You Only Live Once (22 page)

Even though we only had six weeks to plan the blessing ceremony, that wasn’t stressful either. Looking back, I cannot understand why my first wedding became so difficult to plan, though I guess it didn’t help that I was suffering from post-natal depression and everything seemed overwhelming at the time. By the end of May I still didn’t have a wedding dress, nor had we settled on a theme. But it didn’t matter; I knew it would all come together. In fact, this time the planning was enjoyable because we were just doing it for ourselves and the people closest to us. My mum was brilliant. She sorted out the budget and did all the negotiating with the caterers, the people involved in designing and putting up the marquee, and the ones in charge of the entertainment. And Alex’s mum Carol was also involved in the planning meetings, and in helping to decide what food to go for.

We decided to have the wedding at our house in Woldingham in Surrey, in a marquee in our back garden. That meant we would have to keep the number of guests down to around 150 so straight away the wedding would have an intimate feel, which was what we wanted. We had planned to have the blessing service there as well, but because space was limited and it would involve rearranging the inside of the marquee, I thought it might be better to have it at my local church a short distance away. Alex and I were getting on brilliantly in the run-up to the big day. There was only a minor disagreement about my bridesmaids, because I thought two didn’t seem like enough and wanted to involve more of my friends. I did end up getting my own way on that, but as for Alex saying that he was under the thumb in the TV show . . . believe me, he gives as good as he gets! If he doesn’t want to do something then he won’t do it, no matter how much I stomp my feet and demand that he does! And, like any girl, I do try and push my luck occasionally. But I like the fact that he doesn’t pussyfoot around me, and respect him for it.

With just weeks to go to the wedding I was still undecided about what kind of dress I wanted, and then a good friend sent me a picture of some wedding dresses she thought I would like, made by Dizzie Lizzie Couture. Typical me – the dress I especially liked was called a Wow! dress and it looked perfect, very fairy tale. I called up a boutique which stocked the dresses and asked if they would be able to bring over a selection for me to have a look at. I was so busy with work that I didn’t have time to go to them. Very kindly, they drove the dresses over to the studio where I was recording the title sequences for our wedding special. The very first one I tried on was the Wow! dress, and I absolutely loved it. It was of white silk, with a corset top embellished with Swarovski crystal love hearts and a massive skirt with layers and layers of tulle underneath. As soon as I put it on I felt I looked exactly how a bride should look. I was pretty sure that Alex would feel the same as I had already shown him a selection of wedding dresses to get an idea of what he liked and he seemed to like the full-on white numbers as much as I did.

With just a few days to go before our big event, Alex and I had our stag and hen nights. Mine was organised by my best friends Gary, Phil and Melodie at the Mayfair Hotel. But unlike most hens on their night out, I didn’t drink at all. Everyone else was knocking back champagne and cocktails but I stuck to orange juice. I didn’t want to drink because now that I’m getting older it takes me two days to recover from a hangover, and I wanted to feel fantastic in the run-up to the wedding. And yet again I proved to myself that I can enjoy myself without having a drink. It was a brilliant night, such a laugh, my friends even arranging for three male strippers to give us a show. Saucy . . . But I was such a good girl, I drove everyone back home at the end of the night and woke up the next day feeling fresh as a daisy.

Alex went a bit more wild than me, I think it’s fair to say. Things started off in a restrained fashion when he and his friends went clay-pigeon shooting for the afternoon, then they went to a casino and strip club and were treated to a pole-dancing display. Afterwards Alex, who’d had quite a bit to drink, stripped down to his pants, climbed to the top of the pole and gave a display of his own which was given scores out of ten by the dancers. It seems I might have met my match when it comes to being an exhibitionist . . . But I love the fact that he’s got that touch of showmanship to him. I have too, and it means we can have fun together.

