Chanelle Hayes - Baring My Heart

by Hayes, Chanelle

  ‘Right,’ said the doctor. ‘We’ll have to get you a police escort home then.’

  That was a shambles too because, when the police car pulled up at the surgery, the gates to the car park were locked.

  ‘I have to get those gates open,’ I told him. ‘I can’t get into my house otherwise.’

  Glancing up at the barbed wire reeled across the gates, the policeman said, ‘Nope, you won’t be getting in there tonight. Can you stay elsewhere?’

  He took me to my neighbour Lisa’s house and, sometime later, Mum dropped off a spare set of house keys. What a nightmare day. In the four years since then, I’ve only ever told a couple of my friends about it because I found the whole thing so embarrassing and demeaning. And I never told Matt because I was certain he would have really gone to town with it.

  Still, as I was soon to discover, my troubles with him were far from over.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Friends In Need

  About five months into my pregnancy, when I was feeling rotten, alone and very vulnerable, I had a surprising and very random text from this guy called Jack Tweed. He’d become quite well known, mostly because he was married to Jade Goody. Jade was a former Big Brother housemate like me and had died tragically of cervical cancer on Mother’s Day the previous year, leaving behind two young sons, Freddie and Bobby. She died just six weeks after marrying Jack and he was completely devastated by it.

  Jack had worked in nightclub promotion and I’d seen him around at events once or twice in the past but that was all. He was best mates with TOWIE’s Mark Wright, although that show hadn’t even started by this point. I wasn’t really a fan of that whole Essex crowd though and I used to see Mark a lot in Embassy nightclub because he was friends with the guys at Neon Management, my agency. I personally found Mark really sleazy. He was always offering to buy me drinks but I thought he was a bit of wet lettuce and looked really old!

  Jack, who was six months older than me, had got my number from one of the agents at Neon and his first text hardly blew me away: ‘Alright, babe?’ it said.

  ‘Er, hi,’ I replied. ‘Whose number is this?’

  ‘It’s Jack Tweed. What are you up to?’

  ‘Nothing much.’

  What else could I say? It was extremely weird but we carried on texting – just inane banter to begin with but, as I said, I was lonely and craving company. Being pregnant, I was knackered a lot of the time and every day at 5pm I’d lie on the sofa and watch Deal or No Deal. Then Jack started watching it too at his home down in Essex and we’d text back and forth all the way through it.

  It had been reported in the celeb mags by now that I was pregnant with Matt’s child and I assumed Jack knew. But it turns out he had no idea. Because I’d been so sick in the early stages of pregnancy, I was still hardly showing, so I looked totally normal in recent photos. People had even accused me of faking the whole baby thing for publicity. As if I’d be so desperate to do anything like that.

  But I was also clueless about what was going on in Jack’s life at the time. I had no idea he was up on a rape charge. Perhaps I’d been living in a bubble with all the drama in my own life but, somehow, this news had passed me by.

  As our friendly text exchanges continued, I mentioned to Jack that I was going to London for a couple of days on a photo-shoot and he said, ‘Can I take you out for a meal when you’re down?’

  ‘I’m not sure, I’ll have to think about it,’ I said. It really was an odd situation to find myself in and I couldn’t work out how I felt about it.

  I turned to Mum for some advice: ‘Do you think it would be really bad if I went out on a date while I’m pregnant?’

  She thought for about a couple of seconds. ‘You’ve had nothing but misery lately. Why not go out and have some fun? Let someone make you feel nice and special for a change.’

  So I agreed and, on the day of our ‘date’, Jack said he’d pick me up from my friend Jenny’s in London at 1.30pm. But he was really late and turned up in a taxi.

  ‘Erm, where’s your car?’ I said.

  ‘Oh, yeah, I don’t drive. I thought we could go out in your car.’

  Great start, Jack. He’d also turned up in a flat cap and he was clutching a huge golfing umbrella. He looked daft and straight away I started taking the mickey out of him.

