My Fight to the Top (16 page)

Stretch, stretch, stretch.

It was on my list of things I wanted to achieve and,
tick
, I did it. We’d gone from a two-bedroom flat in Shawlands, to a conversion in Mansfield, a house in Newton Mearns and now this – the ultimate. I designed a grand, sweeping staircase to be made out of walnut wood. The builder had a complete nightmare but I wanted it badly so I pushed and pushed. I also designed a walk-in wardrobe – another item I’d seen on
Dynasty
. All my shoes could be lined up. I wanted lingerie drawers for all my bras and inventions to be neatly displayed in rows just like in a shop.

In total, the house featured six bedrooms, a bar, a TV room, a cinema with reclining leather chairs, a lounge, a dining room and a 30-ft family room. There was even a nightclub out the back. You couldn’t have got any bloody bigger. I designed the interior to look like that five-star suite from the Dorchester hotel that Tom Hunter had put us up in on the night before our launch in Selfridges. That night was just magnificent. I really felt that the Dorchester represented a life that I wanted, a life that was amazing, a life that was a fairy-tale. Every piece of furniture was made for the house by Dorchester suppliers at a cost of around £600,000. The master bedroom had a 7-ft bed with a padded headboard, Romano lamps on both side tables and a Sonos sound system.

The house was perfect. I named it Telperion, after a tree in Tolkien’s
Lord of the Rings
. I thought that was my path to happiness – the more things you have, the happier you become.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The strongest people are not those who show strength in front of us, but those who win battles we know nothing about.

‘
T
oo much salt, start again,’ I barked at the caterers. I was hosting a massive party for 200 friends and family in our new house and it had to be perfect. Everything always had to be perfect.
Don’t give me all right. I don’t do all right. Give me fucking brilliant or don’t give me anything
. I wanted people to leave saying the food was incredible and that it was the best party they had ever been to. ‘Why has this not been set up yet?’ I shouted at the guys putting the marquee together in the garden. I was turning into a real monster – a diva.

It wasn’t just the party. Nothing was ever good enough. The hotels I was staying in weren’t good enough and the restaurants I was dining in weren’t good enough. I once asked to change rooms at the Dorchester because I didn’t like the way it was decorated. I found fault in everything. In the same way, I bought more things because I thought they would make me happier. I’d got rid of my addiction to junk food and replaced it with an addiction to buying things – very expensive things.

We had five cars in the driveway at one point, including an Aston Martin DB9 and a chauffeur-driven Bentley Arnage to take me to events. To be fair though, Michael was also very materialistic. He loved the cars – they were like his babies. If I even so much as scratched a wheel he would go ballistic.

Alongside the vehicles I owned 100 pairs of Louboutins and my dresses were £4k a pop. One of the most expensive things I bought was a custom-designed Rolex with diamonds. And even then I found fault – it was a vicious circle – with the watch, ‘No, those aren’t enough diamonds, send the watch back,’ I ordered. I didn’t go off the things I bought, I would just think, What’s next? The same way I did in business. I thought I had to have all these things to demonstrate my success as a high-profile person. I suppose footballers are the same – they often come from a working class background and suddenly make a huge amount of money.

It first dawned on me that I was turning into an diva one day when my driver took me into town so I could do a bit of shopping. He opened the door for me, and instead of saying thank you, I said: ‘You’ve not parked in those lines straight.’ I pointed at the painted parking space. He just looked at me in disbelief. I think he was thinking, You are a witch. I’m surprised he didn’t tell me to stick my job up my arse. I stared at him, and he stared at me. Did I just say that? I thought.

Yeah, it’s fair to say, I went a bit off the rails in our new house. I used to always dream about having these amazing things, and now I had become like, ‘Yeah, so what.’ I didn’t appreciate what I had and nothing was ever good enough because I was really unhappy. I was in an unhappy relationship and I was buying all these things because I thought it would numb the pain but it didn’t.

