Margaret Thatcher (left), Norman Fowler (center), John Major (right)
These diaries tell the story of two chief ministers , whose relationship failed spectacularly. I had the rare experience of observing both at close range: I was a member of Margaret Thatcher's cabinet throughout the 1980s, resigning just a few months before she left office. In the 1990s, under John Major, I became party chairman – a role in which I saw on a daily basis how Thatcher's behavior after leaving office affected him.
Perhaps it was inevitable that she cast such a long shadow. Her character, relentlessly combative and determined, set her apart from the previous occupants of No. 10. However, the nature of her departure from her post was a trauma from which she never recovered – and her bitterness manifested itself in a campaign to undermine the Major's authority. . From then on, he described her behavior as “intolerable” and his anger towards her often reached a fever pitch. My job was to mediate, and it was becoming increasingly difficult, as these diaries show.
November 22, 1990
Leaving the children at school, I go to the House of Commons. Shortly after 9.30 am the resignation was announced. The Thatcher years are over. What a tragedy that it all ended this way. Why, why didn't she have the sense to stop and leave gracefully? God knows, she may have had some rough times, but she was a leader who should be remembered. She changed Britain, and for the better.
Photo: Independent/Alam, April 7,1991[My wife] Fiona and I are invited to Checkers. I go with some concerns, but I have nothing to worry about. The atmosphere has changed beyond recognition, everything is much calmer than in the days of Margaret Thatcher.
The lunch felt like a department reunion as Ken Clarke and Nick True were in attendance. I sat next to Norma, a good lunch companion. Majors are sensitive to the press – sometimes John can be too sensitive. There's a terrible fuss going on about how many O levels he has. It doesn't make any difference, and the only thing that keeps the story going is the fact that he seems bothered by it.
John doesn't hide it either that he is extremely annoyed by Margaret Thatcher, who more or less blames the US and Britain for standing by while the Kurds die in Iraq. I wonder if John, even at Checkers, should be so free to condemn his predecessor?
July 2
Margaret announced her decision to go to the House of Lords. I see her in the department lobby and approach her. Instead of regretting leaving, she only expresses determination to continue the struggle on the European issue. She didn't do a very good job in her new position. Instead of being dignified or even aloof (like de Gaulle or Macmillan), she seemed rather shrill.
July 17
Lunch with Ken Clarke. We're both pretty gloomy – John inherited a terrible economic situation. Ken talks about the last cabinet meeting at which Margaret resigned. He says she broke down while reading the statement to the Cabinet.
July 20
Jeffrey Archer's Silver Wedding. Mary Archer steals the show with songs like “Who Wants To Be a Name at Lloyd's?” It's a star-studded event: half the Cabinet, half the Fleet Street editors, plus a curious table of all Japanese.
Denis Thatcher approaches. There is the briefest hesitation before he shakes hands. You can almost see him thinking – friend or foe? He is in good shape and jokes that they have now moved to Eaton Square, although no one has yet figured out how to pay for it.
John arrives about half an hour late, and there is applause. I can't help but look at Margaret. It must be very difficult for her – just another guest greeting the Prime Minister.
January 10, 1992
At a meeting with John in the central office at 9 am, a large explosion was heard from the direction of Whitehall – an IRA bomb, but no one was injured. The election planning meeting continues, and the only difficult moment comes with Margaret's role. John says she decided to attack him. “It was her choice to go that way… I'm not inclined to give her the role.” I am categorically against this. He says he “assumes” I'm right. I'm sure of it. Too many loose guns.
March 1992: Marragret Thatcher joins John Major on stage during a Conservative Party election rally. Photo: Richard Baker/In Pictures via Getty Images Images, April 3
Debate with Roy Hattersley on Central Television. Spectators sit in Edwina Currie's seat in Derbyshire. A few days earlier, she said the prime minister was acting more like an opposition leader by resorting to a soapbox. With John it went down like a lead balloon. He was furious. Edwina is like Jeffrey Archer, completely unable to control his tongue. Ironically, John has always been a fan of Edwina.
(Note: I knew nothing of John's affair with Edwina at the time.)
April 21
I found a number of messages asking for comment on Margaret Thatcher's latest outburst in Newsweek, where she says that John is not “his own man” and that “there is no such thing as ‘majorism’.” This all sounds a little corny.
May 10
Fiona and I are traveling to Huntingdon to announce my move to party chairman. Right before we leave, John calls. I guess this is some urgent government matter, but he wants to know if everything is okay with chicken Kiev. Over lunch I wonder if I can try to build a bridge. “It would be a waste of time,” John replies grimly. Apparently Margaret gave the interview to Newsweek after a few drinks. Rumor has it that she drinks a lot more now.
July 14
The first political cabinet after the elections. There are cheers (humming, I can hear) as I take my place next to John. Michael Heseltine sits in exactly the same place he left Thatcher. I have never seen more than 22 exhausted figures: their fatigue is palpable. Last week, two of them even went to bed in the minister's office.
