Adam Faith: June 23, 1940-March 8, 2003: He was a survivor, one of

WHEN I heard the news on the radio yesterday morning my instinctive reaction was to shout out, "No, oh no!"

I couldn't take it in. Adam had nearly died in a car crash. He'd survived heart attacks and triple bypasses. He was a survivor. It couldn't be true that he'd finally gone.

He was one of life's optimists. If ever he was knocked back - and it happened to him more than most - he'd bounce back.

The last time I spoke to him on the phone, just a few weeks ago, he'd lost pounds 30million when his digital Money Channel collapsed. Yet, typically, there was no trace of bitterness or resentment in his voice. "Well, at least it was my money," he said.

He meant that he was the only one who'd suffer. Not that suffering was his style. "Time to move on to the next thing," he said. He never said, "Poor me." He just picked himself up and started all over again. And that's why he was back on the road in a theatrical tour.

Adam was an extraordinary chap. I was so fond of him. We'd never met when we were cast opposite each other in Love Hurts, back in the Eighties.

My schoolfriends and I used to dance to his records in the biology lab at lunchtime. He was the pin-up of my best friend.

But if I'm honest, I wasn't at all sure about working with him. So the producer suggested the three of us meet for lunch.

What struck me first was how beautiful he was. He was drop-dead gorgeous with that handsome face, that wonderful bone structure. But he hardly spoke. I realised after a bit that this was a deliberate ploy. He simply stared at me. It was rather disconcerting but very effective.

And extremely sexy, extremely flattering. He knew exactly what he was doing. Clearly there was a chemistry between us which was evident, I think, on screen and which explained some of the show's great success.

He'd had no formal training but his was an instinctive intelligence. He also had built-in sensitivity. There was so much more to the man the more you got to know him.

We did three series of Love Hurts. He was very dubious about doing the third. In the event, he was right. Things did go off the boil a bit. The producer changed. We had new writers. It didn't flow like the first two series. But he never let his enthusiasm flag. He was constantly full of fresh ideas.

He was both serious and fun to work with. And he could be exasperating, too. He didn't always learn his lines, which initially drove me crazy. But it didn't really matter. Somehow it brought a naturalness to what we were doing.

He never stood still for two seconds. Somehow he was always operating on six fronts at once.

My husband and I bumped into him and his wife Jackie in a restaurant about six months ago. It's the last time I saw him.

We joined them for dinner, and talked about doing Love Hurts 12 years on. Now we'll never know whether that might have happened.

I feel angry. He was just 62. That's no age to go. It's so sad. A light has gone out. Oh, I shall miss him dreadfully.

Copyright 2003 MGN LTD
Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved.