Carole Caplin interview: "I'm a survivor"

Bill Clinton asking for a massage at Chequers? "Never happened…"

Locking a journalist naked in your bathroom? "Complete fabrication…"

Trinny and Susannah claiming they turned you down when you went for a job interview? "Bull."

Ran an escort agency called the Exhibitionists? "That was a company which put staff on stands at exhibitions. Duh…"

The News of the World's fake sheikh trying to get something on you? "He brought along a sidekick that looked like an Arab version of Jaws from James Bond. You couldn't make it up. Oh, hang on a second, they did…"

Had your pass for No 10 revoked? "Didn't have one."

Napped in the Blairs' bed? "Made up – the story, not the bed…"

Practise primal scream therapy? "No. But if you carry on asking these bloody questions, I might just learn."

Carole Caplin is crying – with laughter – as she knocks down the bizarre stories people have told about her with a wit that I wasn't expecting. Then, she explains her apparent flippancy: "After the hurt and humiliation subside, you have to find humour in it or it eats you up. I refuse to let that happen. Be a victim."

Right now the health and wellbeing consultant (her preferred job description) looks and sounds anything but a victim. She's just turned 50, but could pass for 15 years younger. Caplin is in good nick – good genes and the gym, she says. She's wearing an Etro ensemble: tight check woollen trousers and a green patterned cashmere sweater. She has seemingly learned her lesson since the cheesy 2003 Hello! photographs on sheepskin rugs.

We are sitting 12ft apart, but on the same sofa – it is the largest I have ever seen – in her north London penthouse. The lounge is an all-white Ibiza-esque affair: soaring ceilings, huge windows and grand antique Venetian mirrors. This is where she has sought refuge from the storm of insults that came with her association with the Blairs and "Cheriegate". Before then, she was well-known and respected in health and fitness circles for the exercise classes she ran. She'd appeared as an expert on TV, written books. She was better known, in fact, than her client Cherie. The minute she became Mrs Blair's trainer, unofficial stylist and friend, however, the ridicule began – despite her making Blair look as good as she was ever going to. Caplin was transformed into tabloid catnip.

Depending on which paper you read she was a tart, Rasputin, Svengali, New Age mumbo jumbo-ist, gold-digger, social climber, blagger, ligger, name-dropper, bimbo, fake, fraud, adulterer, soft-porn actress, glamour girl, exotic masseuse, escort, crystal cruncher, extra-terrestrial…

Now, though, she's fighting back. She has just agreed a hefty settlement from the Daily Mail after suing them for the "toxic, puerile drivel they wrote". Her lawyers are on the case of the defunct News of the World over allegations that her phones were hacked, hoping finally to gain some vindication against all those who thought she was a blabbermouth leaking secrets about the Blairs. There have already been successes. During his testimony to the Leveson inquiry, she received a much-publicised apology from Alastair Campbell – "It meant such a huge amount. I cried. That shocked me as I hate crybabies. I guess I must have always wanted his respect."

Caplin plonks herself down 10ft closer to me on the sofa. She explains the reason I'm finally here – I'd been trying to get an interview with her for a few years, but she'd always baulked at the condition she be completely upfront about everything that didn't breach the privacy she owes the Blairs – legally or otherwise. "I want to try and set the record straight," she says, before adding, "You'd better make this good as this is the last interview I'm doing about anything but health." With that she slaps down a Dictaphone, and says, "I'm doing a Tony Benn, recording everything as well, just so I don't get stitched up, yet again. I've learned my lessons."

Over the next eight hours – she came armed with a lot of blank tapes – she talks freely for the first time about what really happened during Cheriegate and "Lippygate", and the near breakdown two years ago that she kept secret; her thoughts on the Leveson inquiry; her early years dating Adam Ant and Gary Numan; what she actually does (she now works out of the Bowskill Clinic in Mayfair); her need to be respected for that work; and why, "at 50 and premenopausal", she is finally happy. After that, she made me work out with her for a further hour and a half. This is a woman who has got her confidence back. "Silly for a 50-year-old woman to lose it, but those years obliterated my self-esteem," she says. "But not the fighter bit in me."