July 21
New problem. Kelvin McKenzie, editor of The Sun newspaper, said that during the election an unknown Cabinet minister called him and gave him the names, addresses and telephone numbers of women who had affairs with Paddy Ashdown. Richard Ryder [Chief Whip] thinks I should call the Cabinet Office one by one. The process takes about two hours. The strangest call I made was to John Gummer, who answered it on his mobile phone in a field at the Eastern Counties showground. The result is clear: complete denial.
August 13
Virginia Bottomley, the Health Secretary, comes in for coffee. A revealing postscript on the case of David Mellor [the married cabinet minister whose mistress sold the kiss-and-tell story]. Virginia, who had inherited her first healthcare job from David, couldn't understand why her office erupted in convulsions of laughter when she put a two-hour “shopping” slot in her diary. She learned that this was the code he used when he wanted to visit the girl. I have a vague feeling that this matter is not over yet.
David Mellor, who subsequently resigned September 1992. Photo: Mathieu Polac/Sygma via Getty Images, September 16
An extraordinary day. Interest rates were increased by two percent. To make matters worse, the poor construction industry is now almost in decline. We are entering disaster territory.
John asks me to meet at 17:00. My driver took the afternoon off. When I finally arrive at the Admiralty, the tone is icy. Douglas [Hurd], Ken [Clark] and Michael roar ironically in approval, “listen, listen,” when I appear. The reason soon becomes clear. I have to appear on television to explain the government's decision.
September 22
John seems tired and depressed. We talk about the Mellor case and about Europe. But when I leave, John walks with me to the elevator. “I'm very concerned,” he says. “I will not have any confidence from other European leaders. I wonder if someone else should be negotiating? — Do you mean the new leader? “Yes,” he says gloomily. “That would be absurd,” I reply. I get the feeling that John is speaking in a kind of gloomy depression. I only hope that I have inspired him to fight during this admittedly difficult period.
October 5
Party Conference. John is in good shape, but feels betrayed by some Eurosceptics. The biggest villain of all is Margaret Thatcher. I see justice in John's indignation. Margaret, in particular, condemns John's shortcomings.
“John is in a kind of dark depression. “I only hope that I have inspired him to fight through what is admittedly a difficult period.” Photo: Neil Turner/Alami, May 10,1993
An important and frank meeting between John and me. Let me start with the fact that at present his leadership and government are not credible. The public needs to understand the strategy. There should also be a reshuffle, with Norman Lamont moving out of No.11 at the first suitable opportunity. John intervenes to say that Norman will be given the environment. I'm delighted, although, to be honest, I doubt Norman will agree.
We move on. I'm saying he takes the press too personally. He also grooms editors too much. They consider it a sign of weakness, not strength. John doesn't accept criticism. He says the reason for his sensitivity is that he is left unprotected too often. Margaret assigned Willie [Whitelaw] and Norman Tebbit to look after her interests. I disagree. There is a unity around him that, frankly, Margaret never had. However, I accept the message.
The last point I want to raise is that he is at risk of losing interest in his work. “No,” says John. “I lost interest in this job. I saw my mother-in-law over the weekend. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. – He received a terrible blow. At times he gets tired to the point of exhaustion. It is a pity that none of us now have luxurious houses, servants and money to organize the social life of the Prime Minister.
May 26
David Cameron arrives for Norman's PR meeting. He says he's embarrassed to raise the issue, but the Chancellor believes I told the press he should go. This is a bit difficult considering that since the ERM [Black Wednesday] debacle I have consistently defended his position. David seems embarrassed and admits that there isn't much work being done at the Treasury amid the rumors. I tell him I'll call Norman.
May 27
Cabinet reshuffle: Around 10 o'clock the news comes that Norman has turned down another job. The meeting went well and Norman was very calm.
June 14
John asks to talk alone. He fears his advisers have not been forthright. He believes the decline in his popularity may have gone too far to be restored. “Your job,” he says, “is to advise me if the situation becomes irreversible.” John speaks quietly and with complete confidence. His message is very clear: he is willing to leave if it is in the best interests of the government and the nation. I tell him I don't think we're at that stage.
September 10th.
I'm going to visit Margaret at home […] With the police, security, photographs of her offices, it's more of an office than a home. She hasn't changed much. Still smart, alert, polite about little things like coffee, and outspoken about big things like the economy.
“Will you throw us a couple of fundraising dinners?” – I ask. She doesn't hesitate. So far, so good. Then we turn to economics: “How did we get into this situation,” she says rhetorically. I ask, “Did you give this to John?” Can you see him? I think (not sure) that I feel a glimmer of sadness. “No, we don’t meet at all these days.”
“Do you want me to organize such meetings?” “No,” she says quickly. “He doesn't want people looking over his shoulder.”
October 6
Blackpool. I know exactly what I want from the party conference: reconciliation. At first everything goes well. My day is spent managing Margaret until I receive a message asking me to meet the Prime Minister.
I find John in a gloomy mood. He doesn't agree with the way I treat Margaret. He doesn't think she should have been welcomed, and (very clearly but not explicitly stated) he doesn't think she should have been invited to dinner in my room this evening.
