A rising star
Becky Lawrence, 46, from norwich, has watched her boy Billy blossom during the hardest time of his life…
He hadn’t studied music, but had a natural instinct
The star of the show took to the mic and began to croon…and as he did so, I stifled a fit of laughter.
My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard!
It was one of singer Kelis’ raunchier songs and, in a club on a Friday night, it wouldn’t have been out of place.
But the showman was actually my son Billy, 5, and the stage...our living room!
Every weekend, Billy sang tunes on the karaoke machine. And he was good, too.
It was in his blood – a mix of my good voice and my musician-ex Neil’s talents. With Billy’s dashing good looks, perfectly coiffed hair and gorgeous smile, I reckoned he was the whole package. Maybe he’d even go all the way and hit the big time... Growing up, he was always singing and dancing around the house, excitedly making me and his dad sit down and watch his performances. ‘I’m going to be a pop star when I grow up!’ he announced, excitedly. ‘Everyone will love you, Billy!’ I said, encouragingly. However, our Billy didn’t just have a big voice. He had a big heart, as well. One parents’ evening, his teacher told me that any new children were always given a seat next to Billy.
He’d look after them and help them to settle in.
By the time he was 18, Billy was a strapping young man, 6ft 2in, fit, healthy and gorgeous. Clean living, he didn’t drink or smoke. He loved swimming and tennis, excelled at running.
After his A-levels, we were out for a walk when I noticed Billy was limping. ‘Is your leg still bothering you?’ I asked him, concerned. ‘Yeah,’ he shrugged. ‘A bit.’ He’d had a little bit of pain months earlier and the doctor had said it was a pulled muscle.
This time, though, the GP referred him for an MRI.
While I was finishing a nursing shift, Neil’s mum Ann took Billy to the local hospital.
I was back at home when I got the call from Ann.
‘Becky,’ she whispered,her voice shaking.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked worried, my heart sinking.
‘Billy has got Ewing sarcoma,’ she told me.
It’s a rare type of cancer that affects bones or the tissue around bones.
I felt my knees buckle. Half an hour later, Billy came in. His cheeks were red and his eyes were bloodshot, as he tried to hold back tears.
‘Don’t worry, Mum. I’ll be better in a few months,’ he tried to reassure me, voice cracking. ‘Everything will be OK,’ I said. Billy was my only child and I flung my arms around him and held him tightly.
In August 2015, Billy started having radiotherapy and chemotherapy at University College Hospital London.
He didn’t say much on the drive to London, as hard as I tried to persuade him to talk.
‘We’re going to get through this together,’ I reassured him. ‘I know, Mum,’ he sighed. I stayed with him overnight in the hospital and slept on the floor. Then I held him as he sobbed that first night.
Suddenly, my strapping lad was my little boy all over again.
The same one who’d needed midnight snuggles after having a nightmare as a toddler.
The next week, I bought him a computer, hoped it would distract him.
Billy really loved taking pictures and he spent hours on his new computer, editing his photos. It perked him up. And when his prized hair fell out, he bravely shaved the whole lot off. While his friends started university, Billy spent a lot of time up in his room.
I was worried that things might be getting to him.
Then, one afternoon, I heard his loud music blaring out.
Well, that’s more like it,
I thought to myself.
And, as I scrolled through Facebook, I spotted a video that Billy had posted.
Check this out, said the message to his followers.
So, I immediately clicked on the link, and heard a really beautiful cover version of Sky Ferreira’s Sad Dream.
Then I realised that the voice belonged to Billy!
Racing up the stairs, I swung
open his bedroom door. ‘It’s brilliant!’ I squealed. ‘I’m glad you like it, Mum,’ he beamed happily.
Positive comments came flooding in on his Facebook page and they really helped to boost his confidence.
Billy downloaded some music-editing software and he started experimenting.
He recorded more covers of songs, and even more positive feedback flowed in, spurring him on.
You’ve got something special! one told him.
I’d love to hear more, another commented.
Billy began writing his own music, either at home or in his hospital bed.
I didn’t worry that it would tire him out – just the opposite.
I was so thrilled to see that he’d found a distraction.
In March 2016, the family chipped in and we bought Billy a keyboard, which we set it up in his room.
Then he borrowed a bass guitar from a friend. Slowly, I saw his bedroom begin to morph into a studio!
Billy taught himself how to play the keyboard and guitar. He hadn’t studied music and didn’t know how to read it, but had a natural instinct.
One day, Billy told me he’d sent his music to the singer Charli XCX.
‘She’s replied!’ he grinned. ‘She loves my music!’
The singer and her manager had invited Billy to go and visit their studio in London.
‘That’s amazing!’ I said, hugging him.
Then, in April – good news. The tumour in his leg had shrunk, so surgeons were able to remove his right thigh bone, replace it with a titanium rod.
A week later, Billy came home and hobbled on crutches to his room to make music. He was so resilient and focused, that I felt fit to burst with pride.
That December, he released his first record, and applied for a place on the Access College Creative Course, like Ed Sheeran and Rita Ora.
We all went bonkers when the letter came through and we discovered that he’d got in!
Studying from his bed, Billy’s music went from strength to strength.
But, sadly, his right hip and left shoulder began to ache.
It was the same type of pain that he’d experienced before...
Two days before Christmas, we found out that Billy’s cancer had returned.
‘I can’t do this again, Mum,’ he told me.
‘Yes, you can,’ I urged him. ‘We can do it together.’
‘You don’t know how much you make me feel better,’ he said.
After that, though, he became quiet, withdrawn.
I knew he was scared, but he didn’t want to talk about it.
He was focusing hard on his music, which was going from strength to strength.
More treatment cleared the tumour in his shoulder.
And, in May last year, Billy had a hip replacement.
After surgery, we were all hopeful, ready for a fresh start.
But then he had more scans in September, which showed spots on his lungs.
In October, he had more chemo, more radiotherapy. It was relentless, gruelling. Still, Billy was determined.
He’d booked to play at a local gig this May, just after his latest round of treatment finished.
‘I’m not going to cancel it,’ he vowed. ‘Will you drive me there, Mum?’
‘Of course,’ I promised. Watching him on stage that night, I welled up.
Strangers came up to me to tell me how talented my son was.
I always knew that Billy was special – but watching his talent grow has been incredible.
Now, though, we’ve reached a crossroads.
In July this year, we found out the tumours on his lungs are still there, but we’re hoping to get advanced treatment in Germany, under the guidance of a specialist oncologist in America.
Through it all, Billy, who’s now 21, has put all his energy into music.
It has definitely helped him fight this dreadful disease and I remain in awe of his strength.
From all his suffering, Billy’s created something beautiful.
His future is so bright, ready for the taking.
We’ve got to keep fighting and make sure he wins. For info, visit: https://uk. gofundme.com/life-savingtreatment-for-billy