No Holding Back

by Amanda Holden

  A few days later, I went up to Gloucester to say goodbye to my family. I was too superstitious to confide in them all about my pregnancy before the twelve-week scan, but I wasn’t sure when I’d next see Debbie, and I wanted to tell my sister myself, so I swore her to secrecy. At the pub, I pretended to have a hangover as an excuse for not having any alcohol. My mum said, ‘Oh, you can drink with your friends but not us!’ Back at Nan’s after lunch, Nan was searching for something under the kitchen sink and she jokingly tried to punch me in the stomach (tactile Nan strikes again!). I flinched, instinctively protecting my tummy, and she said, ‘You’re pregnant!’

  ‘I’m not!’ I lied.

  She wasn’t fooled. ‘You are! I can tell. Look at the bags under your eyes! You’re pregnant!’ I said nothing, but did not confirm it, and walked away.

  Back in London, I told Chris my nan thought I was pregnant but I wasn’t going to tell them until after twelve weeks, and that was my right. I flew to South Africa, excited about our secret, nervous about being so far away from home with my first pregnancy, and with an uneasy feeling about the whole incident.

  From the first week I spent in Africa I knew this was going to be a magical, life-changing but ultimately isolated experience. It was either incredibly hot or freezing cold and I missed Chris and my friends and family so much. What I hadn’t bargained for was the even more life-changing event that I’d be going through while I was out there.

  We were based in a secure complex on the outskirts of Johannesburg. I had a stunning five-bedroom house across from a lake, and a driver, but the city was an hour and a half away and so it was all a bit like living in an open prison. There was a Wimpy and a Spar in a little parade of shops and that was literally it! We filmed twenty miles out into the bush at a place called Glen Afric Country Lodge in Broederstroom. The hours were long – we’d be up at 5 a.m. and not finish until dark at around 4 p.m., but the scenery was gorgeous. The crew and local people were so accommodating and helpful, and it was such a privilege working so closely with the animals.

  My co-star Stephen Tompkinson was lovely. It was a small cast but we did our best to have fun and entertain each other. It was Lucy Jo Hudson’s first time away from her family and now husband Alan Halsall (Tyrone in Coronation Street), so she and I sometimes had a little cry together when we felt homesick. We’d all get together in the evening for a drink or to watch TV and I’d always have everyone round for big Sunday lunches. In that close-knit environment, though, finding excuses for not drinking without letting on I was pregnant got pretty hard.

  Of course, living that close to the African bush and all its wildlife, there were amazing moments. Before I moved into my own place, I was staying in the main house and my room had a loo with a view. I was sitting there once when a giraffe stuck his head through the window – you don’t get that every day! But after a few months, even that became normal. We all got a bit blasé and after a while would be like, ‘Can we just move that zebra out of shot please? Anyone?’

  But whilst I loved South Africa, I came to see there was still a lot of racism. I became good friends with my driver, Richard, who lived in one of the townships and had a new house built from the money he earned driving me. (He called it the Amanda Holden House and asked me to ‘open’ it. I went with Jess as she was visiting – I gave a little speech and lifted a ceremonial tea towel, which was all lovely!) When he ran me to the supermarket he’d help me with my shopping, and I’d get a few bits for him and his family. I thought nothing of it, until one day we were standing together in the queue and a white couple behind us started openly calling us names. They found it unacceptable that not only should there be a black man standing as an equal with a white woman, but that he should be ahead of them in the queue. I know this attitude is in the minority in South Africa, but I found this archaic and, in that area, pervasive.

  Although to begin with I kept my pregnancy secret from the crew and fellow cast, I did tell Elliott Baulkham, the show’s drama coordinator – I needed to let someone know! We were very well taken care of, and I grabbed the opportunity to eat as healthily as possible and give my baby the best possible start. But one morning, there was a terrible grating noise when I was making my breakfast fruit smoothie. I drank my smoothie regardless, but it wasn’t until I swallowed a huge mouthful of plastic that I realised I’d accidentally left the plastic stopper inside the blender. Ditzy baby brain! I totally went into panic mode – I was so afraid I might have harmed the baby that I rushed out to find Elliott and tell him. As it turned out, everything was fine, but we still had the twelve-week Nuchal scan to get through. Chris flew out to be with me. Eventually the test results came back. The scan had looked normal, but my bloods were high and my hormones were double what they should have been. Put together, it meant we had a 1 in 20 chance that our baby had Down’s syndrome. We were devastated. We tried to keep calm, but really didn’t know which way to turn. I knew I had to have more tests done at this point, and I was grateful I hadn’t told Mum that I was pregnant but I really wished my sister and my nan didn’t know.

