Daring to Dream

by Sam Bailey

  I was in hospital for a week and I was going round the children’s ward helping the nurses cheer up the other kids. They even got me a little nurse outfit and that was such a boost to me because I finally felt accepted after all that time feeling like an outcast. My classmates also sent get-well presents in for me. I used to collect those little rubbers that you put on top of your pencil and every single one of my classmates brought one in for me and put it in a box with a card. There were ones shaped like animals and ones that smelt of strawberries and all sorts. I was so excited because I thought it meant the other children in my class cared about me. Sadly, as soon as I went back to school it was back to being the way it had always been. I tried to join in a game of Kiss Chase on the first day (well, Hobble Chase in my case) and all the boys ran away from me shouting ‘Eurgh!’ But that didn’t stop me fancying boys.

  My first ever childhood crush was on a boy called Ben Disdin, who I thought was amazing. To me he looked like a model, but he wasn’t interested in me. I don’t think he was interested in any girls at that point; he preferred playing British Bulldog. My first kiss was with a boy called Daniel Cappuccio underneath a coat in the school playground. He had dark hair and glasses and his uncle was Tony Cascarino, who used to play for Millwall, so I felt like I’d kissed a celebrity. I was only nine and it was a very innocent peck, but I was so happy that someone wanted to come within ten yards of me after years of being either ignored or made fun of by all of the boys.

  I loved our house in Loxley Drive but when I was 11 we got offered the chance to exchange it for a four-bedroom place on the North Cray estate in Sidcup. It meant we would have a lot more room but I was gutted to leave Walnuts Road. My poor mum had to take me on two buses to school every day and then go to work at Specac. She had three jobs at that time: one in the factory, one in the greasy spoon, and she also worked part time as a cleaner. I’ve always been a hard worker and I think I get that from her because she literally never stopped.

  I was quite intimidated when we first moved onto the North Cray because it was all very new and big and a lot of the travelling community lived in the area. It felt like my first day at school all over again because it seemed as though all the children my age knew each other. I worried again about fitting in, but about a week after we arrived I was down at the local park and I joined in a football game. Before I knew it I was hanging around with the local gang of kids all the time. Every night after school I’d go down to the park and mess around and play. I went from being a nobody at school to being a part of something cool. Everyone on the estate was hard and fighting was the main method of communication; I knew they all had my back.

  The main ringleader was a girl called Tammy and I really looked up to her. She was younger than me but she was clearly in charge of everyone. We used to play Knock Down Ginger and Garden Hop, where we would race each other through our neighbours’ gardens and try and not get caught. People would be sat in their front rooms watching telly and they’d see someone zoom past their window like a rocket. Another thing we’d do a lot was make funny phone calls. We’d go to the phone box and call a random number and say, ‘Is Mr Wall there please?’ and they’d said no. And we’d say, ‘Is Mrs Wall there please?’ and they’d say no. So then we’d say, ‘Are any of the Walls there?’ and when they said, ‘No’, we’d all shout together, ‘Well how does your house stand up then?’ I think that was quite a common gag around that time.

  We lived right near a park called The Five Arches, which had shallow rivers and big trees and we hung out there a lot. I would ‘go out’ with a lad one minute, then we’d break up and I’d be going out with another boy by the end of the day. We didn’t ever kiss each other but we’d call each other ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’. My first proper kiss was when I was 11, with a guy called James Carter who had a skinhead. It happened in someone’s shed and I don’t think we were a match made in heaven, but I was so proud I’d finally had a full-on snog.

  I desperately wanted a bike back then because all the local kids had one. They used to come and call for me on their BMXs and I could never go out riding with them. I begged my parents to get me one and in the end they relented – and bought me a fold-up bike. Of all the bikes they could have got me! It looked like a commuter bike and I was so embarrassed I refused to ride it. I know my parents meant well because they thought it would be good for me to take it when we went to visit my grandparents, but it was no BMX.

  Thankfully, shortly after we moved to North Cray I finally stopped wetting myself and it was such a relief to feel ‘normal’ for the first time in my life. None of the experts I went to see could ever explain what caused it, and I have no idea what made it stop. It just kind of fizzled out, and I was so bloody happy when it did.

  I missed our old house but I liked my new friends and my new bedroom, so that kind of made up for it. For some reason back then I really wanted to be American, so my room was covered in American flags and anything else America-related I could get my hands on. I even spoke in an American accent sometimes. I had a few posters up as well, mainly of East 17, who I was obsessed with. Brian Harvey was my favourite but I actually ended up snogging another band member, Terry, much later on down the line when my friend Zoe and I went to London to pretty much stalk the band. I loved East 17 so much I even wanted to hold a peace concert in my back garden between them and Take That because I was sick of them arguing all the time. I just wanted them to be happy.

