For more than a decade Kate Fall was at the heart of David Cameron’s team.
As his deputy chief of staff she was his gatekeeper, the person who sat outside his office and decided who came in and who didn’t.
Now she has written the riveting inside story of her years at the nerve-centre of power — serialised exclusively in the Mail.
On Saturday, she revealed the devastating sense of betrayal David Cameron felt when some of his closest friends and allies abandoned him on the issue of Europe.
In today’s extract, she reveals how the rift between the PM and Michael Gove began — when he moved his old friend from Education Secretary to Chief Whip…
May 2010. Over the first weekend of the new coalition government, there’s a kerfuffle about the courtesy country houses. The question is, who gets Dorneywood — Nick Clegg or George Osborne?
It has in the past been home to both deputy prime ministers and chancellors, and both of them want it.
When appealed to, William Hague [Foreign Secretary] just hums — normally a sign that he has a view about something which he may or may not choose to reveal.
David is a hot-bodied person, whose body temperature seems to increase with stress. Sometimes he puts the air-conditioning on in winter. He is pictured above next to Michael Gove
So George decides to take matters into his own hands and heads to Dorneywood early next morning to claim the place as his own.
In the end, it’s decided that Nick and William are to share Chevening. But Nick continues to struggle with what he sees as an impossibly Tiggerish George, who keeps bouncing one step ahead of him — creating a powerhouse in the North, where Nick is supposed to reign supreme, visiting Nick’s Sheffield constituency and getting more attention for his speeches.
Worse, George reminds him of his pre-election promise not to put up tuition fees, which Nick seemingly discarded the minute he gained power.
And he cannot forget George’s fatal words to him in private. These are along the lines of: ‘You’re an “idiot” to change your mind — but it’s great that you have!’
David Cameron meets Nick every week and likes him a lot — but he can’t resist putting the boot in from time to time.
On the whole, Nick brings sensible, sensitive and mostly quite conservative (with a small ‘c’) judgment to our deliberations. When he veers a bit too far to the Right, he has his more political chief of staff, Jonny Oates, to remind him he’s a Lib Dem.
Samantha Cameron and Sarah Vine are pictured together above. Sarah Vine is a clever, funny, powerful and forceful woman who is used to proactively managing her brilliant, but not very down-to-earth, husband. Michael is in touch with George; Sarah with me
Experience has taught us that leaving Nick to mull something over at the weekend is a bad idea.
Jonny will stiffen his spine and then the Liberal grandees will pile in with calls. By Monday, Nick will have changed his mind.
He is a mild, charming, measured man who always has a faint air of being downtrodden by the more powerful people in his life. These include his wife (whom he clearly worships and is terrified of in equal measure), David, George and Theresa May.
Theresa May presents the biggest challenge: in her battles with Nick over security vs freedom of the individual, she doesn’t move — not one inch. Nor does she ever even smile at Nick.
He comes to our weekly meetings begging for mercy, for some recognition that both sides have a point. Obsessed by Game Of Thrones, we come to think of him as a Jaime Lannister figure.
Before I can set out for No 10, I have two children to get out of bed, breakfasted and off to school. Then I check my emails and browse the papers online with one hand, a cup of tea or hairdryer in the other.
David Cameron’s first Cabinet meeting as Prime Minister is pictured above in May 2010. Over the first weekend of the new coalition government, there’s a kerfuffle about the courtesy country houses. The question is, who gets Dorneywood — Nick Clegg or George Osborne?
The timing is on a knife-edge. This morning the traffic is piling up and I’m running late for the daily 8.30 meeting. As deputy chief of staff to the Prime Minister, it’s my responsibility to put together the agenda, which must be printed before we start.
I get an email from George Osborne and a text from David Cameron and mentally add these items to my list. Time is ticking.
At my desk, I swap my flats for heels, trying not to feel too stressed and dishevelled.
The increasing noise from the hall means they’re all arriving — George Osborne, William Hague, Chief Whip Patrick McLoughlin, as well as David’s parliamentary private secretary. And there’s the press team, and the foreign team.
I open the agenda and look over the page before I nervously press print. I’m dyslexic, but there must be absolutely no spelling mistakes.
Bang on 8.30am, we go into the den and the meeting begins. While David chairs, chief of staff Ed Llewellyn and I ‘host’ it — explaining why an item has been brought to everyone’s attention.
I sit in the same place every day, in a strategic position on the far end of the sofa across from David’s and George’s armchairs, so I can catch their eye and scowl at them if I have to.
Although Michael struggled to begin with, he was soon in his stride — a rising star, especially popular on the Right of the party and with the commentariat, who applauded his courage, radicalism and verbosity
When he’s able to, William Hague attends the meeting, displacing George from his usual armchair. George, always respectful of his former boss, draws up another chair.
