It's been an extraordinary 18 months – she's moved into No 10, had a baby, caught Covid, seen her fiancé almost die and been accused of a power grab. So exactly who is Carrie Symonds? Rachel Sylvester finds out.
Carrie Symonds' Instagram feed is a millennial dream – all giant negronis, baby elephants and refurbished pink velvet chairs.
"Apples" (her username) is shown beaming at dinner with friends, campaigning to save the whale and looking ravishing in a bikini on an Italian beach. There are many selfies of the 32-year-old blonde with Dilyn the Downing Street dog. On January 31, the day Britain left the EU, the Jack Russell is pictured dressed in a Union Jack coat.
In February, Symonds posted a photograph of herself with Boris Johnson. She is staring straight at the camera, flawless skin, stylish straw trilby, neat gold hoop earrings. He is kissing her on the cheek, his eyes closed in apparent devotion. Alongside the image is the emoji-studded announcement, "We got engaged at the end of last year… and we've got a baby hatching early summer. Feel incredibly blessed."
In April, there was an image of Carrie and newly born Wilfred, with a note thanking the maternity team at the hospital and the doctors who had saved the prime minister's life the month before when he was taken into intensive care with the coronavirus. "I couldn't be happier," she writes. "My heart is full."
This time last year the UK's general election campaign was in full swing. Dilyn is photographed wearing a blue rosette. In another image the rescue dog is shown watching Johnson give a television interview. There are pictures of Carrie and Dilyn on the doorstep, meeting candidates and taking tea with veterans. On election night Dilyn is shown being patted by Captain Buckethead, the joke candidate who stood against Johnson in his Uxbridge constituency. "You have to love British politics," reads the caption.
The following day Symonds posted a photograph of the moment it became clear that the Conservatives were heading for an enormous majority as Labour's "red wall" collapsed. It was one of the images taken by Andrew Parsons, the official Downing Street photographer, and later widely circulated. Carrie and Boris are shown punching the air with joy, surrounded by beer bottles and half-eaten snacks, the detritus of election night.
What is fascinating is that in the photos released to the press Dominic Cummings is shown lurking to one side of the prime minister. He is even smiling, which is a rarity for the notoriously combative former aide. But, in Symonds' version of the night, the man who was last month forced out of Downing Street, is nowhere to be seen. It is as if he has already been airbrushed out of history.
In this carefully curated Instagram account of her life, Johnson's fiancee is sweet, fun, hard-working, loved, beautiful, modern – and not afraid to be ruthless.
It has been an extraordinary 18 months for Carrie Symonds. She has moved into No 10, fought a general election campaign, got engaged, caught Covid-19, seen her fiance almost die from the virus, and had her first child.
Then she was splashed all over the front pages portrayed as the Machiavellian power behind the throne who had somehow single-handedly engineered a purge of the Downing Street team. Her opposition to the appointment of the macho former Vote Leave apparatchik Lee Cain as the prime minister's chief of staff was leaked, along with suggestions that "Team Carrie" was at war with "Team Dom".
"When she was first with Boris she was dismissed as a bimbo. Now she's Lady Macbeth – as if women can only be typecast into those two roles," says one government ally. "It's totally sexist."
Some of the briefings were truly vicious. Newspapers were informed by unnamed sources that she was known on Whitehall as "Princess Nut Nut" and described as a needy, emotionally demanding Diana figure, the "Princess of whales". One minister waspishly compared Symonds to Elizabeth 1 in Blackadder II, "Queenie", who behaves like a spoilt schoolgirl. A senior Tory MP protested that "a geisha" who is 24 years younger than the prime minister was running the shop.
Tracey Crouch, the former sports minister who worked with Symonds at the Department for Culture, Media and Sport, was appalled by the "misogynistic" attacks. "They're playing the girl not the ball to undermine Boris," she told me. "I was genuinely quite upset about it. I thought it was just really unfair and patronising, not just to Carrie but to the PM, the idea that he's some kind of hen-pecked premier. It's an attack on him via her. Carrie is an easy target – she can't defend herself."