There was such a great atmosphere and buzz around the house as it drew closer to the day of the ceremony, so many people coming in and out to set up the marquee, the lights, sound system, flowers, security . . . I loved it all, and having the marquee in our back garden made it seem even more exciting. It was a bit like counting down to Christmas! I thought it would be a good thing if Alex and I spent the night before the blessing apart. I wanted the big day to feel extra-special. Plus I had all my bridesmaids staying over and it would be fun if we could all sleep in my bedroom and have a girlie laugh. In fact, I woke up to find Alex in the en suite bathroom. ‘How long are you going to be?’ I asked, wanting to get in myself. So much for not seeing each other until we met at the church. But I made sure he didn’t see me in my dress until the moment I walked up the aisle.

I had to have a quick sunbed session before I could start getting ready, and my friend Melodie drove me to a salon in nearby Caterham. I lay on the back seat under a blanket to stop the paps outside the house from getting a shot. Back home, the feeling of anticipation was even more exciting. It was great to have so many of my family and friends with us; everyone was rushing around, frantically getting ready, and there was such a happy, party atmosphere. The caterers were on hand, offering everyone drinks. It sort of reminded me of that scene from the movie
Home Alone
, just as the family are packing up to leave for the Christmas holidays. On the landing guests were having their make-up done by a team of make-up artists, and Junior’s bedroom had been given over to guests having their hair done. Wherever you walked in the house there was something going on.

Junior and Princess were caught up in the excitement as well. I’d wanted them both to be as involved as possible in the blessing. Princess was one of my bridesmaids and Junior was going to read out a poem in church, which he had been rehearsing with my friend Michelle Heaton. At one point the alarms in the house went off, triggered we think by the low-flying helicopters chartered by the paps. And did I know the code to turn the alarm off? No. Unfortunately the fire brigade turned up, but thankfully Marcus, our event manager, eventually managed to track down the code and switch it off.

While we were getting ready, our guests were assembling at the local golf club for drinks before a Routemaster bus took them to the church. Because we wanted to keep the location secret from the press, none of our guests knew where the ceremony was actually going to take place. They had simply been asked to arrive at the golf club. However, there were paps outside the house and I knew that they would track us down to the church. As Gary did my make-up and Nick and Royston worked on my hair, arranging it into an elegant bun with a tiara, and we were all chatting and laughing away, I had no idea how vicious the paps would become once I arrived at the church . . .

It was something of a military operation getting the guests to the church from the house as there were so many of them. But I was actually ready on time, believe it or not! And then I had to wait nearly an hour to be picked up. I loved the way I looked for the ceremony. The dress was stunning, and although it had such a full skirt, the silk was so light I didn’t feel weighed down. I felt I looked exactly how a bride should look and how I wanted to look.

I was supposed to travel to the church with Paul, my step-dad, as he was going to be giving me away, but in the rush to get people to the church he ended up going ahead of me, which was a shame as it would have been nice to make the journey with him. I travelled to the church in an 80s-style A-Team van, as we thought that would be fun and also we could cover up all the windows. We had security patrolling the grounds of the house and around the church to prevent the paps getting any pictures, and I thought they had everything in hand.

Nothing could have prepared me for what happened when the van arrived at St Paul’s. It’s a beautiful church in a sleepy village and should have been the perfect setting for our wedding blessing. But the paparazzi didn’t care that this was a blessing ceremony; all they cared about was getting a shot of me that they could sell. I know that I have chosen to be in the public eye and have to expect paps to follow me closely, but I swear that I suffer their attentions on a more extreme level than anyone else. All those paps knew perfectly well that I hadn’t signed an exclusive magazine deal, and they knew I didn’t want photographs in the press, but they didn’t care. It’s like a game to them where they are going to do whatever it takes to get their photograph. But I won’t play by their rules. My game is, ‘No, you’re not ruining my day by getting a picture of me.’

So the van pulled up outside the church. I had Gary and Hannah, my new PA, with me, along with the two guys who had made the wedding suits, and straight away we could hear shouting and swearing from the paps as they struggled with the security guards to get close to the van. It was a scorching summer day outside and I was getting really hot and flustered inside the van. And then all hell seemed to break loose as the paps started rocking the van, ripping off the boards we’d put over the windows to try and get a picture of me. One man managed to wrench open the back door and shove his camera in, trying to get a shot; someone else tried to open the front door. Hannah got whacked with a camera, and all the while they were shouting. It was so frightening.

