'Losing our mother was such a big thing for Tamara and me'

On my way to interview Clare van Dam (ne Beckwith), I feel so nervous that I find myself searching for an excuse to cancel. What forces me to carry on is the thought of how she must be feeling as she waits for me to arrive (in fact I had expected her to cancel). Because in the three weeks since I first met 41 year old Clare, we have chatted about everything but the deeply private,replica van cleef necklaces, and deeply felt, subject we will talk about today.

During that time over cups of green tea in the spa of London's Bulgari Hotel Clare has told me of the moment when, aged 17, she fell for her husband Sebastian (then an amateur DJ, now a music producer) and about her closeness to her adored elder sister Tamara, 43 (the 90s It girl who remains a high profile socialite).

But this is the first time that we will touch on the family loss that has had such a dramatic effect on Clare's life,replica van cleef butterfly necklace, because until now she has been conflicted by her need to pass on to other people an important message and her fear of talking publicly about such a dark time in her life.

Clare has decided that her London home is the place in which she will feel most able to talk about what happened between her mother Paula being diagnosed with endometrial cancer in the late summer of 2009 and her death in December 2011, and when I arrive there I understand her decision. Because 'the other Beckwith girl' hasn't chosen to live in the kind of grand property you might expect; her home is a Victorian house in an (admittedly expensive) suburban London street.

'I always wanted a normal house where we could have a proper family life, where the children are part of every room. It's funny, but I have noticed observing some of my friends that the bigger the house, the more distant a family becomes,' she says.

Everywhere you look there is evidence that this is a proper family home. The walls of the kitchen where Clare prepares us a pot of fresh mint tea are dominated by artworks created by Tatum and Amber. And on the central island, close to the girls' pink child sized table, is the multistoried home of Fluffy the 'wonder' hamster.

In the corner of the living room where we sit to talk there is a play area filled with the girls' toys. I wrongly assume that Clare's desire for a 'proper family life' might be a reaction against her own childhood. Because so often the privileges of growing up with huge wealth are countered by an upbringing in which the intimacy of a more ordinary home life is missing.

'Losing our mother was such a big thing for Tamara and me'

'No my father's success started in the 1980s as we grew up, and we had a very normal, lovely Victorian family house in Kew. Tamara and I had a wonderful childhood, and we went to Queen's, the local state primary school. It was very cosy; my mother was a real homemaker and a great cook. She loved people; she was at the school gates every day, and took us to ballet and Brownies. She was one of those mothers who was always there,' she says, as she glances at a framed photograph of her mother taken in the 80s.

'She was so glamorous, right to the end, and such fun. She loved her family, the dogs, her home she just loved life. And she was so generous and warm and welcoming to our friends. For all children, your mother is the most important person; she is your rock. [You think,] "Mummy will always be there for me." The idea that one day she won't is a child's biggest worry; maybe the greatest worry in all our lives,' she says, temporarily breaking off to get more tea from the kitchen.

Clare (far right) with (from left) her sister Tamara, her mother Paula, Tamara's daughter Anouska, and her father Peter, at a private viewing at The Little Black Gallery a photographic gallery co owned by Tamara in 2010

Clare is as stunning as her more famous sister, but they are undeniably different although totally united in their love for their mother. As children, Clare tells me, they were happy opposites Tamara fearless, fun loving and rebellious; Clare sensitive and home loving. 'It's such a big thing for Tamara and me, losing our mother,' she says. 'One of the things about her was that she was so grounded; she was never moody. I could call her any day about anything and she would always have time, always listen. So not only was she always there when Tamara and I were growing up, she was always there when we were grown up, too.'

Clare doesn't say it, but she is absolutely her mother's daughter. Everything she says about her upbringing echoes the way she is bringing up her own children. Family unity was so important to Paula that when Tamara, then aged 16, became pregnant, she didn't hesitate along with her husband to take on the main parental responsibility for her granddaughter Anouska (Clare is very close to her niece, who is now 26 and working in photography in Paris).

Paula, Clare says with a smile, was her father's rock; they were never apart, 'like Tweedledee and Tweedledum'. Her parents' wealth brought privileges a glamorous social life and the freedom to travel that came in their 50s and early 60s. But by the summer of 2009, when Paula was a still 'young and fun' 65, Clare had misgivings about her mother's health.

