Just So Lucky To Have Known Her

Claire Fox writes:

There’s been so many wonderful, heartfelt and heart-breaking tributes paid to Ann Widdecombe, written by close friends and colleagues, that when asked to write this I hesitated. What can I add? I see this as a postscript to those tributes, based on very specific circumstances that led to a rather peculiar but rewarding relationship.

When I agreed to stand as a Brexit Party candidate in the European elections in 2019, I was entering an alien political environment to that associated with my directorship of the Academy of Ideas, or my regular perch on BBC Radio 4’s Moral Maze or the Sky News paper review, or indeed my previous life as co-publisher of LM magazine (the successor to Living Marxism). If that was discombobulating, what was terrifying was my first meeting with Ann, the well-known Thatcherite and former Conservative shadow home secretary.

We were to share a platform at a Brexit Party rally, and she had asked to see me privately beforehand to ‘clear the air’. I had been told she was unhappy with my candidacy after something of a media storm about my previous – albeit decades-old – involvement in the Irish Freedom Movement, a UK-based organisation that campaigned against British rule in Northern Ireland. She had lost a friend in the IRA Brighton bombing in 1984 and had been at the Conservative conference which was being held at the time. So, as I nervously introduced myself, her opening words were: ‘So, you wanted to blow me up.’

After 45 minutes of forensic grilling, during which we enjoyed a frank exchange of views, she smiled wryly, squeezed my hand and said she respected honesty and principles. She concluded in that unmistakable school ma’am voice: ‘We’d better get on with saving Brexit then.’

She went on to deliver a barnstorming speech without notes. I followed her on to the stage with a sheaf full of notes, far more nerves and far less verve. But the cheering crowd was generous to both of us. We were all on the same side on this issue at least. As I left the stage, she gave me a warm hug and, with a twinkle in her eye, said ‘you’ll do’. We never looked back.

That seriousness, generosity of spirit and humour rather set the tone for our relationship when we were elected as MEPs, along with the rest of the victorious Brexit Party candidates who ended up in Brussels. Her experience as a proper, grown-up politician, as opposed to those of us who were new to the field, was invaluable.

She was meticulously professional. When she explained why it was important to answer all correspondence, even from those who were hostile, I took note. She taught me that accountability to the public was paramount. She was forthright and intelligently probing in all our group meetings, forcing us to think through tactics and positions. She was ferociously loyal to the Brexit Party as a group, but she was also her own woman, and fervently independent.

Inquisitive about people, she was always keen to look beyond the surface and find out what made others tick. In our many conversations, we discovered how much we had in common – from our shared commitment to free speech as a core pillar of democracy to our opposition to assisted dying. And when we disagreed, we both took time to explain why we believed as we did, disagreeing civilly, and always learning something from each other. This taught me that whatever the media caricature or public persona, when you actually dig deeper, people are always more complicated and interesting.

It helps explain why now, since the tragic circumstances of her untimely death, social media are littered with hundreds of photos of Ann with countless people from all social backgrounds. Having dinner with them, chatting to them, sharing a bottle of wine with them. And she is always looking as though she is having a ball. She honestly seems to have known everyone! And that’s because she was the opposite of a snob. She was distinguished – as a political figure, novelist, celebrity – but never too grand to be approachable. She was great company and a model public servant.

One thing I really loved was the delight that Ann took in our unlikely friendship – although she did sometimes tut-tut at my blaspheming. Whenever she was approaching me, she held her arms open wide and just embraced me with such warmth, often calling me ‘comrade’, with a cheeky grin. She joked about us being united as rebels from across the political divide, and her greatest compliment was when she laughingly admitted I may have brought out a bit of revolutionary spirit in her.

She had far closer chums, deep friendships with many, and we were only colleagues temporarily. But she made a huge impression on me – not so much in terms of my politics but how to behave in the political arena. She was unbiddable, unbuyable and uncompromising in speaking truth to power. She worked bloody hard, too. Indeed, she was one of the most tireless, diligent and irrepressible women I’ve ever met.

Since her death, many have noted that she would have been an obvious person to be nominated for a peerage. We might speculate about whether grandees in the Conservative Party were – as rumoured – so sectarian and spiteful that they denied this renowned elder stateswoman that honour. Despite this, Ann was lovely when I joined the House of Lords, and showed no envy whatsoever. Instead, she gave me invaluable advice on how to operate in parliament: ‘Gird your loins when encountering condescension and sneers; speak out as often as you can, but only on issues that matter to you; don’t be bullied by others; and only act on your conscience.’ It could be a charter for all politicians.

As for Ann, the truth is she was far too busy to sit on the red benches. Having already experienced life as an elected legislator, she rightly felt she could be far more effective at realising the project of Brexit by escaping the confines of Westminster.

I hate that she was struck down so cruelly while living her best life politically. She was behaving like a Young Turk, dashing around the country speaking at Reform UK rallies and local meetings, endlessly offering forthright advice to Reform UK bigwigs and her vast range of journalist mates without fear or favour. And she appeared regularly in the media, ensuring that distinct voice of common sense was heard loudly and clearly by millions. Perhaps someone thought an act of violence would silence that voice.

There is some minor consolation that, since her death, clips of Ann have been greedily shared on social media, with some even trending. Let’s help that endeavour by sharing Ann’s uncompromising defence of free speech at the Oxford Union a few years ago far and wide. Do listen – and you might just recognise me in one of her anecdotes (ouch!).

I was just so lucky to have known her.