His complaint is that he was planning to invite his staff over for a fish and chip dinner tonight. Now this is impossible. Why? Because it will lead to stories about the poor old Prime Minister having no one else to dine with while the Chairman entertains his predecessor.
He also says he has no intention of approaching her on the stand. My answer to this is that he should at least pat her on the shoulder or shake her hand. Eventually it thaws. I leave him to order room service.
8 October 
All smiles: Major and Thatcher put on brave faces at party conference Photo: Mathieu Polak/Sygma/Sygma via Getty Images
Last day of the conference. John's speech goes much better than last year. The ovation continues for more than 10 minutes. “Very successful conference,” I tell John. “I’m afraid I haven’t been of much help to you,” he remarks ironically.
December 22
A meeting about the future of Tim Yeo, who had an affair and is now the father of a child. Richard Ryder believes that having a child out of wedlock makes the government's stance on family (and its Back to Basics policy) ridiculous and that Yeo should go. They ask me to decide. Without hesitation, I support Yeo. This is his personal matter and does not affect his work in any way. In my opinion, if we fired him, it would look ridiculous.
December 31
The newspapers are attacking me for standing up for Yeo. The wolves are approaching.
January 5,1994
Yeo agrees that he will resign from the government and that the resignation must come from him. As with David Mellor, we are losing a good minister. I talk to John, who is most concerned that this case does not undermine the “Back to Basics” message. He never presented it as a message of personal morality, but I'm afraid that's how it comes across.
January 6
The Prime Minister is right. The Back to Basics policy is in ruins. The Prime Minister is to blame, and I am blamed. The terrible [William] Rees-Mogg cannot contain his glee and calls for me to leave. The reaction is generally violent. Let them think what they want. I would rather be attacked for supporting a colleague than for stabbing him in the back.
January 7
Things are getting worse and worse. The latest story concerns bench player David Ashby. The accusation is that he left his wife and moved in with his boyfriend. Ashby is seeking a restraining order, and in the meantime I am being attacked by all and sundry.
January 8
Another terrible day. Shortly after I get home, the phone rings. This is Tim Yeo. He wants me to know that he has a second child out of wedlock. God only knows why Tim didn't tell us sooner. We can protect one child, but two? The next news is even more terrible. Richard Ryder calls to say that Malcolm Caithness's wife has shot herself. It couldn't be worse.
February 7
I don't have meetings, I put my feet up and watch Sky News. Then a call comes from secretary Stephen Milligan. She just found him dead in the kitchen and is now at Hammersmith Police Station. “Are there any doubts about the identification?” – I ask. The voice breaks off on the other end of the line. “I can’t,” she says. “This is impossible”. God, what happened? I think.
In thirty minutes I'm at the station. The detective sergeant takes us to the CID office and the story unfolds in all sorts of bizarre detail. Naked body in black women's stockings with a plastic bag on her head.
I end the day eating pizza and watching the news: what a path for a person with such abilities. Sad and tragic. Apparently he had nothing to do this weekend. No meetings, no friends to see. A lonely man, withdrawn into himself.
May 12
Even more grim news. Death of John Smith. Heart attack. I return to Westminster stunned. I came to the House with John Smith in 1970. I didn't know him well, but what I knew I liked. You can hear a pin drop as the Prime Minister stands up. His tribute is excellent, as are the others. The only exception is [Paddy] Ashdown, who is wooden.
It is too early to talk about the political consequences, but the pressure on John Major is easing – he will not survive two leadership elections.
p>May 14 
Tony Blair – “like a nervous racehorse”; Photo: Geoff Overs/BBC News & Current Events via Getty Images
The mood changes. The Prime Minister is not at risk in the short term, but the focus remains on the Labor Party. Tony Blair, 41, is the clear favorite. He could be a difficult opponent: young, presentable, middle class. Although I never found him particularly threatening when we argued with each other about employment issues. He was like a nervous horse. Talented, but easily upset.
June 11
A few hours of sleep and at 7 am – in Downing Street. John leans back in his chair. “Are you all sitting comfortably?” – he asks with a smile. — Are you ready for any shock? We nod in agreement. “I had a chance to think… If they want my job, they will have to force me out.”
“Well done,” says Norma. “Okay,” I say. “Just remember this is going to be a fight. The Sunday Press will continue to help you.” John replies that the Sunday press is one of the reasons he is determined to stay. “I couldn't stand the victory of these people from The Sunday Telegraph.”
June 14
It is a beautiful evening when I arrive at No. 10. John in the garden. We are talking about European elections. John runs his hand down his neck in mock relief. He escaped the executioner, but only “only.” I then move on to my position.
He guessed that this was my official visit to inform him of my intention to resign. He says he's disappointed, then adds, “Are you staying for the reshuffle?”
We leave the garden, and he accompanies me to the door of house number 10 in the same way as before the 1992 elections. The gesture of a polite and kind man, but with a touch of steel that allowed him to withstand the unprecedented fire he was subjected to.
Extracted from The Best Enemies: Diaries 1980-1997, out Tuesday (Biteback, £25); order at books.telegraph.co.uk
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