage—in any marriage—is the arrival of children,” she says. “Of course it changes you. From the moment they are born, children dominate your life. There only had to be a cry in the night and you were out of bed in a flash. You find yourself aware of the absolute miracle of creation and birth. This is what marriage and family is all about for most people.
“Your life centres on them. You acquire a whole new set of friends—those who live around and have young children of their own. And then they start to grow up and they go to their first school and you and they make more friends.
“And then come the children's parties, which are never to be forgotten! They were the most concentrated two or three hours of effort I have ever known—especially with twins! Denis was marvellous on such occasions, he is very good with children.”
But what of the change when [end p2] she became leader and then Prime Minister? Did that not make a difference; call for great adaptations and allowances to be made between them? Remarkably she says not, and gives a fascinating reason …
“There are two of us. It is a great partnership. It is not a marriage where one is dominant and one is weak. It is a genuine partnership. I have my work; he has his. He still has several working directorships. My work is important to me—but it is to him too. His work is important to him—and to me too. We value each other, each other's opinions and advice.
“So, in terms of the marriage, I honestly do not regard my job as being any more important than his is. They are just different jobs. And I have always had his support and loyalty—as he has had mine.
“Of course he is a terrific help to me. I really could not have done it without him. He can be a sounding board when I ask him what he thinks. Or he can say many of the things I could not possibly say. I sometimes roar with laughter when I hear his views coming out in the open. It's terrific, because they are the views so many people have and I think that, while I have to be a bit more circumspect as Prime Minister, I thank goodness someone has expressed them.”
Aware, perhaps, that he is 11 years older than her and already into his seventies, she gives a rare glimpse of what life would be like without the love and loyalty and the sense of perspective and proportion that she, and others, get from a good partner: “People who have to do extremely difficult jobs alone, without that support, sometimes take their worries home and brood on them and can't get them out of their mind!
“Then they begin to get things out of proportion. You need a partner.
“The marvellous thing about a lasting marriage is that the stability is constantly there. Denis is invaluable; the support he provides is part of your subconsciousness—and sometimes your consciousness—the entire time. Naturally he is at his most valuable when things are particularly difficult in the House—or during the Falklands, which was my most difficult time, or the coal strike, which was also difficult. Or when the work load just gets too much—and he will say, ‘Oh, not those boxes again. Can't you ever [end p3] take a rest from them?’ or something like that, and we will just sit down and have a talk.
“You have to sit down and talk because it is part of your family, part of your giving—to listen to someone else and to talk to them. Then sometimes after an hour or so I will look at the clock and think, ‘Oh, Gosh! It's 10 o'clock already and I haven't started those boxes yet. It's going to be really late tonight!’ But then I realise that I can probably work better for having a break, for having gained a bit of perspective from someone else like Denis. It does run like a golden thread …
“We laugh a lot together—sometimes because it is better than to cry! But mostly about the little things that have happened during the day. I may have put something down somewhere and not have been able to find it—that sort of thing. And we are at our happiest on the rare occasions when we are in together and we just potter down to the kitchen to get our supper together and chat as we get a simple meal ready. Friday nights when we are at Chequers and the pressure is off a little bit are the best, because we can just be together and talk.”
All of this sounds idyllic. But has she ever thrown anything at him?
“Good Heavens, no!” she says, laughing, but looking slightly shocked at the suggestion. Has she ever lost her temper with him then?
“Of course there are times when I get cross. There are times when he does. But we do tend to get cross together more about something else that has happened than we do with each other.”
Are there things about each other that irritate them. “Good Lord, no!” she says equally firmly and then tells a story which puts this aspect of the marriage in perspective …
“When the children were born Denis gave me a string of pearls and a few years later I lost them. I searched everywhere, but could I find them? No. For days I brooded on it and I worried about it. How in the world was I ever going to tell him I had lost this precious gift? What would he say? Then 10 days later I found them. So I did not have to tell him.
“I was really worried then, but I would not be these days. I understand things do get lost and you are lucky if that is all you have to worry about. They are only possessions and what matters more is that humanity is all right. Of course it is irritating—particularly if it is something you have given one another—but it is not important compared with the really big human problems you have to cope with. The thing about my life—the thing about his life—is that if you start to worry about little things, all of a sudden you say: “Good Heavens. What am I doing? If this is all we have to worry about, aren't we lucky?”
Our interview took place in the week after Jeffrey Archer 's resignation. The personal problems of those around her were once again in the forefront of the public consciousness. Did the rock-like stability of her own marriage and Denis's unswerving loyalty to her make her more or less tolerant of troubles of colleagues and friends?
“Of course you feel sympathy, because you learn not to make judgements of other people. If two people are getting divorced, you can't make judgements because you never know the whole story. You just do what you can to help. I was talking earlier about the exceptions in a society. There will always be exceptions—marriages that don't last. I have great sympathy for the people involved.
“I know in the media I am only allowed extreme emotions: I either ‘do not care’ or I am ‘furious’. Neither is true—particularly when it comes to people's personal problems. I have seen enough to be very sympathetic, not to sit in judgement and to help when needed.
“If you find the right person you want to marry then you are a lucky person. Fortunately there are quite a lot of lucky people! It is the greatest thing in your life and it lasts for life. Denis and I are great friends as well as the great affection we have. The whole feeling between us is that it is for life. It is something that will continue, that will endure …”