by Chris Evans
All I had to do now was figure out how I was going to pay for it.
TOP
10
THINGS THAT CAN HAPPEN WHEN YOU FAIL TO CONFRONT AN AWKWARD SITUATION
10 High blood pressure
9 Panic attacks
8 Ulcers
7 Over-eating
6 Sex addiction
5 Insomnia
4 Alcoholism
3 Depression
2 Self-loathing
1 Self-destruction
THE COBURN CAR WAS EVENTUALLY PAID FOR, SORT OF. Actually in many ways I am still paying for it now. 2008 was shaping up to be some year.
By now Tash and I had sold our farm in Surrey for a small profit and had found ourselves having to live in a caravan, of all things.
This state of affairs came about because, having sold up expecting to move straight into our new house – the one I’d been having built for the past couple of years – we were duly informed that the builders were still very much in residence and it was going to be a good few weeks (or even months) before they moved out.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘Let’s live in one of those swish American silver bullet things.’
And for once, I made the right choice. It was fun and it was romantic and, as it was on our own land, it couldn’t have been more quiet and peaceful. It also helped remind me and Tash how little two people need to be happy and content.
Having said that, we still had the helicopter parked outside – I wasn’t ready for total sanity just quite yet.
Inside our temporary accommodation, the Airstream was as luxurious I suppose as a caravan can get. It benefited from not only a power shower but also had air conditioning and a flat-screen telly in the bedroom, which was a real treat as we’d never had a telly in the bedroom at home. But it is for an entirely different reason that I will remember our time in the field.
‘Sweetheart,’ Tash said one morning while I was still in bed, listening to the sound of the birds and staring up through the skylight at a God-given clear blue ceiling. ‘I know something you don’t.’ This was the stock phrase we used when either of us had a surprise for the other.
‘What is it?’ I asked eagerly.
She looked coy but excited. Tash took a deep breath and then said, ‘I’ve done two pregnancy tests and they both say we’re going to have a baby!’
I jumped up, arms aloft, screaming like a madman and ran straight out of the caravan completely butt naked into the field – which, thank God, we owned and was surrounded by trees. I was cock-a-hoop, pleased as punch and over the moon – all at the same time. Little did I realise, however, that it was a bloody good job I reacted with such sincere glee as I was under surveillance of the severest kind.
Tash had prepared herself to judge my reaction in the finest of detail to make sure I was really as pleased as I was obviously going to say I was.
‘Your reaction was a ten out of ten,’ she told me later. ‘There was absolutely no delay in your euphoria, so well done. There was no way you could have been faking it, it was too quick, so it had to be natural. I one hundred per cent believe you were really happy.’
Phew, guys, be careful, it’s a jungle out there.
Having passed Tash’s celebration polygraph it was safe for me to suggest we now do what all expectant couples do and figure out the famous count back to see exactly where and when the magic happened. After a few minutes of elementary maths and a lot of giggling, we were thrilled to conclude that the Coburn Car was not the only thing we had acquired on our flying visit to Italy. Bellissimo.
I was genuinely thrilled that I was going to be a dad. But of course this would be for the second time. Quickly my thoughts turned to the first time, but I also knew I could only really do this properly if I first made an effort to rebuild my relationship with my daughter, the one thing I had failed at even more spectacularly than anything else.
‘It’s not about me anymore,’ I thought to myself. ‘I have no choice; this is something I have to do. After all, Jade is about to have a kid brother or sister. She needs to be part of this and I need her to be part of my life.’ I talked to Tash and she gave me her full support. In fact she actively encouraged me to do something about the situation.
I was aware that Jade was fast approaching her twenty-first birthday and was now a young woman. I also knew she was in a relationship and had been in the same job since she left school, working with a husband-and-wife team who ran their own jewellery business. She still lived at home with her mum, and by all accounts was a fine young woman. But it was time to find out more.
Whereas there had been trepidation on my part before concerning this hugely important and unresolved aspect of my life, I suddenly felt the nerves and the fear begin to disappear. I suppose lack of choice does that to a person.
Not that this relationship wasn’t something I had wanted before. I had come halfway towards resolving the situation when I was married to Billie, but didn’t follow it through. I had invited Alison and Jade to come down to London for the day and the three of us went to a restaurant together. Alison was understandably wary, while Jade was very sweet, but quiet. It went well enough, however, for us to agree on a follow-up visit, a weekend down at Hascombe Court with Billie and myself. Unfortunately this hadn’t worked at all for me, but instead of putting my own emotions to one side and worrying about my daughter – and what she and her mum had been through for the last fifteen years – 1 buried my head in the sand and stopped any further contact.
