Freddie Mercury (37 page)

I often wonder, now, why we sat in this position when it would be me who went to the kitchen to get the champagne from the fridge to fill the glasses. When it got to the point of the vodka and the brandy, I would leave the bottles on the coffee table for us each to fill our own. To help lubricate our thoughts, here is an idea of the drinks on hand – two or three bottles of champagne, Cristal for special occasions, Moet for every day, half a bottle of brandy, Remy Martin, a bottle of vodka, Stolichnaya, all the various mixers, tonic for Freddie, Coca-Cola for me as well as the ubiquitous ice bucket.

A typical subject which would start these evenings might be Fergie’s bows, for example. Everyone had an opinion. A monumental crisis could be made out of the fact that the newly ennobled Duchess of York wore a bow on everything. The old saying, ‘Making a mountain out of a molehill’ had nothing on us but in the course of an hour or so, we would have solved the purely hypothetical problem which was to us as real and important as the next glass of champagne and thus the madcap Duchess would end the evening thoroughly de-bowed.

Nothing of earth-shattering importance was ever talked about. Nothing of real significance. If a serious topic was introduced by anyone, it would have lasted about five minutes before being discarded. These nights were not the nights for serious conversation. On another occasion, the subject of the evening was a new song Freddie was tinkering with in which he wanted to introduce the sound of a thigh being slapped. We spent, the three of us, two or three hours slapping our thighs to absolutely no avail. However, when we awoke the following morning it was to bruised thighs and palms that really stung.

Straker helped relieve the pressure for Freddie. He was always there with a ready laugh. On a deeper level, it was as though they had a brotherly conflict as the fundament of their relationship. There was a competitive streak in both of them. While they never came to blows over petty disagreements – because they cared too much for each other for that – there was a sort of one-upmanship which characterised their life together. Freddie’s contacts with his rock – he hated being thought of as a pop star – cronies and Peter’s ongoing ability to be able to introduce Freddie to ever more famous members of the acting and theatre fraternities proved of great interest to us on the periphery of their relationship.

In the twelve years I knew Freddie it was only Peter who had this relationship with him. A lot of the friendships which Freddie made in the latter part of his life were through Peter who effected Freddie’s introduction to Susannah York, Pam Ferris, Anita Dobson, Stephanie Beacham, Anna Nicholas and the list goes on.

It does seem strange that in his final year both Barbara Valentin and Peter Straker who were amongst the most important figures in his life were sidelined. There are reasons that I know of for this. There could be many more.

The first is that Freddie really did not want people he was close to watching his deterioration. He didn’t want to put people he loved through the pain of watching him die and being unable to do anything about it. He had spent many wonderful hours with these people going out enjoying themselves, giving them a great time and he didn’t want to have these people seeing him frail and tired. These people also reminded him of what his life used to be like, a life which he could no longer enjoy.

If you look at the people whom he marginalised, they were all
part of what I have to call Freddie’s ‘crazy’ life. Freddie was also, understandably, envious because his friends, his co-players in his good life scenario, were able to carry on enjoying their own lives. It would have been the final compromise for him to have had them change their lifestyles for his sake and, indeed, there was no reason why they should have done so even had he asked. Earlier on in this ‘crazy’ life, another victim of Freddie’s censure had been Wayne Sleep whose personality, Freddie considered, changed like Jekyll’s to Hyde’s when Wayne had drunk too much. Freddie didn’t like the person whom Wayne, drunk, became and so… Another one bites the dust.

Freddie, in the event, had the willpower to do as he was told by his doctors. No smoking, no drinking and certainly no recreational diversions. He was not interested any longer in people who wanted to indulge themselves in these ways at his expense in his house. He never wanted anyone to do something for which he would owe them. He did not wish to feel beholden to his friends. He wanted a clean slate and, of course, would never even have believed that anyone would have wanted to change their behaviour for him.

