Please Let It Stop

by Gold, Jacqueline

  I met Carole through Anna-Marie, a girl who had modelled for Ann Summers and who ended up marrying the footballer, Lee Hughes. Anna-Marie brought Carole along to my first themed party in 1998. My first impression of her was that she was very friendly, but a bit ‘full on’. I think this was a reflection of the stage I was at. I didn’t have any of what I would call real friends and I wasn’t used to people being in my space. At one point she came up to me and said, ‘I’ve heard you have written a book (my first book, Good Vibrations). I’m writing a book called Me and My Shadow.’ Carole’s book was about MS, an awful disease which she’s managed to deal with very well. She is truly one of the sunniest characters I’ve ever met. After our initial meeting we met again and got on very well and I soon realised I had completely misunderstood her. Carole is exceptionally warm and friendly. I’d say she was my first true friend, my spiritual friend, a woman who brings light into my life whenever I see her. She carries a lot of positivity with her and puts me into a wonderful mood. Along with Sandie, she has since become part of a close group who I know will be my friends for life.

  After splitting up with Paul I wasn’t dating anybody, though I was spending a lot of time with a friend, Dave. Dave was part of Ben’s crowd and I’d known him for several years. Ben was still ringing me and we were talking. ‘You shouldn’t be spending time with Dave,’ he said. ‘You can’t trust him.’ Thinking he was just jealous, I didn’t take any notice. I should have, though. Dave was one of the leftovers from the Ben era and that should have been a warning in itself.

  Dave and I got on well; we flirted but nothing more. I was happy to have a friend and not anxious to be involved with anybody. After two lengthy relationships, there was no doubt I needed some ‘me’ time to reflect, if nothing else. Christmas was approaching and the plan was that my sister Vanessa, her boyfriend Steve and Dave would spend Christmas with me at my house. Dave’s young son would join us on the day. The house I was living in at the time, in Caterham, had three bedrooms. I would have mine, Vanessa and Steve would be in another, and Dave would be in the single room. It was Christmas Eve and we went off to Croydon to a bar called McCluskey’s. We were all in good spirits and had a really great time, drinking and dancing. Vanessa and Steve left early and went home, while Dave and I partied on until closing time. Dave was quite drunk and he was telling anyone who would listen that he and I were going to get together that Christmas. We were definitely not together in the physical sense and I didn’t think too much of what he was saying: I just took it as part of the whole Christmassy mood. Of course, I was flattered but I had no intention of getting involved with Dave. When we arrived home Vanessa and Steve were still up. I went and joined them in the lounge, and we were just sitting around talking when I began to feel completely overwhelmed by this strange tiredness. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before and my head felt very weird. I decided that my night had to end there and wished everyone goodnight. I didn’t understand what was going on since I had never experienced a feeling like this from alcohol. It was now about 3am.

  Normally when I go to bed I leave the door open but on this night I closed it just to let Dave know there was no invitation. I got myself ready for a long night’s sleep: it was a very cold night so I wore a nightshirt and socks to keep warm and as soon as I got into bed I was out for the count. It felt like I hadn’t been asleep long when I woke up and everything looked blurred. I wasn’t sure what I was seeing but I could just make out a face in front of me. I couldn’t actually tell where it was. It was out of register, a bit like seeing something in pixels. I then discovered I couldn’t move my body; it was as if I was paralysed. I could just about turn my head slightly, and out of the corner of my eye could see that the time on the clock was 5am. Then I realised that Dave was in bed next to me and I remember saying, ‘What are you doing?’ He said, ‘Oh, don’t be like that.’ I was angry but I could barely raise the energy to say, ‘What are you doing in my bed?’ I wanted to leap out but I couldn’t move. ‘I just think we’d be so good together,’ he said. ‘Vanessa knows I’m in here and she thinks we’d make a great couple.’

