Political wives are always an easy target. They know how much gets hushed up in the corridors of power

— never letting anyone see a chink in the smile was her act of defiance. As the wife of David Cameron she had entered 10 Downing Street both pregnant and grieving for her eldest son but looked for the positives, finding solace and purpose in the charitable gatherings she hosted every week, for mothers coping with incredibly ill children or parents who had also lost their own.

For Michelle, she worked out in advance what armoury she had and then how to use it to devastatingly brilliant effect, and this determination sings from every page. “If you don’t get out there and define yourself, you’ll be quickly and inaccurately defined by others,” she says. She missed nothing: her glamorous, colourful wardrobe held messages of hope, confidence and modernity; the natural human warmth she consistently projected — hugging the Queen, enveloping young women and mothers in unscripted cuddles — radiated hope even when her husband was mired in political mud-slinging; the focus she put into education and young women, and kisses with her husband, showing the power of human love.

Her line at the very end, that her furious rebellion at Trump’s inauguration was to “stop smiling”, is the most powerful and telling revelation. No words allowed but still finding a voice. Isn’t that what women have always done?

Michelle worked out in advance what armoury she had and then how to use it to devastatingly brilliant effect