'I was on holiday in France when my mother rang me we had that relationship where we spoke to each other every day. It was a wonderful sunny day, and then "boom!": she told me she had been to the doctor's for some tests. Two weeks later she was diagnosed with endometrial cancer,' Clare says.

Early diagnosis of endometrial cancer gives a higher chance of recovery, but Paula's cancer had progressed through her lymphatic tissues and the prognosis was not good. Her parents, she says, became a 'team on a journey together' a journey that they wanted to keep private.

'I had no idea about why people became sick with diseases such as cancer until my own mother was diagnosed. I am very private like her and the reason I am talking to you now is that I want to share what I have learnt so that other people can understand how health and wellbeing can help prevent cancer, and how alongside surgery and vital treatments they can aid recovery.

I began to research ways in which I might be able to support my mother [that went] beyond a healthier diet and exercise. I found out that drinking the right kind of water can help the body get rid of the excess acid that can adversely affect our natural pH balance and lessen our resistance to infection and disease. I discovered Kangen water and I believe that drinking two litres a day helped my mother during treatment. I just wish I had come across it ten years earlier,' she says ruefully.

Clare's mother underwent a course of radiotherapy to reduce her tumour in late autumn 2009. But three months later, in early 2010, doctors discovered that the cancer had spread and Paula who had never smoked was diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer.

'What I learned about how to stay healthy is my mother's legacy to me'

Paula was given prolonged chemotherapy that reduced the tumour. Six months later, in February 2011, Paula, who had lost and by then regained the thick hair that was her 'crowning glory', went on holiday to South America with Peter but she was taken ill and doctors discovered that the cancer had reached her brain. Back in Britain, in March 2011, Paula underwent major brain surgery.

'My mother had lost a lot of weight and was very fragile after the operation. It is obvious now that she was giving up; we just didn't want to believe it. You keep hoping, you keep waiting for a miracle, and there was never any talk of it being "terminal". I remember being with her once and saying, "Let's go outside for a little walk." She was using her walking stick, and said to me, "When will I be free of all this?" At the time I thought she meant "free of" the cancer, but I realise now she meant, "I am done, I don't want to go on,"' Clare says, through tears that she has been fighting to hold back.

By October Paula was so weak that she could no longer go upstairs and needed 24 hour care in the living room, where she slept. Clare becomes even more emotional as she talks about the point, a few weeks later, at which it was discovered that the cancer in her mother's brain had accelerated.

'The doctors and these people are brilliant were talking about other possible treatments that might give her a little more time, but Mummy had been through so much, and she was such a private, beautiful, dignified person, and these procedures were so invasive,' Clare says, brushing away her tears. 'I'm sorry, it's just that I haven't talked about this before.'

Rather than submit Paula, who by then was unconscious, to yet more pain, the family chose to admit her to St Raphael's Hospice in Merton.

'The ending was beautiful, in a way. She looked so elegant and serene, and she smelt of her favourite perfume, 24 Faubourg when I smell it now on other people I think, "It's Mummy". It's difficult to remember the exact timing, but I was with her one day, holding her hand and crying, and then I found myself saying to her, "Don't worry about us. Tamara and I will look after Daddy. We are all together and we love you, and we thank you for everything you have done for us thank you. Mummy, you should go now,replica van cleef arpel necklace, be away from all this." And as I said this, she took these three amazing deep breaths [they sounded] like relief as if she had understood,' Clare says softly.

The family was told that Paula might have another week left possibly two but the following evening the hospice called to say that her heart rate had changed,replica van cleef gold necklace, and that they should come as soon as they could. But by the time they got to her bedside less than an hour later, she had passed away.

'Private and dignified to the last. The thing I remember most is those three deep breaths in the hospice. For me they symbolise my connection with my mother in a very deep way, as if I was cutting the umbilical cord. No one in our culture talks about death it's a taboo subject. I have tried to embrace my loss by seeing that what I learned about how to stay healthy and help protect ourselves from developing illness is actually my mother's legacy to me, for me to pass on to others,' Clare says.

Paula's death aged 68 devastated the family. Clare's father was lonely and bereft for a long time but 18 months ago he met Vivien McLean and earlier this month the couple announced their engagement. They will marry in June with the wholehearted support of Clare and Tamara.