Daring to Dream (5 page)

My mum's so generous and such a good host she would end up spending more money on the students than actually earning it. She used to buy them so much nice food and really take care of them. Because my brothers still lived at home some of the time, my mum had to be very particular about which students she hosted. She was terrified that one day some young French girl would come knocking on the door with a baby in her arms.

We had one girl staying who was about 15 and she was absolutely stunning. Danny really liked her and he was desperate to impress her. He was playing drums in a band down at the youth club, so he invited her along hoping that she'd think he was some kind of rock star. He'd been boasting to everyone about how amazing she was but when she turned up she was wearing a short skirt and clearly wasn't a fan of shaving. She had these really thick dark hairs covering her legs and once he saw them their romance was over before it had even begun.

In the end it turned out it wasn't the students Mum needed to watch out for when it came to Danny – it was the local girls. He'd been seeing a girl – we'll call her Jane – for a
few months when she fell pregnant and eventually they had a son called Jason.

College was going well but after about six months I felt frustrated because I wanted to really get my teeth into something. I wanted to perform full time, so I applied to be a Redcoat at Butlins. I was really panicking about the audition and so Dad said he would come along with me and hold my hand. We travelled on the train to Minehead, which was quite a trek, and I asked my dad not to drink beforehand but promised I'd get him some beers for the train journey home. I kept my promise and when we got back to Albany Park station I headed to Darren's and Dad went home. A couple of hours later I got a phone call saying that Dad was in hospital – he'd fallen down a pothole outside our house and broken his leg in two places because he was drunk. He was in full plaster and from that day on he started to go even more downhill both mentally and physically. He couldn't walk for several weeks, and when he eventually got the plaster off, his leg didn't heal properly. It was very thin and had no muscle strength left in it, so he was in constant pain and let himself go more than ever. He didn't wash and he grew a big beard so he didn't have to bother to shave.

Rather than fight it and try and get help from the doctor to help heal his leg, he pretty much gave in. My mum was buying him beers all the time and making his dinner and all he did was sit around watching TV and feeling sorry for himself. My parents were arguing more than ever and as a
result I pretty much lived round at Darren's house so I could escape from it all.

Because Dad's leg was so bad he used to crawl up the stairs when he needed to go to the toilet. But sometimes he'd be so drunk he wouldn't get there in time and he'd wet himself. He once weed in a plant pot because he was so hammered he couldn't move from the sofa. It was like he'd totally given up. He got so down that everything became a bit too much for him. It was so hard for my mum. She was out working and then she'd have to come home and cook and clean and look after him and of all of his tag-alongs, who would sit in the front room boozing and being loud. It was like a piece of my dad had broken along with his leg. I barely even recognised him.

I tried to talk to him and get him to see sense many times. I'd shout at him to pull himself together and we'd end up having a barney because I was so frustrated that he wouldn't help himself. He'd always been the person I looked up to, who helped to provide for his family and was strong, and now my mum had to do everything on her own. I'd beg him to sort himself out, but all he used to say was, ‘Ring me from Barbados!' That was his way of telling me to live a bit before I tried to tell him what to do. His attitude was ‘When you know a bit more about life and you've been around the world, then you can lecture me'. It was hard to see him falling apart but I knew that if he wanted to get better, he was the only one who could help himself.

Mum started talking about leaving him again and I couldn't put up any kind of argument about why she should stay apart from the fact that I was worried about how he would cope without her. But then maybe if she did leave him, I thought, it might make him see sense and get himself together? Mum had become really resentful towards him and there was such a terrible atmosphere in the house. They hardly ever smiled any more and they had a constant stream of visitors, so that they didn't have to talk to each other.

Sadly I didn't get the job at Butlins, but through word of mouth I got a job working as a support artist at Lakeside Country Club in Frimley Green, Camberley. It's a big venue and every Saturday night a comedy act such as Joe Pasquale, Bradley Walsh or Cannon and Ball performed. It was always packed and I'd go on before the main performer and sing six or seven songs as a warm-up. One night Joe Pasquale was performing and he was massively famous at the time. I really wanted to meet him, so I knocked on his dressing room door. He opened it in just his pants and invited me in. Darren was walking up just behind me but Joe didn't see him so he pretty much shut the door in his face. Oh dear.

