Chanelle Hayes - Baring My Heart

by Hayes, Chanelle

  We went for a drive and, after a few awkward minutes, I pulled over the car.

  ‘Do you realise how much you hurt me?’ I started off. ‘Don’t think anything you can say will ever take that away. Because it won’t. The way you abandoned me was despicable, Spencer.’

  Right then, he put his head in his hands and cried. I’d never seen him do this, so it was quite a shock.

  Through his tears, he said, ‘I’m so, so sorry. I can hardly live with myself for what I did to you. I hate myself for it. Can you ever forgive me?’

  I felt surprisingly calm. It was all done and dusted as far as I was concerned and I didn’t want him back in my life.

  ‘Spencer, you broke my heart into a million pieces but I’ve dealt with it now. It’s in the past.’

  I’d got the apology I’d wanted at long last, so I couldn’t feel angry any more. After having his baby growing inside me for several weeks, I suppose there was a weird bond underneath all the pain.

  He looked into my eyes and said, ‘So is there no chance we could ever get back together?’

  ‘I’ve moved on, Spencer, it’s too late,’ I said.‘I’ve had to change as a person since what happened. I can’t go back now.’

  ‘Please, Chanelle. I know we can get back on track,’ he begged. ‘Remember how good we were together.’

  ‘Spencer, if I’m honest with you, a part of me will always hate you for what you did. So I can’t love you again.’

  He nodded sadly and that was that. Who knows, it could have been so different. I occasionally find myself thinking about what we might have had together if he’d been man enough just to admit he had been terrified. But it wasn’t to be. He texted me on New Year’s Day that year because that’s when our baby would have been due. ‘Thinking of you today,’ he wrote. It was too late for all of that though.

  A few months later, shortly before my Big Brother experience began, he got back in touch again. ‘Look, I’m really sorry, please can you forgive me?’ he said, yet again.

  ‘I can’t, Spencer. I’m willing to try and look past it and be friends. But I’d never trust you again. I can’t picture a future with you.’

  But when the calls kept coming, I stopped answering them and told Mum to say I was out if he dropped by. Part of me wanted to try to look past all that hurt but I’d put up a wall that I couldn’t knock down.

  The next time my path crossed with Spencer’s, it was over a ridiculous story he sold about me while I was in Big Brother. I’ll tell you about that incident later but, in the meantime, there was the small matter of me actually getting into TV’s most famous madhouse.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  This is Davina!

  Despite what you might think, it was never my intention to be on Big Brother. It hadn’t ever crossed my mind. I had this vision of finishing college, going to university and then getting a career as a speech therapist going. So when my college friend Lisa asked me to keep her company while she went to a BB audition in Manchester, I agreed but I had no intention of giving it a go myself.

  While we were queuing with all the other oddballs, the Channel 4 researchers chatted to the wannabe housemates, homing in on anyone quirky-looking or ultra-loud. After a while, when my feet were beginning to ache, a young guy with a clipboard approached me and Lisa.

  ‘So why do you want to be on Big Brother?’ he said, looking straight at me.

  ‘Oh, I’m not auditioning,’ I told him, putting my hand on Lisa’s arm. ‘I’m just here to support my friend.’

  ‘Ah, I see. But I’m afraid you can’t go any further in the line unless you audition too,’ he said with a smile.

  I have no idea if that was true or if he just saw some sort of potential in me but, before I could reply, Lisa said, ‘Oh, yeah, that’s fine. She’d love to audition as well, wouldn’t you, Chanelle?’

  ‘Erm, OK. I guess so,’ I said, shrugging my shoulders. ‘I might as well now we’ve come all this way.’

  And suddenly, the idea didn’t seem so ridiculous after all. What did I have to lose – apart from a few hours of my time? It turned out to be quite fun and the interview was straightforward enough – I just had to blather on about myself, which – trust me – is no challenge. Whenever I’m nervous, I speak at a million miles an hour, so I was just gabbling on about anything and everything. I’m surprised they could understand a single word I was saying but it must have worked because, at the end of it, I was asked to fill out loads of forms and someone then called to ask me back for a second phase of interviews. While this was quite exciting, I did feel bad because Lisa didn’t get any further and, of course, was disappointed.