  Then, in the middle of everything, my nan called me and said, ‘You need to call your mother, you’re breaking her heart, and I’m sorry but I’ve told her you’re pregnant.’ I had always thought my nan would be one to keep a confidence. Until now, she had always been fair, diplomatic and solid. I was deeply hurt. I was also angry. There were still conversations I had to have with Chris and I didn’t want anybody else’s opinion. I knew if the whole family were involved it would turn into a decision about everything other than us. It felt like emotional blackmail – it was a total nightmare.

  Staying focused on filming and keeping my pregnancy secret was hard enough, as well as having tests on my days off. I couldn’t process anything else. I was lucky that I didn’t suffer from morning sickness, but I felt sick to my stomach about everything. It was a horrible, worrying time, and the only way I could cope was by avoiding talking to any of them.

  There was a filming break, so we flew back to the UK for my CVS test. I literally had three days off – I was to have the test, wait the three days for the result, then fly back when it was safe to after the procedure. It was stressful, and I don’t know if it was a maternal thing but I also had an overwhelming urge to see Nobbie and Fudge, who were being cared for by a friend of my sister’s in Bournemouth.

  I phoned Debbie and told her I was coming home, and said I was desperate to see our dogs. I asked her if she could bring them to London for me (she was coming into town anyway). Her response was, ‘Can you come to me?’ I was really taken aback, after a twelve hour flight a two hour drive wasn’t what we needed, and she knew I was pregnant. Eventually, reluctantly, Debbie did as I asked, but at the train station she just handed the dogs to me and walked away. She didn’t hug me or wish me well with the baby or say anything at all of comfort. I was so cross I sent her a text, pointing out that she was maybe being just a little unfair, which she immediately sent on to my mother. She totally took my sister’s side, which I felt was misplaced and unjust.

  But Chris and I had more important things to focus on as we waited anxiously for the CVS test results. To our great relief and happiness, the doctors told us we were having a little girl, who was healthy. Chris was over the moon that we were having a girl, too – he’d always wanted one. (He thinks they’re kinder, apparently. His theory is that girls will look after you but boys will leave you alone in your old age!) But best of all, we could finally tell everybody who didn’t know already.

  I told my mum first, of course, but sadly there was no joy in it, because she already knew. All she did was bollock me for telling my nan first, even though I told her I hadn’t, and that Nan had guessed. Then, of course, I was in the wrong for telling Debbie, who’d had to ‘bear’ the secret without being able to discuss it with either Mum or Nan. I couldn’t win! Still, when I returned to South Africa and we could finally announce it, everybody on set made a huge fuss of me and it finally felt like the momentous,
incredible event it really was. The cast and crew couldn’t do enough for me. I had massages and they made me put my feet up, fetched me deckchairs whenever I was waiting for my cue, and cooed as my little bump swelled. Fortunately for continuity, my boobs grew to a not-so-impressive 34C; noticeably bigger than they had been when filming started, but not what Chris was expecting – or hoping for!

  We weren’t out of the woods yet, though. My next batch of tests showed that I had something called placenta previa (or placenta Prada as I liked to call it!). This is a low-lying placenta, which meant that I’d have to have the baby by Caesarean section. I felt very well and had a good feeling about it, so I promised Chris everything would be alright.

  When I finished Wild at Heart I took Chris to Norfolk with the dogs for a few days. He now loved it as much as I did, although he did make me redecorate and extend it so that it became ‘our’ place and no longer the cottage I’d had with Les. We went to all my favourite beaches and had dinner with lovely Paul and Jeanne at The Hoste Arms. For more of an exotic treat we also flew to Necker Island in the Caribbean before I wasn’t allowed to fly any more. Even though I was heavily pregnant, we had a wonderful time, and I randomly played the best tennis I’d ever played – my swing improved in order not to hit my bump!

