Amy, My Daughter

frustratingly, became even more devoted to him. It was as if he was some kind of hero. She told me that from then on they would have a completely drug-free relationship.

On 4 December 2008 it was my fifty-eighth birthday. I spent most of it with Amy at the London Clinic. She talked a lot about going back into the studio to work, which I took as a very good sign. But Amy knew me only too well: ‘You think I took some of those drugs Blake brought in, don’t you, Dad?’

‘Well, did you?’ I was blunt because I was tired of this game.

‘I’m not stupid, Dad,’ she replied. ‘Course not.’ I obviously didn’t look convinced because she carried on, ‘I promise. Look, I’ll swear if you like – I swear on a hundred Bibles I didn’t.’

I smiled. ‘All right, darling, I believe you.’

I did too. She really was getting better. All I had to do was make sure that there were no more lapses. That was easier said than done, but my little girl was stronger now and I knew we could do it if we all worked together.

Three days later Amy was involved in an altercation with another patient at the hospital. Dr Glynne was very unhappy about her behaviour and warned me that if it happened again he would have to ask her to leave.

Meanwhile I had made a lot of progress on the Hadley Wood house. Amy would be able to move in by the third week of January, but I’d only let her do that if she agreed to my terms (something I’d learned from my meetings with drug counsellors to do: the stick-and-carrot approach): no drugs in the house; a weekly urine test to confirm that she hadn’t taken any drugs; and 24/7 security.

‘Thanks, Dad. I won’t let you down,’ Amy said, giving me a big hug and agreeing to all the rules.

I told her that if she didn’t obey the rules it would be herself she was letting down, not me, but as I was doing so well with my rules I added a few more: no misbehaving in the hospital and no dramas. I was on a roll. She said okay.

By this point Amy was quite happy to call the London Clinic home but she was bored, so every couple of days I took her to a gym in the Strand, which seemed to help. It was good to see her strength and health improving. Afterwards we’d sometimes go to Joe Allen’s restaurant in Covent Garden for something to eat, which Amy loved. We’d been there many times in the past after her early gigs and just being there brought back lots of good memories.

In the middle of December things came crashing back to earth again when the News of the World published a story they’d received from Georgette. She was claiming that a man close to Amy had offered Blake five thousand pounds to hire a hitman to kill her drug-dealer. The story was so ridiculous it was almost laughable, but it was an absolute disgrace that people would keep making up stories about Amy, and that the News of the World would keep printing them.

I later heard that Georgette had told the paper that the man close to Amy was me. I didn’t know whether to believe this or not; we’d heard it from the editor, but the News of the World had such a history of lying to me and manipulating stories that it wasn’t impossible they’d make this up too, just to provoke a response from me. I really didn’t know what to believe. But if it was true, I had to find a way to prevent this woman using the press in that way. The paper was paying Georgette each time she came up with another ‘exclusive’ story concerning Amy and I was worried about what else the paper would write. My solicitor added Georgette’s allegation to the growing list of complaints that he had already given to Kent Police.

I kept all of this from Amy, of course. She was very bored and desperate for something new to do but she was still coping well with her recovery. And by now she had taken under her wing a thirteen-year-old singer called Dionne Bromfield. The press often referred to Dionne as Amy’s goddaughter. That wasn’t true: Amy had met Dionne on her eleventh birthday, but she had recognized her talent instantly and wanted to help her. I was less than pleased, though, when I was asked to sign a cheque for thirteen thousand pounds in payment of studio time for Dionne. The bills for the hospital and the security boys were already astronomical and I thought this was preposterous. But Amy was determined to help Dionne. She thought Dionne had an incredible natural talent, and eventually persuaded me to change my mind. It was money well spent: in September 2009 Dionne became the first artist to be signed to Amy’s own label, Lioness Records. Amy set up the company just to sign Dionne. The name came from a lioness pendant my mother had given her. ‘When I was thinking of what to call the label I picked up the necklace and knew straight away that I’d call it Lioness,’ Amy told me, ‘in honour of Nan.’

On 19 December Amy left the London Clinic and flew to St Lucia for a holiday. She took with her Andrew, Jevan and, of course, her good friend Subutex. I had been a bit nervous about Amy going away, but I believed she was strong enough by now to resist temptation, and I was reassured because she had the boys with her. I spoke to her nearly every day while she was on the island, and it quickly became evident that she loved it. I also got lots of texts from Andrew and Jevan confirming that she was fine, although she had too much to drink on one or two occasions.

Driving past King’s Cross station one afternoon, I saw a small group of addicts huddled together – I recognized the signs now, sadly. I felt very sorry for them and wondered how those young people had got into drugs. I knew what had started Amy off: Blake. To quit for good, she would have to accept that uncomfortable fact.

On New Year’s Eve Raye and I met for lunch to discuss Amy’s plans for 2009. There was a lot of interest from all over the world in booking Amy for live gigs, but we resolved to see how she was when she returned from St Lucia before we made any arrangements. We’d moved a million miles from where we’d been the year before, not just Amy but me as well: I had learned so much more than I’d ever expected I’d have to about addiction and recovery and had gained a new respect for those people who devoted their lives to working in the field. I also began to realize that, for most people, addiction is an illness, an illness that needs treatment, just like any other.

Thankfully, as 2008 came to a close, it finally looked as if we were near to getting Amy off drugs for ever. It was undeniable that she was doing better than she had been even just a few months ago. I had no illusions that she was cured, but St Lucia seemed to be doing her no end of good. She wanted to stay on for as long as possible, which we all thought was a great idea.

‘Let’s hope that 2009 will be a better year than 2008,’ my final diary entry for 2008 reads. ‘Things are already looking a lot more hopeful. Amy has worked so hard to become drug free. I’m a very lucky man to have such a wonderful family.’

16 ‘IT AIN’T BLOODY FUNNY’

Though it was clear in my mind as 2009 began that Amy was continuing to recover, I expected the drama around her to carry on. The tabloids hadn’t presented to their readers the complex picture of Amy’s recovery. Instead they’d dwelled on her lapses. It was hard for the general public to understand that overall she was getting better. If I had a wish for 2009 that was anything other than health and happiness for Amy and the rest of my family, it was that the papers would treat her more fairly. She had her own part to play in that as well, and I was determined to help her find the strength to do so.

That Amy was enjoying St Lucia so much was music to my ears and I wanted to encourage her there as much as I could. The only problem was that she was running out of Subutex. She spoke to Dr Tovey, who gave me a prescription. Jevan, who was now in London, flew back to St Lucia with the Subutex. I was going to join Amy a fortnight later, so she spoke to Dr Tovey again and he gave me another prescription so that I could take the medication with me.

Her stay on St Lucia was not without its problems. On 9 January Jevan called me to say they were going to have to move hotels, following some complaints about Amy and her drinking. That soon hit the press, and the following Sunday the News of the World ran a story saying that Amy was drunk most of the time and upsetting guests in her hotel. They also reported that Amy had slept with the rugby player Josh Bowman, who was holidaying on the island. She had supposedly said, ‘Josh is better than Blake in bed.’ The only good thing in the story was that Amy was happy and free of drugs.

Coincidentally Blake called me to say that he definitely wanted a divorce, and the following day, our solicitors received the petition from his. I didn’t want Amy to find out from someone else, so I rang her. She didn’t sound too