Cheryl: My Story

by Cole, Cheryl

  ‘Show me your latest dance routine,’ Ashley said one night. We were chilling out together in his flat, watching some old film, and this took me by surprise. Ashley was never very impressed by Girls Aloud because he wasn’t into that kind of music, and we rarely talked about my job. It was the same with his football. I’d been brought up with my dad and brothers supporting Newcastle and that was my team, but I wasn’t big on football and Arsenal didn’t excite me at all. Unless it was a really big game I was far more interested in what time Ashley would be home from training than how well he’d played or where they were in the league.

  ‘OK, I’ll dance for you,’ I giggled. I stood up and did some of the moves from our most recent video and Ashley laughed his head off at me. Admittedly it was a bit cheesy but I thought he was really cheeky to laugh like that.

  I starting play-fighting with him, just messing about, and then all of a sudden he pulled me down onto the settee, looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘I f***ing love you.’

  Now it was my turn to laugh, because this was so unexpected. Ashley had clearly even managed to surprise himself, because when he heard what he’d said he actually went green in the face.

  I was really touched, but I didn’t say anything back to him that night. I think I knew that once I’d told him I felt the same way there was no going back. In my heart it felt like Ashley was ‘the one’, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to admit that to him, or to myself. It took a good few days for me to crack, and then I sent him a text saying: ‘I love u 2’. I felt so happy once I’d done that; the best I’d felt in years and years, in fact.

  One night, in October, I went to the National Television Awards at the Royal Albert Hall with the girls, and afterwards we decided to go to the Funky Buddha nightclub in Mayfair. Ashley was there with his friends, and even though I was really pleased to see him, I felt a bit worried about the two of us being spotted in public together for the very first time.

  I’d never been in a ‘public relationship’ with anyone in all the time I’d been in Girls Aloud, and I didn’t know how to handle it.

  Ashley and I had a dance and a few drinks together, and at the end of the night I said, ‘I’ll go first – you leave in 10 minutes.’ I thought it would be that simple to avoid the press, but of course it wasn’t and there was a story in The Sun the very next day that said: ‘Cheryl is Ashley’s Goalfriend’.

  ‘I’m scared,’ I told him.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, babe,’ he told me. ‘What does it really matter?’

  ‘You’re right, but I can’t help it,’ I said. ‘I’m a born worrier.’

  Not long after that we went shopping to Bluewater together. We had a lovely time, strolling round the shops and having some lunch. Ashley was acting so laid back I didn’t even worry about us being spotted out together, and there wasn’t a photographer in sight. I started to wonder if I’d been too paranoid about keeping our relationship secret, but the next day there were photos in the paper of us holding hands in the shopping centre car park.

  ‘Wow,’ I said, trying to take in what had happened and thinking back over the day. ‘We were kissing and stuff. Do you think they saw us?’

  ‘Don’t worry, they couldn’t have done,’ Ashley said. ‘Or I suppose that would have been in the paper too.’

  It was so weird to think we’d been followed to a shopping centre in Kent. ‘It’s like they were spying on us!’ I said to Ashley. ‘Can you believe it?’

  ‘Chill out, babe,’ he said. ‘Forget about it.’

  ‘It’s not the same for him,’ I found myself saying to Nicola and Kimberley the next day. ‘Nobody cares what he does as long as he has a good game. It’s all about the football, but it’s different for me because the fans want to know everything, and not just about the music.’

  There was no answer to that, but the good thing about my relationship with Ashley being out in the open was that we no longer had to ask our friends and families to keep our secret, which we had done up to now.

  My mam knew all about Ashley because she still came down regularly from Newcastle to do all my washing, and I introduced them one day in my flat. ‘He seems nice,’ Mam said, in between loading the washing machine and asking what needed ironing.

  ‘He is,’ I said very matter-of-factly, as that’s how my mother is, but really I wanted to scream, ‘Oh my God, I could not be any more in love with this person!’