I was in there for about half an hour eating sandwiches and having a laugh and I was far too excited about meeting Joe to worry about Darren being annoyed. Or the fact Joe was sitting there in his boxer shorts! Darren, meanwhile, was
incredibly
pissed off. In the car on the way home he was in a right mood because he genuinely thought that something
had gone on between Joe and myself. I bumped into Joe on the
Dancing on Ice
tour recently and said to him, ‘You nearly split me and my other half up. He thought we were having a snogging session in your dressing room and I was only 17!' To be honest, if he had split us up he would have been doing me a favour. But back then I had no idea what was around the corner.

I was still playing a lot of football at this time, and I played for loads of different clubs over the years. The longest stretch I had was playing for London Women's and I really enjoyed it there. It became harder and harder to fit it in around work and seeing Darren, but I stuck with it because it meant the world to me, even though getting to away games was a nightmare because I didn't drive.

I became so busy with the football and music side of things that I decided to give up college completely. I felt like I'd learnt a lot but I wanted more practical, hands-on experience. I was only performing in the evenings, which meant that I was able to get a day job and start earning some proper money. I got a job in a café and I also worked with my mum doing market research to support me while I did gigs, both paid and unpaid. A couple of months later I got a job through one of Darren's friends working for a cable company in Lewisham called Videotron, which has now become Virgin Media. I was on a YTS scheme and felt so important travelling to work on the train each day wearing smart clothes. I'd been there a while when a job came up for
a direct debit clerk, so I went for it and to my amazement was offered the job. I genuinely had no idea what a direct debit was!

I don't know how I blagged my way through the first few weeks, but I managed to get my head around the role and it was all going brilliantly. Well, until I got the sack, that is. My colleagues and I could instant message each other through our computers – I guess it was like an early form of emailing – but I didn't realise that the bosses could monitor them. I got called into my manager's office one day and he showed me this record of all the messages I'd sent, which showed I'd been blatantly messing around when I should have had my head down getting the job done. I wasn't that gutted because the job wasn't what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, but the one thing I had really enjoyed was when the police used to come in to get copies of phone records with reference to various crimes. We didn't have the Internet then, so it was all stored on a microfiche machine, and I had to go through everything and print off whatever they needed. I loved doing that – and I guess it gave me a bit of a taste of my future career.

My plan was still to carry on singing and somehow break into it full-time, but in the meantime I went back to doing market research. I had to do things like go into a shop and buy and bra, then take it back and fill in forms to say how well my complaint had been dealt with. I was a mystery shopper, mystery eater, mystery traveller – you name it. I
had to go to Wembley and interview people outside a Bob Dylan concert to see who drank Carling beer. It wasn't all bad. Somehow I managed to blag a ticket, so I got to see him live, which was amazing!

Because I was bubbly, people were always saying to me I should work in a holiday camp, but because I hadn't been accepted as a Redcoat I felt a bit disillusioned with it all. Then a friend pointed out to me that if you get knocked down you have to get back up, and they were so right. I decided I had nothing to lose by auditioning to be a Bluecoat at Pontins. I was working the following day, so on my break I went to a phone box and called Pontins in Pakefield and asked to speak to the entertainments manager, Sam. The next thing I knew I was doing Frank Spencer impressions and telling jokes down the phone. When I finished Sam said to me, ‘Congratulations, you've got a job.' I was in total shock.

I was so happy, but of course there was Darren to consider. I thought he was a keeper and that we'd be together forever. I thought I was in love with him, but knowing now what love really is I would say it was more of an infatuation. Still, I was torn as to what to do. I didn't want to miss out on the job but I also didn't want to leave Darren behind. Thankfully he made up my mind for me…

One Saturday night Darren and his mates went out on a big booze-up. My friend Rachel was going out with one of his mates, Paul, and she was convinced he was cheating on her. She asked me if I'd drive up to the pub in Bromley
where they were drinking to spy on them with her. When we got there we sneaked up this gravel path to the beer garden and we could see them having a beer and a laugh. Nothing untoward was going on, so we didn't think any more of it. I went back home and waited for Darren, but when he didn't arrive I went to Paul's to see if he was there. Paul claimed he'd gone to a lock-in at The Albany, and I was so angry he hadn't let me know that I went up there to find him. However, I didn't just find him. When I walked round to the side of the pub, Darren was up against the wall with some girl who looked old enough to be his mother. I laid into the pair of them and she went scuttling off shouting something about Darren claiming he was single. I told him he could forget about ever coming near me again, and I ran off down the road.

