Can anyone really be this perfect? - Daily Mail Weekend

How Olivia learned to live again

In the hard-edged world of rock 'n' roll, Olivia Newton-John was the queen of squeaky clean. But tragedies were looming: her father's death, her struggle with breast cancer and, most painful, the break-up of her marriage. Frances Hardy met her and found behind the sugar-sweet façade a streak of toughness that has helped her to survive.

Olivia Newton-John is the very archetype of goodness; so irreproachably wholesome, in fact, it's a wonder she is not marketed as a health supplement She's almost 50, yet she still looks barely old enough to be entrusted with a can-opener.

Have you had a face-lift? I ask, impertinently. No, not yet, says Olivia, smiling equably. She wears drawstring trousers and a girlish little striped vest. She's fine-boned and slim, and has a newish sleek haircut. Her dainty feet are bare but for crimson nail varnish. The only time she becomes remotely rattled is when you accuse her of being so commendably and persistently pleasant that she's almost elevated herself to sainthood.

I don't see anything wrong in being nice, she says, justifiably defensive. Cliff (Richard) and I are always saying the same thing: What do people want? Blood? I'm a nice person and proud of it. I don't see a good image as a problem. Maybe it's more interesting to be naughty, but I'm a nice person and I'm happy with that.

In the debauched world of rock 'n' roll, Olivia Newton-John was ever a beacon of moral probity. She did not take drugs, she eschewed promiscuity and hoped for a happy-ever-after marriage. Career-wise she has been prodigiously successful: in the Seventies she was showered with plaudits and music awards, and twice voted Top British Female Vocalist Of The Year. Her anthem to aerobics, Physical, was one of the Eighties' best-selling singles. In all she has sold 60 million records worldwide.

And of course, there was Grease, the most popular film musical ever to be re-released here July in which Olivia plays Sandy opposite John Travolta as Danny Zuko. Sandy was a high school cheerleader of blameless morals (sounds familiar?) who unaccountably turned into a vamp in the tightest pair of Spandex trousers ever.

Olivia acquired wealth and a house in the fashionably reclusive Malibu Hills outside L.A. She was married at 36, to aspiring actor Matt Lattanzi, a young man 11 years her junior with swarthy Italianate good looks. A longed-for daughter, Chloe, arrived a year or so later it seemed that life had blessed Olivia inordinately.

However, tragedies in remorseless succession were looming. The assault, when it began, was both pitiless and overwhelming. First Olivia's god-daughter and Chloe's best friend, five-year-old Colette Chuda, died of cancer. Then, in the summer of 1992, Olivia's beloved father died from the same cruel disease, just a day after which, she learned that she also had cancer.

There was a malign tumour in her breast. She had a partial mastectomy, chemotherapy and reconstructive surgery, but it seemed that her convalescence was barely over when her marriage foundered. Mr Lattanzi had formed a friendship with 23-year-old student Cindy Jessup (they now share a home). Olivia fought to shore up the crumbling façade of her marriage but divorce inevitably ensued. All that she had so fervently hoped for an enduring, life-long partnership, stability for their child seemed destroyed.

They say that divorce, bereavement, illness and moving house are the most traumatic things to deal with in life and I faced them all in three years. says Olivia. The cancer and bereavement were devastating but probably the hardest of all to face was divorce. I waited until very late to get married because I didn't want to make a mistake. My parents were divorced when I was ten and it was the thing I most wanted not to do. I think that was why it was so utterly desolating when it happened to me. Divorce, to me, is like a death the death of a relationship. You work so hard at staying together then, when it crumbles, you feel as if you have a big sign on your forehead saying failure. Anger and pain are inevitable. It is rare if you get through it without any of that. And yes, I think the age gap played a part, but I don't want to beef about whose fault it was. Matt and I remain amicable because of Chloe.

Slowly I have rebuilt my life. I went to a therapist, although it was not something I had ever contemplated before. The way I was brought up in Australia and England, people thought you had to be really mentally sick to go into therapy, but I have learned from living here that there is a different attitude. If you have a broken tooth you go to the dentist. If you have emotional problems you see a therapist. It has helped me. I am not embarrassed to say it.

I don't feel I have failed now. I feel fine. I'm fit and healthy. I've passed the critical five-year point with the cancer, and now I only have to go for yearly checks. Life is wonderful and I am enjoying the freedom of being single. When you have a child you never feel alone. Chloe is such a great companion.