  Ashley’s mam Sue had known about our relationship for a little while too, ever since one really cringe-worthy morning when she unexpectedly let herself into Ashley’s flat.

  ‘Hello!’ she smiled at me, looking a bit surprised.

  ‘Oh, hiii …’ I blushed.

  I had just emerged from the bedroom wearing a pair of Ashley’s basketball shorts and one of his T-shirts.

  Ashley’s aunty was there too and they both started looking at me as if to say, ‘Really?’

  I was absolutely dying, and I scuttled back into the bedroom as soon as I could. Ashley was still in bed and he just laughed his head off, but I wanted to hide under the covers I was so embarrassed.

  By now I would always go straight to Ashley’s flat from work, so we were more or less living together even before I eventually moved in a few months later. It was so easy to be with him. Nothing was a problem. We didn’t argue about anything; he was just calm and nice to be around. We’d usually sit in watching trashy programmes on the telly, eating takeaways, or we’d occasionally go to the pictures or out for dinner.

  ‘I’m paying,’ I’d say, and he’d let me because he knew how independent I was like that.

  I’d cook for him from time to time too; terrible stuff like ready-made chicken kiev and oven chips, but Ashley never cooked a thing, ever. He didn’t even make a cup of tea, but I didn’t question it because I got why. He’d had an incredibly cosseted upbringing because he’d been with Arsenal since he was so young. He was used to being pampered and having literally everything done for him, and he just didn’t know any different.

  I understood, partly because I was starting to experience the VIP treatment more myself as Girls Aloud grew. In our first two years, in fact, we’d gone from doing our own hair and make-up in the car and wearing leggings that had holes in to having stylists fussing over us for hours and designers sending us dresses to wear. We’d built up a good fan base too, and even some of the top music critics were warming to us and giving us great reviews.

  November 2004 was quite a turning point for the group. We did ‘I’ll Stand By You’ in aid of Children in Need, and it became our second number one. We also performed at the Royal Variety Show in front of Prince Charles, which was really special, plus we released our second album, What Will the Neighbours Say?

  We’d all been worried about being dropped by the label after our first few records because nobody expected us to have staying power. We had very nearly been dropped after the first album, actually, because sales weren’t as good as Polydor hoped for. Thankfully, Peter Loraine, who was then head of marketing at the label, believed in us and fought our corner. We owe him a huge debt of gratitude, and to have a second album was a blessing.

  Now that we had two albums’ worth of material we all wanted to do a tour. Performing live on stage was what we all loved most of all, and we were also excited about creating some merchandise, which meant we would need sponsorship deals too. It was obvious we needed a hands-on manager to help us move forward, because these were not things we knew how to organise on our own. So far we’d muddled through, but we’d had quite a few sobering experiences along the way.

  I remember once going on a Dutch TV show and having no cue, and we all just stumbled onto the stage looking bewildered when the host shouted ‘applows, applows’ to get the audience to clap. It was just so embarrassing. Another time the label had sent the wrong backing track and our choreography didn’t fit the music. We ended up bumping into each other on stage, looking like total amateurs.

  ‘We’ve reached crisis point,’ I s
aid to Kimberley at the end of 2004.

  ‘You’re right. Everyone’s saying the same thing. Let’s hold crisis talks.’

  Kimberley was as level-headed as ever when we all gathered together.

  ‘We need management, and we need to work out who’s best for us,’ she said.

  As a group we never argued about everyday things like picking outfits, for instance, because whenever the clothes arrived for fittings it was usually very obvious who would suit what, as we were all different shapes and sizes. It was clear that finding one manager to suit all our five very different personalities could be a lot trickier, though. Sarah was flapping, talking at one hundred miles per hour, while Nicola was listening quietly and Nadine was just sitting there taking it all in and making sensible suggestions.

  We eventually all agreed to take advice from Peter Loraine because he knew girl bands so well. He was the man who gave the Spice Girls their nicknames, and of course he’d already been a driving force behind Girls Aloud. We knew he would help, but we didn’t realise quite how easy he would make it for us.

