Blake wasn’t released when he was supposed to be because the police were concerned about the drugs goings-on in Prowse Place, his named address. He was told he could be released to Georgette’s address, but he said he’d rather stay in prison. When she heard that, Amy was beside herself and told me she wanted to find a new house immediately. Then she had a really bright idea: she wanted Blake to be released to my house. I was totally gobsmacked. She couldn’t understand why I said no.
A few days later we had a bit of good news. Raye spoke to Blake’s solicitor and discovered Blake wouldn’t be released until the end of his sentence on 6 September 2009, a whole year away. That must be enough time for Amy to get clean, I thought. I had to contend with her disappointment, but I could handle that if it meant we had twelve more months without Blake. Her disappointment was short-lived. By the beginning of October she seemed okay and hardly spoke about Blake at all. She was still very thin, but she looked a lot healthier, and Jevan confirmed that visits from drug-dealers were non-existent.
I had arranged to talk to Russell Brand about Amy and met him at his house in Hampstead, north London. He is a recovering addict and gave me some very helpful advice about her situation. He was impressed that she was sticking to the Subutex, and introduced me to his drug counsellor, Chip Somers. I set up an appointment to meet him right away. My conversation with Russell left me feeling optimistic that the end of the road could be in sight. A lot would depend on whether or not Amy got back with Blake, but time was on our side now, and she seemed to be coping well.
I met Chip Somers at Focus 12, the drug and alcohol rehabilitation clinic, in Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk, and was very impressed with the work he was doing. If only we could get Amy there, I thought, this would be a good place for her to be now that she appeared to be nearing the home straight.
But the daily frustrations continued, with Amy missing appointments and Blake persuading her not to do things. Eventually I’d had enough, and I tore into her. She screamed and shouted and we both got very worked up. I can’t remember what we said in the heat of the moment, but in the end Amy promised, ‘I’ll keep my next appointment, Dad, but it’s really hard without Blake. Can you stop going on about him all the time?’
‘I would, darling,’ I said, ‘but I don’t like this hold he has over you.’ I thought about my recent conversation with Chip Somers and his advice on how to handle an addict in recovery. ‘You’ve got to learn to say to yourself, “No, I’m responsible, I’m going to take control of what happens in my life.”’
Amy put a hand to her forehead. ‘I know, Dad,’ she said. ‘I know Blake manipulates me, but I kind of like it, and I know I’ve got to stop.’
She kept talking about the good times they’d had and how much they loved each other. I pointed out to her that all of the so-called good times had involved drugs. At first she said this wasn’t true but then, after she’d thought about it, she agreed. I asked her what she was going to do about Blake. She said she loved him and she really couldn’t see beyond that. I felt very sorry for her.
Despite her promise, Amy didn’t keep her next appointment with Dr Tovey. The Subutex was rapidly running out, and once she stopped taking it, it wouldn’t be long before she went into withdrawal. I tried calling her, but she wouldn’t answer the phone. That was unusual. I wondered if she had repeated our conversation to Blake and he had banned her from talking to me. I went over to see her. She had run out of Subutex and was having a really tough time. I finally persuaded her to let me take her to Dr Tovey, who prescribed more Subutex.
* * *
As all of this was unfolding, there was the constant pressure of the press. When Jane and I were in Tenerife, I’d received a call from Phil Taylor of the News of the World. They were publishing two stories about Amy and he wanted my comments. The first was from Georgette, saying it was disgraceful that Amy had missed so many visits to see Blake, and the second was that Amy was being kept under house arrest as she was in a terrible state, talking to herself and incontinent. It was unbelievable. I, of course, denied it all. Now Phil Taylor was in touch again. The News of the World was publishing a story that damned Blake and his family and they wanted my reaction. At the time I believed the best way to fight Blake and his family, and protect Amy, was publicly in the press, so I talked to him. I wanted the world to know there was always someone in Amy’s corner. In retrospect, that was a mistake. It didn’t do any of us any good and I regret the way I handled it, but at the time I was angry.
