I knew Michael was about to land and I’d sent a text message to him saying I’d caught him red-handed. I kept ringing Sam’s phone until she picked up. Finally, I heard her voice. ‘You bitch, you lied to me. You said you were not having an affair with my husband,’ I screamed.
‘I need to explain,’ she stuttered. ‘It’s not like that. It only started a few days ago,’ she said.
‘You’re a fucking liar and you’re fired,’ I blasted. ‘Don’t dare come near me, or my kids again.’ I watched through the window as Michael pulled into the driveway. The first thing he was raging about was his car.
He came running in and grabbed me. ‘My fucking car!’ he shouted.
Rebecca was screaming as my mum separated us.
‘You’ll pay for that! You’ll pay for that!’ he yelled.
‘You’re lucky I didn’t set fire to it, you fucker,’ I told him.
‘I’m calling the police.’ Michael reached for the phone.
23
WAR OF THE ROSES
Never look back.
‘Michelle! Is it true you attacked your husband’s car after you found out he was having an affair?’ a journalist shouted from behind my electric gates. The press had found out about the car because Michael had reported me to the police. Someone close to me must have tipped them off about Sam. I had dozens of paparazzi camped outside my house shouting my name.
I put on my sunglasses to hide my bloodshot eyes and got in my black Range Rover. ‘Michelle! Michelle!’ they shouted as I drove off. The paps all took pictures of me in the front seat with a face like thunder.
Overnight, everything began to fall apart. Our nanny of ten years left, the housekeeper left and key people from my team just upped and left. My life came crashing down around me. Why was I getting the hard time? Michael was the one who had run off with another woman. Of course, he denied it. Michael told my operations director on the flight to Hong Kong that he had fallen in love with Sam in the 14 days following the split. But he and I had been married for 20 years. You don’t fall in love in two weeks. He issued a statement to the press: ‘There was no affair and what is happening now is private. Prior to our split there was no relationship. If anyone is saying that is the reason for the split, that’s untrue.’
I went back to the office and things were a nightmare because the staff didn’t know what was happening. Everyone was walking on eggshells and I felt really sorry for them. I couldn’t believe it when I got a letter from Sam’s lawyer. They said I’d sacked her without going through the correct procedures and that she was going to take me to a tribunal for unfair dismissal. What was I supposed to do? Sit down and design with her? I would have stuck the needles and scissors up her arse! I hired my own lawyer rather than go through the company because I didn’t want anyone connected to Michael dealing with Sam’s claim.
‘You might as well just pay her off,’ he advised. She wasn’t the only cost. I had to pay Michael £8,000 for the damage to his car.
On the flip side, I got a lot of support from the public. The magazines wrote, ‘Way to go, Michelle’, for trashing his Porsche. Okay, yeah, for those ten minutes it took me to destroy it I did feel amazing, but the hangover from the fighting was killing me. I was really scared, upset and frightened because I’d never known anything other than being married to Michael. I’d never been on my own before and all my friends were married. I was desperately worried about what was to come for me, my kids and for the future of the business.
I decided I had to get away from the all the media attention and the heartache. I spoke to my friend Andrea, and her footballer husband, John Barnes, who used to play for Liverpool. They invited me to visit them in Dubai. I remember being in the airport lounge with Declan and Bethany (Rebecca wanted to stay at home with her friend), and suddenly feeling incredibly lost. I picked up the phone to my mum and dad. ‘What am I doing?’ I burst into tears. ‘I’m so lonely. I’m never going to meet anyone. I’m always going to be on my own. I’m going to be on my own when I’m 65 with ten cats and I hate cats,’ I blubbered.
I heard my mum sigh deeply at the other end. ‘Michelle, just relax. Just have a good time with the kids,’ she said. ‘When you’re not looking, it will happen.’
‘Okay,’ I sniffed. It was enough to calm me down and get us all on the flight.