  ‘Going for the country-gent look, are you?’ I joked. ‘Anyway, where are we going?’

  ‘London Zoo.’

  When we got there, it was pouring with rain, so we didn’t stay long. As we got back in my car, a text beeped in from his mum, Mary. He read it and then said slowly, ‘Are you pregnant?’

  ‘Er, yes,’ I replied. ‘About five months. Did you not know? I thought you would have Googled me before we met up.’

  ‘Well, I think my mum’s just been Googling you.’

  Trying to carry on the date as normally as possible, we went to Camden Market. I was trying to make casual conversation and he bought me a body scrub – which I hate because it rubs my fake tan off!

  Then we went to Gilgamesh, a trendy Asian restaurant, for an early dinner, at which point Jack said, ‘Do you mind if my friends join us?’

  ‘No, that’s fine,’ I said, quite relieved to have other people around to help break the ice.

  When his mates showed up, it was Arg and Lydia from TOWIE. My first thought was how enormous Arg was but they were really nice and we ended up having a good time.

  I dropped them all home in Essex and later Jack sent me a brief, formal text: ‘Thanks for the lift.’

  ‘Hmm,’ I thought. ‘This is never going to go anywhere’.

  I didn’t realise he was quite shy at that point but he texted again later. ‘I wanted to give you a kiss goodbye but I was too embarrassed in front of Arg and Lydia. Do you think you might come down again?’

  This was a turn-up for the books. ‘I didn’t think you’d had a good time,’ I said.

  ‘No, I enjoyed myself. Why don’t you come down to our house and stay some time?’

  I said I’d think about it. I still had no idea that Jack was facing criminal charges and it was only when I was telling Zoe about my day out that I discovered what was going on.

  ‘You do know that Jack’s going on trial for rape, don’t you?’ Zoe said.

  ‘What are you on about?’ I said, thinking it couldn’t be true. It was certainly not something Jack was singing from the rooftops. But I went online and saw exactly what Zoe was talking about. Back in September 2009, Jack and his friend Anthony had been accused by a teenage girl of taking her from a London club back home to Essex and then forcing themselves on her. Soon after I met Jack, they were both acquitted for rape but, by then, he’d spent a lot of time on remand in Pentonville Prison, a harrowing experience that affected him terribly. He was severely bullied by the other prisoners and one of them even threatened to steal his wedding ring. In later months, Jack told how he was so destroyed by his time in jail that he contemplated suicide. ‘If I’d had a gun, I would have shot myself in the head without a question,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t handle it.’

  When I came into the picture, Jack was still awaiting the trial and, though he didn’t ever want to talk about it, I really felt for him and what he was going through. As far as I was concerned, everyone is innocent until proven guilty – and the guy I was getting to know didn’t appear capable of rape at all. To me, he seemed quite gentle and lost, like a little boy. Despite winning the case, it was a bit of a hollow victory for Jack, as the whole case had understandably ruined his life. People still call him a rapist today, despite the fact that he walked out a free man. It’s such a vile word and I know how sensitive he is about it. Sadly, mud sticks though, regardless of him being acquitted. I think it’s appalling that Jack still feels the weight of the trial.

  Jack’s situation when I was getting to know him meant that he had to wear a police tag and stick to strict curfews at home. It made sense then that he’d asked me to go down to Essex and stay with him. I agre
ed to go because I felt he needed some support – and, let’s face it, so did I.

  I know some people think I was mad for getting involved with someone awaiting trial for such a serious crime but we were both so fucked up. He was still heartbroken after losing Jade and I was heartbroken because I’d split up with my long-term boyfriend and the father of my unborn child. We both just craved love and some stability so, in some ways, we were perfect for each other.

  Hopefully, this explains why we just jumped into it straight away. We were both needy and scared of being on our own. My confidence was also desperately low and, being pregnant and on my own, my options seemed frighteningly limited. I feared no guy would ever accept me with someone else’s child in tow.

