Shunt

by Tom Rubython

  Once that ordeal was over, Hunt visited her house regularly and they settled into a relationship. She was the first straight girlfriend he had ever had; she didn’t drink or smoke to excess and she absolutely hated making drunken small talk. She didn’t like him when he was drunk and told him so. And she certainly wasn’t interested in taking drugs.

  However, for all that, there is little doubt that Helen has slightly exaggerated the story of their three years together. Or maybe she prefers to remember it that way after all the trauma she endured when he died. According to her version of events, from the moment he met her, Hunt became a monogamous saint, which almost certainly wasn’t true. However, it is clear that Helen believes he did. What is clear however is that he tried, like he had never tried before, to be faithful to her and clean up his act. And by and large, he succeeded.

  Hunt told her he hadn’t experienced love before, and that he thought he just wasn’t capable of it. He also told her he had never been in love before, and that simply wasn’t true. There was no question that he had been in love with Suzy, Jane and Sarah and probably Taormina as well.

  But Helen insisted: “James told me he had never been in love and he thought that, as a person, he was incapable of it. What happened between us was absolutely magical, something I had never dreamed of either.” Certainly what he experienced with Helen was similar to what he had with Jane, except now it was in much calmer and sober circumstances – which meant he was able to enjoy it this time around.

  But they did not move in together for another two and a half years, until the end of 1992. Until then, Helen remained at home with her parents during the week and stayed with him at weekends.

  She claims he was persistent and wanted to make relationship more permanent, but that she resisted. But when he built her an artist’s studio in the attic space above his snooker room, it sealed the deal for her and, at last, she agreed to move in with him. She told Gerald Donaldson: “When I eventually moved in with him, things went from great to simply wonderful and just got better and better. He made me the happiest person in the world.” Her moving in coincided with a modest revival in his financial fortunes. Interest rates gradually started to subside and every half point of the rate put an extra UK£200 a week in his pocket.

  As interest rates began falling as fast as they had risen, Hunt had some disposable income again. That trend saved him and, from 1991 onwards, interest rates were cut eight times in a very short space of time, falling from 14 per cent to ten per cent. That cut saved Hunt nearly UK£700 a week in interest payments and restored his cash flow. Suddenly his earnings comfortably exceeded his outgoings again. That is, apart from the brief blip on Wednesday 16th September 1992, when interest rates rose from ten per cent to 15 per cent and then back to ten percent all in the span of 24 hours. That as a very worrying day indeed, and Hunt didn’t move from his television set as the day’s events unfolded and he calculated the effect on his finances with every percentage moved. He was mightily relieved by mid morning of the following day when everything returned back to normal. And from that day on, his financial position improved as interest rates began another inexorable move downwards.

  Suddenly, everything was getting better in his life after 12 years of things getting worse. As one close friend put it, his life cycle first went out of reverse where it had been stuck since 1980, into neutral and then through the forward gears.

  He even found his sex addiction was coming under control, the last and most difficult addiction he had to give up. Now, for the first time, he was able to say no to women who came onto him at races. He was not the saint that Helen believed him to be, but he more or less became the faithful boyfriend. The worst problem he found were old girlfriends who wanted to revisit old times.

  As an antidote to his past, when he was away at races commentating, Hunt started writing love letters to Helen and faxed them over to her from the press room. For a man who had difficulty opening up and showing his true feelings, they were revelatory. After his death, Helen showed the letters to journalists and gave them permission to publish the contents. She first showed them to Gerald Donaldson, who was allowed to read them and publish their contents in his 1993 biography. Then, in 1996, she did an in-depth interview with Mary Greene of the Daily Mail, who was also allowed to read the letters and to publish extracts.

  In an earlier letter, James committed a line to paper that he had used verbally to his other partners. It was remarkable committing it to paper, and was not complimentary to his parents: “I realise now that the feeling of not being loved as a child made me close up to any incoming love projected onto me. I do see that I cannot live without love.” Of course, Hunt didn’t really mean it and he could never have predicted that the contents of the letters would be made public. The letters were clearly written during a bout of guilt while away from Helen, and contained the same basic line he had given other girlfriends when he was caught being unfaithful. Tony Dron, who has firsthand knowledge of the period, is adamant that his friend was brought up in a loving atmosphere. He says it was always obvious how much his parents, especially his mother, loved him. “I don’t know what they are talking about. They were just busy people.”

  Dyson also takes credit for Hunt’s conversion to healthy living, although in truth he had started the process well before he met her: “Once he decided I was the girl for him and that he wouldn’t be looking for anyone else, he began to really focus on his problems and to deal with them. All his morals and values completely changed.”

  In the last letter to Helen, written in May 1992, he ended with the words: “I have to make it work. I want to make it work. Also, I believe I can make it work.”

  But examining the contents of those faxed letters, they do appear to have been inspired by feelings of guilt. Friends at the time say he still chased women at races, and the letters may have been written as a result of that. Certainly, the line about his parents had been used before in similar circumstances. It appeared that Hunt was fighting a battle with his own conscience and trying to win. For all the fibs he may have told Helen, he certainly didn’t want it that way. It was just that he had not yet quite conquered all of his own demons. But Helen is insistent: “There certainly wasn’t any womanising. I suppose he just matured.”