First, her fight with the Murdoch empire. She says she was told by investigators for Operation Weeting, Scotland Yard's investigation into phone hacking, that her phones had been hacked by a News of the World private investigator. She believes the monitoring went back to 2002, one of the earliest cases of surveillance. She can't mention everything, for legal reasons, but she says she's been told that in one period examined there were 20 logged calls to her mobile from News International's Wapping complex, and that one call lasted 10 minutes and 58 seconds, another seven minutes. "I never answered a call from them, so what were they up to?" she says. "And these are just the calls made from their offices… There's more to uncover, and my case is complicated."

And potentially embarrassing for the Murdochs: Tony Blair is godfather to Rupert Murdoch's young daughter. That the mogul's reporters may have been listening in on the communications between Blair's wife – she has already filed suit – and her close friend cannot make for good relations. On top of that, there is the possibility they listened in on the messages of Blair himself, at that time the sitting prime minister.

"I want to know the extent of it," says Caplin. "A lot of people lost friends because of it." One friend she has gained is Alastair Campbell. The two were arch-enemies in the court of King Tony. He labelled her "trouble in a designer dress", and when he saw her in the Blairs' apartment demanded to know, "What is that woman doing here?"

"Three years ago, he apologised personally," says Caplin. "He said, 'I got you wrong and I'd like to share about that.' However horrible somebody has been, if they are prepared to say 'hands up, fair dos,' what do you do about it? Accept it."

Caplin didn't realise until then that Campbell had thought she was tipping off the press. "It never occurred to me," she says. "I was shocked, but suddenly understood a pile of stuff." She called Campbell soon after. "I didn't know what I was going to say. He was fantastic. There were no conclusions, but it is amazing how one thing can make such a difference."

Since her name has come up, Caplin has been following the inquiry studiously. Hacking into voice messages is a red herring, she believes, in her wider treatment by the press. "To get information you can use in a story, you are going to have to listen in to live conversations," she asserts. "It is as clear as day. From 2002 there was a real push to get something on me. Not just mobile-phone hacking, but my landlines, texts, computer, my bank accounts, my tax files at the Inland Revenue… Everything."

She doesn't want freedom of the press curtailed, but "the PCC has to be reformed, with only one person on it who has, is or can in the future be in the employment of the media. It should be a panel of judges. No one proprietor can own more than one daily and one Sunday national newspaper, and no cross ownership between print and broadcast."

Over the years, her attempts to be portrayed in a good light by the media have all backfired. "I've made a dog's ear of it. If I'm objective I can say to myself, "You know what? You did go out with that person. You did do that interview. And by the same token, if I could turn back the clock, make a different choice and not work for [the Blairs] – and I don't mean this personally – I would unequivocally and whole-heartedly say I wouldn't do it. I would not go down that road. My life would have been very different."

Before the Blairs came into Caplin's life, she was a darling of the press. Twenty years ago, you could find numerous double-page spreads on her, her advice and exercise tips. Do you think the Blairs feel bad for what you've been through? "I don't think they would have liked to have seen me or anyone go through this. I'm sure they wish me well."

"Well" is perhaps an apt word. Two years ago, she had "a sort of breakdown" that she managed to keep hidden from all but her closest friends and family.

"I went on holiday with my mum, sister and niece," she recalls. "My mother had been badly burned by being my mother, which to this day causes me no end of sadness. We all relaxed and I stepped out of my life into a bit of fantasy. When I came back, I started getting round-the-clock migraines. The pain was unbelievable and I couldn't eat. I was working a 40- to 50-hour week, and everything caught up with me. I couldn't stop crying. I was disgusted with myself." The next thing Caplin knew, she was in the London Clinic. For three months, the doctor put her on the low-dose mood enhancer, Cipralex. "All that stuff I'd kept pushing down and pushing down, it was a bomb that was bound to go off."