  When I went down to his family’s home in Essex, I met his mum Mary and dad, Andy, and they were so welcoming. Mary got me a jar of pickles, in case I was craving them (although I wasn’t) and she’d bought new bedding from John Lewis for the spare room, where I was obviously sleeping on my own.

  The morning after I arrived, Jack went to the gym and, as I sat down at the table with Mary, she said, ‘Jack’s never taken any girl out on a date apart from Jade. He obviously likes you.’ Apparently this was true – although he’d been with a lot of girls, he never took them for a meal or anything.

  Of course, we’d had to broach the subject of me being pregnant. Although Jack didn’t want to dwell on it, he seemed completely OK with it – probably because I told him I didn’t speak to the baby’s dad any more. I suppose he wasn’t fazed either because he’d spent so long with Jade and her boys, whose dad was the reality-TV star Jeff Brazier.

  The second evening I was there, Jack’s friends all came round to the house because his electronic tag meant he couldn’t stay out late. They put on a bit of an impromptu karaoke party and everyone had a go at singing, even his mum and dad. It was a lovely, fun night.

  When I left to go back home after a couple of days, Jack walked me to my car and that’s when we had our first kiss. It felt right. But in case you’re wondering, we never slept together at all while I was pregnant – I think that would have been disgusting. It never really came up in conversation and, despite his reputation, I think Jack did have respect for me on that matter – even if it was frustrating for him.

  After that visit, I started spending a lot of time with Jack in Essex, usually around three days of every week. We were getting on really well but, on one occasion, I had a shocking scare while I was with him and his family. Still in my own separate bedroom, I woke up to find the sheets stained with blood. It was so frightening. I was convinced I was having a miscarriage. Shaking with fear, I woke Jack’s mum and she drove me straight to hospital. When we got there, I was silent and just felt like an empty shell. If I lost my baby, my life may as well be over too.

  There were several other people waiting in A&E but I was rushed straight to the front of the queue. You always know it’s bad when that happens and straight away I was hooked up to a load of monitors. Pretty quickly, the doctors told me I’d gone into very early labour and that there was no way the baby could survive being born at this stage. They started giving me steroids to try and stop the labour, which they said was happening because, for some inexplicable reason, my body was trying to get rid of the baby.

  Although Jack couldn’t face coming to the hospital after what he’d been through during Jade’s illness the previous year, Mary and Andy were complete lifesavers. They brought me food in a picnic basket at every mealtime and Mary sat chatting with me and reassuring me for hours on end. I’ve never met two people who were so selfless and, when Mum dashed down to see me, they welcomed her into their home and drove her back and forth to the hospital every day. I can never thank them enough for that.

  When the drugs began to take hold, the labour process stopped and the doctors’ visits became less and less frequent, which I took to be a good sign. Eventually, after five agonising days, one of the female specialists came to see me and said, ‘Everything is fine. You are going to be a high-risk pregnancy from now on but the baby is fine.’

  Those were surely the greatest words I’d ever heard. ‘Thank you so much for saving my baby,’ I sobbed with relief. ‘I’ll always be grateful.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she said with a smile. ‘You can go home now but you mustn’t do any strenuous activity or allow any knocks to your stomach.’

  ‘Of course not,’ I vowed. Nothing was going to harm my baby now. All the time I’d been in hospital I’d been feeling guilty that perhaps doing a few gentle routines with my personal trainer while pregnant had brought on the labour. After that scare, I decided I’d never risk it again.

  Soon afterwards, I had another bleeding episode during a photo-shoot with new! magazine. It was then that I knew I had to slow down with work too. Waking up at 3am to drive down to London and not getting back until 11pm was too much. My body was clearly telling me, ‘Stop now.’

  At that point, I decided not to stay down in Essex any more either. I needed to be near my own friends and family. It was hard because it meant I’d see much less of Jack but I had to put my baby first.

  As I’d feared though, my moving back up north full time soon began to take a toll on our relationship. On the one hand, he’d send me lovely, caring texts and, on the occasions he came up to Wakefield, he’d tenderly kiss my stomach as if he imagined it was his baby inside. It felt lovely to know someone wanted this child with me. And I knew he deeply missed seeing Jade’s sons, Freddie and Bobby.