I went straight back to his house and left a note for his nan and granddad saying: ‘Darren and I have split up. Ask him why. Love you with all the world, Sam.' The next day Darren's nan phoned me and told me that Darren wouldn't come out of his room. She ask me to go round and see him and the only reason I agreed was because I needed to get all of my stuff back. When he opened the door to his bedroom, I was so taken aback. He was in tears and he'd had built a shrine to me with photos and candles. It was like I'd died. Instead of feeling sorry for him, I felt even angrier. He was full of self-pity when I was the one who had been wronged.

Incredibly, after a few weeks Darren did convince me to
get back with him. I knew I could never forgive him and I felt so resentful that he'd hurt me, but part of me still thought I loved him. Despite that, I knew that I couldn't put my plans on hold so I accepted the job at Pontins. Darren said that he needed to make some big changes too, so he decided to go travelling in Australia for six months. I hoped having some time apart might help me to forgive him.

I
started working at Pontins in late 1997 and it was a whole new world to me. It was the first time I’d properly lived away from home and I had my very own room. It was only tiny but it had a bathroom and a little desk and it really did feel like a mini home for the time I was there. Even now the smell of Herbal Essences shampoo and conditioner takes me right back there in an instant because I always used to use it in the shower. All of the memories it brings up are good ones because I had the time of my life.

The other bluecoats and I lived side by side in a long line of chalets next to each other and there was always something going on. There were a lot of people going in and out of those rooms, if you get my drift. Even though it would have been so easy for me to pull guys, I was completely faithful to Darren. The guests loved the Bluecoats and a lot of them
were very flirty, so there was plenty of opportunity to cheat, but it’s not in my nature.

All of the other Bluecoats were copping off with people left, right and centre and I’ll never forget one of the guys saying to me, ‘Never pull anyone on the first night because there’s a new intake of people every Friday and someone better may be among them.’ That kind of sums up what it was like. Some of the other staff members even had star charts. The blokes were much worse than the women and I was so wide-eyed and innocent about it all.

Six weeks after I arrived there I got an airmail letter from Darren that was basically a Dear John. It was one of those letters that looks like an envelope but was actually a piece of paper that folded out, and some of the other Bluecoats thought it was really glamorous that I’d got a letter from the other side of the world. Darren wittered on about how great Australia was and then basically said he’d met someone and didn’t want to be with me anymore. I was so annoyed! We’d been together for two years by then and he dumped me by letter. He couldn’t even be brave enough to phone me. And I’d wasted all of those months being faithful when I could have been having a whale of a time!

I was sad that we’d split up but I was still holding on to some anger over his cheating, so there was definitely a little bit of relief involved, too. I wasn’t sure I would ever properly get over his infidelity, so the fact he’d dumped me meant there was no going back. I was a bit embarrassed about
having to tell the other Bluecoats I’d been dumped, but they were soon joking about me having my own star chart.

Needless to say, now I was single I did what every other 19-year-old girl does when she’s away from home for the first time and surrounded by lads – I flirted my way through each and every day. I didn’t sleep around but I became a massive party animal (minus the alcohol). While everyone was drinking wine and beer I’d have Slush Puppies instead, which meant that while they’d wake up in the morning feeling like death, I’d be as fresh as a daisy. Everyone else would be swaying around moaning about having to host a table tennis competition and I’d be skipping around feeling great. I used to swap shifts with people all the time because they felt too rough to do certain things. Looking back, I should have been paid a fortune in overtime!

I loved wearing my Pontins uniform – which usually consisted of shorts and a T-shirt or a tracksuit – and being able to perform all day. We could dance around being silly for hours on end and no one cared. It was all about entertaining the punters. I wasn’t really the bingo-calling type or the one who would hang out with the old ladies. Whenever I did do bingo I used to put in loads of rude phrases like ‘69, dinner for two’ or ‘number three, going for a wee’. None of the old dears ever noticed but it kept me amused.

We used to take the guests out on these rambles and I always made sure I went along because there was a Maccy D’s on the route. We’d take them to the beach and to visit
all of these lovely old houses near the park, and then all of the guests would end up in the pub. The park bosses loved me going along because I was the only one who’d come back sober and in control, because while they were all downing pints I’d be in McDonald’s.

