CONCLUSION

I SOLD MY SOUL TO THE COMPANY STORE

Looking back, that is truly what I’ve done–I sold my soul to the company store. I have to accept that reality and make peace with it. For the most part I have, because I’ve realised that I am the store and the store is me, but there is a sadness in truly understanding the collateral damage that caused, from the emotional suffering brought upon my children, to the lifestyle that inadvertently injured people I loved. Reflecting on my life has helped me to understand how all of that happened, as it has made me realise that I probably wouldn’t have done anything differently; mostly because I was truthfully, and somewhat blissfully, unaware. I’ve done all that I can to repair that damage with my children and I’ve tried to be the best father and grandfather that I can be. My daughter Lucy lives with me in Hawaii and we spend more time together now than we did during the first twenty years of her life. I’m so happy I get to share her life with her, at this stage in mine. Her sister Amelia and I are also closer now than ever. We write a weekly column for an English newspaper and are very much connected. I’m glad that I’m able to give them real time now, since I didn’t when they were young.

I have a new partner in my life now, Chelsea Hill, who has a wonderful daughter, and I love the both of them very much. My relationship with Chelsea is a reality that I am learning to integrate properly into my life and my children’s lives. Chelsea and I were friends for a few years during the final days of my marriage to Lynn and when Lynn and I parted, I began to spend more time with Chelsea and fell completely in love with her.

I’m a different man than I used to be but often I feel that I’m still the same soul I was as a child; the young boy who adopted the simplistic philosophy that in order to survive he would do the only thing he thought he was good at. I still have the same sense of adventure that urged me to leave home and follow my dream. For better and for worse I’ve chased that muse around the world and back again, somehow knowing in my heart that it would all turn out alright.

As a young chap, sitting in my sister’s garage playing drums, I’d sometimes ask myself, ‘What are you doing? How are your parents going to feel?’ But I had no answer. I didn’t understand then that it had ramifications. I did realise that if I ran away and disappeared into the countryside, it would be the worst thing I could ever do to my parents, because they’d think I was either dead or in danger, and I didn’t want to make them suffer. But short of running away, I was only going to play drums, come what may.

I’m sure my mother did suffer, and worry, and I’m lucky that I still have her here with me at my age so that I can make it up to her. She’s got a great perspective on my life because she’s seen the little drummer boy grow up and make his dream a reality. She’s seen the entire Fleetwood Mac drama, every single bit of the whole story. Her comment when I told her that we were getting back together? It was priceless. There she was, ninety-seven years old, sitting on her veranda in Maui, the day I went to say goodbye before flying to LA to meet the others. We had a lovely lunch and as I got ready to go, she called me back.

‘Son,’ she said, ‘good luck out there, and play well. Make a great album. There’s nothing like the songs you did when you were all together.’

‘I will make you proud, Mum, I promise.’

‘But one more thing,’ she said, and her eyes lit up.

‘Yes, Mum.’

‘Now Mick, you must listen to me. This time, they’re going to behave themselves, aren’t they?’