  But on the flip side, things would be dreadful between us at other times because, when he was back in Essex, he’d go out, get drunk and cop off with some girl in a club on a Friday night. I’d read about it in the papers and online and go mad but he’d always come back to me, saying how sorry he was. I felt I couldn’t really judge him because we weren’t living together in any normal capacity and, after being found not-guilty in the rape ordeal, he needed to let loose. That was his coping mechanism. But as you can see, it was hardly a fairy-tale romance.

  As I settled into the late stages of pregnancy, I suddenly blew up like a bouncy castle and became absolutely gigantic! I’d been so teeny in the beginning but now I was wearing huge maternity clothes. I joked that my arms looked like legs and my face looked like my arse! And although my shoe size is normally a five, I was wearing size-seven flip-flops at my baby shower. But even then the bloody things burst open under the pressure of my swollen toes!

  My expanding bump caused chronic sciatica, which ruined a holiday in Greece with my friend Jenny. The plan was to have a last-minute bit of R&R but I cried for five days non-stop because my back was so bad. I couldn’t lie down or get up, or even go to the toilet.

  Getting so big and out of my comfort zone was tough and often downright painful but it was funny, in a way, because my attitude towards my body completely changed. In the past, I would have rather died than look like the heifer I’d become but I’d realised it wasn’t about me any more. There was another life inside me and that was all that mattered. I still feel that way now as a mum. Being a bit heavier these days is a small price to pay for having a child and nowadays I never get too hung up on it. Quite simply, motherhood is the greatest gift in life and, if that means carrying a few extra pounds, so be it!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Welcome to the World!

  While Matt and I had not been in contact through most of the pregnancy, there was a surprising and dramatic twist to the tale when one day I got a blunt text from him, saying, ‘How are things with the pregnancy? I’d like to be there at the birth and for the baby’s surname to be Bates. Please can you contact me about this?’

  It was so bizarre because, until that point, I’d always let him know the time and dates of my scans and appointments but he had never turned up. It didn’t seem like he was interested in the various pictures I’d sent him either. So when this message pinged in, I was knocked for six. I was with Rachel, who was also pregnant, and we sat looking at each other i
n amazement.

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ I said to her. ‘I feel like I’m going crazy. One minute he wants nothing to do with the baby and now he’s saying he wants to be involved.’ It’s almost like he had a dual personality because, from that moment, he became very civil and took a big interest in what was going on. I felt though that his request to be at the birth was inappropriate, especially as I’d already decided that Mum was going to be my birthing partner.

  I told him, ‘You’re more than welcome to come to the hospital after I’ve given birth but I don’t want you there during it.’

  He wasn’t happy about this but I said, ‘That’s my decision but I’m very happy for you to establish a relationship with your son if that’s what you want.’

  Trying to read what was going on inside his head, I can only assume that he suddenly thought, ‘What can I do? She really is having this baby.’ Whatever switch had flipped in his brain meant he was now also keen for our child to take his surname, which inevitably jarred with me.

  ‘I don’t want it to have the name Bates because you haven’t been around for most of the pregnancy,’ I said, which was surely a fair point.

  But he wouldn’t let it go, saying it was only correct and proper that the baby takes the father’s name. I suppose I was so relieved that he was getting involved at long last that I relented a bit.

  ‘OK, listen,’ I said. ‘If you agree to having weekly, regular contact with the baby and to playing a proper part in his life, we’ll give him a double-barrelled surname. It can be Hayes-Bates.’

  ‘No way,’ he said. ‘I just want Bates.’

  It was so exasperating. You could tell he got paid a lot of money and was used to getting his own way.

  ‘I’m trying to meet you in the middle here,’ I said. ‘It’s either going to be double-barrelled or it’s just going to be Hayes.’

  ‘OK then,’ he huffed. ‘Double-barrelled. What’s his first name going to be?’