  ‘What did you do that I didn’t?’ she asked.

  ‘I honestly haven’t got the faintest idea.’ All I can think is that they thought my likeness to a certain Spice Girl was a good selling point because they kept asking me about her. I also told them the story about my real mum’s murder and they seemed to think that was fascinating. I guess it helped that I wasn’t just some clueless bimbo. In fact, when they did IQ tests on all the potential housemates at the audition, mine came out as 114. This may not actually mean much to you but the average British IQ is 100, so I clearly had more brains than some of the typical airheads in that room!

  I was called back a second and third time and, even though I never actually thought I’d get chosen, I went along with it out of curiosity. The whole process was so cloak-and-dagger that it was quite exciting. One time, I had to get a train from Wakefield to London and was cryptically told to meet a girl with a spotty umbrella at Covent Garden tube station. You’d think I was trying to get into the MI5, not a bloody reality-TV show!

  Then, a few weeks before the series began in May 2007, I was called to another meeting where one of the producers said, ‘Right, Chanelle, you’ve made it onto our final shortlist.’

  ‘What? That’s amazing,’ I said, although I didn’t have the foggiest why. ‘What does that mean then?’

  ‘Basically, it means that we think you’ve got the full package,’ said this woman. ‘You’re glamorous, confident and you’re clever. Plus you look like one of the most famous celebrities in the world.’

  ‘Thanks very much!’ I said.

  ‘So this is where it gets serious. We’ve selected a number of potential housemates for the final list but, if you want to make the final line-up, you’ve got to keep it a secret from everyone you know.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘So I can’t tell anyone at all?’

  ‘Well, you’ll probably have to let your parents know. But they must be sworn to secrecy too. If this leaks out anywhere in the media, you will automatically be dropped from the shortlist.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry, I’m good at keeping secrets.’ Bloody hell, this was intense. But she hadn’t finished yet.

  ‘You’ll also need to go into hiding for a while, so your identity doesn’t leak out.’

  ‘What, I have to live in a cave or something?’

  The producer laughed. ‘Not exactly but, if you’re still keen to be involved, you’ll go abroad with a chaperone and keep a low profile for a few weeks.’

  ‘What about college?’

  ‘You’ll have to arrange a significant amount of time off. We realise it’s a big ask and you might decide it’s all too much – which we’d entirely understand. It’s entirely up to you, of course. Perhaps you need to go away and have a good think about it?’

  Well, what could I say? ‘Oh, actually, I’m going to turn down this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity because I don’t want to skip a few lessons or go on holiday for a bit.’ As bloody if! Wild horses would not stop me doing this now.

  ‘No, that’s all fine,’ I said with a nod. ‘No problem.’

  When I got home, I told Mum straight away. I thought she would kill me for even considering taking off so much time halfway through my A Levels but I was wrong – she was thrilled!

  ‘You’re kidding?’ she said as I broke the news. ‘I knew you were up to
something. This is so exciting!’ She paused. ‘Right, we need to get you some new pyjamas. And you’ll need to get your hair done.’

  ‘All right, Mum, calm down!’ I said and laughed. ‘I haven’t got a place yet – there’s still a long way to go. But promise me you won’t tell Dad. He’ll go mad and there’s no point until we know for sure whether I’ve made it.’

  ‘Yes, he will be furious,’ she agreed. ‘But you can go back and finish your A Levels afterwards, can’t you?’

  ‘Definitely,’ I said. ‘I’ve worked so bloody hard for them, I’m not giving them up now.’

  Mum and I managed to keep our secret from Dad, although it was hard because we wanted to talk about it all the time. A few weeks before the show was due to start, I headed to France with my allocated chaperone, who was called Jenny. Fortunately, we got on really well and we’re still friends now. But we had to keep moving around every three days or so, as the producers were so worried about the housemates’ identities being leaked. It was completely ridiculous and over the top – I felt like I was in a James Bond film!

