1975: Cherie's boyfriend, John, holds a Christmas party at his London flat. Cherie invites her fellow pupil at Derry Irvine's chambers, Tony Blair.

It was a proper Christmas party with games. One involved putting a balloon under your chin and passing it along. As Tony didn't know any of the other guests, he'd been put next to me, and so we were doing this passing the balloon and I suddenly thought, Hang on a minute...I don't know what it was. Perhaps the smell of his skin, something so fleeting, a little flicker, but definitely there. Until that moment it had genuinely never crossed my mind that he was anything but a rival.

The truth, I began to realise, was that he was a very good-looking young man, tall and slim, yet broad in the shoulders. A really strong body.

The short back and sides he'd had when we'd first bumped into each other had grown out into an unruly mess and his hair curled down over his collar in a way that made me want to twist it round my fingers. As for his eyes, which I'd barely registered before, they were a clear penetrating blue, penetrating because they seemed to see right through me, to the extent that I could feel a blush rise up from some uncharted part of me and flood my face.

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Towards the end of term, as it's called, Derry decided to take us out for our Christmas dinner.

I remember four o'clock coming and going. Derry ordered another bottle - and another. Anyway, by 10.30 we were still there. A lot of drink had been drunk. The remains of the food had been taken away and there was me in the middle of these two men, one of whom - Derry - was decidedly inebriated, the other of whom - Tony - was decidedly amorous.

Tired though I was, I decided to sit it out until Derry went home on his own. Eventually he did. Then Tony and I took the bus...It was a double-decker and we went upstairs. It was completely empty and by the time we got off we knew each other better than when we'd got on. And even better the next morning.

So that left me with three men in my life. Tony knew about John but not about David. John knew about David but not about Tony, and poor David fondly imagined I was living a quiet life of hard work in dreary London, enlivened by occasional visits to Liverpool. Oh dear.

Cherie visits Tony and his family in Durham over the Christmas holidays, then they return to work.

The moment Tony and I were back in chambers, Derry started a big case. Our job was to see that Derry had what he needed on the day, passing him the necessary papers, taking notes and the rest of it. The court was just along from the Tate Gallery, so every lunchtime Tony and I would go there, and it was then that he really began to open up.

He talked to me about his mother, who had died only the previous year, just two weeks after he left university. Also about religion, which was obviously very important to him. He told me how he had been confirmed during his time at Oxford. Although the Blairs were not a church-going family, the two boys had been sent to the Chorister School attached to Durham Cathedral. His father wasn't a believer, however. Perhaps this was why Tony wasn't confirmed earlier.

Even at that very early stage in our relationship, Tony and I would spend hours talking about this kind of thing, about God and what we were here for. I don't think it would be too strong to say that it was this that drew us together. This and the fact that he had just lost his mother. He was incredibly honest and open about his feelings, which was unusual in a man at that time. He had very confirmed views on marriage, for example. He genuinely thought that two people could be together for life. Having seen what had happened to my mum, it seemed like a wonderful thing to aim for, though I wasn't sure that men were up to it.

I certainly wanted it to be true, not least because I had seen for myself how damaging a wandering male can be to his family and his kids: by then my father had six daughters by three different women - those that we knew about anyway...

What I really admired was his honesty and his desire to get to the heart of things and his belief that we were here for a purpose. I loved talking to him and, on the odd occasion when we couldn't have these lunch breaks together at the Tate, I felt as if something was missing.

Over the years I have thought about what made me choose Tony. It was partly chemistry - I fancied him rotten, and still do - but partly because I thought even then that he had something. Behind the charm there was a steely quality to him. Frankly, he fascinated me as I had never met anybody quite like him before, not somebody who could give me a run for my money.

TWO BOYFRIENDS WAS A LITTLE FLIGHTY

Cherie had two boyfriends on the go - David Attwood and John - when she first heard that Tony Blair “fancied” her.

I already had a boyfriend. In fact, I had two: David in Liverpool and John in London. John knew about David but David had no idea about John.

It might seem odd that a girl with my Catholic upbringing was being so flighty. But it's like contraception: most Catholics use it as much as anyone else; otherwise we'd all have families in double figures. You can always go to confession, though I have never confessed to fornication.

Perhaps one day in my old age I will: “Father, forgive me. I am trying to be sorry for it, but I still find it quite difficult!”

HE PROPOSED AS I CLEANED THE TOILET

In September [1976] we drove to Italy. We started off in Calais and then made our way right down through France and Switzerland to Italy, to Chianti country, where we had rented the bottom half of a villa.

The two weeks ended all too soon and the last morning I was up early, scrubbing the floors and generally leaving the villa as I would hope to find it. Naturally, Tony was nowhere to be seen. My last task, inevitably, was the toilet.

So there I am, on my knees, cleaning the toilet and Tony comes up behind me.

“You know, Cherie, I think maybe we should get married.” Reader, I said yes.

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