I ducked down in my seat, desperate to keep myself from being photographed. I seriously felt that if the paps could have tipped over the van in order to get a shot of me, then they would. I’ve thought this for a long time but that day confirmed it: the paparazzi have absolutely no respect for me as a human being, they treat me like an animal. To them I just represent the chance to make money, they don’t give a shit about anything else. The fact that our marriage was to be blessed, that my children were in the church and must have been able to hear the shouting and screaming that was going on outside . . . neither of those bothered them for a second. I felt so overwhelmed with anger and frustration that they were doing this to me I started to cry.

After about ten minutes – which, believe me, felt much longer – my security guys thought it was safe for me to get out of the van. They had put up a screen to keep the paps at bay – but the flimsy material was never going to stop them. As my security team hurried me into the church, some paps charged at the screen, ripping it down. Desperate to make it into the church without being photographed, I stumbled and tripped on the steps. Then I was inside. The heavy wooden door was shut behind me. We had made it without the paps getting a shot of me. But just as we were safely in, some of the paps forced open the door at the opposite entrance, nearly knocking down one of the church wardens as once again they tried to barge in and take a photograph.

I felt so shaken and angry that I was still crying as Paul walked me up the aisle to where Alex was waiting. He looked gorgeous in his blue suit and I tried to forget about the ugly scenes with the paps, but it was hard. I managed to smile and blow kisses to Harvey, Junior and Princess who were being so good as they sat at the front of the church. I tried to focus on Alex as we exchanged our vows and wedding rings. I did feel so happy that we were having this blessing and that our families and friends were there to see it. And then Junior read out a poem. He loves performing usually but I think in this instance he did come over as a bit shy – understandably. Not everyone got to hear it, but I was so proud of him. He ended his poem by saying, ‘I love you, Mummy, and big Alex.’ My lovely son looked so smart in his suit, though as soon as we arrived back at the house he raced upstairs, took it off and put on his pyjama bottoms. I didn’t mind at all, so long as he was relaxed and happy. Princess looked sweet in her bridesmaid’s dress, but after the ceremony she fell asleep and when she woke up decided to change into a floaty pink dress. My children are like me . . . they like to be comfortable and chilled out at home! But I kept my wedding dress on for the entire event.

Back at the house we had drinks and canapés and the chance to mingle with our guests, then the entertainment began with a very unusual performance of ‘Nessun Dorma’, from one of the balconies, which I think got everyone in the mood for what was to follow. Then a curtain went back to reveal the dining area of the marquee, and Chris, who was in charge of entertainments and acting as Master of Ceremonies, got all the guests to take their seats for the wedding breakfast. We’d kept everything simple, stylish and classic with arrangements of white flowers and a huge glittering crystal chandelier. It looked beautiful. Before dinner was served there was a lovely surprise for Alex and me when a soldier who had just returned from serving in Afghanistan marched in and presented us with a ceremonial sword to cut our wedding cake. Alex’s dad was in the Paras and Alex himself was in the TA so there’s a strong army connection running through his family.

The wedding breakfast started off with lovely dips and bread followed by a hog roast for the meat eaters and an aubergine and goat’s cheese tart for the veggies, rounded off by a trio of yummy desserts. In true wedding tradition, speeches followed dinner. But just before the speeches began I had a surprise of my own when a farmer came in with a very special present for me . . . well, me and the children really . . . a micropiglet! It was from my great friend Jane who was one of my bridesmaids. I’ve known her since I was sixteen. The children were thrilled, and when I asked Princess what she would like the piglet to be called, she said, ‘Bingle’, so ‘Bingle’ it was. I’ve wanted a micro-piglet for ages. I just hope he wasn’t alarmed by the smell of the hog roast . . .

My step-dad Paul’s speech was short and sweet. I know he doesn’t really like standing up and speaking but it was lovely the way he welcomed Alex into the family and said he could see that Alex truly loves me. Alex’s speech too was heartfelt. He said he was like an oyster: rugged on the outside, but inside there was a pearl in his heart and I was his pearl. He said he couldn’t live without me. I feel the same about him . . .