I liked being with the children the most, making sure they were having the time of their lives. I’d play rounders and football and I’d take care of the kids’ club. My nickname with them was Auntie Nut Nut, because I was always messing around and making them laugh. I was very maternal. I used to go down to their level and almost become a child myself. I loved working with kids, and so many of them would hang off me I looked like a bunch of grapes.

I was switched on from the moment I woke up until I went to bed and I used to get loads of fan mail because I put so much effort in. I could never have lunch by myself because we ate in the same restaurant as the guests, and all of the kids would come over and sit in my lap and want me to play with them. I never had a moment’s rest. I also had to develop a very strong stomach to deal with all of the weeing and pooing of pants that went on. Only with the kids, I might add! I loved it all though. I felt like a bit of a mum to hundreds of kids throughout that time. Even if I had a day off, I used to go and hang out with the guests because I missed it so much.

In the evenings we had to dress up. I had to wear a blue skirt and jacket, a white shirt and a red cravat. I don’t think
it was my most stylish moment. We also had to wear bright red shoes as part of our outfit. They were a nightmare to find because there was no Internet back then, but I managed to track down some red patent ones in Bexleyheath that had a half heel and a rounded front. They were like a sensible granny shoe and were hideous. I’m not a heel person, but we had to dance with the guests wearing them and by the end of the night my ankles would be all swollen up like giant sausages.

We also had a team of people who would dress up as characters like Captain Crock, Florence the Ostrich, Chuckles the Cheeky Monkey, Zena the Zebra or Safari Sam. Over time they merged with the Bluecoats and we all started mucking in and dressing up as various animals. Because my middle name is Florence I always had to be Florence the Ostrich and I’d have to get up on stage and do these ridiculous dances. The costumes weren’t washed that regularly, so if a smelly bloke had sweated in it the day before, the stink was shocking. When you’re in a costume you’re in it for a very long period of time, and you’re not allowed to talk to the guests when you’re wearing them because you have to keep an air of mystery! When the kids used to come up and speak to ‘Florence’, I wouldn’t be able to say, ‘Hello Billy’ or ‘Hello Jack’ and wave like a lunatic. I used to find myself doing all of the silly smiling faces inside the costume anyway, even though the kids couldn’t see me.

The character costumes weren’t always used for their
correct purpose and there must be some very funny photos out there somewhere. All of the Bluecoats were constantly doing stupid things to make each other laugh and playing practical jokes. One of my closest friends was a girl called Emma. One night I was off work ill, so was in my chalet reading; you used to be able to get into people’s chalets just by putting a knife into the gap in the door and catching the lock. Some of the other Bluecoats got into Emma’s chalet and moved everything from inside and to exactly the same the same positions on the tarmac outside. Everyone found it hilarious, but when Emma came back to her chalet she screamed, burst into tears and ran back upstairs to tell our boss Graham Henry (who was also Shane Ritchie’s boss when he worked there back in the day). Graham was furious and sacked loads of people on the spot. I managed to get away with it because he knew I wasn’t involved, and everyone got reinstated the next day anyway. But that kind of sums up the kind of things that went on there.

I celebrated my 21st birthday while I was there and I decided to push the boat out and have some alcohol. I was drinking vodka Slush Puppies, something which resulted in me getting a tattoo of Thumper on my leg because I loved Bambi as a kid. I was going to have Po from the Teletubbies because they were really big at the time and I’m so relieved now that I didn’t. I’d look ridiculous with a big red blob on my leg.

I trained to do all sorts of things at Pontins. I did circus
training and used to have to balance on a pipe on a
half-plank
– something I definitely wouldn’t have done if it hadn’t been for my time there. My years there gave me so much confidence and it’s where I learnt how to really work a crowd and deal with nerves. I also made some great friends that I’m still in touch with.

I would recommend working in a holiday camp to anyone who wants to get into performing as a career. As soon as you have that uniform on you can get away with acting as stupidly as you want. If you were to walk into a room not wearing a uniform and start dancing around, people would look at you like you’re crazy. But the minute you had that blue coat on you were an entertainer.

We had loads of entertainers and bands that used to come in and perform and I used to really look up to them. We had hypnotists and puppeteers and all sorts. Bucks Fizz came to sing and I was so star-struck; we also had loads of touring bands who weren’t famous but well known on the circuit. I always use to think it would be so amazing to be a part of something like that. Little did I know that later on down the line I would be.