Olivia Newton-John isn't just a sugar-coated sweetie; underneath the honeyed shell there is a husk of determination and strength. This month she releases a new album, a country-pop mix called Back With A Heart. There is a personal reason behind her comeback, too.

At Christmas last year I had a very nasty throat problem, she remembers. The problem persisted and I started to get concerned. I did not even let myself think about cancer, but the worry was there. I kept thinking: What is this trying to tell you? Is it because you have a voice and you haven't been using it? I went to the doctor and he said I might have to have surgery. I said I didn't want to have an operation so close to my vocal cords. It was then that I thought: Oh God, I need to sing I made the album and the throat problem went away spontaneously. It just disappeared.

Olivia moved to the home where we are talking - a beach house in Malibu after her cancer. The spot, overlooking Paradise Cove, is as peaceful as you can get in Los Angeles, way out of the city and reached by a single, rough road prone to landslides. All you can hear from her terrace is the gentle lapping of the sea. The view is heart-stopping: dolphins frisk in the ocean, parrots flock in palms and great orange banks of nasturtiums blaze along the cliffs like wild fires. We sit outside on the terrace to talk, Olivia reclining with her little bare feet on the table.

She does not seem to have a scintilla of pretension. She talks like a suburban mum, pleasantly concerned about your own affairs, solicitous for your well-being. Then her features cloud over as she describes the awful chronology of her own misfortunes.....

First there was my god-daughter Colette's death which was particularly traumatic for my own daughter Chloe, because they were so very, very close like sisters. How do you talk to a five-year-old about the death of her best friend? I said Colette had gone to heaven to be with God. Chloe knew that Colette was sick, but I didn't mention cancer. She coped but I know thoughts of her friend are always with her.

I was half anticipating my father's death. He had cancer of the liver. I spent a week with him in Australia when he was very ill. I told him I loved him very much, which was was all I could do. He was a proud, dignified man. We took our cues from him and, as he remained very jovial and unemotional, that is how we tried to be.

I was with Matt and some friends on the San Juan Islands off the West Coast for the Fourth of July weekend when the news came that my father had died. We were getting a seaplane to Seattle when Matt took a phone call. Apparently there were two messages one from my doctor saying he needed to see me, and another telling me about Dad. Matt decided to save the news about the doctor until after the weekend. He thought Dad's death was enough for me to contend with.

We were sitting in a spot overlooking the sea at sunset, there was a bunch of friends with us. We drank a toast to Dad because all my friends loved him. We told stories about him. I did not have much time to grieve because a day later I had the news about my cancer.

I think the first couple of days, especially the first night, were the most frightening. I had a night of dread. I shall never forget it. I woke in the early hours with an overwhelming fear. I walked down to the kitchen and my body felt so leaden I could hardly move. Then I made a decision. I said to myself: You're going to be okay, and from that moment I fervently believed I would recover.

Really, I feel very lucky that it was caught early and that it was not aggressive. I am fortunate because I was all right. I felt very supported throughout the treatment. Although I had chemotherapy, I didn't lose my hair, which was a psychological bonus. I wore an ice cap sort of tea-cosy filled with ice cubes which is supposed to help.

I got through a whole year of treatment without mentioning the word cancer to Chloe. I just said I had a lump. Of course she sensed there was something wrong, but at that age she was seven it is easy to distract a child, keep her occupied.

Then, after the treatment we went to Australia to live for a while, and some kid at school said to her: Your mummy had cancer. Chloe came running home from school crying. She said. Mummy, Mummy, it isn't true." I said: Yes, it is, but I did not tell you because I thought you would be scared I would die and I'm completely better now. Chloe was terribly upset. She said But Mummy, why didn't you tell me? I would have taken care of you. It was so touching. But I really believe I made the right decision in not telling her at the time.

At this, Olivia looks at her watch and jumps up. Hang on there for five minutes. I have to fetch Chloe from school. I promised her I'd get her, she explains. Chloe goes to a school nearby, it was her parents decision that she should attend the local school in Malibu rather than the privately educated.

It's a good school and we didn't want her to have to trek half way across town to see her friends, says Olivia. Minutes later, Chloe bounds in, chewing on a piece of cheese, her best friend in tow So what did you do at school today?

Rachel got grass stains on her pants, someone fell in the creek and there was a fight.

Uh-huh, Olivia half-smiles, half-grimaces.

She gets the lunch salade niçoise, cheese, fat-free rice cakes assembling all the components on the worktop with an assortment of relishes. Just like the perfect suburban mum.