I’d also been receiving lots of anonymous calls. They were from a withheld number and the woman, whose voice sounded familiar, swore and ranted down the phone at me. I alerted my solicitor, Brian Spiro, and he chased the police about the anonymous letter and texts.
A few days later I was called by Kent Police to discuss the anonymous anti-Semitic letter, anonymous calls and abusive texts in more detail. I was told this was more than just harassment and the police were treating it as a very serious case. The letter had been sent for forensic analysis.
On 18 October Amy called to say, ‘I love you, Dad.’ That cheered me up immensely. When I spoke to her again later, she said she wanted me to help her with some designs she was doing for a collection of clothes that Fred Perry were interested in producing. I had known about this for a while and was pleased that she was starting to work on it. The idea was that Amy would design and draw the clothes and Fred Perry would produce the Amy Winehouse Collection. Amy was a very good artist and loved designing and drawing clothes. Fred Perry could see that she was stylish in the purest and most original sense, and believed that the collection would sell. It was eventually launched on 10 October 2010 and did extremely well. Amy’s collaboration with Fred Perry went from strength to strength and I treasure the original drawings.
I don’t know where she got her ideas from. She might have spent hours flicking through fashion magazines, both new and vintage, but I think her real source of inspiration was the street. Whenever she went out, Amy was always looking about, her keen eye picking out individuals who’d created their own look. If she saw someone wearing something that interested her, she’d go up to them and ask where they’d bought it. She’d do this wherever she was in the world, not just in Camden: I’d been with her in Spain when she’d go up to strangers and ask them.
The Fred Perry project was a good distraction, but things were getting on top of Amy again. She was trying hard to beat the drugs, but she certainly wasn’t clear yet. At one point she suggested she came to live with me and Jane for a while, but at the last minute she changed her mind.
Once again, she was struggling to leave the house and it wasn’t long before the Subutex ran out and she went into withdrawal. This time, though, instead of doing as she had previously done and taking drugs, she wanted to be admitted to the London Clinic. It was a big step forward: she really was taking control. I took her in, and she was examined immediately: apart from the withdrawal symptoms and a chest infection, there was nothing wrong with her and they confirmed that she hadn’t recently taken drugs. Her security guys were posted at the hospital and told that there were to be no visitors or calls without my permission, unless the visitor knew the password, which only I would give to permitted visitors. The password this time was my mother’s name, Cynthia.
Over the next couple of days, Blake called me repeatedly asking for the password. Obviously I wouldn’t give it to him, so he made a nuisance of himself, calling the hospital and being abusive to the nurses because they wouldn’t put him through to Amy. I felt awful about what we were putting the nurses through, but I was very glad they were standing up to him: I certainly didn’t want him talking to Amy because I was worried he might persuade her to leave the hospital.
After a few days Amy was doing very well, and all of her test results were much better than the doctors had expected. She had brightened up and was having a good time with her permitted visitors, who seemed to be there day and night.
I took some deli food into her one lunch
time. She picked away and actually cleared her plate, then said, ‘Dad, I was talking to someone in here about eating and that, and I realize I’ve had some trouble with this over the last couple of years. Was it the drugs? I ain’t certain, but it could’ve been, couldn’t it?’
I was pleased she’d brought it up because, as I’ve said, we’d all noticed how thin she’d got. I’d put it down to drugs, but suggested she ask a doctor.
After a week she left the London Clinic, and she looked as if she’d put on some weight. Dr Tovey was pleased with her progress, so I took her back to Prowse Place. Later that day she called saying she was worried about a rash that had suddenly appeared on her body. I arranged for Dr Ettlinger to visit and straight away Amy asked if she could be readmitted to the London Clinic. I later learned that she had told Jevan she wanted to go back even before she had noticed the rash. She had been home just a few hours, but it was clear she felt safe at the London Clinic, away from the temptation of drugs. I doubt it had anything to do with the rash.