  When we returned to England, it was finally baby countdown time. Chris and I had a last lovely Christmas in London on our own together, when I had a little glass of bubbly, and just after Christmas my friend Sarah Parish threw me a baby shower in a London hotel. I was papped getting out of the car, looking like Mr Greedy from the Mr Men.

  I’d been nesting and hormonal for weeks. The nursery was all painted pink and white. My dad had put up a crib and assembled the pram.

  The baby was due on 2 February but because I could pick the date, we chose Monday 23 January. The Friday before we had booked Brokeback Mountain at the cinema but then I had the first indications that something might be about to happen. I rang my doctor and he said he thought my waters might be ‘leaking’, and suggested that I admit myself to the hospital later that day. Chris joked we might as well wait until after 6 p.m. to avoid paying the congestion charge! So instead I went home, straightened my hair, put some make-up on and had my nails done. (Priorities!)

  As we made our way to the hospital, I felt totally prepared. Once there, Chris took a picture of me in my gown, posing in my support tights, and then he and my obstetrician, Professor Eric Jauniaux, sat scrubbed up on the floor talking about music and their favourite gigs. It reminded me of the Abba Gold CD I’d brought in my bag for the birth, but when Chris went to put it on, the CD case was empty. Disaster – this was, I might add, the first bit of panic I’d felt. ‘We must have something, Chris!’ I told him. He went out and reappeared shortly afterwards having bizarrely found a magazine with a free CD covermount of Burt Bacharach songs – one of my favourites.

  It took them five attempts to get the epidural into my spine, which was hideous. Chris held my hand throughout and to the strains of Cole Porter My Heart Belongs to Daddy (how appropriate!) Alexa ‘Lexi’ Louise Florence was finally brought out by Caesarean section. It was 11.30 p.m. on 20 January 2006 – she just missed being an Aquarian like me. I felt fantastic – euphoric, even! – if a little tired. The nurse took a picture of the three of us. We look ecstatic and even my lip gloss stayed on!

  Chris slept on a Z-bed next to me for two days and then he went home, to get the car seat and freshen up, leaving me on my own for the first time with my precious Lexi. I held her gently in my arms – she made sweet little mewing noises like a kitten and when she yawned I noticed she had inherited Chris’s dimple. She was tiny and perfect and I could not have loved her more. I stayed in hospital for five days and had the most brilliant time. Chris was besotted with Lexi, but just really practical and caring of all of us – he even took one of her Babygros home so that Nobbie and Fudge could get used to her smell!

  All my girlfriends came in to see me with champagne, and Mum bombed down within hours, all of our disagreements seemingly behind us. Fantastically, Lexi’s birth brought the family back together. I told my mum, ‘Whatever happens, whatever our differences, I want Lexi to know her family.’ The trouble with my nan dissipated and I said, ‘Let’s start again for the sake of the baby.’ Although she still wasn’t talking to me, my sister sent a text to Chris which said, ‘Congratulations on the birth of your daughter.’ We took some lovely pictures of my mum and dad with her, and Chris’s parents. I was gutted that I wasn’t able to share the greatest day of my life so far with my little sister. This trivial argument lasted for several years. Debbie was living and teaching scubadiving in Thailand at the time, so I do believe that distance didn’t help our relationship and perhaps that’s why it went on so long. She only met Lexi once during that time.

  As soon as Lexi was born, Chris admitted that having a baby was the best decision we’d ever made. He knew by then that when I made my mind up about something I’d seldom change it, or as he put it, ‘Amanda doesn’t bend easily.’ If I want something badly enough I get it. He told everyone – and still does – that I was a great mum, which meant everything to me. Nothing prepared me for how much I would love my baby, or how important being a mum would be to me. It’s the centre of everything I do.

  Chapter 15

  Simon Says

  After five amazing months getting to know our little girl, and loving being her mummy, the following year I was back in South Africa with Lexi and a friend to help me. Chris flew out every three weeks for ten days, bonding with Lexi while I worked.

