February 2009

At the end of January a journalist from BBC Breakfast News rang, to ask if I would be interviewed on film, about our family’s story, for a feature to coincide with the reclassification of cannabis. He asked if Will may be interested in giving his views too, and consequently both of us were filmed together at Will’s new flat in South London.

I hardly slept the night before. Experience had taught me not to trust too much where Will was concerned. I was unsure what I would say to the news crew if my son was not there, for example, and even if he was, I was unsure how the interview would go. This would be the first time we had done an interview together. Added to this, I had only been to Will’s new place once before when he had invited us all, in early January, to go over and see it.

He moved there last December. He had rung late one night, just before Christmas, to tell me that he’d found the perfect flat through a letting agent (which would indicate he was working, because I know you need work references to rent through an agent). He was going to have to move out of the flat he’d been in for only a few weeks, the agent had said he wasn’t earning enough to rent the place. A new property had been suggested. Not having had an address for him for almost a year, being told about his plans was something new.

‘You wouldn’t believe, it mum’, he told me, excitedly. ’This house, right, the landlady lives in an identical house next door – she reminds me so much of you: young blonde woman with kids, and they’ve said I can have the flat. It’s got wooden floors, and everything is brand new. I can afford it too’.

‘Great, that’s wonderful’ I said, smiling, pacing our hall-way to calm my surfacing Will-jangled nerves. Looking down at the worn-out hall carpet, I make another silent wish that we could justify the money to replace it. ‘This is your reward now, angel, that things are going your way. You’ve just got to keep on the right track, and everything will start to fall into place. Your story has helped so many people, and now it’s your turn to have things the way you want them’.

‘Yeah, I really hope so.’

We went on to talk about Christmas.

We had all been invited to lunch at my sister’s house, in Dulwich, on Christmas Day. For many years, we have alternated hosting the day between us – Guy’s sister, my sister and our family. But things had been made complicated in the past 3 years by the exclusion of our eldest son, who we could not trust to be in our house without stealing from us and generally causing us stress.

We had met William for the first time in twelve months in November, and after this Guy and I had many conversations about what we were going to do for Christmas. It was our turn to host it this year. However, it was too soon to have Will in our house again; we all agreed that was out of the question.

The previous year, 2007, we had told our families that we would spend a quiet Christmas at home, to obviate the matter. Christmas 2006, had been very strained and not one we wished to repeat. We had just excluded Will again and he was living with his grandmother then. We had all met at my sister’s. My mother in law had made it plain to me, on Christmas Day, that she wanted to see Will back living with us, saying her friends thought it was disgusting he wasn’t at home. We had collected him shortly after.

This year, my sister rang to invite us all over to her house for Christmas Day – including Will, which solved our problem. Guy would go over to collect William from his flat in Balham. Guy’s sister and family would not be there – she and her family were spending their first ever Christmas abroad.

We talked about Christmas when Will phoned to tell me he was moving.

‘You still okay for Christmas then, Will? Dad will come over to collect you and take you to my sister’s.’

We talked for over an hour then, he saying that his best present this year would be the fact that his family want to see him again.

‘You don’t know what it’s been like to live without your family. That’s why I wanted to do the interviews with the media: ‘cos if there is one boy out there who may be put off cannabis, by seeing how it affected me, then I need to speak out. Imagine, there could be some 16 year old about to get kicked out, just like I did, and I may be able to stop someone else from having to live without his family, which has just been the worst thing’.

Oh, God, things have been really tough for him. But he’s coming through it, and says he is no longer smoking cannabis. I asked him what helped him through, got him to this point. I was surprised by the answer.

‘The funny thing is, that I knew if I could just get back to where I was before all the awful things began, before cannabis, I would be okay. I was a success before, I know I can be again. And I’ve held in my mind the image of our house, knowing that if I could just get back there – like to the Holy Grail – I would be okay.

‘I needed to try it on my own though. I’ve made so many promises to you, to girl-friends, to friends, I needed to do it on my own first so I didn’t continue to let people down. But, you know the main thing was your story. You had no parents, and look what you’ve become. I’ve never known my grandparents although I feel as if I know them; I can see when I close my eyes your mum and dad in my mind’s eye. Their photos seem to come alive then. And I’ve always thought about your life – you came from the North, your parents died when you were young, you’ve really suffered, and if you could do what you did – come to the South, marry a lawyer and get a new life – then the sky was the limit as far as what I could do.’