Symonds herself was "angered and hurt" by the coverage, according to a Downing Street source, but also frustrated because "she has no right of reply". Another senior Tory saw it as a form of emotional abuse. "They were trying to make her out to be mad. You could describe that as gaslighting; certainly it's designed to intimidate. She's a perfectly resilient person who will push through, but no one looking at this whole thing can think the prime minister made the wrong decision in getting rid of the bullies."
Certainly MPs and ministers were overwhelmingly relieved to see the back of Cummings and Cain, who had operated a rule of fear across Whitehall and treated the parliamentary Conservative party with contempt.
And Symonds is no airhead. Born in 1988, she was educated at the independent Godolphin and Latymer School, then graduated from Warwick University with a first in theatre studies and history of art. She considered a career in acting, making it to the final casting for a supporting role in the 2007 film Atonement, but having failed to get a part she turned to politics, joining Conservative headquarters as a press officer.
She worked for Zac Goldsmith, the former Tory MP, and had a junior role in Johnson's 2012 mayoral campaign before becoming a government special adviser, working for John Whittingdale and then Sajid Javid.
In 2018 she was appointed director of communications at Conservative Campaign Headquarters at the age of 29. She was once ranked the second most powerful public relations operator in Britain by the trade magazine PR Week.
Whittingdale, now the media minister, says, "She was a brilliant adviser. She's a very likeable person and she also had extremely shrewd political judgment." Having clashed with her amicably over the hunting ban when she was working for him (he was against; she was in favour), he thinks the comparison with Lady Macbeth is ludicrous. "She is somebody who will have her own views. One of the reasons why I'm sure [Boris] was attracted to her is that she is very bright and very political. I'm sure he values that. But he's the prime minister. The idea that he's going to appoint people because Carrie told him to is absurd."
Modern Tory
Symonds is well placed to help Johnson broaden his appeal, he suggests. "I don't think she's a woke warrior. She's a Tory; she would defend Conservative values. But she does understand modern comms; her views – particularly on the environment – are perhaps more strongly held by a younger generation. She helps him to connect with those people and I think that's hugely valuable."
Symonds has smartened Johnson up, persuading him to get his hair cut and lose weight, even turning him vegan for a while. She has a youthful modernity that is refreshing in the stuffy Tory party. The Downing Street flat has recently been repainted in brilliant colours and a huge playpen installed in the hall for Wilfred. There's a lot of modern art, including a work by Chris Ofili and a painting by Johnson's mother, as well as a ping pong table (a present from Symonds to Johnson last Christmas).
"They are both really good at table tennis. I know they used to play games at the flat with his siblings pre-lockdown," says a friend. Symonds is sometimes described, dismissively, as "fun-loving", but what that really means is that she's good company and ensures that Johnson hits the dancefloor at parties (or used to when parties were allowed).
The causes she supports reflect the concerns of her generation – climate change, conservation, animal welfare, healthy eating, female genital mutilation (the issue championed by her good friend Nimco Ali). Although a Brexiteer, her views lie more with the progressive wing of the Tory party, with one insider describing her as "socially liberal, greenish, economically to the right".
In one of her only speaking appearances since Johnson got to No 10 – at a birdwatching conference at the Rutland Water Nature Reserve last year – Symonds talked of her love of puffins, denounced plastics polluting the oceans and urged a crackdown on "cruel, sick and cowardly" trophy hunters. Politicians, she said, had a "gigantic responsibility to make the right decisions" over the environmental crisis.
Marc Nykolyszyn, senior development manager at Oceana, the conservation charity where Symonds worked before going on maternity leave, describes her as a "very supportive colleague. She's clever, fun and really cares about the work we do to protect the oceans." High-profile and glamorous, she is well connected in Conservative circles. Her 30th birthday party was packed with cabinet ministers including Michael Gove and Sajid Javid, as well as Johnson.
'Intrigue and gossip'
Having worked at Westminster for more than a decade, Symonds has clearly made enemies. One former colleague says, "I think she is probably one of the most toxic people I've ever encountered in Westminster. She's narcissistic. It's all about intrigue and gossip and the personalities that are advancing her. Her self-worth seems to be really attached to being feted, which is incredibly dangerous because there's no substance. She's liable to meltdowns."