Despite Amy’s wish to go back to the London Clinic, I got a call two days later to say that she had left the hospital at nine thirty the previous night and hadn’t returned. She had gone back to Prowse Place to get high. Twenty-four hours later she returned to the London Clinic. She seemed to be treating it as a hotel. By this time, though, I’d spoken to a number of recovering addicts and drug counsellors, who had all told me that it was fairly common for addicts, even those close to quitting, to lapse, so I didn’t take the news too badly. I suppose I was becoming more informed about the whole process so I no longer overreacted to every last little thing. The bottom line was that Amy wanted to be helped.
* * *
On 5 November 2008 Blake was released from prison, some months early. His release was conditional upon his admission to Life Works, a rehab treatment centre in Woking. Of course he asked Amy to pay the fees, and sent her a form to sign while she was at the London Clinic. Surprisingly, she refused. ‘I’m not paying, Dad,’ she told me. ‘I’m totally pissed off with him. He can go where he likes, but I ain’t paying.’
I was over the moon. This was the big breakthrough I’d been waiting for. I’d worried constantly about how Amy would react when Blake was released and I couldn’t have hoped for anything better.
A few days later Blake was quoted in the newspapers as saying, ‘When I see Amy, I’m going to take her knickers down.’ I wanted to kill him when I read that.
When Amy left the London Clinic she still hadn’t agreed to pay Blake’s fees, so he was pestering me instead. He texted, ‘Can we be pals?’ I replied, ‘No.’ He’d been trying to speak to Amy as well, but she wouldn’t take his calls, which I was very pleased about. If Blake didn’t find some way of paying his fees in the next couple of days he’d return to prison. Sadly, the day before he was due to be sent back, Amy paid the fees, saying she owed him that and calling his rehab a ‘hotel stay’. At least she wasn’t deluded.
She seemed to be staying off the drugs still, but I was getting lots of calls from Amy’s friends about her drinking. She’d been dancing in the streets of Camden in the early morning, and American Blake said it was the worst he’d seen her in months. I called Amy to talk about it, but she shouted at me, so I hung up on her.
A few days later Amy had another lapse. She had locked herself out of Prowse Place and gone to stay at Jeffrey’s Place instead. My heart sank: every drug-user in Camden seemed to know where that place was. Later Amy admitted that she had taken drugs when she was there, but she assured me it had been a one-off. I wasn’t so certain.
The rollercoaster continued a few days later when Amy was on top form and making me laugh a lot. I’d been foolish enough to allow someone to persuade me to have a Botox injection in my forehead – I couldn’t move my eyebrows for three days afterwards. Amy sighed, looked at me and said, ‘I don’t want you wasting your money on drugs, Dad.’ She had a great sense of humour, and when she was in that sort of mood she enjoyed my old stories of growing up in the East End. For those few hours, drugs, Blake and all of the other problems we were dealing with were a million miles away. It was just like it used to be. That night I wrote in my diary, ‘I really, really think this time we are near journey’s end with the drugs. I pray that I’m right.’
The next day Amy spoke to Blake on the phone and went on a bender, drinking in several Camden pubs with whoever was in there; she was in such a bad way she ended up spending the night at the London Clinic as she couldn’t stop throwing up. Blake was calling everyone to find out where Amy was. He called me, but of course I wouldn’t tell him. The last thing we needed was Blake pestering Amy at this crucial stage in her recovery.
The following day Blake was in court for his sentencing appeal hearing. His appeal was rejected and I have to say I was thrilled, but I knew this wasn’t the end. That night I wrote in my diary, ‘He called me and said that he would leave Amy if it would save her – normal shit from him, but I do believe that things are coming to a head with him. Although at the hospital Amy showed me a letter he sent her. No mention of divorce, he said that they were like Bonnie and Clyde and destined to be together for ever.’ Blake was telling Amy one thing, and me another. This was far from over.