  By now I could feel myself drifting in and out of consciousness. I can categorically state that I had never felt anything like this ever before – or since. I suspect that he may have given me a ‘date-rape’ drug, which was not unknown in his circle of friends. I remember telling him to get out of my bed and then drifting off again. When I came to, there was Dave, wanking right next to me. I’d known this man for ten years and thought we had a strong friendship. Thank God he didn’t rape me. He finished himself off, then got up and went to the bathroom. When he returned, he kissed me on the forehead and said, ‘I’m really sorry,’ and then went back to his room. I still couldn’t move anything except my head and my vision was severely impaired. I then drifted back into semi-consciousness.

  Christmas Day felt very surreal. I was sitting alone in the kitchen in my dressing gown, trying to make preparations for Christmas dinner, with this sense of anger and indignation surging through me. I was furious and upset at Dave for betraying my trust. I was also wondering about the idea that my sister had encouraged him, which I doubted, but it was still bothering me. The incident brought back painful memories of the sexual abuse I’d suffered as a child and, like many others who’ve been in that situation, I began to question my own behaviour yet again. ‘Had I created the situation? Was it my fault? Had I done anything to encourage Dave to come into my bedroom?’ I reminded myself that I’d shut the door and made it clear where he was sleeping. Sure, we flirted when we were out but that’s what lots of people do at Christmas. And I was quite sure I had been under the influence of something that was definitely not just alcohol, something I had not chosen to take. Otherwise, why did I lie there unable to move? It was all very confusing and, on top of that, there was the thought that I was just about to spoil everyone’s Christmas. I adore the whole festive season and nothing is ever too much trouble. Over the years I’ve gone to great lengths to make Christmas as much of an occasion as possible, so the possibility that it was about to turn sour added to my distress.

  Vanessa was the first person downstairs. She has since told me that I looked like a woman possessed. ‘I cannot believe you encouraged him last night,’ I said angrily. She looked completely blank so, feeling myself shaking, I told her what happened. She was absolutely horrified and said she’d never done anything of the sort. Our Christmas plans were in disarray and I told Dave in no uncertain terms he had to leave. (He needed to stay at the house until his young son was dropped off, as there was no alternative way for them to meet up by that point.) I don’t know whether it was a nervous reaction or what, but Vanessa’s boyfriend, who was a friend of Dave’s (and Ben’s), just stood there, laughing. I couldn’t believe it.

  We were all supposed to be flying in one of my father’s company’s Gold Air planes to Madrid for New Year’s Eve to see Cirque du Soleil. Between Christmas and New Year Dave bombarded me with phone calls and messages, saying he regretted what he had done and was very sorry. I didn’t pick up the answer machine, having decided that I would deal with him when I was ready, which I did. I phoned him just before New Year’s Eve and told him what I thought and that there was absolutely no question of us ever being friends again, which meant he wasn’t coming to Madrid and I never wanted to see him again. Vanessa got rid of her boyfriend not long after that. We were both in with a bad crowd but neither of us realised it. They covered it well. But they were gone now. In my head Dave had metaphorically gone to a place where I dismiss people who’ve done the wrong thing by me, simply by saying ‘concrete shoes and the nearest river’. It just means they will never be allowed back in my life again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  lrish eyes not smiling

  O’Connell Street is Dublin’s main thoroughfare, a major shopping precinct and also one of the widest streets in Europe. Halfway along the street is the imposing GPO building, once the headquarters of the Irish provisional governmen
t. It’s also been the scene of some bitter conflicts between the Irish and the British and you can still see bullet holes in the columns of the building. In 1999 I was to face my own battle over a piece of O’Connell Street when we decided to open a shop there. I didn’t know it at the time but it would test all my courage and resolve.