The sunshine helped, as did being a million miles away from my troubles with just my kids. On the third day, after much persuasion, I finally found the courage to be around other people and I agreed to go out for dinner with John, Andrea, and some of their friends. I did my hair and my make-up and I helped the kids choose outfits. When we arrived, John and Andrea had a seat waiting for me next to one of their friends, Carl French.
Carl and I had a bit of common ground – Carl’s wife had left him the year before and he was going through a separation. We didn’t spend our time drowning our sorrows. Far from it – we got on like a house on fire. He was 6ft tall with dark hair and he was a handsome guy. He made me laugh constantly; it was the first time I’d laughed since God knows when. I felt like my spark came back that night. ‘It was so lovely meeting you,’ he said and kissed me on the cheek after we finished dinner. I didn’t want the night to end but I was too shy to say anything. I took the kids back to our hotel and then I met up with Andrea for a girly chat. Bethany came with me while Declan did his own thing in the hotel complex.
Ring ring. Declan was calling me. ‘Hi, what’s up?’ I answered.
‘Hello, it’s Carl,’ came the reply. Carl had bumped into Declan at our hotel and used my son’s phone to call me. ‘Where are you?’ he said. My heart raced. I felt like a teenager all over.
‘I’m just with Andrea having a drink,’ I said and blushed.
‘Why don’t you come back to your hotel and we can have a drink?’ he suggested.
‘Go go,’ Andrea was mouthing to me.
So I met Carl at my hotel bar while Declan and Bethany went up to bed. A few drinks later we headed to the nightclub part of the hotel complex. We laughed, we danced and then we headed to the beach to watch the sunrise. We sat on the sand talking until 7 am and it was magical. Carl then leant over and kissed me. It felt amazing to be kissed and it felt amazing to be wanted after all those years of feeling lonely and being made to feel ugly.
Wow! Someone actually finds me attractive.
I left him on the beach and I went back to my hotel room with a skip in my step. Five hours later, I still couldn’t get to sleep so I went down to the pool. Who did I see there? Carl. From that moment on, we were inseparable. I didn’t sleep with him though. You can imagine there was quite a build-up when he took me away to Rome for a weekend not long after. I remember being so nervous in the hotel bathroom while he waited for me in the bedroom. I was wearing my sexiest Ultimo underwear and I checked myself from every angle in the mirror. My heart was racing at 100 miles an hour. I took a deep breath and opened the door.
‘You’ve got an amazing body,’ Carl whispered in my ear as he kissed me.
Really? Seriously?
Somewhere there was still a fat and unloved person inside me.
Carl kept going on about my body and my smile as we lay in bed together and I was a bit shocked. I’d never had that before. It was like a dream for me to have a man think these things. I never felt like a woman with Michael, I felt masculine around him. Michael had never said anything to make me feel wanted but Carl made me feel sexy. Carl resuscitated my heart. Sadly, I just wasn’t ready for a relationship. I had so many issues to deal with and so many things to sort out at home and with my business. If I were to meet him now, the scenario would be different.
I came home to face the battle of my life. I went to war with Michael over the company and over our house. Michael refused to move out. Anyone reasonable who’d had an affair would have left me to have the house with the kids. But Michael had so much nerve. He told me that I had to move out and that I should get a flat.
‘How dare you make me get a fla
t,’ I said, ‘this is my home with my kids.’ I was determined that I wasn’t going to leave and I fought with him night and day. It was like The War of the Roses in which Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner try everything to get each other to leave the house and end up swinging from the chandelier. In fact, we had a massive chandelier ourselves – shipped over from Miami. It was so big that we had had to take the front door off to get it inside. We could have done a remake of that film, I swear to God: it was that awful.
It started as a race to the master bedroom. I was fed up of sleeping in the spare bedroom because it was really hurting my back. Why should he have the best bed in the house after everything? Whoever got to the bedroom first, got the bed. I would do things to wind him up. I put his favourite shirts and cufflinks in the bin. I took things that really meant a lot to him and chucked them out. I let down his car tyres. I cut holes in all his boxer shorts.