  It was also a nightmare getting my various different stories straight. I’d told college and my friends there that I needed a few weeks off for an operation on my polycystic ovaries, which they obviously had no choice but to accept. But I’d told my very closest friends that I was going to Cuba for a family wedding because I knew they’d want to come and see me in hospital otherwise! As for Dad, Mum and I cooked up this elaborate fib that I was going on a lengthy field trip to Wales with college. I was leading a total double life!

  A few days before the start of the show, Jenny and I came back to London and stayed at the Danubius Hotel, opposite Lord’s Cricket Ground in London. I thought by this point that I probably hadn’t made it into the final line-up because we hadn’t heard anything. I wasn’t allowed to go outside at all, so it was quite a claustrophobic experience. Then, the day before the launch, Jenny took the all-important phone call.

  ‘Right,’ I heard her say. ‘That’s great news. I’ll tell her.’

  As she came off the phone, I grabbed her with both hands. ‘What? Am I in?’

  ‘Yes, Chanelle,’ she said and beamed. ‘You’re in!’

  Even then, I didn’t believe it. ‘But maybe they’re just saying that and I’m not really,’ I said, pacing around the room.

  ‘No, trust me. This is it,’ Jenny assured me. ‘You are definitely a housemate. A hundred per cent.’

  ‘OH. MY. GOD!’ I screamed and we both started jumping up and down. This was the best news ever!

  ‘Let’s order champagne,’ I said, gasping. ‘We have got to celebrate!’

  And so we did, late into that night – although Jenny, being the ultimate pro, was careful that we didn’t draw any attention to ourselves. It’d be the biggest disaster now if anything scuppered my chances of going into that house.

  Although it was still meant to be top secret, I called Mum, who was beside herself with excitement. ‘Shall I tell your Dad now?’ she asked.

  ‘No, Mum, we can’t! Not when we’ve come this far. He might phone them up and tell them I can’t go in, or go to the press or something. We have got to keep it quiet until I’m in there,’ I told her. ‘Promise me you won’t say anything.’

  She, of course, agreed. We both hated keeping such a big secret from him but we knew how he’d react. As it happened, the press had already been lurking around outside our house for several days by this point. God knows how they’d got wind of my name but Dad had been saying to Mum, ‘It’s strange, the street’s very busy today. Why are there so many people out there?’

  She’d managed to throw him off the scent and it wasn’t until the morning the show began, on 30 May, that he found out the news. A photographer had plucked up the courage to approach him outside our house and said, ‘Is it true that your daughter is going into Big Brother?’

  The penny dropped and Dad stormed inside. ‘Christine!’ he yelled. ‘What the hell is going on? Is it true about Chanelle going on that awful TV show?’

  Poor Mum had no choice but to admit the truth and, just as we’d feared, he was so angry he actually phoned up the channel, demanding to speak to the producers responsible. He ordered them, ‘Don’t you dare put my daughter on TV!’

  But because I was 19 and an adult who could make my own choices, they told him the final decision was down to me. And hell would have frozen over before I gave up this golden opportunity. No wonder then that dad actually threw his shoes at the TV when he saw me go into the house that night! Still, it’s worth mentioning that his anger didn’t last too long because, once the show was underway and all these reporters were knocking on the door offering him £5,000 for an interview, he was like, ‘Oh, come on, Christine, let’s cheer up! Perhaps it’s time to get that new car and some new carpets now?’

  Back at the hotel, on launch morning, we woke early and I had to get into disguise for the journey over to the BB studios at Elstree. Jenny draped a huge towel over my head and we dashed outside to a waiting car. When we got there, we spent the whole day in a poky dressing room with no contact with the outside world. Not even the production staff were allowed to see me. It was horrible and my nerves were shot to pieces. I felt like crying all day and poor Jenny spent the entire time trying to calm me down. Food was brought to the room on trays as if I was a high-risk prisoner and, if I needed the toilet, I actually had to book in a slot so that I didn’t cross paths with any of the other housemates going in and out of their own dressing rooms. It was just insane.

  When early evening came, I changed into the Victoria Beckham-style grey dress I’d so carefully chosen and had my make-up done. By now, there were just a couple of hours to go until launch. Jenny gave me a couple of shots of vodka to try and relax me but I kept feeling like I couldn’t breathe properly. Eventually, after what felt like the longest wait in the entire world, I was ushered into a blacked-out car and driven the short distance across the compound for my big red-carpet arrival. It was then that I heard Davina’s booming voice introduce me: the BB adventure was finally beginning.