  Straight away, Peter suggested Hillary Shaw, who had managed the hugely successful Eighties’ band Bananarama, so she clearly knew how to handle a group of girls. We all liked Hillary as soon as we met her, and we were delighted when she agreed to come on board in the spring of 2005, before our first tour. It was so easy it felt completely meant to be, and I had a great feeling about working with her.

  ‘You know what, I feel like my life is really coming together,’ I said to Ashley one night. ‘I’m used to everything being a struggle and I can’t believe things are running so smoothly.’

  I wasn’t just talking about Girls Aloud. My relationship with Ashley was going really well too, so much so that I really wanted him to meet my dad.

  ‘I’m taking you up to Newcastle,’ I said on the spur of the moment. ‘It’s important to me that you meet me dad and see where I come from.’

  We’d been dating for about six months by now and Ashley agreed, though he admitted he felt a bit nervous at the prospect of meeting my dad.

  ‘At least I know what Newcastle is like, though,’ he said. ‘I’ve been there loads of times.’

  It was true that Ashley had played plenty of matches in Newcastle and he knew the football ground and the city centre hotels very well, but that wasn’t where I was from. I knew he didn’t really have clue about what it was like in Heaton, but even so nothing could have prepared me for what happened when he went round to my dad’s house for the very first time.

  I could see Ashley was feeling shy but he didn’t seem to be himself at all, and he barely said a word after I’d made the introductions.

  ‘Shall ah myek weh a cup of tea?’ my dad asked, but Ashley just sat there nodding and looking a bit confused.

  ‘What’s up?’ I whispered.

  ‘I can hardly understand a word he’s sayin’, babe.’

  That was the first surprise, and the next was when one of my dad’s neighbours came round to say hello to Ashley. I’d known this young girl for years and she’s a real sweetheart, but my heart was in my mouth because she has special needs and tends to say inappropriate things, especially about boys.

  ‘This is Ashley,’ my dad said.

  ‘I know,’ she replied excitedly, eyeing Ashley up and down.

  It was inevitable she was going to pass a remark about his looks and I just hoped she wasn’t going to say anything too sexual, which she had a habit of doing. Never in a million years could I have guessed what she was about to say next, though.

  ‘I’ve seen him in magazines, but I don’t fancy him because he’s a darkie.’

  Ashley spat his tea out and I’ve never seen my dad looking so embarrassed in all his life. Nobody blamed the girl, of course, but my dad steered her out of the house as quickly as he could and apologised to Ashley over and over again.

  ‘Eee, I don’t know where she got that from,’ my dad said.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, I’ve been called a lot worse,’ Ashley said. ‘Mind you, it’s usually when I’m on the pitch …’

  It took a while for us all to see the funny side, but when we did we laughed about it for years afterwards.

  My dad told me he liked Ashley, and he teased me many times by saying that the only thing he would have changed about him was the football club he played for. It meant a lot to me to have that seal of approval; and somehow my life down south didn’t seem so separated from my home and family in Newcastle once Ashley had been up there.

  London had felt like a totally different world when I first moved down south, and it had taken me ages to settle and stop travelling home to Newcastle at every possible opportunity. Nicola had been the same, and when we first got in the group I’d often drop her off in Liverpool and then drive over to Newcastle, even if we only got to spend half a day with our families. Whenever I was at home I used to absolutely love walking to the corner shop near my mam’s house in my pyjamas, to get a pint of milk for breakfast, or going to Mrs Clough’s for some sweets. It’s what I’d always done, and I just felt like me.

  ‘People don’t get me down there,’ I would say to Gillian. ‘I feel like I’m on another planet. They have a totally different sense of humour and I say things for a laugh sometimes and they look at me like I’m a crazy person.’

  ‘I know,’ my sister would say. ‘I remember that from when we used to go down there together. I don’t know how you put up with it, to be honest.’

  Sometimes I wondered why I did, I was that homesick. It broke my heart to see how much my nieces and nephews had grown up each time I went back home, because it made me realise how much I was missing out on, and I always tried not to leave it too long between visits.