‘She’ll have to look at your holey arse now,’ I chuckled as he raged at me. I wanted to disrupt his life in every way possible because it made me feel better. I’ve never done anything like that in my life before. It was my way of getting my hurt out.
You’ve hurt me so badly. I’ve given you three amazing kids and 22 years of my life and I worked my arse off. I didn’t even have proper maternity leave and all you’ve done our whole married life is cause me grief. I should have left you so many times, you fucker, and now you’re going to have to pay a wee bit.
I remember overhearing Michael tell the kids he was going to a wedding with Sam. The next morning I waited for Michael to leave the kitchen and then I slipped some laxatives into his coffee. ‘Have a nice time,’ I said, smiling sweetly as he walked past me and reached for his cup. God only knows if it worked!
Michael probably did things to me too because quite a lot of my things went missing. We lived together under the same roof for eight months after we split up. Can you believe it? We would never be in the same room for longer than a few minutes though. We couldn’t be – we would have killed each other! He’d come in and I’d leave. I’d walk in and he’d storm off. Thank god Sam never stepped foot inside that house again. Who knows what would have happened? I offered to buy Michael out of the house at full market value.
‘Over my dead body are you ever going to get this house!’ he shouted.
‘I don’t understand you. You’re the one who caused this. Why can’t I buy my home from you? I want it as a base for me and the kids. You don’t want it,’ I said, trying to reason with him.
I would have redesigned it. I would have made it a new home. I wanted it because my priority was providing a stable place for the kids to live and making sure they were disrupted as little as possible.
In the end Michael and I agreed that we would alternate weeks at the house. I would spend one week in a hotel and he would spend one week at his parents’ place. The day I was to leave, Michael was a total prick to me. He really upset me but instead of going to my room and crying, I got even.
I crept up to the master bedroom and I pulled back the luxurious throw. I got a bucket of water, and threw it over Michael’s side of the bed. It was soaking wet. I made the bed again and placed the pillows perfectly with the zips down. I left the house and an hour or so later I received raging text messages: ‘You fucking bitch. My side of the bed is soaking wet. I’m going to phone the police and have you arrested.’
‘Give it your best shot,’ I said, laughing. The kids phoned to ask why I did it. ‘He deserves it,’ I said. I couldn’t believe Michael was going to my kids after what he had done with my designer.
But looking back, I can see I was going through a very selfish time when I only cared about getting back at Michael. My priority was the children and I should have thought more about the effect it would have on them. Those things I did upset my kids and I didn’t mean to upset them when it was Michael I wanted to get to. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. I have said I never regret anything in life but maybe I shouldn’t have done those things. I can say now that revenge isn’t worth it because it just comes back to bite you on the arse. I ended up becoming the bad one when I wasn’t in the beginning.
It wasn’t my only battle. I was also fighting Michael for the company that I’d created in 1996. Who was going to buy who out? We went to war in the day and again in the evening, just as we had been doing privately for years. But now our fight had become public and the company value crashed through the floor. It was like someone had thrown a grenade into our business. The buyers didn’t know what was going on so they didn’t order stock. No decisions were made within the office. It was awful for the brand.
Then all of a sudden, Michael dealt a low blow. ‘You’re fired,’ he said, pointing his finger at me as if he was Lord Alan Sugar. ‘I’ve got one share more than you,’ he smirked. Michael had 48 per cent and I had 47 per cent.
How the hell did that happen?
Michael dealt with all the legal side of things, so it must have been when we bought Tom Hunter and Ian Grabiner out. There had been an extra share floating about. ‘Fuck you,’ I spat. The gloves were off.
Michael may have had one more share than me, but he didn’t have enough to control the business. He needed more than 50 per cent to be making decisions like that. I needed to find an ally – I needed to get Tom Walker on my side. Tom was a silent shareholder who owned 5 per cent. He’d come on board at the same time as Tom Hunter and Ian, but he hadn’t wanted to be bought out in 2004.