I smiled then, shaking my head.

So – all this work writing the Cannabis Diaries, setting up the web-site, the lobbying – and it was actually merely the life that I had lived, and the alchemic transformation from ‘orphan from Morecambe’ into Blackheath housewife and mother, that had had the most effect on William! Amazing. Maybe it is ultimately the life you lead, and who you are, that matters more than what you do.

Maybe that is the blueprint for change – that we transform our own selves first, before transformation in the wider world can take place.

Christmas Day 08 was a good one, the best for years. William looked so happy to be with his brothers and cousin again. He had bought presents for everyone. He had rung me many times in the preceding weeks to ask what people would like, even calling me from Neal’s Yard store in Covent Garden, to ensure he had the right body lotion I’d requested. We all joined in the games at the end of the evening, and Will appeared relaxed and respectful of everything and everyone. Jack and Alex hardly stopped smiling. A good day.

The filmed interview for BBC Breakfast at the end of January went well. Will was at home when I arrived there, which made me breathe easier. Taking off my coat, I spotted a sink full of dishes and quickly washed them up, before the crew arrived. There was only one tricky, heart-stopping moment during the morning.

Will was interviewed alone first. He was honest in the extreme about how cannabis had affected his life, even admitting to stealing: he talked about how his ‘moral lines had become blurred’. I listened in fascination; a lot of this I had never heard before, and I was stunned that he could speak so openly about such a personal matter.

Whilst I was being interviewed, Will went to sit in his bedroom, which adjoins the only living area, which combines kitchen, diner and living room. I went into his bedroom after I had finished the interview, to see Will sitting on his bed with my phone in his hand, and my wallet open beside him. I had taken change out to feed the parking meter, before doing the interview, and had left the purse ajar! Looking quickly inside, and at the credit cards still sleeping silently in their compartments I could see the irony of the situation. Everything looked in order. Will must have seen the look on my face.

‘I was just playing on your phone, hope that’s okay’ he said, not mentioning the purse lying open.

‘Yes, of course’ I said, not looking at him, not quite believing I could be so stupid as to leave my purse open like that.

‘It’s all safe, I wouldn’t dream of taking anything anymore you know’ he said.

I took him out to lunch afterwards, as we had planned, and then to the supermarket to buy groceries. I had been upset to find that his fridge and cupboards were virtually empty, and thought about our over-stocked kitchen at home. We then made a date for clothes shopping in the West End. When we had all met in November, Guy had been shocked that Will had no coat and had asked me if I would take him and buy him one soon, which I was more than happy to do. We met a few days later after Will’s first live interview on his own, at the BBC in central London, to buy clothes and shoes. I took him to my hairdresser’s for a haircut too.

Will and I have done four live interviews together since then. Each time I hear him speak, I understand a little more about what his journey with cannabis has been like. He talks about how he began, (‘A boy in my class was selling it. I trusted my friends when they said it was safe.’), what effect it had, how he managed to quit. I am becoming increasingly impressed by his courage and candour. We all are, apart Guy’s mother and sister who are not talking about my work, or the charity’s achievements, or the interviews Will and I are giving. It is all ignored. They are ashamed of me, I think, for writing so publicly about our family. My mother in law has made clear her view that it was, and is, Will’s birthright to live at home, presumably at all costs.

As to our family, we all know that by doing this work we have helped bring the ‘hidden’ issue, of cannabis abuse among the young, out into the light. As parents you automatically blame yourself when things go wrong with your children, but it’s not the parents, it’s the drugs that are to blame. The guilt, misery, anguish and loss that skunk is causing to families has to stop. Our new 24/7 Support Line will ensure that no family has to suffer alone ever again.

Within all of this we have also given our own son an opportunity to confront and take responsibility for his behaviour, actions and life-style, which has helped him effect the changes he so urgently needed to make. We have also, at the same time, ensured that our other children live as normal a life as possible. They are both thriving. We all are.

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