Of all the musical talents to emerge from Britain at the end of the Fifties and challenge America's hold on the pop industry, Billy Fury was one of the most spectacular. The dynamic, mean and moody lad from Liverpool was the British equivalent of the young Presley, complete with quiff and pelvic thrusts. He registered one of the greatest string of successes in British chart history, notching up nearly 30 hits over 15 years. Incredibly, only Presley and the Beatles spent more time in the charts. And Fury managed something they never did - he was once banned from a concert tour for being too sexy.

But like so many rock 'n' roll greats, Fury's story had a far from satisfying ending. Despite dominating the Sixties with hits including Halfway To Paradise, Jealousy and Like I've Never Been Gone, and being feted by contemporaries such as Eddie Cochran, Marty Wilde, Cliff Richard and Joe Brown (the Beatles offered to be his backing group, but Billy thought John Lennon was trouble), his career was dogged by illness and financial mismanagement The weak heart valve he had battled against since suffering rheumatic fever as a child finally claimed him in 1983. He died, aged 42, flat broke, cushioned only from bankruptcy through his relationship with Lisa Voice, a glamorous property heiress and music publisher who shared the last 12 years of his life.

If that all sounds like a film script, it's because it soon will be – The Sound Of Fury, produced by Bill Kenwright. The story of a pop idol living on borrowed time stars shooting this year, and the search is on for a British actor to take on Billy’s mantle.

Ewan McGregor has been approached to play the role, but Lisa would prefer Luke Goss of Bros fame to do it.

"He looks so much like Billy – he even has the cheekbones."

Who would she choose to play her?

"Patsy Kensit. After all, she has lived the rock ‘n’ roll life."

Bill Kenwright is convinced of Billy’s star status.

"He could have, and should have been the greatest of the all. He was our Elvis. But with neither enough time on this earth nor anyone with the foresight to give his talent the platform it deserved, he never stood a chance."

Today, Lisa, who still lives in the same magnificent St John’s Wood home in north London where Billy died, is as determined as the film’s backers that the project will be a success. The only daughter of the late Cecil Rosen, a prosperous London businessman, property surveyor and staunch charity worker, she first met Billy in 1971, when she was invited to see him appear on stage at the capital’s Empire Club. For Lisa, the meeting changed everything.

"I entered into a life I could never imagine: screaming girls surrounding us wherever we went, being pushed into limos, meeting all the other big pop stars of that time. I had remembered Billy from my childhood and, suddenly, there I was on his arm as his girlfriend."

After the Empire Club performance, Billy suggested Lisa join him and some friends for dinner; the date ended at 5am.

"We just clicked," said Lisa. "We talked all night long. Hew as a very attractive man with smoke-blue eyes, high cheekbones and a little boy lost look. He would always take a lot of trouble over how he looked. Even though he was 11 years older than me, we just had a good rapport. I’m a fun person and he was very shy. He lived for his music, but basically hated to be on stage. I think being opposites, we just got on.

"He had an aura about him like no other pop star around at that time. He was very sexual in front of an audience – he moved and grooved. He was a sex symbol and the audience used to go wild for him wherever he played.

"We loved each other so much, but somehow, because of Billy’s health problem, we knew we had only so long together. He had already had open-heart surgery and he was still sick. He was really sick until the day he died."

At the time, Lisa was engaged to singer Gary Hamilton, star of the musical Hair, but she broke it off after meeting Billy, who was totally smitten by this vivacious young blonde.

After a spell at stage school, she joined one of her father’s companies as a receptionist, but the rock world she was about to enter alongside Billy was overwhelmingly different from what a middle-class girl, who still lived with her parents, was used to.

"From the moment I met Billy, my life was turned upside down," she said.

Lisa remembers one evening when Billy came to collect her. With him were Keith Moon, The Who’s madcap drummer, and Moon’s chauffeur, both dressed in full-length mink coats.

"The sight of them at our door was enough to give my father a heart attack. When I told him we were off to meet Billy at Mayfair’s Inn On The Park Hotel, he predicted we would never be allowed in. But off we sped in Keith Moon’s Rolls-Royce and everyone seemed to be lining up for us as we climbed the staircase to the bar – or perhaps it was because Keith was handing out £20 notes to just about everybody he met."

Lisa was to have more outrageous encounters with Keith Moon, when Billy filmed That’ll Be The Day with Ringo Star and Keith on the Isle Of Wight.

"It was parties every night. Keith had set up his PA equipment in his bedroom, so when he used to go to bed the whole place would rock. Fortunately, we had the whole hotel to ourselves. Then one night, when I went downstairs to the hotel club, I saw two policemen waiting. Ringo and Keith were always playing tricks, so I thought it was them in fancy dress. In fact, the owner had called the police and they raided the place, even though there was really no need for it. The police seemed to enjoy meeting the rock stars, collected some autographs for their kids, and left."