Sometimes I wear my coat to the meeting, which David thinks is a passive-aggressive act. Actually, it’s just survival instinct.
David is a hot-bodied person, whose body temperature seems to increase with stress. Sometimes he puts the air-conditioning on in winter. I feel the cold and I’m pretty sure everyone else is freezing, too, but doesn’t dare add a layer and risk annoying the PM.
Given that I’m quite small and speak with a terrible lisp, I find the meetings rather daunting at times. The simple task of entering the fray and expressing my point in a half-coherent fashion has taken time for me to master.
Still, while newcomers at the meeting are clearly thrown by my struggle with the English language, David is so used to it he doesn’t bat an eyelid.
Venture outside No 10 and you’re a sitting duck for criticism. Some vicious. Some personal. It’s one of the hazards of the job.
‘No, David doesn’t use hair dye,’ you say yet again. It’s fair enough for people to say what they think — but it can be tiring and at times unpleasant. Which is why those who work here often revert to a smaller and smaller group of trusted friends. It’s a protective mechanism. But it is also creates a bubble, which can be a bad thing.
We’re all quite wrapped up together, even to the point where our children seem to follow the same nit cycles. This can sometimes take its toll on others.
Relationships collapse. Some under the stress of never being put first. Some from the preoccupation of running the country, and the uncertainties this brings.
Three marriages break down after the 2010 election, including my own. Another casualty is Steve Hilton, David’s close friend and adviser.
He’s the one who wrote David’s big speech when he launched the 2010 election manifesto. It was all about ‘Big Society’ — encouraging people to get involved in their communities — but the truth is it confused just about everyone.
A reshuffle is a strange piece of choreography designed by a small group in secret meetings. Everyone comes to these with someone they want to promote. It’s like (our obsession) Game Of Thrones.
George tries to decapitate one of David’s friends (not literally; it’s not actually Game Of Thrones). David retaliates. George wants to promote his protege Matt Hancock every time, even though the Chief Whip invariably pushes back.
Late one evening, just before the September 2012 reshuffle, David pours himself a large glass of wine ahead of seeing Cheryl Gillan — Welsh Secretary — and Caroline Spelman (Environment).
They are both extremely nice women who have always tried to do the right thing, but we need to bring in new talent — and they are struggling.
David had hoped Cheryl would be content to pass the baton to someone else, but she isn’t.
Caroline has had a difficult year, which has seen her back down on her plan to sell off parts of England’s forests, in the face of public outcry.
Both never forgive David for allegedly sipping a glass of wine during their conversation.
David Cameron meets Nick every week and likes him a lot — but he can’t resist putting the boot in from time to time. On the whole, Nick brings sensible, sensitive and mostly quite conservative (with a small ‘c’) judgment to our deliberations
The idea that those returned to the backbenches will accept the decision with good grace is for the birds.
Most politicians never know when it’s time to leave, and instead feel furious at being cast aside in their prime (in their eyes, it’s always their prime). They will join the ranks of the discontented, which grow year after year.
In 2012, we decide to move Patrick McLoughlin from being Chief Whip to Transport Secretary — a post currently occupied by Justine Greening. We’ll be giving her the Department for International Development instead. Perhaps not the job she most wanted.
Although they may have waited for this moment their whole lives, it can feel overwhelming. Some remain themselves.
Others seem to grow a layer of pomposity in the short time it takes them to walk back down the corridor — normally in inverse proportion to the importance of their job.
One weekend at Chequers, one of Michael Gove’s children, followed by a confused Cameron child, runs into breakfast saying: ‘Isn’t it true this house will be ours when Dad’s prime minister?’
We all laugh. The Goves and Camerons are good friends.
In 2010, Michael arrived at the Department for Education as a radical reformer, a Cameron warrior-in-chief.
David worked hand in hand with him on developing their policy to improve standards, create new good schools and give a better chance to thousands of children.
Although Michael struggled to begin with, he was soon in his stride — a rising star, especially popular on the Right of the party and with the commentariat, who applauded his courage, radicalism and verbosity.
A PM in waiting but not hot dog sledder
After he was elected leader of the Conservative Party, David Cameron’s first foreign trip was to the Arctic
After he was elected leader of the Conservative Party, David Cameron’s first foreign trip was to the Arctic, to highlight climate change.
Years later, Tom Bradby, then political editor of ITV News, tells me over lunch that he feels responsible for David’s political success on two counts.
One, because — during the leadership campaign — he declared on the ITV Evening News that David had won over the party conference at Blackpool, and his rival David Davis had flopped.