Another senior Tory who worked with her describes her as "manipulative", "cliquey" and capable of being "incredibly difficult". Her time at CCHQ was, according to this insider, a "car crash". Symonds was reported to have left with a pay-out after questions were raised about her expenses and the amount of time she spent out of the office. (A friend of Symonds was quoted as saying of these allegations, "This nonsense is a politically motivated smear by opponents of Brexit.")
"She thought the rules didn't apply to her in the way that Boris doesn't think the rules apply to him," says someone who worked with her there. "It was like you had a minor celebrity in the office and she couldn't work out how to do a hard day's graft." Some speak disparagingly of the "Court of Queen Carrie", with special favours dispensed to the trusted few. As one former colleague puts it, "You are either acolytes or enemies."
But the prime minister's fiancee also has fiercely loyal friends who are quick to leap to her defence. Perhaps not surprisingly given her influence, they are more willing to go on the record than her critics. When word got out that I was writing this profile, several people texted out of the blue to express their support. Emma Barr, who worked with Symonds at CCHQ, thinks "jealousy" is to blame for the attacks on her.
"She was a wonderful boss and always promoted the women in her team. She then helped me to get my next job and has always gone out of her way to support me. We spent last year's election together going around the country to support young female candidates. She didn't have one day off. She wanted to help everyone she could."
Tracey Crouch recalls how, when she was diagnosed with breast cancer earlier this year, Symonds sent her a jar of manuka honey. "She regularly checks in to see how I'm doing," she says. "She's aware of my chemo cycle and a couple of days after chemo she will drop me a text. She's an incredibly kind, nice, gentle person. "
In August, between Crouch's surgery and the start of chemotherapy, Symonds and Johnson invited her to Chequers with her partner, Steve, and their son, Freddie.
"When you have a four-year-old running around like a nutter in a rather historic building with porcelain vases you can be a bit anxious, but we were made to feel extremely comfortable and relaxed by Carrie. She was just calm … The idea that she's this Machiavellian character is just nonsense. It's not her. I think she's quite a shy character, not somebody who seeks out the limelight."
Anna Soubry, the former Tory MP and defence minister, points to Symonds' decision to testify against the black cab rapist John Worboys and campaign against his early release. Symonds was targeted by the taxi driver when she was 19 in 2007 and was one of 14 women who gave evidence against him at his trial.
"When Worboys was about to be released, she came to my flat and she was genuinely frightened because he knew where she lived," Soubry says. "She didn't sit and weep, but she was shaking with fear. Despite that very real fear she was determined to bring him to justice to protect herself and other women. She's very brave. I've always been seriously impressed by her. All this stuff about being the power behind the throne is bollocks. In the modern world you are a partnership; you are a team. If you have a problem at work you come home and say, what do you think? It's blatant sexism."
Her only criticism of Symonds is that, "She's got a rotten choice in men, but she knows I don't approve of Boris."
Boris's complicated history
It's fair to say that the prime minister does not have a good record with women. His fiancee cannot have been unaware of what is described euphemistically as his "complicated" private life.
Johnson's affair with Symonds came to light in September 2018 during his marriage to Marina Wheeler, the mother of four of his children. They later divorced, but some at Westminster remember the suggestion by James Goldsmith (father of Carrie's friend Zac) that, "When a man marries his mistress he creates a vacancy." Indeed, the prime minister's partner has already had to deal with Jennifer Arcuri, the American tech entrepreneur, spilling the beans about her relationship with Johnson.
Symonds herself is the product of an affair between Matthew Symonds, one of the founders of The Independent, and Josephine McAfee, the newspaper's lawyer. Her father provided financial assistance, but he was not a big presence in her life. The young Carrie "thought her father lived in a car, because she only ever saw him drive up and drive away again", one friend reportedly said.