But throughout, Billy was dogged by ill-health.

"He contracted rheumatic fever as a child, which affected his heart," Lisa said. "When he got wet, he’d stand in a doorway to try to dry off. He was too afraid that his father would beat him if he went home wet. That’s how he got rheumatic fever – from standing around with his clothes wet through.

"He was always haunted by the fear that he might die young. When he was 14, he overheard a doctor telling his mother that he would never join the army. From that day on, he felt he would be dead by the time he was 30."

In fact Billy, the son of a Liverpool shoe repairer, was struck by the first of a series of heart attacks in 1971 at precisely that age.

"In defence, I have cultivated a death wish," he said, during his short-lived career. He drove recklessly, writing off a number of cars, miraculously coming through all of his accidents virtually unscathed.

And,always the most angst-ridden and vulnerable of the Brit-rockers, when he became depressed he would drink heavily, which would lead to him becoming violent.

"He was mostly gentle and loving, but in those moods it was horrendous – time to get out of his way," Lisa remembered. "Sadly, he became alcoholic and that caused a lot of other problems. It wasn’t always easy. Once, under the influence of drink, he decided to take an RSPCA van parked outside our house for a drive. It ended up in a ditch completely wrecked. I’ll never forget Billy’s poor face. After those heavy drinking sessions, he would cry and be terribly upset over what he had done."

Billy, influenced by American music, had formed his own skiffle group in Liverpool in the late Fifties. At 19, he was signed up by the rock impresario of the day, Larry "Shillings and Pence" Parnes, who built up a stable of young lads trying to become rock stars.

After Billy played some of his own songs to Marty Wilde and Joe Brown in their theatre dressing room, they were so impressed with his impromptu performance that they called in their manager Parnes to listen. Excited by such a discovery, Parnes pushed him on stage that same night – he did the same with a young comedian called Jimmy Tarbuck – introducing him as an unknown from Liverpool, his name changed from plain Ron Wycherley to Billy Fury. He brought the house down.

Within a few years, his act was earning more than £10,000 a year, an enormous sum in those days. But despite this, he regularly cancelled engagements because of his health. Eventually, this forced him to retire from the pop scene in 1976. Billy settled on a 700-acre farm Lisa had bought for them in Wales, where he created his own bird sanctuary. "Billy loved the place because he could take a much-needed complete rest," she said.

Although Billy earned big money, it turned out he was being paid only £100 a week. To his horror and disgust, in later years he discovered his tax bills hadn’t been paid by his management as he had thought. He faced bankruptcy. At the same time, in the last ten years of his life, he twice underwent open heart surgery. Lisa came to the rescue and paid off all his debts.

"I was in love with him," she said, "and did everything for him."

When he died of a heart attack, Lisa paid for Billy’s funeral. In his will, Billy left what little he did have to Lisa, including his instruments and music publishing. This upset his family and after the funeral they ostracised her.

"I haven’t seen or heard from them since the day Billy was buried."

After his death, Lisa decided to get more involved with the business by launching her own management and music publishing company. It was through this that she met her husband, record producer Steve Voice, who had just had a number one hit with Kelly Marie, It Feels Like I’m In Love.

Their meeting turned into a whirlwind romance and within six months Steve had proposed marriage and Lisa accepted.

"After Billy died it was very strange for me. I couldn’t face the phone and I never wanted to go out. All my friends were married couples and I felt no one wanted a spare woman tagging along. I looked around and saw all these young girls in their 20s having a great time and here was I, suddenly without Billy, having reached 30 and feeling quite old.

"Neither Steve nor I had been married and we both wanted to have children. He was very handsome and I was instantly attracted to him, so we decided marriage was a good idea. I fell pregnant immediately – and now I have the most wonderful children, Michael (14) and daughter Kimberly (11). They’re my life and I thank God I have them."

Yet what started off as a blissful marriage ended last year. Lisa had showered Steve with expensive gifts of jewellery and cars. Now she believes that a woman having her own wealth in a marriage can get in the way of the relationship.

"I suppose it all turns around on you – I don’t know why, but they seem to begrudge you having money. They get jealous, even though they are the receivers. It’s sad when whatever you do isn’t enough."

Lisa put on a brave face in front of her friends, constantly making excuses for her husband’s absence from parties, but finally she had to accept that her marriage was in ruins.

"I just battled on, trying to save my marriage for the sake of my children as much as for myself. It was very tough. I no longer recognised the man I had married.

"I never expected it to end like this. I naturally thought, like any other married couple, that my marriage to Steve would last for ever. It was not to be. Frankly, the loss of Billy was painful enough. Apart from losing the man I loved – it had been like a marriage – it was also the loss of a great artiste and a her."

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