  My real saving grace that year came from a surprising quarter. My ‘mother’, Caroline, had made an appearance in the script. One weekend, Chris and I went to Paris to stay with his friend Mick Hucknall. As we were getting on the Eurostar I spotted Hayley Mills boarding too. I was like, ‘Oh my God, Chris. It’s Hayley Mills. I adore her!’ (Little did Hayley know it, but she and I had ‘history’. Her father, the late, great Sir John Mills, had been the president at Mountview and he presented me with my certificate when I graduated. Another time, at an awards ceremony, it was my job to stand next to him and escort him to and from the stage. I was very cheeky to him and we got on really well.)

  All of a sudden, boarding the train, it hit me. Hayley Mills had to play my mother! We even looked alike. It was almost tribal. Straight away, I was on the phone to executive producer Charlie Pattinson, telling him he had to try Hayley. They called her in and she got the part, and our connection was instant and total. She is a real character – a funny, down-to-earth woman – and I loved her. (She calls me ‘Twink’ and I call her ‘Tumble’; don’t ask me why!) Over the next couple of months, she totally bonded with Lexi and would read her stories for hours at a time. She also fell in love with Africa.

  The rest of that year passed in a blur. We have some amazing photos of Lexi in Africa, and I sometimes wonder if she’ll end up becoming a zoologist or something because of all those incredible experiences she’ll have stored deep in her memory banks.

  The climate played havoc with my skin, though. I was in South Africa and filming constantly in the bright light and I wasn’t allowed to wear sunglasses in any of the shots. Before I knew it I had developed deep crease marks around my eyes and was looking horrendous from constantly squinting – and that’s when I first had a little Botox. A journalist once asked me if I ever had it and I foolishly admitted that I had – I’m too honest! I never thought about it as a poison and it definitely worked, but that one careless comment has never left me! It’s the only ‘work’ I’ve ever had done, and I hate it when the papers claim that I’ve had something else done – like my lips, for example. Every now and again the newspapers will claim I have no facial expressions, run a piece on me and interview a random plastic surgeon about what he or she thinks I’ve had done. Apart from anything, if you went to see a plastic surgeon and came out unable to move your face then you would sue them, surely!

  There is more to this irritation than just vanit
y, though. I have a lot of younger followers these days (the Holdenites!) and it’s important to me to be a good role model to them. I get loads of messages on Twitter from girls asking my advice about everything. I don’t want to be seen as someone who is so unhappy that she’s constantly having work done. All I did was to stop a few lines appearing. (As Lexi tells me, I look very much like my mother but ‘without the cracks’.)

  Once filming for the second series of Wild at Heart had finished, I threw myself back into being a full-time mum, relishing having so much time with my baby. I took Lexi swimming one Friday, and when we got home I put some soup on for tea. I was stirring it when I suddenly noticed I had five missed calls from my agent. I thought that was unusual – it was half six or something – so I called her back. She said, ‘Amanda, something quite interesting has come up in the office. Simon Cowell . . .’

  ‘Yes!’ I said immediately. I didn’t let her finish, even though I didn’t know what it was they were offering me! All I knew was, I’d admired Simon for years and was definitely up for doing anything he was involved in. Our paths had only crossed twice since the Stowe ball. One was when I read in a magazine that he didn’t generally like blondes but he liked Amanda Holden because ‘she looks naughty’ (he’s right!). Then, before Chris and I got together, I was staying with Jane in LA for some meetings when Simon and I had dinner together.

  Jane’s friend is good friends with him, and it was her birthday, so Jane suggested she call Simon up and get him to take her out for dinner! She rang and said I was there too, and he said, ‘In that case, definitely.’ I was terrified as he was very flirty, so when he gestured to me to sit next to him, I said, ‘Darling, I have a meeting in the morning and will need to leave around ten thirty.’ (I had booked my cab in advance.) Simon, however, tells the story that HE booked my car and when it got to 10.30 p.m. he announced I had to leave. What we both agree on is that we were having such a good time that I was gutted and left, but absolutely didn’t want to. Pride made me!