Tom could go with me or he could go with Michael.
I managed to convince him to back me and together we had more power than Michael.
Take that, you fucker.
Round two involved Michael trying to buy me out. ‘Go for it, you’ll never raise the money,’ I said. I then tried to buy Michael out, but he wanted a ridiculous sum.
For the first time in my life, I began to drink. I downed a bottle of white wine a night to numb the pain. I would cry myself to sleep and some nights, when I couldn’t bear to be alone, I would crawl into Rebecca’s bed. I was in a very dark, lonely place, but I had to fight for survival and I had to fight for my kids and my family – and for the company too.
I brought all the team together and I said, ‘Listen, guys, I’m going to save your jobs,’ I promised. They were so worried; they had bills to pay and families to support. ‘I promise you with all my heart.’ I fought back the tears.
Whatever punch Michael threw, I still got up the next day ready for battle. I’d fight all day long. You’re not going to kill me, I thought. Michael may have been a university graduate and he may have been more intelligent than me, but I had more fight than him and more stamina. It was like the biggest boxing match in history.
Round three – the company went up for sale. Offers came flooding in from people who wanted to work with me alone and not Michael. One of the four main contenders wanted me to move to Hong Kong so that was a ‘No’ because I would never leave my kids.
‘I want you to sign this. It’s our only way out,’ Michael shouted about the offer. He was going mental over it. Michael was desperate for the company to be sold because we had director guarantees with the bank. What that meant was, if I didn’t buy Michael out, he was going to have to write the bank a big cheque for a million quid.
‘I’m not signing,’ I said and crossed my arms. There was no way I was agreeing to it because all these buyers wanted to lock me in with them and I didn’t like them enough to give Michael a free ticket out of jail. ‘I’m not doing it your way,’ I said and stamped my foot. ‘You want me to sign up with anyone that will give you the money but you don’t give a shit that I have to work with them for several years while you get away.’
The company continued to fall to pieces and the banks were getting concerned. We didn’t have long until we went under. When I closed my eyes I could see it crashing all the way to the bottom. It was just the way it had been all those years ago with the stock problems.
History was repeating itself.
24
BRA WARS
Life is like a marathon. You just have to keep going until you reach that line.
‘I’m going to Sri Lanka,’ I announced to my mum when I phoned her from the plane. I was minutes from take off. A request had come through in October 2012 for me to give one of my motivational speeches. I jumped at the chance to get away from the chaos, if only for a few days.
‘No, you’re not. You’re about to lose your company. You’re about to lose your life. You can’t do this speech,’ she screeched.
‘Mum, I need to go. I love you and I’ll see you when I’m back.’ I hung up. Something inside me was saying I needed to go. I trusted my instinct. It turned out to be a hell of a journey as I was delayed in my stop over in Dubai and then I got stuck in a three-hour traffic jam to my hotel. I’d been travelling for 24 hours and was desperate for a shower and a change of clothes when the hosts broke the news that I had to be on stage in ten minutes.
I rushed to the toilet to throw up. I looked awful. But there was no time to do my hair and my make-up; I just had to get out there and get on with it. I was running on empty as I made my way up on stage. The room fell silent as hundreds of eyes locked onto me, waiting for me to speak. I took a deep breath and stepped into the spotlight. I gave them the speech of my life.
‘In the next few months, I don’t know where I’ll be. I don’t know if the company will still be there,’ I said as I fought back the tears. ‘But what I do know is that I’m so passionate about the brand.’ I spoke from the heart. I told them my story and there were people in the audience crying as I described how hard I’d had to fight.
As I left the stage, the organisers of the event led me down the hall to meet someone who had the potential to help me.
He reached his hand out and said ‘I’m Mahesh Amalean, I chair the board of MAS Holdings, we manufacture intimate apparel for some of the biggest brands around the world.’ Mahesh was in his late 50s and such a gentleman.
My Fight to the Top Page 17