  While run to a formula, our party plan operation is open to regional differences, both in the way it is received and the revenue it brings in. We’ve found, for example, that the further north you go, the less inhibited people are. Without wanting to offend southerners, it seems northerners are more relaxed and sociable and the parties there are always much more raucous. Then there is Ireland, which is easily one of our most profitable markets. In fact, our party plan operation there is much more profitable than in the UK. Following the success of party plan, we had decided to expand our retail operation, a project we embarked on in 1995. Between then and 2001 we opened fifty-two stores. Since party plan had done so well for us in Dublin, it seemed only logical that this wonderful city should be part of our retail expansion programme.

  We found a fantastic location on O’Connell Street which was larger than any store premises we had at the time. Our research indicated that if we opened there we would do very well. Things seemed to be progressing well until, in July 1999, I received a letter from one of the councillors from the Dublin Corporation. Its premise was pretty clear: he was asking me not to open. He felt – they felt – that a store like Ann Summers would be totally inappropriate for O’Connell Street and for Dublin.

  I wasn’t pleased but I know I’m a good communicator, especially on the subject of my business, and decided that I would be able to change their preconceived ideas about our stores. I wrote back to them and invited them to come over and meet us. The idea was that they would see the organisation for the corporate business it was, which would hopefully neutralise their image of us as some hidden, shady operation. I’d spent a lot of my career changing people’s perceptions and felt strongly that I would be able to do so this time. The Project Manager, Ciaran McNamara, flew over with a colleague called Allan Taylor, who was the chief valuer for the Dublin Corporation. I had planned things meticulously, arranging for John Clarke, my Retail Director at the time, and Vanessa, who was not only Buying Director but also adept at liaising with local councils in the UK, to give them a tour of a couple of our stores. After that they would be shown around our head office and then we would sit down for a meeting. At this time we were still based in our original building, Gadoline House. It was prominently located on the main A22 but looked deceptively small from the outside. Much of the warehouse was on the lower ground floor, and both offices and warehousing stretched far back beyond what the eye could see, behind the BP garage next door.

  Most of the offices were located at the front of the building on three levels. The warehouse was massive, with further offices running along each side. The main board-room was at the front of the building on the top level. There was a large boardroom table, which was big enough to accommodate large area sales meetings, and the room had an ambience to impress both the bank manager and potential franchisees.

  We were all sitting there in the boardroom and right from the start the atmosphere was very tense. As a businesswoman I am not unused to dealing with difficult situations and have certainly proved myself to be a successful negotiator; however, sometimes you just know that even if you were the world’s most experienced diplomat you would not be able to find a way through. I immediately realised that what I had sitting before me were two men who were determined to be difficult. I was at the head of the table. Vanessa was on my immediate left with Allan Taylor sitting next to her, who, as far as I could tell, didn’t look me in the eyes throughout the whole meeting. In fact, it seemed to me he didn’t want to look at me at all! Perhaps he thought I was some sort of scarlet woman, who knows?

  Ciaran was sitting next to me, with John Clarke on his right. He obviously found the meeting equally difficult. During the conversation he proclaimed, ‘I don’t have a problem with Ann Summers. I love sex.’ I said I wasn’t interested in his personal views about sex, but I was very interested in our store and the progression of our business. I had been trying to explain very carefully who our target audience were, how they were normal people who were a far cry from the dirty raincoat brigade. They were people who’d often been together for a while and who wanted to add some harmless fun to their sex lives. I had facts and figures, but Ciaran was not listening to my argument. He seemed intent only on relaying his pre-prepared views which bore no relation to what I had been saying. I’d had enough. Having invited them over for what I thought would be a civilised discussion, I was not even being heard.

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘let’s just stop for a minute. You’re not interested at all in what I have to say, are you?’ Ciaran’s response took me aback. ‘There are a lot of nasty people in Ireland and I can’t be held responsible for what might happen to you if you go ahead and open this store.’ What was he trying to say? What sort of advice was he trying to give me? ‘Oh my God,’ I thought, ‘He’s concerned about the IRA.’

  I managed to compose myself and then said, ‘Look, you haven’t come to consider my side of the story or negotiate, have you?’ Ciaran admitted I was right. So I did the only thing you can do in those circumstances: I brought the meeting to an end.