  As she told Donaldson, Hunt had confessed to her that “he was unable to be faithful to anyone in the past because sex was for him just another addiction, and he needed women to get his highs.” It sounded much like valediction. She then told Donaldson that Hunt had told her that he disliked social gatherings, and “only had parties or went to them to pick up women.” She told him she was willing to forgive and forget what had gone on before, but that she wouldn’t tolerate it in their relationship. And so he agreed to be faithful to her.

  This did not sound like the James Hunt of old, who was an inveterate party giver and would start one anywhere and everywhere. The declaration that he did not actually like parties is simply too much to swallow. But she insisted he was a completely changed man: “His letters really exuded love, he was so besotted with me. He’d found happiness – and he had really found peace.”

  After they moved in together, Helen describes how they hardly ever left the house. They were both at home every day and had their own working areas. She paints an idyllic picture of their life in those days. The bulk of his day was spent writing for a living. His syndicated columns paid very well, and he needed the money that they brought in.

  She painted in her studio in the gallery above his snooker room. To the sound of music, she completed big murals. He helped her to sell her paintings and supported her financially as much as he could, as she says: “He used to say that he’d had his career, now it was my turn. And when I sold my first picture, he was even more excited than I was.”

  Helen was also thrust into the role of unofficial stepmother at a very tender age. She has never spoken about this, but it appears she enjoyed the role; although most of her focus was on her having her own family with Hu
nt.

  But the joy of meeting Helen was tinged with the sadness of losing Oscar, Hunt’s faithful companion of nearly 16 years. Oscar simply faded away from old age and was buried in the garden at Wimbledon. Hunt was devastated by Oscar’s death. The German Shepherd that people often mistook for an Alsatian had been with him for most of his Formula One career, his marriage and the birth of his two sons. Oscar had lived with Hunt in Marbella, Buckinghamshire and Wimbledon. It took him two months to stop crying, and a year before he was fully over it. Oscar was eventually replaced by one of his grandsons, called Muffy. There was already a terrier in the house called Jackson, who had been owned by Sarah and left with Hunt when she moved out. But Hunt never had the same connection with Muffy as he had with Oscar. With Oscar, it was just one of those things.

  In the three years they were together, Helen rarely travelled with Hunt, and she usually excused herself when he went off on trips with Tom and Freddie. During this period, Hunt took his sons on frequent visits to see Sid and Susan Watkins at their home on Tayside. Watkins was only really close to three drivers: Ayrton Senna, Jody Scheckter and Hunt, and all three used to visit Scotland regularly.

  Sid Watkins is great company and one of the world’s top half dozen surgeons. His wife Susan is a well-known author in the field of history and has written a biography of Bernie Ecclestone. Susan is a soft-spoken lady of immense natural charm, and Hunt adored being in their company. But the real attraction was the salmon fishing on the River Tweed.

  His visits would last for three or four nights over the weekend, and he always made the journey to Scotland on the train with Tom and Freddie. Watkins remembers: “He used to come up with the boys on the train and I used to pick them up from Berwick Station. We had a large house in those days, and they had a big suite that was self-contained in which he and his little boys stayed. He really fathered and mothered them extremely well. They were sometimes real handfuls, but he was awfully good with them.” Watkins was impressed with how Hunt settled down with the boys in the evenings and read them stories: “When he put them to bed, there was five minutes of prayers before lights out. Then I used to go down to the gillies’ pub and drink beer with him.”

  Hunt used to rise early, and when Sid and Susan got up, they would find him in the kitchen: “He’d go downstairs into the kitchen and boil eggs for them, and when Susan and I came down for breakfast he’d be feeding them boiled eggs with soldiers.”

  Then, Watkins, Hunt, Tom and Freddie would go salmon fishing. As Watkins remembers: “The two little lads were lovely. We used to go down to the river and he’d get into the boat with the gillie, and I used to take the two youngsters off with little rods to fish for little trout. It was absolutely tremendous fun.”

  Hunt, as in most other things, was a highly skilled fisherman. But he always threw the fish back. He was not up for killing any animals. He also liked to indulge, as Watkins remembers: “I was fishing with him one day and we were out in the middle of the Tweed when he said: ‘Do you think I could have a weed out here?’ So I said: ‘There’ll be no inspectors around the Tweed looking for marijuana.’ So he had his weed, and he used to roll it himself, very quaint.”

  Watkins, who only really got to know Hunt well in the latter stages of his life, has a very high opinion of him indeed, as he says: “He was a very clever, sensitive and perceptive person. James didn’t grow up in a way. He was still a boy at heart, and I found that charming.”

  Helen enjoyed welcoming them home when they returned from these trips away. She revealed to Donaldson that they also thought about moving house, to make a fresh start in another home, but in the end decided not to. But Hunt would never have wanted to leave that home for many reasons: one being that Oscar was buried in the garden. The truth was that, at one point, Hunt thought he might have to sell the house because he could not afford to keep it, and he had pre-warned her. Ironically, he was saved by the 1992 slump in house values. Values fell to an all-time low and it became worth half what it had been just three years earlier. Hunt simply could not afford to sell it at the price it was worth, and so he held on to it.