The next day I got a call from him: he asked if we would help him out financially to rent a property. I told him I would only do that if he started divorce proceedings. He assured me he would and said his solicitor would contact us to confirm.
I was still looking at properties for Amy as part of the effort to get her out of Camden Town. That day I’d been with Amy’s friend, and fellow singer, Remi Nicole and Jevan to see a beautiful house in Hadley Wood, Hertfordshire, and I showed her the brochure with all the pictures. At last Amy became animated, and my reward for weeks of house-hunting was a lovely cuddle. ‘It looks perfect, Dad.’
Shortly after this Blake was interviewed in the News of the World. I thought he would finally admit that he was divorcing Amy, but in many ways he went further than I could have hoped. He was quoted saying:
‘I dragged Amy into drugs and without me there is no doubt that she would never have gone down that road. I ruined something beautiful. I made the biggest mistake of my life by taking heroin in front of her. I introduced her to heroin, crack cocaine and self-harming. I feel more than guilty.’
He had admitted he had turned Amy into a junkie, but there was no mention of him divorcing her. Instead, he put the ball in her court:
‘I will do anything for her – and that includes walking away. If Amy wants a divorce I’m not going to fight her for anything. It’s going to be the saddest day of my life.’
Blake was trying to portray himself as a martyr and there was no mention of how well Amy was doing in her battle to get clean.
The same day I received the following text from him:
You are trying to buy your daughter’s divorce. Stop hiding Amy’s money. I want a contract.
He was after something in writing – I assume about the property he wanted my financial help with – before he’d agree to a divorce. I texted him back telling him not to contact me again.
Amy was in a terrible way after she saw that article, stomping around and banging doors. Andrew told me she had arranged for a drug-dealer to visit her later, but I managed to put a stop to it. She was in complete and utter denial, insisting Blake hadn’t actually said the words printed in the News of the World, that he’d been misquoted and they were the words of the journalist. When I asked her how she knew that, she said Blake had told her.
I had no choice but to show Amy the text I had received from Blake. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, darling, but you’ve got to know the truth.’
She was stunned and just stared at the words on my phone, trying to make sense of what was going on. I think it was then that it finally sank in. It was then that she realized Blake had been lying to her and that all he was interested in was her money. It was a hard blow and I feared she might resort to drugs in an attempt to ease the pain.<
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Eventually she spoke: ‘I love him, Dad. I’ll love him no matter what.’ This worried me, but she went on, ‘I’m stronger now, and what he says to you only makes me want to get clean and stay clean. Then I can help him get clean as well. It’s what I want to do.’
I never understood why Amy was so in love with Blake. It wasn’t as if he’d brought much good into her life, or so it seemed to me. Just drugs and misery. Maybe she’d wanted to experiment with things, as a lot of people do in their early twenties, but she chose the wrong man to do it with: he took her down a path she couldn’t come back from easily. It’s the one thing I never got clear in my head about my daughter. I like to think I knew Amy as well as anyone in the world; I could relate to so much of her because she always reminded me of myself. But this was the one part of her that didn’t make sense to me, ever.
Sure enough, as soon I left, Amy and Blake made up and she told him to come home when he got out of rehab.
* * *
By the beginning of December Amy was back at the London Clinic and I learned that Blake had failed a drugs test at rehab. We were told he would be sent back to prison, but the next I heard was from our security guys at the London Clinic: Blake had absconded from rehab and turned up at the hospital, demanding to see Amy. ‘Turn yourself in to the police,’ I said to him, when security passed me the phone.
He said he would, but he pleaded to see Amy before he did that. Against my better judgement, I agreed he could spend some time with her. What a mistake that was. To my amazement, I got a call less than an hour later from Amy’s security to say that they thought Blake had given her drugs.
You couldn’t make it up if you tried. There he was one day, saying he wanted to save her, and the next he was giving her drugs. I had learned that addicts lapse, but this man had told me he liked being a drug addict. What I thought of him at that moment is unprintable.
Amy, My Daughter Page 18