And two, because Tom never reported what a ‘total d***’ David looked when he fell off his dog sled on our Arctic trip.
During his early struggles, he had begged David to allow him to hire his close adviser, Dominic Cummings. But we strongly suspected Dominic of being the source of leaks from a strategy meeting we’d held in 2010.
The PM was cautious; Dominic may have been loyal to Michael, but he wasn’t exactly a team player. But everything was going so well for David, and he was so fond of Michael, he felt he could afford to give in. Dominic was duly hired.
Trouble began to brew from early 2012, with a flow of briefings allegedly from Michael’s operation. People seemed to be picked out for special treatment. Nick Clegg. Nick Clegg’s wife’s charity. Theresa May’s position on combating extremism.
Pretty soon, we were under a barrage of furious complaints from senior Cabinet colleagues on both sides of the Coalition. Surely, they said, David could put a stop to the briefings?
There were other issues. Michael’s valiant fight against ‘the Blob’ — the entrenched vested interests in the education sector — seemed to have gone into overdrive.
He had skilfully built a consensus of support for the Education Act, which allows all schools to become academies — but there was growing unease around his reforms to exams and the national curriculum.
Theresa May presents the biggest challenge: in her battles with Nick over security vs freedom of the individual, she doesn’t move — not one inch. Nor does she ever even smile at Nick
Soon there was a wall of noise, and not just from the usual suspects. David needed Michael to calm things down.
We were coming into a pre-election period, which required ‘steady as she goes’ as we brought the ship into harbour. Yet David’s pleas fell on deaf ears.
In fact, the noise got louder. Michael fell out with the chief inspector of schools, Michael Wilshaw, and then even started a row about Blackadder’s version of World War I.
In the car one day, David tells me the good news: Michael Gove has offered to be Chief Whip if we think we need a change at Education. Really? I say. Yes, absolutely.
David is positive, explaining how Michael told him that Chief Whip was one of the jobs he’d really like to do because he’s such a keen observer of people.
This is certainly true. Michael is infamous among his friends for his character sketches, often around a rather boisterous kitchen table. The idea of Michael in the job is growing on David.
This seems a perfect solution. He thinks Michael will thrive as part of the core No 10 operation and that we’ll benefit from having him.
He envisions a powerful ‘Chief Whip plus’ role for him, with access to papers, people and committees. ‘Hand of the King’ is how he puts it to Michael over dinner, knowing Michael is as obsessed with Game Of Thrones as he is.
Michael says he will do whatever David asks. But then Michael is always very polite — and hasn’t yet spoken to his wife.
It is clear over the next few days that Michael is not at all happy about the job and, perhaps more importantly, neither is his wife. They operate very much as a team.
Sarah Vine is a clever, funny, powerful and forceful woman who is used to proactively managing her brilliant, but not very down-to-earth, husband.
Michael is in touch with George; Sarah with me. Sarah has also been close to Samantha for some time, volunteering to play a strong, supportive role; over the years I have watched her ferrying the Cameron children around, or attending to Samantha, and wondered if she might weary of it.
We are days from the reshuffle itself, so there is still time to talk it over. George and I come to the same conclusion: this is not going to be worth the pain.
When someone doesn’t want a job that much, back off.
But David is in a different place. He feels completely furious at being let down by Michael, whom he has promoted and supported through thick and thin. He has made Michael a very good offer — one for which he has himself volunteered.
He thinks Michael should take one for the team. Just this once.
David texts me: ‘I’ve told Michael, “You’re either a team player or a w****r”.’
Michael can be promoted again once we’re through this difficult pre-election patch. But David needs his closest friends around him. That means George. It means Michael. The decision is made.
But coming into the reshuffle itself, Michael and Sarah are getting more, not less, wound up. They see the move as a humiliating demotion; they are particularly cross about the pay cut.
David suggests I find out if we can make one of the Admiralty House flats available for them. That way, they can rent out their house in West London and have more time as a family when Michael is working late nights in the Commons.
Sarah comes by to have a look round but decides against the move.
On the day of the reshuffle, we put a huge effort into presenting Michael’s new job as a positive move to beef up the No 10 operation. But personal resentment remains — and festers.
Although the two families seem to patch things up enough for the Goves to spend New Year at Chequers, the cracks in the friendship are there to stay — and will re-emerge as gaping chasms in the years to come.
Adapted from The Gatekeeper by Kate Fall, published by HQ at £16.99 © Kate Fall 2020.
To order a copy for £13.60 (20 per cent discount, offer valid to 7/3/2020; P&P free), visit mailshop.co.uk or call 01603 648155.