By stuff, Caplin means the emotional fallout of events such as the Cheriegate saga. In late 2002, her convicted-fraudster boyfriend, Australian Peter Foster, was reported to have negotiated a £69,000 discount on two Bristol flats for Cherie Blair. If that wasn't compromising enough, Foster was about to be deported from Britain, and Cherie, a human-rights lawyer, spoke to his lawyers. His case notes were faxed to No 10.

"Peter was not asked to negotiate," says Caplin. "It was nothing to do with Cherie. I've not spoken of this before, but it is important to explain what happened. We went away for the weekend near Bristol and had a look at the flats. Suddenly, in the lift, Peter starts to barter with the agent, just chips in: 'I'm sure everyone is doing a bit of a deal…' There was a three-minute exchange. The rest is history."

And the faxed document to Cherie's flat?

"That was entirely my fault. I had known Peter only a few months. I was pregnant with his child, he was about to get deported. I went to Cherie crying, not knowing what to do. I had Peter fax the documents. She didn't know what to do with me, but wouldn't read the documents. To calm me down she did call his solicitor to check all was being done as it should. I put her in an awful position. I didn't think enough about protocol and consequences. You can't have that lack of thought when you are involved with people with that profile. It was a horrendous, embarrassing, unnecessary episode. "

What followed was a catalogue of disasters. Caplin miscarried. A documentary meant to show her being hounded by the press ended up making her look a fool. "The original title was Carole in the Eye of the Storm, but it changed to The Conman, His Lover and the Prime Minister's Wife," says Caplin. A Vanity Fair profile slated her. And then there was "Lippygate" – the infamous Marie Clare photograph of Caplin perched on the prime ministerial bed touching up the make-up of a supplicant Cherie Blair.

"That was just plain bad luck. André [Suard] did Cherie's hair and make-up. At the last minute, he rang to say he couldn't make it and could I go. I went in. I see this camera coming round the door, and I put my hand up and I go, 'Hang on a second I'm not part of this.' For them it was a great picture I suppose, but not for me." I tend to agree: Caplin's hair is a fright and she is not wearing make-up. "In the absence of finding something contentious, a mountain was made out of a molehill."

The final straw was a disastrous Hello! shoot. "That was done in desperation. I wanted be seen as normal, not a freak, change people's perception. It made things worse. I looked like a fame-hungry footballer's wife. It was embarrassing."

It dawned on Caplin she had to stop going to Downing Street and Chequers. By September 2003 she was only training Cherie from the gym, and then passed that role to a colleague in spring 2004. "Everyone was exhausted by it. Fair dos, I'd have catapulted me out the Christmas before. Having had the conversation with Alastair, I do understand the genuine concerns he had. I wish somebody had sat me down and said, 'You are doing a good job, but there is going to be trouble, a hell of a lot, and for them, too. My advice would be to bow out now while you can.' Whether I would have done, I don't know. It would be easy to say, 'Well, yes.' Hindsight is so handy!"

Caplin was born on 8 January 1962 in Fulham, London. Her mother, Sylvia, was an acclaimed dancer and pioneer fitness instructor. Her father, Michael, ran an international furrier business. He was also a playboy – a gambler and an alcoholic – who ran up huge debts. Caplin never really knew him: he left when she was two-and-a-half, refusing to pay a £3 monthly child maintenance Sylvia requested for Carole and her older sister, Nicci.

Sylvia had a Who's Who client list: Mia Farrow and Jane Fonda among them. She choreographed Fonda in the film Julia and collaborated with Felicity Kendal on the fitness album Shape Up & Dance.

