‘It gets harder. But you’ve got to get on’: Skye Leckie on the myths around grief

Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we’re told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they’re given. This week, he talks to Skye Leckie. The philanthropist, charity fundraiser and socialite, 65, has received an Order of Australia for services to the community through her fundraising and charitable support roles.

Skye Leckie: “People say grief gets easier over time. That’s bullshit; it gets harder. But you’ve also got to get on.”Credit: Dominic Lorrimer

BODIES

Let’s talk bodies. How do you feel about yours? Oh, I love it right now.

What are you loving about it? The way it’s looking, given it’s 65! [Laughs]

As you should! When I was young, I went to a boarding school where the only decent thing to eat was fresh bread, so I rolled out of school looking like a refrigerator: overweight, with long hair and an Alice band. It was something I knew I had to work on and, eventually, I got my weight down. Over the past 10 or 15 years, I’ve concentrated more on exercise. I was running a lot – soft-sand running – but then had to have knee surgery. So that’s gone. Now it’s boxing, Pilates and yoga.

So that’s fitness covered. Lead me through the skincare regimen. I’m very fortunate; my mother had beautiful skin and all she used was Pond’s Cold Cream. I’ve worked in retail all my life, and you can get all the products from Chanel or Dior or whatever, but the basic things can be just as useful. Good skincare doesn’t have to be expensive.

What have you achieved with your body that makes you most proud? Walking the Kokoda Track in 2008. We trained for six months with telephone books in our packs.

That’s hardcore. Do people often make incorrect presumptions about you because of how you look? People are generally surprised when they meet me.

What do they think they’re going to get? Some people assume I’m conceited or scary. I’m neither. I’m warm and inviting; it’s very important for me to make people feel welcome and relaxed. That said, I asked a friend the other day, “Do you think I’m difficult?” She dropped the phone, she was laughing so much. But I’m a doer and I know exactly how I want things to work. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. People say I’m difficult, but I just don’t accept second-best.

DEATH

Death is something you know about. You lost your husband, David [Leckie, former head of Channel Seven and Nine], in 2021, aged 70. How are you doing? I’m good. You couldn’t find two people more different: my dream is to walk into a room with a thousand people I don’t know; that would be David’s worst nightmare. But he was happy for me to do those things I loved, and I was happy for him to sit at home and flick from Nine to Seven to Ten – a complete television junkie. David getting sick was incredibly upsetting. Even though you know it’s coming, you still can’t quite believe it. It’s been four years since he died, but I find myself going, “Jesus, where are you? I really need to talk to you now.”

In your voice I hear pain, but also … annoyance? Yes! “Why have you left me like this?” He was my voice of reason. He got 100 per cent of me and I can be really annoying. He once said, “Skye, I worked for Kerry Packer for many years. Being married to you is harder.”

Wow, what an assessment! [Laughs] I must’ve been really annoying that day. But also, I grew up with girls; I don’t really understand men. So I was lucky to get David and have two boys [Harry, 28, and Ben, 25]. And one thing I miss for them is that father-son bond.

When do you feel David’s absence the most? In a crisis. You want to go to that one person who’s going to listen to you, no matter what the issue is. Plus, the only person who wants to hear about your children is the person you had them with. People say grief gets better over time. That’s bullshit; it gets harder. But you’ve also got to get on. You can’t just bury yourself in a darkened room. You’re not pushing grief to the back, but it’s just not front of mind all the time.

Has David’s death made you reflect on what constitutes a good death? Well, if it had to happen, it couldn’t have been better for us. We were in COVID lockdown in the [NSW] Southern Highlands, so we had freedom. I didn’t cook, so I learnt. I donned an apron and said to David and the boys, “I don’t care what you do all day, but I’ll see you at the dinner table at seven!” The first night I came up with something, he said to them, “She’s trying to kill me earlier.” [Laughs]

I would absolutely watch a reality TV show of all this. Oh, it was a triumph! We had time for him to regale the boys with all these stories. It was a real gift having that time together. None of us will ever forget that. If there is a god, he was helping us during that time.

SEX

Now let’s talk sex. Oh, that’s a distant memory! [Laughs]

Are you on the market? Well, look, I’m 65 years of age …

And also incredibly fit and well put-together. Thank you. I don’t want to get married again, but I reckon I’ve probably got 15 more years to go and I don’t want to spend them on my own. So I would like to find someone.

What are the criteria? Got to have a sense of humour. Love country life. Love travelling; I really like cruising. I love going to restaurants; I love to get the Good Food Guide. And they’d have to be able to play bridge.

What’s the secret to feeling sexy in your 60s? First of all, a sexy dress. A dress that looks appropriate, shows a little bit of skin, but isn’t overtly sexy. Let the sleeve be a little bit longer. You don’t want to be mutton dressed up as lamb. And my mother always told me to remain a mystery.

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