  I am not a woman who scares easily and the meeting just made me more determined to carry on. That’s exactly what we did. We didn’t panic; we just carried on making plans for the store.

  Ciaran’s concern that there were some nasty people out there turned out to be well founded. One day we received an anonymous letter through the post, addressed to me at one of our London stores. It contained a bullet, a real bullet. There was a note with it:

  THERE ARE PLENTY OF FREELANCE PROVOS WHO WOULD DO A NICE ARSON JOB ON YOUR CESSPIT SHOP FOR A FEW HUNDRED QUID IF YOU DARE SET UP ON OUR MAIN STREET. YOU’LL NEED VERY HEAVY SECURITY. JUST STAY AWAY. YOU WHORE!!

  Colleagues and friends were very worried, with some begging me not to go ahead. Initially, I was terrified but I also wasn’t going to be bullied.

  I was to go over a few days before the store opening in October 1999. I had security to meet me at the airport because I had no idea who or what I was dealing with. I’d also hired a Dublin-based publicity team. I wasn’t totally happy with doing this, preferring to use my own London team, but I thought that, given the situation, it might be a good idea to go with locals who had the knowledge. I had also received a phone call earlier that week from the producers of The Late Late Show. I learnt that this was a popular TV talk show that reached a lot of people and they wanted me to appear. At the time my media experience was still very limited. Although I wanted publicity for the store I decided that since there had been such a furore about it already – the councillors from the Dublin Corporation were continuing to make waves in the newspapers – it would be best not to do the show.

  I arrived in Dublin and went to meet with the publicity team. We discussed The Late Late Show and they insisted that I should appear, saying it would be the ideal opportunity for me to put my case forward in my own terms. Up till now Dublin had only heard the other side of the story. I was still very nervous about it but figured that if they thought it was a good idea, I should do it. Michael Crawford was on before me to launch his autobiography and was entertaining the live audience with his anecdotes – they seemed to be having a good time. ‘I hope he’s softened them up,’ I thought. It was now my turn. The presenter Pat Kenny was sitting on the stage, behind a desk which obviously put him in a commanding position. I sat in a chair next to the desk. My heart was thumping by now and as I scanned the audience, I saw that Ciaran McNamara and Allan Taylor were straight ahead of me, right at the front. I had been set up!

  From the start, the presenter took the tough approach with me. He wasn’t exactly Jeremy Paxman but he seemed determined to get me into a corner. I was equally determined to make my point. I
said, ‘You know we have had Ann Summers parties in Dublin for years. We are successful because women love them just like they will love our store. Why should they be deprived because a man doesn’t think it’s right?’ I pointed out that I heard no good, factual reason as to why the shop should not open. The presenter decided to involve the audience. Predictably, he threw the first question to Ciaran.

  Ciaran stood up. He’s a councillor so he’s used to making his pitch in front of a public audience. I was thinking, ‘Oh God, I’m going to die up here. I am going to be ripped apart.’ When he’d finished the presenter pointed to one of the women in the audience and asked her what she thought. It was a brilliant moment. She just cut loose. ‘Who does the Dublin Corporation think they are, telling women where we can and can’t shop?’ I had underestimated these Irish ladies. More of them joined her and they all turned on Ciaran. The debate continued to open up and widen. ‘There’s a newsagents that sells porn and you haven’t closed that,’ someone said. Somebody else thoughtfully pointed out that drug users were openly seen in the area and nothing had been done about them.

  For me this was the icing on the cake. I had opened the store just before going to do the show. We’d been issued with a writ by the Dublin Corporation to close us down but I had decided I was going to take it all the way to court if I had to. We put together a petition on the day and got an overwhelming positive response. We had a record number of people through the doors on the day we opened and we haven’t looked back: Dublin is now one of our top three best-performing stores. Eventually we did go to court and we won, with the result that the Dublin Corporation ended up paying our £20,000 costs.