Her childhood has inevitably informed her character and the relationships she chooses. According to one person who knows her well, "Her family has a difficult past. You could say she's looking for a father figure." Another former colleague suggests that Symonds and Johnson "are drawn to each other, but it's quite a destructive relationship. They're both damaged souls, who are now running the government."
Those who have spent time with them insist they are genuinely in love and even manage to joke about the furious row that was overheard and taped by a neighbour in Stockwell last year. "She's not the slightest bit vulnerable," says one friend. "They're obviously not married but there's an uxoriousness in him with her. They're incredibly natural and happy together in a way that is blindingly obvious when you're with them. She's good for him in lots of ways."
Having spent time with them at Chequers, Tracey Crouch reports that, "They're so sweet, just like a normal couple. They laugh at each other's jokes, raise eyebrows at points where couples should raise eyebrows. They're very relaxed."
According to Whittingdale, "She really was desperately frightened when Boris became ill; genuinely they were quite worried he wasn't going to make it. For a 24-hour period she was stuck in No 10 with a new child and her partner – quite apart from being prime minister – potentially with his life at risk. She has shown remarkable courage from an early age and resilience."
A new kind of partner?
Symonds has been described as the most powerful prime minister's partner in history. Of course there is something troubling about the idea that an unelected fiancee should be manipulating a leader and dictating Downing Street appointments or government policy. But there is no evidence that Symonds is any more influential than her predecessors. Theresa May would regularly consult her husband, Philip, about policy and personnel – according to one No 10 source she would say, "I'm going upstairs to talk to Philip about this; I'll be back in a tick" – but nobody described him as a sinister, manipulative figure.
As for the suggestion that Symonds has forced her fiance into policies to help the environment, Michael Gove tells friends that when he first met Johnson at Oxford he introduced himself as a "green Tory". The stories about her sway over Johnson were deliberately planted to damage both her and him. In the cut-throat world of Westminster, where nobody can be trusted, it is not surprising that leaders talk to the one person they can be certain is on their side.
One friend of the couple says, "[Carrie] has great judgment and knows her stuff and is the person who knows Boris best in the world. Why wouldn't he listen to her? This is different from meddling in the intricacies of politics or dipping her hand into the red box, neither of which she would have the arrogance to do."
Perhaps it is all part of a wider problem about perceptions of women in politics. Johnson himself fell into the same trap when he described Hillary Clinton in a 2008 column as "like a mixture between Cherie Blair and Lady Macbeth, stamping her heel, bawling out subordinates and frisbeeing ashtrays at her erring husband". Just because a woman is intelligent and has opinions, that doesn't mean she is also a controlling minx.
Fiona Millar, who worked for Cherie Blair at No 10, says Symonds has an impossible task. "It's a very difficult role. It doesn't exist constitutionally so it's what you make of it and there's quite a high potential for things to go wrong. People say they're the first lady, but it's not like America where it's accepted.
"The trouble is it's so deeply conditioned in people to think about a woman as an appendage. For Cherie [Blair] and Samantha Cameron, the saving grace was that they both had very independent, successful careers in their own right, which allowed them to focus on what they wanted to do. The spousal role was a bit of a supportive add-on and didn't feel demeaning. I don't know Carrie Symonds, but having had a career in politics must make it harder."
Symonds is portrayed as the victor of a brutal power struggle, but the reality may be more ambiguous. One friend says she shares the "sense of isolation" many women feel on maternity leave – "desperate to get your husband back from work and your brain back". That has been compounded by lockdown and a sense that "the evil twins" were out to get her. "Eventually she'll get back to her environmentalism and find herself."
The prime minister is determined to keep his fiancee out of the public eye. "He fears they won't stop until they've ruined her and so we have to hide her to protect her," says one No 10 insider. But Symonds is an intelligent, professional woman who needs to have an identity of her own. She is of the Instagram generation that has always lived its life – or a version of its life – in public, taking up causes and campaigns.
"Boris wants the whole Carrie thing to go away," says one friend of the prime minister. That's not going to be possible. Perhaps he should instead let her out of her gilded cage.
Written by: Rachel Sylvester
© The Times of London