Carole dipped her toe into the entertainment world from an early age. At four, she appeared in Harold Pinter's movie Accident opposite Dirk Bogarde and Michael York; at six she was the girl in the Jaffa Cakes ads; and at 12 was listed as one of the child stars to watch in a huge feature by Marjorie Proops in the Daily Mirror. By 17, she was running some of her mother's classes. She auditioned for dance troupe Hot Gossip. They were looking for someone to take over the Sarah Brightman role and Caplin had the look: gargantuan wild red hair, the body… "I walked to the door and just did an about-turn, terrified. My father, the little I saw of him, had always made it clear that a beauty I was not. I tended to agree with him."

She had a huge conk, she says, and has since had a nose job. "My nickname was Woody Woodpecker. The nose was rather a Roman one on my little funny Hobbit face."

She did, however, jump at the chance when Hot Gossip's managers asked her to join the burlesque pop band Shock. They supported Gary Numan at Wembley, performed at the Hacienda and did an eight-night stint at the Ritz in New York, where Grace Jones, Shields and Yarnell and Billy Idol came to see them play. Caplin had a fling with Numan. "He took me to my gigs in his red Corvette and flying in his plane – I threw up on landing."

While in Shock, Caplin also dated Adam Ant. He stayed with her when he first returned to the UK after living in America. Ant decorated Caplin's costume when she appeared in the video for Shakin' Stevens's "Give Me Your Heart Tonight". It was, she recalls, "a white tutu. I had to sew black sequins on it. But I fell asleep. Adam spent the whole night doing it. I woke up in a panic, going, 'Oh, my God,' and he said, 'It's OK. Done. Go. Go. Go.' He is so sweet, so creative."

They are still good friends and Ant is fast to defend her. "No one is innocent," he says about Caplin now. "Show me anyone who hasn't made a mistake. I don't necessarily think it was her mistake – just getting involved with the wrong kind of guy, who can lead you into problem areas. And she stood by that, took responsibility. She is loyal. You don't get that much these days."

Eventually Caplin joined her mother in the fitness business. She now works at the Bowskill Clinic in London, where she focuses on rehab injury, pre- and post-operative recovery and weight loss. She gets a lot of referrals from Harley Street and physio-correctional therapists, who come to her to devise progressive rehab exercise regimes.

My workout with Caplin did not involve the pain she had threatened, and I can see why she has such a loyal following.

One client I bump into as I'm leaving, Bettina Bradfield, is happy to talk to me. "Carole keeps me at the top of my game," she says. It transpires she looks after three generations of Bradfields. "My mother is 76 and has had two hips replaced. She has done all her rehab with Carole and can now walk 10 miles. Carole works with me, my husband and my son. He has a muscular issue and she has helped him with that. She helps each of us in a different way."

Caplin has a man in her life – an old family friend – and is happy. She is keeping him under wraps, though. When I ask if she still sees the Blairs, her reply is: "It is nobody's business." But doesn't she realise being evasive fuels speculation that there has been something more to either her relationship with Tony or Cherie? "Those insinuations… You couldn't get more personal and attacking than that. The tabloids tried to unearth something on me, and couldn't because there is nothing. So they went for the sex angle. Everybody knows this is just rubbish. Suffice to say I know who I am, what I do for a living, what my place is in my clients' lives. While I have made mistakes which I have readily admitted to in this interview, I am of sound integrity when it comes to the professional dealings I have with people."

Later that day, I get an email from her: "Started reading some old articles and remembered how much self-loathing went with shame at times. When I read about the way some of my advice has been depicted even I begin to think about me in the same way that they do."

What struck me after I left Caplin was that if she were ugly, or if Cherie Blair had picked a male trainer, this 18-year hunt would never have taken place. Her biggest sins: being a woman, being pretty, and having the odd opinion. Well, that and a dodgy ex. At times, her hunger to be liked and to please can be confused with a hunger for fame. In her second half century, she may have had her fill of all three. As she puts it: "I would love to say to people, 'Can we stop now?'"