  Funnily enough I also met Take That when I was younger. I went along to a concert in Crystal Palace where they were playing before they made it big. It was one of their first ever gigs and my mum said I couldn’t go, but I sneaked out and went anyway. It was so hot that day they were throwing water over the crowd to try and keep us cool. I was right at the front of the stage and I got squashed and I couldn’t breathe, so I got pulled over the barrier into the pit right in front while Take That were performing. It was when Robbie used to have a dummy round his neck all the time, and he gave me the one he was wearing that day because the band felt so bad about me getting crushed. I saw Robbie again at Soccer Aid in June 2014 and I talked to him about it. He remembers that day really well, but not surprisingly he didn’t remember me!

  So my bedroom was basically a mix of American memorabilia and boy bands. My brothers shared a bedroom and they had a futon sofa each, and my parents had another bedroom. The fourth bedroom was where my dad kept all of his instruments and I always used to come home from school and go straight in there to play on them (while being very careful not to damage anything).

  My dad used to drink Colt 45 Malt Liquor and we had these massive Colt 45 cushions on our sofa. If you drank enough cans you could send off tokens and get different gifts from a catalogue and they were his pride and joy. My dad used to drink a lot, and if my mum was in the mood she did too. I don’t remember a lot about that in my very early years, but there were always musicians around the house and drink was always a part of that. There was rarely a non-alcoholic moment in our house.

  My dad’s drinking got worse when we moved to North Cray, and when my parents rowed as a result I was often left in the middle of it all. My brothers were old enough to go out on their own, so they’d be hanging around the estate getting into all sorts of trouble and I’d be stuck in the house with the arguments. I used to sit on the stairs and watch them through the bannisters. I had to witness my mum and dad arguing and getting physically violent with each other so many times and I couldn’t do anything about it.

  My mum is left-handed and if my dad was drunk enough he’d forget and try to block her right arm and end up with a black eye. My dad never hit my mum and he never hit any of us, but my mum didn’t have much control when she drank so she’d lash out. I remember going into the living room and literally banging their heads together once. I was only about 12 but it was the only thing I could think of doing to try and make them stop. I used to cry and beg them not to throw things at each other, but when they were in full flow there was nothi
ng anyone could do.

  In the end the only thing I discovered would make them take notice of me was if I took their bottles of booze into the kitchen and threatened to pour them away. As soon as I did that they would behave because they were so scared I was going to waste their alcohol. The hatred that came out when they had drink in their systems was unbelievable, but the next day it would all be forgotten and we’d be back to normal again. You weren’t allowed to mention anything about it and it was as if it had never happened. I knew not to say anything because Mum and Dad would get really angry. Everything was brushed under the carpet until next time. They would be totally fine with each other and smile and say, ‘Have a lovely day. See you later!’ I found it so confusing.

  It was the same with my brothers. They got away with murder because my parents gave up trying to keep them on the straight and narrow. If ever I was off school ill, I knew that the minute my mum went to work my brothers would magically reappear having bunked off. About half an hour later their girlfriends would turn up and they’d sit around watching TV and snogging. One time they tied me to a tree in the garden because I was being an annoying younger sister and asking their girlfriends all kinds of questions. They left me out there for hours; every now and again they’d pop out and give me some food and then disappear back inside. I must have driven them up the wall. I was always sneaking into their rooms to play their computer games and borrowing their stuff.

  Even when I reached my early teens I liked being laddish and I used to go fishing with my friends. I kept a pot of maggots underneath my bed and one day when my mum was cleaning she heard a noise coming from it. She opened the box and hundreds of flies flew out and I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me. I wasn’t allowed to fish again after that and as I was such a tomboy I was gutted. My mum was always trying to make me more girlie but I wasn’t having any of it. One of my favourite items of clothing was a tracksuit that said ‘Here comes trouble’ on it. And I loved trainers. I’m not even sure I owned any dresses back then.

  Things were so up and down with my parents and I’ll never forget sitting in our living room one day when the phone rang. My mum picked it up, listened to whatever the person had to say, put the phone down and then went for my dad. I’ve never seen her look so furious. The caller was a woman called Jenny who claimed she’d had an affair with my dad ten years previously. My dad owned up to it and my parents had a blazing row. After that my dad disappeared for about five weeks. To this day I still don’t know if my mum chucked him out or if he went to detox. I just know that he wasn’t around for a while. Sometimes he’d disappear for a while and Mum used to tell us he was working away from home and I have no idea if he really was or not. Even though they had this ridiculously volatile relationship she was happier once he was back home. It was a classic case of ‘can’t live with each other, can’t live without’.

  My parents always had a massive stock of alcohol in their drinks cabinet at all times. Sometimes I’d take the vodka bottles into the kitchen, pour half of it away and fill the rest up with water and they had no idea. They both used to have Five Alive as a mixer and it had a pretty strong flavour, so thankfully they didn’t notice. Dad also had crates of Special Brew and when I got to about 13 I’d be able to sneak the odd can out of the house because my dad was too drunk to notice. I’d go over to the park and share it with my mates, but it tasted like lighter fuel and I’d be plastered after a few sips.

  I used to try and roll my dad’s fags for him sometimes when he passed out, and the first time I ever did it they looked like big fat cigars. When he woke up he smoked one, probably out of politeness, and nearly singed his eyebrows. Both my parents smoked and from the age of about 11 Mum used to send me up to the corner shop with a note saying ‘Can Sam please have 20 Superkings. Thank you, Mrs Bailey.’ You couldn’t get away with doing that these days!