  I remember driving up to Newcastle to see everybody in March 2005, because our first tour was about to start and I knew I’d be away for weeks. I popped up on a quick visit on my own.

  ‘Hi Cheryl!’ I heard a familiar voice call as I headed to Gillian’s dad’s house.

  As I turned around I got a shock to see my old friend John Courtney, whose mam lived three doors down from Gillian’s dad. He looked absolutely nothing like the John I’d grown up with. The cheeky, smiling boy I shared my first kiss with and the talented young footballer who had aspirations to play for Newcastle had completely disappeared. John was all gaunt and scruffy, with terrible skin and a haunted look in his eyes. I’d heard a few months earlier that he’d started taking heroin, which shocked me completely because John had always been one of the cool people who wasn’t on it. I’d never imagined he would get sucked in, and now it was devastating to see him like this.

  ‘Can I have your autograph?’ he asked.

  I knew he had put his family through hell recently and had stolen from them to buy heroin. That’s how I found out about his habit, because Gillian had told me about that.

  ‘What do you want my autograph for?’

  ‘It’s amazing what you’ve done. I’m so proud of you, what you’ve achieved.’

  I asked him what happened to his football and he said he was going to get back into it.

  ‘Who’s the autograph to?’ I said angrily. I knew that John didn’t want my autograph for himself and that he was probably hoping to sell it for a few quid.

  ‘Me, of course,’ he lied.

  I was so upset with him I scribbled on a bit of paper: ‘To John, get yourself off this shit. You deserve more than this, Cheryl,’ and I shoved it in his hand.

  Not only did I want to make absolutely sure he couldn’t sell my autograph to buy heroin, I hoped my words might push him in the right direction.

  After my visit I thought about John all the way back to London, and about how different our lives had turned out.

  ‘There’s always hope,’ I told myself, thinking back to when my life was a mess, and how I had managed to turn it around. ‘Come on, John, it’s not too late.’

  Deep down I think I knew I was kidding myself. I had come back from depression and bad rela
tionships, not drug addiction. There was a world of difference, and I had already seen what happened to people who got hooked on heroin.

  This was when I first realised how important it was to me that Ashley had been up to Newcastle, and seen where I was from. The press always made a big deal of the fact I might be singing in front of Prince Charles one minute and then drinking tea on a council estate the next. On the face of it I was living two separate lives, but I never felt like that inside. I was always just me, the same Cheryl I’d always been. I guess I felt like you had to know Newcastle to really know me, because being a Geordie is so much a part of my character and is so special to me. Now I felt that Ashley was part of my whole life.

  It didn’t matter that sometimes his reality was so far removed from mine. Sometimes. For example, Ashley would come home with a new earring he’d paid £25,000 for and I’d say, ‘You’re jokin’, aren’t you?’ I was gradually earning more money, but even if I’d had it sitting in the bank there was no way I would ever have spent that sort of cash on one earring back then. Ashley would roll his eyes as if to say, ‘I can afford it, why not?’ but he didn’t argue with me, because he knew where I was coming from.

  I remember seeing a pair of Christian Louboutins for £800 that I’d have loved to have owned, but back then I just couldn’t justify paying out that sort of money on a pair of shoes.

  ‘It’s just wrong,’ I’d say to Ashley.

  When I started earning a lot more money I wished I could give my family things, but it wasn’t that simple. Geordies have so much pride they would never accept anything from me, and I’d have to get round it by giving them gifts for birthdays and at Christmas that they would not be able to refuse. I got my dad a car and my mam a new kitchen when the time felt right. I enjoyed spoiling them but it was never unnecessary or excessive.

  Ashley, though, had been paid a huge salary for as long as he could remember, and he just didn’t have the same hang ups about spending large amounts of money as I did. One day I got home from work to find my car hoisted up on a lorry, having bigger wheels fitted. I’d treated myself to a Mercedes SLK sportscar when I felt I’d worked hard enough to have earned it, and I loved it.