In Britain, of course, we claim Olivia as our own: she was born in Cambridge in September 1948, where her father Brinley Newton-John was head of a boys' school. The family moved to Melbourne, Australia, when 'Livvy', as they called her, was five. Mr Newton-John became a distinguished academic, Dean of Melbourne University and professor of modern languages.

Olivia's background was intellectual. Her maternal grandfather, physicist Max Born, was a Nobel Prize winner and one of the team that split the atom. Her brother is a doctor. (She has an older sister, Rhona, too.)

Olivia, however, was not a scholar. She wanted very much to be a vet, but lacked the necessary aptitude for maths and science. I seemed to be the only one in the class who never had a clue what was going on, she laments.

Instead of struggling along the scholastic path, Olivia nurtured her natural singing ability. She formed a schoolgirl quartet and then, shortly after her 16th birthday, she won a talent contest. The prize was a trip to England. She arrived in London in 1966, but instead of returning home after the prize-winning trip ended, she opted to stay and pursue her singing career.

She teamed up with a fellow Australian, Pat Carroll. The two girls toured clubs and Army camps with their singing act and from there came guest spots on TV shows. Next Olivia was selected to join an ill-fated group called Toomorrow (sic), created by the man who manufactured The Monkees. Toomorrow flopped abysmally, but by the end of the Sixties Olivia was preparing to go solo and poised to make her first hit.

In the event, she remained in Britain for almost a decade. Her first British hit was a cover of Bob Dylan's If Not For You. Then she teamed up with the eminently wholesome (Sir) Cliff Richard on his TV show. There cannot have been a more worthy singing partnership between them, they made Julie Andrews look positively decadent. And no, in case you're even thinking it, of course they didn't have an affair.

Olivia then had a succession of hit records: Banks Of The Ohio, Take Me Home Country Roads and I Honestly Love You (newly re released on her latest album) were among the early ones. There was a very brief blight on her gilded young life: in 1972 she broke off her engagement to Bruce Welch, one of The Shadows, Cliff's former backing group. Welch took an overdose but fortunately recovered.

After Bruce Welch, Olivia had a long on-off relationship with shoe manufacturer Lee Kramer, who became, for a time, her manager. All along she was cautious of committing to marriage. Her parents divorce remained a deep and abiding sorrow, its impact branded on her memory. I still remember the terrible shock I felt when my father said he was moving away, she says. He was very upset when he told me. My father was then Dean of Melbourne University. We had a lodge house it was a huge place, a mansion really that went with his job. He moved to another state, took up another post. We moved away with my mother. After that I saw my father once, maybe twice a year during vacations.

I remember hoping so fervently that my parents would get back together again. Of course nobody ever wants divorce to happen to them, but I became a bit hung up on it. I was so determined to make the right choice in marriage.

Olivia met the man who was to become her husband on the set of the ill-fated musical Xanadu. Matt Lattanzi was then an unknown dancer, she, of course, was the star. Cynics pointed to the age gap, his obscurity, her capacity to influence his incipient career. It would not last, they said. In the event. Olivia and Matt confounded the doubters by marrying. The relationship endured for 14 years.

Today Olivia is unwilling to apportion blame. When you pry too deeply, she wags her forefinger in mock recrimination. No, I'm not going to go into all that. She says she is enjoying her independence. Life is busy. As well as the singing and songwriting, there is the Grease revival. Does she still have those preposterously tight trousers? Yes, she does. Do they still fit? Well that's a tricky one, because the elasticity has gone, so they're not that tight now, she says. (Olivia was never one to stretch the truth.)

She also campaigns for a children's charity set up by her dear friend Nancy Chuda (Colette's mother) which is seeking to establish a link between some childhood cancers and the environment. She is U.N. goodwill ambassador for the environment. The calls on her time are innumerable.

Her lovely home, which snuggles into the shoreline behind a secluded stretch of beach, is also environmentally benign. The timbers, approved by the Rainforest Alliance, come from cultivated forests, the insulation is seaweed-based; the heating solar-powered. There aren't any carpets to harbour house-dust mites. It's all bleached wood floors, sand and buff-coloured walls; muted, restful tones.

Everything is perfectly balanced, tasteful and understated. No ostentation, no flummery, no self-importance. A bit like Olivia herself, in fact.

Photo captions: Take me home: Olivia, above with husband Matt Lattanzi, felt the pain of her divorce more than anything.
Her beach house in Malibu, above right, has become a haven.
Below: In those famous Spandex trousers opposite John Travolta in the film Grease, to be re-released this summer.