  I begged my dad to stop drinking so many times. I’d come home from school and random people would be sitting in our house drinking and smoking wacky baccy at 3.30 in the afternoon. I think that was the norm for a lot of musician types and I guess I didn’t know any difference. Dad wasn’t a pub drinker; he liked being at home, which meant that after he’d had a few drinks his mates would turn up with their bongos and guitars and they’d all have a jamming session and get wasted. Sometimes I’d stay up with them because it was so noisy I knew that if I went to bed I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

  As a result of what I witnessed when I was growing up, I barely touch alcohol now. The last time I got drunk was in 2008 and that was because I was drinking cocktails and they didn’t taste like they had any booze in them. If my husband and I go out I may have one WKD vodka, but he knows that after a few sips I’ll pass it to him. He can always tell when I’ve had enough and he’ll look at me and say, ‘Ready?’ and I’ll hand it over. I don’t even like being around booze now, and my husband knows I don’t like him drinking in front of the children or getting drunk if I’m in the house. He can do what he likes when he goes out, but we don’t have alcohol in the fridge unless we’re having people over. I’ve always said to him that if he comes home and goes straight to the fridge for a beer we’re over, because I know how it starts. I’ve seen it first-hand.

  CHAPTER 2

  BORN TO RUN

  With all of the drinking and fighting that was going on at home, it was important for me to have an outlet and a reason to get away from everything, and that was, and remained, sport. When I was 13 I started going to a local youth club. It was 25p to get in and they had a boys’ football team I really wanted to play for. I had long wavy hair all the way down my back like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, but the boys said the only way I could play for them was if I cut it all off. I was so desperate to be on the team I went home, got a pair of scissors and chopped off the lot. My mum went ballistic and took me to the hairdressers where they cut my hair into a short style. I had curtains, a long fringe, which were really in with lads at the time, so I basically looked like a small boy. But it did mean I got to play for that team for two seasons as a forward, so it was well worth it. It was only when I started developing boobs that I had to call it a day because I couldn’t get away with looking like one of the guys any longer.

  Thankfully, soon after I left the lads’ team they started a girls’ team, so it all worked out perfectly and I was able to grow my hair again, much to my mum’s delight. The local kids and I also used to play football in the park a lot. We graffitied a goal onto a wall and even though the area was full of bits of broken glass and empty crisp packets it was our place, and we loved it. I’d come home from school, watch Grange Hill, have my tea and go down straight to the park until it got dark. My mum even sent a letter to my school saying that I didn’t want to play netball; I wanted to play football, which opened up a can of worms. Loads of other girls decided they wanted to do the same and it was a proper headache for the PE teachers.

  Even though it wasn’t easy at times, I had some brilliant moments living in North Cray. Every Friday my dad would bring home a McDonald’s or KFC and we’d have dinner as a family. We also used to have what we called ‘Henry VIII dinners’. Mum would make a leg of lamb, potatoes and vegetables and we’d sit on the floor in the living room and eat the lot. You weren’t allowed to use a knife and fork and we drank out of silver goblets. We’d play folk music in the background, and then after dinner we’d watch a film Mum had hired from the video shop. Growing up, that was one of my absolute favourite things to do.

  On Christmas day we would all sit round the table for lunch – if my mum hadn’t passed out by then – and put all our names in a hat. You had to act like the person whose name you’d pulled out for the entire meal. Whoever pulled my name out would fidget and talk a lot of rubbish and go to the toilet a lot. If you were pretending to be one of my brothers you’d act like you were on Kevin & Perry Go Large. Us kids always wanted to be my dad so we could get away with swearing. I loved being able to shout, ‘Pass the fucking gravy!’ Whoever was my mum
would obviously pretend to be completely drunk, and it was the one day where we got to see how we truly all saw each other.

  Christmas was always brilliant fun, despite the drinking. We’d all get a black bin liner full of presents at the end of our beds every year (even when we were far too old for them!) and I used to get so excited the night before knowing what I was going to wake up to. One year I asked for these really cool LA Gear high-top trainers and I was the happiest girl alive when I got them. On Boxing Day we went to visit some friends of my parents’ in Crystal Palace and my cousin David and I went to the park. I got really muddy, so I left my trainers outside the front door and someone nicked them! I was so upset.

  The next year I asked my nan for some Nike trainers, but when I unwrapped them they were these awful plastic ‘Nicks’ she’d probably got from the market. They looked like clowns’ trainers and my brothers found it hilarious. I didn’t want to hurt my nan’s feelings so I had to wear them all day and I looked ridiculous clomping round the house in these giant, brightly coloured shoes.

  One year when I was in my teens my mum thought it would be really funny to get my nan a vibrator. It was only a small silver one and my parents told her it was a drinks stirrer. She had no idea and when we all went round for drinks on Boxing Day she was using it to stir everyone’s drinks and we were in hysterics. We never did tell her what it was really for.