One of the hypnotists was part of a theatre company and he heard me sing and asked me if I wanted to audition for something called
Sunday Night at the Palladium
. It was a variety show at The Palladium theatre in London, with loads of different songs from shows and performances from dance groups. I had to pay for my own costumes and sell a certain
amount of tickets for it, but I decided it was still such a worthwhile thing to do.

We had rehearsals at Elstree Studios in Borehamwood where people from the BBC worked and
EastEnders
is filmed, so it felt very proper and I knew it would be an amazing experience to be involved in something so professional. In the end I got to open the show, singing ‘Fame’ and dressed in a gold two-tone suit my mum had bought me. It wasn’t the most amazing show I’d ever been in but the theatre was packed and I felt like I was adding another string to my bow.

While I was rehearsing for the show I met a record producer called Danny Davies. He wanted me to record a song for a singer/songwriter competition he was entering. As always, I felt I had nothing to lose and it was going get me some more experience of being in a professional recording studio, which I was really looking forward to. I went down to the studio, which was in his house in Fulham, and recorded the track in a day. We got on really well and Danny said he wanted to carry on working with me.

The song ended up winning the competition and Danny gave me some of the prize money; I started recording a lot with him after that. He had songs he’d written that he needed someone to sing so he could showcase them. I’d travel up to London on my days off and record them. The songs got put into a library for TV shows or films and I’ll never forget switching on
This Morning
one day to hear
one of our songs playing in the background for their latest competition. I was stunned!

Danny was so professional that I could easily go into his studio, learn a song and record it in two hours. It was a real eye-opener for me, and such a good confidence builder. London is a bit of a closed door when it comes to session singers, and it’s very hard to make connections and get on the first rung of the ladder, but he showed me a way to do it. Danny has since become a longstanding friend of mine and I still work with him to this day. He runs a company called Pirate Management and he definitely deserves a mention because he was a real inspiration to me early on. He’s so good at what he does and I have masses of respect for him.

I’d had the time of my life being a Bluecoat but slowly things started to change. A lot of people left and the shows started being reinvented; I don’t really like change so I found that hard to deal with. A lot of people came in from new camps and it wasn’t the same anymore. I’d also lost so much weight from being on the go constantly and not having time to eat that I didn’t look terribly well. I was also taking loads of ProPlus just to keep me awake because I didn’t like taking breaks. When I did the Christmas season in 1998, which was to be my last, we had to be dressed as elves greeting people on the door of the restaurant at 7am and I didn’t finish until 11 or 12 at night. I went down to about seven and a half to eight stone and I looked tiny.

As a result, I decided it was time for me to leave. I’d had
a great run but I was ready to go, so in early 1998 I headed home. I was sad to leave but I wasn’t really gelling with all of the new people streaming in and I missed how it was before. I think when that happens you know your time is up. I wasn’t thrilled at the thought of going back home to my warring parents, but I knew I had to start taking better care of myself, eating more and preparing for the next phase of my life – whatever that might be.

Back home nothing had moved on in any way. My dad was still a skinny shell of himself sitting on the sofa with a can of beer, and my mum was out working her balls off. I could definitely see where I got it from. My mum was so horrified by how slim I was when I walked in our front door that she cooked me a massive meal and sat there making sure I ate it. I could barely get it down because my stomach had shrunk so much as a result of skipping meals or eating sweets for dinner. I hadn’t realised just how run-down I’d got and I needed that time back home to recuperate.

I soon settled back into a bit of a routine and it was nice to have all of my things around me again. I used to have serious issues with buying trainers when I was younger. Whenever I had money I used to go and buy a pair, so I had a big collection. I had these gold classic Reeboks, which were quite rare, but when I went to put them on one day I realised they were missing, along with a load of other pairs. I also noticed that my Chelsea FC manager’s coat had disappeared, which was my pride and joy.

Later the same day I was walking up to the shop and I saw some young kid wearing
my
Reeboks. When I asked him where he’d got them from he replied, ‘Your brother sold them to me.’ I was furious! I kept seeing kids around the estate wearing my clothes and shoes and I could have killed my brothers. I try to be understanding about it now because they were obviously desperate for cash, even if it was just to buy weed, but at the time I was gutted.