Material things don’t make you happy. A big house and a fleet of cars are not going to change your life. I had a grand house in the most expensive postcode in Scotland but I was at my most unhappy. The fighting with Michael was at its worst. I was covering up the issues because I had kids with Michael and I had a business with him. I was also proud – it would have been embarrassing if it had got out in the press and if my friends knew what was really going on. So I pretended that I had a perfect life instead. I felt so lonely and trapped.

I think my stress and unhappiness also manifested itself in my OCD. I had been obsessive about cleaning since I was a wee girl when I used to tidy up my mum’s tiny kitchen. In our previous house, in Newton Mearns, I used to make the nanny follow all of my rituals. Every Friday, she would have to make sure the kids’ rooms were spotless. I gave her rules such as ensuring we all had our own ironing baskets. She and the kids all knew that they couldn’t put a pine hanger in a walnut wardrobe. But things started to get a bit out of control in our new mansion. I installed four dishwashers because I couldn’t bear the sight of dirty plates.

I remember I’d been away for a couple of nights on business and I came home to find the salt grinder had been left out in the kitchen.
Panic.
It made me feel so uncomfortable that I needed to check if anything else was out of place. I opened the cupboards one by one, checking they were tidy and that the labels were facing the correct way.
Relief
. I felt in control again.

I then went from room to room checking that everything was in order. I had to make sure each pillow was plumped up. I had to check that my wardrobe was organised. I needed to see that all my bras were lined up. Only then would I be able to sleep peacefully. I did it with my kids as well. I’d go into Declan’s room and say: ‘You do realise the pillow zips are up the wrong way?’ And when he was not around, I’d fix it all. Tidying made me feel calm. I couldn’t control what was going on around me but I could have control over my wardrobe, and the other small things. I cannot function if I have a messy wardrobe. I often say to people: ‘Organise your drawers before you face the world.’

I had lost the plot a bit, but thank god for my mum and dad helping me to spot it. Mum turned up at my house one morning. ‘Are you coming in?’ I asked, holding the door open for her. My mum peered in and stared down the hallway. Mum and Dad hated coming to my house. My mum is like a white witch. She reads tea leaves, just like my Gran, and she never felt comfortable in my house.

‘It’s like a show home,’ she shivered. The house was perfect. But she was right. Apart from the kids being there, the house was soulless. It wasn’t a happy home. I went back to hers, sat down on the couch, and I finally broke down in front of my mum and dad.

‘I’ve got five cars, I’ve got a massive house. Why am I not happy?’ I sobbed.

‘Michelle, you are losing sight of who you are. You have always been an exceptionally giving, generous, loving and caring person. What’s happened to you?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know,’ I sniffed, wiping the tears from my eyes. I felt like a lost little girl.

‘Michelle, you’ve got to remember where you are from, where you were brought up,’ Mum went on. ‘Only then will you find yourself again.’ She was right; I’d lost my identity. ‘Your barriers are up, Michelle. You are not letting anyone in.’

I’d toughened up because of all the fighting with Michael. I wouldn’t let anyone in. I wouldn’t show any emotions. I was in defence mode, constantly. ‘All the things you have look like they’ve come out of a movie. Why are you not happy with it?’ Mum asked.

‘I’m not happy in my marriage. I don’t know what is going wrong. And I don’t know how to fix it.’ I broke down. Of course, Mum and Dad had known for many many years how bad things were but saying it out loud brought a sense of relief. It broke down a barrier. My nurturing side came out after that. All I cared about was my mum and dad and my kids.

I do believe every day is a school day and, believe it or not, I actually appreciate going through everything I did because I know I’ll never do it again. I don’t need material things to make me happy. I have also realised my kids don’t need the fancy things. They just need my time. Your heart costs nothing. And that’s why I thought it was time to write this book – because I’ve learnt all this.

I started to do a lot more with my kids. I’d cancel going into work if they were ill. I became more relaxed around them – before I was often very tense because I had half my brain worried about business issues. I learnt to leave the company problems at the door.

I decided to confront some underlying issues with Declan – head on. Declan was really struggling at school. He needed help to become more focused on his learning and education. We sat down as a family and discussed whether he would benefit starting his secondary education at a boarding school.

