upset so I scolded her about her drinking and she told me she would cut down. It was hard to believe what she said, but at least when I was there we could have the conversation face to face.
When I arrived in St Lucia, I couldn’t believe how well Amy looked – she was tanned and had even put on some weight. She was happier than I’d seen her in ages, and she was as pleased to see me as I was to see her. I was looking forward to us being father and daughter on a nice holiday together – I’d left in London my role as buffer between Amy and her troubles. I liked her ‘islander’ look of sports bra and shorts, but when we went into dinner that night there were a few tuts from the other diners about the way she was dressed. Amy paid them no attention: she was always friendly and loved fooling around with people, making them laugh. The trouble was, she expected everybody to go along with her, which was fair enough, but some people don’t like that kind of thing. Most of our fellow diners were okay with it, but I had to speak to one man who was rude about Amy.
The hotel was far too public. A couple of days later I was awoken by a telephone call from a
After that we checked out of the hotel. I had rented a superb villa for us all to stay in. Amy preferred it as she had more privacy there. Over the next few days she hardly drank at all and only once did she have too much. It was then that she started to talk about Blake. I said, ‘Be quiet, Amy,’ the way I had when she was a little girl. We ended up laughing and she didn’t mention him again that night.
While we were at the villa, Amy went to another hotel to use their gym. Andrew called to let me know there were a lot of paps around. I rushed over and sent them packing. The press wouldn’t leave Amy alone and one tabloid printed a story that when Amy had been at the hotel she had blown ten thousand pounds in one night on drink. Had they bothered to do any research, they would have found out that the resort where Amy was staying was all-inclusive, meaning that no one pays for drinks.
The story might have been wrong, but her drinking was becoming more of a problem. That night, Amy got drunk at the villa. I was pleased there was no sign of any drugs but I went to bed thinking I now had something else to worry about.
The next morning, thanks to her amazing ability to recover, Amy looked marvellous. She apologized and promised not to drink for two days. A few days later I flew home, but Amy stayed in St Lucia, moving to yet another villa. I was nervous about leaving her after I’d seen how much she was drinking, but I needed to be at home to get on with my own life. I couldn’t spend all my time on St Lucia, unlike my daughter, who could work anywhere.
On 24 January Raye flew to St Lucia and set my mind at rest by telling me how well Amy was and that she had started working with Salaam Remi. However, the
Here we go again, I thought. It was hard enough that we had to contend with Amy’s struggles, but the continual fight with Georgette in the papers was exhausting. At least I knew Amy was getting better but it was unclear what, if anything, would placate Georgette; the battle in the media was relentless. I no longer heard from her directly as, following the abusive text I’d received in the spring of 2008, the police had given her an official warning to leave me alone.
As I did nearly every time an issue with Georgette came up, I spoke to our solicitors, John Reid and Simon Esplen. They were very bullish about the letters, saying they were Amy’s intellectual property and if the
In mid-February I flew back to St Lucia, taking another prescription of Subutex with me, as Amy had told me she was again running out. When Andrew met me at the airport he told me Amy had used up her supply of Subutex, gone into withdrawal and was in hospital. I went straight there. Amy was asleep but woke up as soon as she heard my voice. She immediately took two Subutex and half an hour later she was fine. We had dinner that night and she was her usual loud self, talking about Blake a lot and saying she was going to give him her Subutex. I didn’t comment, but I noticed she was also talking about young men she had met on the island, so I hoped that said more than her words about Blake.
The next evening we went to a karaoke bar in town. Amy and I sang ‘The Girl From Ipanema’, and had a lot of fun, but as the evening wore on she had too much to drink. When a drunken punter grabbed her arm, wanting to drag her up to sing with her, Amy roared at her and I had to get her out of there quickly. As bad as her behaviour was, it was more predictable than it had been when she was on drugs. I gave her what for and told her that this had to stop. As always, she promised to behave, but I had no faith in that promise. That night I wrote in my diary, ‘Four months ago every day was a bad day, now it’s every so often and only when she’s had too much to drink, so I suppose there is progress.’
At the end of February, I flew home to pick up the keys for Amy’s new home in Hadley Wood, a big house that was a step up from Prowse Place. A few days later Blake was released from prison to go to the Phoenix Futures Rehab Centre in Sheffield, in the north of England. On hearing the news, Amy said she had to come home immediately. I told her that there were no flights until 6 March, which was a lie, but I wanted to delay her return until I had formulated a way of keeping her and Blake apart. It didn’t work: Amy arranged her flight home herself.
A couple of days after her return, Amy was arrested for allegedly hitting a fan in the eye backstage at the Prince’s Trust ball six months previously. She had been at the ball to support Dionne Bromfield, who was doing her first high-profile gig. The police charged Amy with common assault but granted her bail. She was due to appear at the City of Westminster Magistrates’ Court on 17 March.
I stayed overnight at the Hadley Wood house the night before Amy’s court appearance to help her get ready. Thanks to Amy’s usual time-keeping, we were late arriving at the court and what seemed like hundreds of paps were waiting outside. Amy pleaded not guilty to the charge but came across as disrespectful and her solicitor was very annoyed with her. The case was adjourned until later in the year. Amy was granted bail with no restrictions, which meant she could go back to St Lucia if she wanted to. This was good, but I was increasingly concerned about her drinking. It really was getting out of control and the press had started calling her ‘Amy Wino’ or just ‘Wino’, which I found very upsetting.
I didn’t know at that time if Amy was planning to go back to St Lucia or not. I found it difficult talking to her when she’d been drinking, so we hadn’t discussed it, although I was delighted that she was avoiding Blake. She seemed intent on maintaining her distance but he called incessantly. Generally, she just didn’t want to talk to him. He’d call and she’d simply dodge it and go back to sleep. Of course, when he did get her on the phone it always led to trouble.
In Raye’s view Amy drank as often as she did because her conversations with Blake upset her so much. She had to cancel a session with Mark Ronson in the studio because she was too drunk, but she was better the following day and worked with Salaam Remi at the Hadley Wood house.
I rang her to find out how the work with Salaam had gone. She didn’t tell me because she wanted to rant about the paps outside the house. She’d arranged with her next-door neighbours that she could climb over their fence and leave through their front door to avoid the photographers, but the whole thing had backfired when the newspapers got the pictures they wanted of Amy stuck on the fence.
‘It’s not funny, Dad, stop laughing,’ she said.
I couldn’t help myself. ‘Those photos, Amy, you should see ’em. You looked so funny stuck on that fence.’
‘Yeah? Well, it ain’t bloody funny. I’ve had enough. I’m going back to St Lucia. And you ain’t coming cos you’re laughing at me.’