Mike Moran was a man with whom Freddie began a working relationship which developed into a very close friendship. Freddie recognised him as a consummate musician in the same way that he regarded Peter Straker’s talent as a vocalist. Freddie met Mike on the Dave Clark
Time
project and they got on so well that the bond overflowed the parameters of
Time
itself! Mike Moran receives a large amount of credit for the
Barcelona
album and also a credit on the last Queen album,
Innuendo
where he collaborated with Freddie in the studio on a couple of tracks.

Their friendship blossomed and Freddie would spend a lot of time with Mike in Mike’s house in Hertfordshire. ‘The Great Pretender’ was recorded in Mike’s studio and Freddie was so proud of that. I always got the impression that Mike would do anything for Freddie and they were founder members of their mutual admiration society. Mike was involved in every single project after the completion of
Time.
He was involved in the video for
Barcelona
, and all of Freddie’s appearances to do with
Barcelona
, including the Ku night, La Nit in
Barcelona
itself and in general became a sort of musical zimmer frame as Freddie’s illness wore on. Mike understood the way Freddie’s mind worked and they developed such a rapport that it let Freddie relax a
little more and not have to shoulder the worry about his newest opus on his own.

While not detracting from Freddie’s original ideas and moving genius, Mike does not receive, in my opinion, the credit he is due. Mike was able to develop the warp and woof of Freddie’s weave into the most beautiful carpet. I’m sure if they had met professionally earlier, Freddie would have worked with Mike earlier and therefore for longer.

Freddie never claimed to be a great pianist. In fact, he absolutely dreaded ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ in performance in case he got the run up the piano wrong. Whereas, Mike Moran, playing just three notes on a keyboard can make those three notes sound like a masterpiece. Mike never tried to claim more than what he was officially credited for but to a large extent it was he who kept Freddie working. He always encouraged Freddie to do that little bit more.

Mike became one of Freddie’s extended family immediately. Freddie grew very fond of Mike’s wife Linda and he thoroughly enjoyed going to their house. It was always an outing, well worth the distance and the effort as he grew more and more home-bound.

Some of the final relationships he made were, willy nilly, with medical personnel. In his earlier life he dreaded visiting doctors and in general had been a very healthy person. Indeed, he would have had to have been so to have coped with the incredibly gruelling tours which Queen undertook. He always passed with flying colours the physical examinations required by insurance companies to validate the policies which covered the tours. He saw himself duty and honour-bound to be so healthy because for Freddie not to have been able to sing at a twenty thousand seater venue would have lost a lot of people a lot of money. His visits, therefore, to his doctor, Gordon Atkinson, in Shepherd Market had been much more social events than medical forays.

However, in the last year or two, some of the most surprising – to me at any rate – relationships sprang up between the various doctors and the nursing staff whom Freddie encountered. One of the most frequent was Graham Moyle, the link between Freddie and his GP, Gordon Atkinson, and the hospital. Graham was the in-house physician at the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital who was in charge of Freddie’s case. The two men got on very well together. Two consummate professionals.

It was almost unthinkable that he could have been so relaxed and at ease with these comparative strangers but of course he had no secrets and nor could he have had secrets from them. He knew there was no point in maintaining his usual façade. They knew what the outcome of his life was going to be. The only thing that none of the team could say was exactly when…

Even with us, Freddie always maintained an air which he hoped was communicating the impression that everything was fine and that it was business as usual. With the doctors and nurses whom he knew had his life in their hands, he could afford to let the guard drop totally. I can understand his thinking. It was as though a huge weight had been taken off his shoulders when he was with them and he need pretend no longer. He actually looked forward to them coming.

Freddie had regular visits from various specialists – an oncologist, a dermatologist and the consultant in overall charge of his case, Brian Gazzard. Freddie also had a special relationship with the sister who came from the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital specifically to give him his blood transfusions. As I will explain more fully later, Joe and I had been taught how to administer all the other drugs but, because of the high risk potential of a blood transfusion, it was decided that a trained nurse be in attendance. Since then, of course, I have learned what are the necessary precautions and the possible dangers of incorrect administration. It can be too fast, too slow…