‘There will be fewer people in a class so you will get more attention and there are teachers who will be on hand to help you with your homework at night,’ I reasoned. Michael agreed it was for the best and Declan said he would give it a go. I think he wanted help as much as we wanted it for him.

We sent him away to Gordonstoun, way up past Inverness. It was where Prince Charles went to school. We chose it because it was in Scotland and I thought it would be easy to drive to. I always used to say that I didn’t understand people who had children and then sent them away to boarding school. Now I was doing it myself. But I was doing it because he needed it.

‘Why didn’t you just give up work and look after him?’ some of my friends said to me. I didn’t know how to educate Declan because I was no good at that sort of thing. I left school at 15 with no qualifications. I wanted the best for my boy and my kids’ well-being came first.

We took him up to school for his first term and, when the moment to say goodbye finally arrived, I think I was a lot more anxious than I thought I’d be. Yes, okay, I’d spent many nights away from my kids on business but we had never been apart for longer than a week. I was going to be separated from my boy for weeks at a time. My mothering instinct kicked in. Declan was given a dorm room and I panicked. ‘This is too small for him,’ I turned to Michael. ‘It’s not laid out properly. I’m not comfortable with him being in this room,’ I fussed.

‘
Muuuum
,’ Declan pleaded.

‘No, Declan, just listen to your mother,’ I pushed.

I had him moved to another dorm but I had a few more adjustments still to make.

‘Right, Declan, stay out. I’m going to put up your posters, I’m going to sort out your desk,’ I insisted. Declan rolled his eyes but both he and Michael knew me too well and let me get on with organising. I sorted all his pencils out, I hung up all of his posters and I made his bed. I brought Declan back in and told him what was what.

‘That is where your socks go,’ I said. ‘That is where your boxer shorts go. These are the hangers you use for those shirts.’

‘Right, okay, Mum,’ he said. He was used to it.

‘And that’s your bag for your dirty laundry and these are where your towels go and dirty ones, you hang them up over there,’ I pointed to the hooks. I kind of trained him up, there in the room. I couldn’t leave until I knew that he got it.

‘Socks go in there, towels go up there,’ he recited.

‘And you can call me any time,’ I fussed.

‘
Yeeeees
, Mum,’ Declan said and fell back on his bed.

It broke my heart when we left. I am so close to my kids and it was times like that when I realised quite how much I loved them and how I needed them as much as they needed me. I felt like it was another emotional journey and I bit my lip to stop myself crying in the car. I hated being away from Declan. I hated not being able to kiss him goodnight. So much so that I would drive the six-hour round trip every week so I could see him.

The housemaster eventually told me I had to stop. ‘You need to leave him alone to settle in,’ he said.

I was now the one being told off! I had also been phoning him three times a day and I was told to stop that as well. I suppose I was just really lonely without all my children around me. But I didn’t want my feelings to affect Declan, so I did what I was told. But I’ve never been ambitious for my children. I’ve never been that pushy mum. I want my kids to decide for themselves what will make them happy. I really don’t mind what they do with their lives as long as they are happy.

When you choose to forgive those who have hurt you, you take away their power.

‘
D
o you want to come and watch this show I’m starring in tonight?’ Mel B from the Spice Girls asked. When I found out it was a naked peep show with her on stage alongside a bunch of other naked girls, I thought Jesus Christ! I’m not going to that thing, no way.

‘No, thanks, I’m all right,’ I declined. I’m actually quite prudish when it comes to those sorts of things. I don’t like getting undressed in front of people. When I was growing up, if anyone was kissing on the TV, my dad would shout: ‘Get that off’ to my mum.

Mel B was our first black model when we signed her in 2008. My brand is for all types of women and I wanted to show we were not just for blondes. I also go for people with personality and she had bags of that. We got her when we were shooting our autumn/winter 2009 brochure in Las Vegas in the USA. It wasn’t a straightforward set-up. I got wound up because we couldn’t get a licence to shoot outside. We couldn’t shoot in the famous Bellagio hotel either and then we could shoot in the Bellagio and then Mel B turned up all hyped from the evening before.