  But for all that, Helen was genuinely unfazed by his lack of money: “Neither of us cared much about money. You don’t need much when you’re madly in love. James wasn’t materialistic. He cared about real things, important things – being a good father, being good to me.”

  After he realised they could stay, Hunt planned to make one of the rooms in the house into a nursery. But despite the intimate discussions about having children, he had not proposed. He was holding back until it was right and he had fully conquered all his demons. He was determined to be faithful to Helen if he married her, and that moment had not yet arrived – but he was getting there.

  He was very much in love with Helen, and of that there is no doubt. Gerald Donaldson thought she was perfect: “She was wonderful, extremely good looking and well grounded, they were a perfect match.”

  Sid Watkins also found Helen a charming girl and enjoyed some nights out in London with them after they started living together. Watkins recalls: “I remember he came to collect us one night in a little van. He had Helen with him, so Susan and I sat in the back of the van and off we went, rattling through the streets of London to go to a fish restaurant, where he was instantly recognised and besieged by a hoard of admirers.”

  The family’s first experience of the new James Hunt, sober, drug-free and non-smoking, came at his parents’ golden wedding anniversary party at their home on 5th April 1993, two months before his death. It was very much a family occasion, and Hunt attended with Tom and Freddie.

  It was the first time that his parents truly realised that they had got their son back at last. He was a normal person again, and it was obvious that Helen had worked her magic on him. The change was immediately apparent; no longer the ‘life and soul of the party’, Hunt was quiet and reserved. His parents had organised an informal thanksgiving service in their drawing room to give thanks for their 50 years of happy marriage. It was conducted by a local vicar, who was a friend of the family. The vicar said some prayers and Hunt’s sister, Sally, read a passage from the bible. Wallis played some hymns on the piano. It was a beautiful family occasion, and Hunt was almost moved to tears. He had missed all these occasions over the years, having spent them viewing his family through an alcoholic haze. He was sad for himself and at that point saw clearly for the first time what a fool he had been. At previous family events, he had been too drunk to really know, much less appreciate, what was going on. For the first time, he recognised what a marvellous family he had and how much he had missed it.

  Sue Hunt told Donaldson she thought the change in her son “extraordinary”, and indeed it was. Afterwards, he wrote his mother a letter saying how lovely it had been to see the family so happy together, how pleased he was for them and how he had found it an uplifting experience.

  Sarah didn’t witness this, but it was all recounted to her by Tom and Freddie when they got home. She was genuinely surprised by the change in her ex-husband. Recognising that it was Helen’s work, she was delighted. She even discussed it with him when they met to hand over the children on another occasion: “He told me how happy he was with Helen, and I was delighted for him. There was no more acrimony between us. He had come to peace with himself at last.”

  In this period of the last three years of his life, he won over many of his detractors, including Eoin Young’s old assistant Maurice Hamilton. Hamilton, an immensely likeable Irishman, had moved on and become one of Formula One’s leading journalists after Hunt stopped driving in Formula One. They found they had much in common and Hamilton was also a naturally talented communicator and had established himself as Formula One’s top radio commentator.

  Hamilton went from “detesting” Hunt to describing him as “a lovely bloke.” Indeed, it went even further than that as they became very good friends and Hamilton became one of his ‘confidants’, sharing many long telephone conversations with him as he sought to keep
on top of what Formula One had become. It was the same with Nigel Roebuck, who was Hunt and Hamilton’s equivalent in print journalism.

  In fact, Hunt really started enjoying his job as a television commentator in the last year of his life, and admitted his eyes had been opened when he stopped drinking. The new seriousness with which he took the job was very apparent. His new commitment inspired Murray Walker to better performances, as he readily admits. To watch the two of them in action in the first half of the 1993 season was a revelation in commitment and professionalism. Even David Hill, had he still been around, would have been impressed.

  Hunt also developed a very close relationship with Ayrton Senna in the last three years of his life. Senna had no time for Hunt when he was drunk, but warmed to him when he cleaned up. At one point, when Senna was considering retirement from Formula One and thinking of taking his career to America, Hunt persuaded him not to. Senna had become frustrated after failing to make the move from McLaren to Williams in late 1992. Hunt counselled him and persuaded him his chance would come again. As it did after Hunt died.

  Senna found Hunt a kindred spirit and came to rely on him for advice and support. They often dined together at San Lorenzo in London when Senna was in town. Once, after one such dinner, Senna famously took Hunt’s Austin A35 van at high speed round London’s Cadogan Square after midnight, saying he was trying to break the square’s lap record. Hunt was frantic, believing his van would not be able to stand up to Senna’s four wheel slides.

  Senna said: “He was good to talk to and wouldn’t give you any rubbish. He would always tell you the truth – his truth. I respected his opinions and sometimes he would convince me I was wrong. I would accept it, but I could also convince him that perhaps he didn’t do justice to me, and he would accept that too. That was his great strength. James was a very special man, by his own character and personality. He was always capable of embarrassing somebody. But I liked him the way he was.”