I think it would be helpful for people to understand better what gruelling processes these transfusions were. As the transfusion commences, the patient has to be checked very carefully for reactions. The familiar observations (the ‘obs’), temperature, pulse and blood pressure are taken at regular intervals. Every five minutes for fifteen minutes to begin with, then every fifteen minutes for the first hour, then half-hourly until the end of the transfusion which normally for one unit of blood will take four hours. Although very careful checks are made to ensure compatibility of the blood, there is always a chance that there might be something not quite right and a patient can go into anaphalactic shock. Freddie would usually have three units transfused and so it’s a fairly simple calculation to realise that these were twelve-hour days he went through. His very weakness, which was the reason for the transfusion in the first place, was initially exacerbated because all the checking which had to be done as each unit of blood was given meant that he was unable even to doze for longer than a few minutes at a time.

Even in the early days of these visits, Aids was not something that a lot was known about but Freddie was able to ask them questions and get answers which he couldn’t do with friends and family. When you are very, very ill it is quite understandable that your illness rather takes over. It, perforce, becomes your life and so if there is no one in your life who can answer your more than pertinent questions, it becomes a pleasure, something you can look forward to, to have someone with you who can help you out and with whom you can really share. Joe, obviously for his own reasons as well, dedicated a huge amount of his time to find out more about the disease. Freddie was always kept appraised of new developments in the many research programmes which were featured in the medical and scientific magazines which Joe steeped himself in. A vast amount had, by necessity, to have been learned by the medical profession in an extremely short period of time.

I cannot end this chapter without including an account of Freddie’s relationships with both the band and with Jim Beach… With the latter, he had a very good working relationship. Jim had been a young lawyer with Harbottle & Lewis in the very early days of Queen’s existence. Jim was probably the only lawyer in London at that time who played in a jazz band and who at least therefore understood something of the soul of a musician. Jim was then brought in, once the band was managing themselves, to look after their business affairs, i.e. touring and recording contracts etc. Once the band’s ‘manage-themselves’ phase had passed, Jim became Queen’s full-time manager. During this period, the band were tending to do more solo projects and so Jim became more and more involved with the individual members of the band as he represented them as individuals as well as, collectively, Queen.

Although Jim may have a reputation in the music business of being, shall I say, a little brusque, he is also very well-known for getting what he wants. Getting his own way in negotiations. Freddie knew that Jim Beach was going to secure the best deals possible and therefore a certain amount of trust and mutual respect developed between the two. They grew quite close as this made for a much better working relationship and as I have pointed out, Freddie always needed to make a friend of a business contact. Freddie always took great pleasure in picking out specific gifts for Jim and his wife Claudia. Over time, Freddie got a great insight into Jim’s appreciation of English water colours.

Jim also showed Freddie the respectable side of ‘the high life’ by organising visits to restaurants like Freddie Giradet’s restaurant in Lausanne which was at one point the most exclusive in the world. Freddie learned to appreciate the fine wines of Switzerland including what was to become his favourite, St. Saphorin, of which on one occasion he imported twelve cases via Peter Pugson’s wine company. Whereas Freddie had no competition in his knowledge of the more rakish high spots of
‘le beau monde’
, Jim had a discerning cultural palate born from a substantial English upbringing which Freddie recognised. Freddie knew that he could learn a lot from Jim Beach and, as usual, took advantage accordingly. Freddie was very happy to let his career be guided by Jim Beach provided that his own input was paramount. Freddie always had the final veto.

In my time with Freddie, he always had a very good working relationship with John Deacon but it never seemed to follow on in their personal, offstage relationship perhaps because of John’s family commitments and family life being miles apart from Freddie’s idea of a social life. I do know that Freddie had a lot of respect and was very fond of John. Both Roger and Brian were much more rock superstar models. In Queen’s heyday, Roger held as many headlines as Freddie, Roger’s arm being easier to twist to go to ‘the parties’ where he was ‘seen’. It was only in the latter years that Brian also started carving a niche for himself in the tabloid press and that can be almost solely ascribed to Anita Dobson’s positive influence. Freddie, distinctly, did not like being ‘seen’ in public at the ‘right’ places. His concentration was much too focused on his own performance to even think about, for example, going up to the Royal Box at Live Aid. He was not one of nature’s liggers.