  Once I had escaped the booing crowd and disappeared inside the house, I felt strangely OK. Everyone else there was in exactly the same boat as me, not knowing a soul. I made a beeline straight for the twins, Sam and Amanda Marchant – who you might remember as Samanda. They were lovely and we got on well from the start. But what was weird about the first couple of days is that, out of the 11 of us, there were no blokes at all. So there were a lot of hormones raging, as you can imagine. I actually went into the Diary Room and said, ‘Why are there only girls?’

  But on the third day, there was a new arrival. An actual guy! For all of us younger ones, this was an exciting development. We needed a man to flirt with and to get the banter going.

  It just so happened that the bloke they had chosen to send in was quite hot. His name was Ziggy. And he was about to make my time in Big Brother very, very interesting.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Becks Effect

  Ziggy wasn’t his real name, of course. He was actually called Zach Lichman and he was a 26-year-old music promoter. He’d also once been a model and in a minor boy-band called Northern Line. They had about three singles before they split up.

  He came into the house wearing a smart black suit, white shirt and skinny tie and I couldn’t hide my reaction – he was fit! I’ve watched the clip back on YouTube and my face was hilarious – my jaw was literally hanging open in disbelief and I was jumping up and down on the couch! In her voiceover during his entrance, Davina had said, ‘I’m seeing a bit of Posh and Becks happening in the house with Chanelle.’ That was clearly what the producers were hoping for too – it was hardly rocket science, was it? To be honest, because I’m an outrageous flirt, I’d probably have been interested in anyone they sent in who was semi-good looking. But looking back, I can’t believe I fancied him because now he looks more like a mixture of Cliff Richard and Pat Sharp to me than a demi-god like Becks!
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  Still, I can’t deny the strong attraction between us at the time. We may have ended up fighting like cat and dog eventually but I genuinely don’t think I could have survived being on that show without having him in there.

  When he first arrived, all of us girls had been forced to give our suitcases back to Big Brother, so we barely had any clothes. But Ziggy gave me one of his grey T-shirts to wear, which I took as a sign that he quite liked me. Then, in his first task, he had to ‘date’ each of us, one by one, over dinner in a private room. I was the last date and, though it was kind of awkward, there was definite chemistry there. As he somehow ploughed through his 11th course, he told me, ‘I think you’re lovely. I’m drawn to you.’ I was quite taken aback by this. And then he said, ‘I’ve had a lot of dates today but this was one that I’ve been looking forward to.’ That was obviously music to my ears, although it was so weird to be having this intimate exchange so publicly on TV. And I was so nervous that I went and ruined it by blabbing, ‘Shall we go to bed?’ What an utter idiot.

  He looked very confused and spluttered, ‘Go to bed? What did you say?’

  I tried to correct myself but I could feel my face going bright red. ‘I just mean go to the bedroom or into the living room.’ Smooth, Chanelle. Really smooth!

  Thankfully, the misunderstanding was quickly forgotten and we did end up cuddling up in bed that night. We also shared our first kiss sometime in the small hours and I remember thinking, ‘I hope my parents don’t see this!’

  Things quickly progressed after that and our days were spent chilling out by the pool in the garden together, or lying around chatting in bed. It’s surprising how fast we became a proper couple but everything is so full-on in there and magnified about a hundred times, mainly because it is so bloody boring.

  In the first few weeks, I felt safe with him; like he was looking after me and protecting me from all the bitching that was going on – mainly at the hands of Charley Uchea. Remember her? She was the one who fancied herself as a real gangster girl and friend of the stars. She actually introduced herself as a ‘south-London “it” girl.’ How tragic. Ziggy said she was jealous of me but I think she was just an unhappy person inside. During one of our rows, the other housemates had to keep us apart as she screamed at me, ‘Posh Spice – you fucking wish! Ugly bitch!’ Urgh. She still sets my teeth on edge, even now – but where is she nowadays?