I was born in Colombo, Sri Lanka, where my dad worked, in 1963. He was expecting to stay longer in Sri Lanka, but as he hated the job with a vengeance, we returned to the UK in 1965 and settled in Buckinghamshire when I was about 14 months old.
I was brought up in a bungalow in the countryside, next to a pig and poultry farm. I grew up with my younger twin sisters Kathy and Claire, and our older brother, Ashley. My dad would often take Ashley and me on nature walks and visits to the badger setts at the bottom of our lane. My dad is an absolute mine of information on most subjects and I still call him whenever I need to know anything. Our bungalow had five acres of land and my dad planted conifers in three acres. We lived there for about 13 years, by which time the trees had grown into a forest.
My parents were never strict. I will always be grateful for that and I am the same with my children. When they are young, you have to set certain standards and guidelines for their own good. When they become teenagers I believe in allowing them as much freedom as possible. It makes them more responsible and mature into young adults.
Dad gave me valuable financial advice. After working for Kodak, he became an investment adviser. When I got my record deal and publishing advances, he helped me invest it. Mum was a music teacher and always playing the piano at home – she inspired me to become a musician. Her biggest accolade was to play the violin at the Royal Albert Hall and I never imagined that years later I would perform there.
The Craven name originates from North Yorkshire – it’s a common name in the Dales. My grandfather was a police officer with the Devonshire Constabulary. I remember his grisly accounts of collecting the body parts of suicide victims from the railway lines. I knew then that I’d never be in the police force. He was full of stories and had a little silver box for his snuff, which used to intrigue me. As a child I suffered terribly with car sickness and had to sit in the front on long car journeys. Once, when we’d arrived at my grandparent’s cottage, my mum handed me to my gran saying proudly: “She hasn’t been sick once this time!” at which point I threw up over the two of them! My granny loved painting and drawing and would often sketch us with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of her mouth. I used to pick the dog ends out of her ashtray when she wasn’t looking and pretend I was smoking.
My sister Kathy died this year from cancer at the age of 44. Losing her had a devastating effect on my family. What made it even worse was that it was caught early and she had a double mastectomy shortly after she was diagnosed in 2009 (a brave decision as only one breast was affected). We then heard the news we had been dreading – the cancer had spread to her liver. I went into denial and became very angry.
Kathy planned her own funeral. Opposite the woodland burial ground where she now lies, is a cosy little pub where she wanted her wake to be held. When she was planning it, the pub barmaid asked her whose funeral it was for, to which Kathy replied: “It’s for me.” She arranged for all of us to have hot soup as well as cheese and biscuits, and every wall in the pub had photos of her. Kathy’s best friend Gina recited a poem, Look For Me in Rainbows, at the funeral, and asked me if I’d sing one of my songs, Rainbows, at her wake, which I did, accompanied by the family. I printed off a load of lyric sheets and handed them out, and the whole pub joined in the song. Kathy would have been ever so proud. During the wake, the overcast skies cleared and a huge rainbow appeared over her grave. Ever since, whenever we see a rainbow we think of Kathy and know that it’s her way of showing she’s still with us.
My daughters are my pride and joy. Mollie, 22, has just left Nottingham University, where she studied French, Brenna, 18, is at Bournemouth University studying event management and Connie, 17, is going to music college in September. She’s a promising singer-songwriter and will be performing at some of my gigs.
Life is what you make it – it’s one of my mum’s favourite sayings and I like to think she has passed on her positive attitude to life to me. A brush with breast cancer myself in 2005, and Kathy’s death, have renewed my feeling of urgency to get things done and to live for today.
• Beverley is on tour till December. Her new album, Change of Heart, is out now, beverleycraven.com
