Christine Lewry: The girl who had everything but her middle-class mum's time Christine Lewry said she had never felt such shame when she discovered daughter Amber was addicted to heroin and was arrested for possession Amber started using when she was just 17 and quickly became hooked She began rebuilding her life after she and her mother spent time together Christine said she had not realised Amber felt like an 'outsider' in the family By Christine Lewry Nothing could have prepared me for that phone call. It brutally punctured an otherwise ordinary day at the office where I worked as a fund manager. To this day, I think about that call - hoping I might, somehow, be able to go back to the moment before I picked up the receiver, before my family's life was changed utterly, before I learnt the truth about my beloved daughter. "Amber's been arrested with her boyfriend Dave," said my husband Tony, his voice wavering, on the other end of the line. Police found an ounce of heroin, £2,000 and a gun. He's a drug dealer and she's a heroin addict. Christine Lewry, right, said she never felt 'shame like it' when she discovered daughter Amber, left, was a heroin addict I couldn't speak. So profound was my shock, I felt as though every ounce of oxygen had been expunged from my body. I gasped for breath and hung up the phone, wordless, while my husband continued to gabble down the line. For 40 minutes I sat silently at my desk in the office, looking at my colleagues and wondering what they would think if they knew how I'd failed as a mother. I've never felt shame like it - even the word "heroin" made me feel physically sick, never mind the reality that my beautiful daughter had been injecting herself with such a vile drug. How could Amber, who had enjoyed the best of everything, possibly be an addict? She'd been educated at one of Britain's top public boarding schools; she was intelligent, poised, had a cut-glass accent and was strikingly pretty. We lived in a detached period house in an idyllic Hampshire village. Amber tried marijuana and Ecstasy aged 13, just one year after this picture was taken and became hooked on heroin aged 17 My dazed incomprehension soon gave way to agonies of guilt. Was it my fault? By pursuing my career over motherhood, was I to blame? For Amber hadn't always been number one in my life. I sent her away to school to enable me to fulfil my career ambitions, so we could have the sort of lifestyle I dreamt of her enjoying. But I loved her, of course I did. So how had I failed to realise that my own daughter was caught up in the most desperate of addictions? I was only 21 when I fell pregnant by accident. Hurriedly, my boyfriend and I married, but after Amber was born the relationship soured - we were just too young and incompatible - and I faced bringing up Amber alone. Despite being a single parent, I wanted to pursue a career that would enable me to give Amber all that money could buy. So when she was two, I went back to college to train as an accountant. That meant leaving Amber with childminders, but I convinced myself I was doing the right thing. I remember her as a toddler clinging on to me and begging me not to leave. I would peel her hands away and tell her cheerfully that Mummy had to go to work. I told myself I wanted the best for Amber - but I wanted a life for myself, too. In truth, work was easier than life at home with a child who soon showed signs of becoming difficult. At first I sent Amber to a Catholic primary school near our home. When I went to my first parents" evening, I expected to hear how well my pretty five-year-old was doing. Instead, the teacher's face dropped as she said: "Oh, you're Amber's mum." To my horror, I learnt that she was disruptive and impervious to attempts at discipline. When Amber turned ten I met Tony, then 28, on a rare night out. He was clever and kind and ran his own business, renting office space. I was ecstatic. All my energies became focused on being in love. In hindsight, Amber must have felt as if she'd suddenly been replaced in my affections. I'm sure Amber's feelings of rejection must have intensified when I sent her, aged 11, to boarding school on a bursary paid by my employer at the large company where I worked as a finance director. I told myself she'd be getting the best education but, to be honest, it also freed up my weekdays to work and be in love. Amber was a bridesmaid at her mother's wedding to new partner Tony and seemed happy for the pair A few months after she started there, I had a call from the school to say Amber had been caught stealing from Boots. I had to pick her up from the police station. I was livid, but Amber didn't cry or beg forgiveness. Muted, she insisted she had learnt her lesson and would never embarrass me again. Yet the incidents continued - she was continually setting off the fire alarm at school or being caught in the boys" dormitory. Finally, at 13, she was expelled for smuggling wine into school. Tony and I realised that her behaviour was getting worse, and we hoped that by bringing her home and sending her to an excellent local school I could keep a closer eye on her. When we got married in August 1992, Amber was our bridesmaid. She said I was a much happier person with Tony and seemed excited to be part of a proper family. Two years later I gave birth to Lauren, followed by Sam in 1996. Amber adored her siblings but still couldn't seem to settle, despite the comforts of our lifestyle. We had lovely foreign holidays and bought Amber her own car. She wanted for nothing. She left school and tried studying horticulture at college but dropped out, then worked her way through a series of jobs as a shop assistant. I felt so disappointed that she couldn't seem to stick at anything. But I had two young children as well as my career - which I adored - to manage. Then my life became even harder when I had breast cancer diagnosed. I just didn't have time to focus on Amber. At around this time, I noticed that Amber had lost a lot of weight. She was 17 and had gone from a healthy size 14 to a size eight. I worried that she might be anorexic and gently asked if there was a problem. She insisted that she just had a fast metabolism. Her moods began to swing wildly - she was normally laid-back but became terribly overwrought. It was then that Tony and I began to wonder if she was taking drugs. When I questioned her, she reacted with such horror that I felt guilty for asking. Then Tony found a piece of burnt silver foil in our back garden. I knew it was drug paraphernalia but when I showed it to Amber, she said it must have blown over the fence. Christine became suspicious when Amber began losing weight but said it was due to a fast metabolism When she announced that she was moving into a rented house with her boyfriend, Dave, whom she had been seeing for a few months, I was immediately worried. I couldn't help but distrust Dave. He swaggered about and, although he didn't seem to work, always had plenty of money. Amber claimed he earned a lot from his talent with computers but it never rang true to me. In March 2002, a few months later, I received that fateful phone call from Tony. The police had raided Dave's house and arrested them both. Dave was a dealer and Amber an addict. How could Amber's life have been unravelling so badly that I hadn't even noticed the signs? That evening, the police dropped Amber back home. Her eyes bulged, her face looked more shrunken and she had a terrible smirk. I could hardly bring myself to look at her. The police explained that they had released Amber on bail provided she moved in with us. They took her to retrieve her impounded car and she promised them - and us - that she'd come straight home. I sat waiting for her, desperate, ready to talk, to try to understand and help. Then she returned home but I saw that her eyes were glazed and unfocused. She'd had a hit of heroin. I shook with barely restrained despair and told her that, while we loved her and welcomed her, she could not do drugs in our house. She barged past me into her room. The next week was agonising. Tony and I would lie, sleepless, thinking of Amber on the other side of the bedroom wall, wondering what was going through her mind. We knew she was still taking heroin. Amber is now clean and recently gave birth to son Rhys and is training to be a counsellor I tried to talk to her but she refused to listen and would run from the room. I know how feeble it sounds, but I was powerless to stop her. She was a grown woman, after all - I could hardly keep her locked up, nor could I kick her out. Finally Amber hit rock bottom and came to me for help. She'd been led to a brothel by a fellow addict and almost forced to sleep with a man in return for a hit of the drug. "Mum," she pleaded, sobbing, "if you don't help me, I know I'm going to end up as a prostitute." Feeling sick with horror, I hugged her tiny, shrunken body, kissed her and told her I would help her and never stop loving her. Later she confessed that she had first taken drugs - marijuana and Ecstasy - at 13. Four years later she was offered heroin and soon became hooked. I felt as if my heart had been ripped out. She begged me to help her get clean. Our GP prescribed sleeping tablets to control Amber's cravings. I drove her to Brighton, booked into a guesthouse and we spent days talking and walking along the seafront. I discovered that Amber had been feeling like an "outsider" for years. She'd been the only child at primary school without a father, and her anger at this was compounded by loneliness because I was at work. When I met Tony, Amber had felt as if she was on the outside of our new, happy family unit. I had given her everything money could buy - but I hadn't given her the attention and time she needed. For the first time in her life, here, by the seaside, Amber finally had me to herself. But our weekend sojourn couldn't make up for years of distance. Within weeks of returning home, Amber was taking heroin again. She stole my bank card to withdraw money for drugs, and would jump in her car and disappear if I tried to discuss her drug use. When their case eventually came to court, Dave was jailed for drug dealing and Amber received a two-year conditional discharge for possession. Tony and I were almost torn apart by the stress. He felt he couldn't go on with Amber living with us. But I couldn't throw her out. I had let her down again and again. Now, when my daughter needed me most, I couldn't fail her again. Then tragedy struck. Her best friend from school, Leanne, who had also fallen into addiction, died from a heroin overdose. Her death shook Amber from her stupor. At last she seemed to realise what she was doing to herself, and she vowed to stop taking drugs. She decided that she wanted to live. And she wanted me to share her new life. Feeling sick with horror, I hugged her tiny, shrunken body, kissed her and told her I would help her and never stop loving her I knew that the physical need for heroin would at times overwhelm her. But I vowed to spend as much time as I could with her, to distract her in any way possible. Amber also had a stomach implant inserted which released a medical drug to try to alleviate her cravings. At times she wanted heroin so badly, she even considered cutting her stomach open and ripping out the implant with her bare hands. But over the next year she managed to break the cycle and very slowly started a new life. We spent hours every day talking and watching films. Instead of rushing through our lives, we savoured our time together. We developed a relationship we had never enjoyed before. Amber's recovery took years. Tony and I bought her a flat just around the corner from us. She volunteered on a rape helpline, and went back to college. She is now 33 and training as a counsellor. She met her partner, a chef, several years ago and four months ago their son, Rhys, was born. I've apologised to Amber many times for failing her as a mother - for putting my career first and failing to realise that she was unhappy. She has forgiven me and worked through her anger. She doesn't feel like an outsider any more: she feels part of a loving family. Meanwhile, we meet up most days. It's a simple pleasure enjoyed by millions of mothers and daughters, but I never take it for granted. I realise how lucky we were to rekindle our relationship before it was too late. Thin Wire: A Mother's Journey Through Her Daughter's Heroin Addiction (Matador) £6.99. See troubador.co.uk to order.