This selfish action somehow became a double-page spread in one of the Sundays a couple of weeks later, under the headline, ‘I Met My Dad Chris Evans and He Rejected Me – Again’. Not that Jade or her mum have ever courted such stories. I think it was more the bush telegraph where they lived that was responsible for informing the world that Disappointing Dad had failed miserably again.
The reality was that just as before, not a day passed by without me thinking about it; when and where my daughter and I might finally get properly back in touch.
But why is it that despite knowing exactly what we need to do to fix a situation we still allow it to keep us awake at night rather than sorting it out?
At thirteen I’d had my own dad taken away from me when he died. Knowing how painful that was, and how deeply his loss hurt, it killed me inside to think that Jade had been needlessly fatherless for her whole life. Yet I continued to drag my feet.
But maybe this was precisely the issue, maybe it was losing my dad that had caused me to fireproof myself against the devastating pain associated with the loss of real, unconditional love. This is the only reason that can possibly explain why I had put myself through years of illogical, irrational self-destruction when on the face of it, things were going so well. Every time I got close to anything or anyone that I might lose one day, I chose to leave before it – or they – left me. All the great jobs, all the great women. And most importantly, my daughter.
You can deny a truth to anyone except yourself but the more you try, the more that truth will consume you from the inside out. That’s what the truth is for – it is there to make us do the right thing. I had been pretending for years that everything was alright, when the truth was that whilst Jade and I were still estranged nothing could ever be alright.
It’s clear to me now that I had been hurting inside a lot more than I was prepared to accept or admit for most, if not all, of my adult life. This is also why my life had become one big exercise in diversion away from my emotions. Why I worked so hard, why I drank so hard and would rather pass out at night than go to bed sober and risk contemplation. All such things serve only to weaken the spirit and in doing so invite the demons in to feed on the core of your very being, quietly intent upon tearing you apart.
So what caused me to change?
Well, I can only guess, because I honestly don’t know.
I suspect it was a combination of things brought together by Tash’s pregnancy, with me having to accept responsibility being top of the
list. Maybe this time I also felt I had more to offer, largely due to the fact that there was more of me present.
I can’t tell you the relief as I slowly realised my days of denial were about to come to an end. It was time for the little boy who had lost his dad to grow up and accept the fact that the key to real and lasting happiness is to know, in your own mind, that you’ve done the right thing by everyone in your life that you love.
I wrote to Alison via my accountant. As strange as this may sound, it was Kirit and not I who’d had more contact with Jade and her mum over the years, via his various financial dealings with them concerning maintenance and other such issues.
Upon receiving Kirit’s initial letter, Alison replied promptly, confirming that Jade was equally keen to sort out this hopeless situation once and for all. But I was warned, and quite rightly, ‘He must not begin to promise something he cannot deliver, like the last time.’
After more correspondence, I arranged again to go for another meal with Jade and her mum, in London.
TAKE 2
As I sat at my favourite Italian restaurant in Soho awaiting their arrival, I was as prepared as I could be for whatever might happen in the next hour or so. I had rehearsed most scenarios and talked my way through various conversations over and over again. What I hadn’t prepared myself for, however, was what Jade looked like.
Unrecognisable from her last visit, here in front of me stood a breathtakingly good-looking young woman. Where had this gorgeous creature sprung from? Her appearance totally nonplussed me; I was already on the back foot.
‘Girls are so much better at this stuff than men,’ I heard myself thinking.
After I had regained a modicum of composure we chatted for a while, we ordered and, with the niceties over, it became very much a ‘cards on the table’ affair. Unlike last time, Jade and her mum were in no mood to beat around the bush. They were happy to meet but I was left in no doubt that as far as this father-daughter relationship was concerned, it was now or never, do or die. I had one more chance and then that would be it.
When it was my turn to speak, I was mindful to be both concise and contrite. I told them in no uncertain terms that I was willing to do whatever it took to help, and get to know Jade in any way I could. If she wanted to see me then great and if not, so be it, I could hardly blame her – but even so, there might be something else I could do for her.
After I’d said my piece, Alison took over and ran the show – very efficiently too, I have to say – telling both Jade and me what we had to do to move the situation forward. She finished off by adding that we’d better get on with it sooner rather than later, seeing as we had twenty-one years to catch up on and now it was up to the two of us to prove to each other we wanted this to work.
It was time to arrange some dates with my daughter.
Slowly at first, we agreed to go to various shows and events, with Alison coming too, until she was sure Jade was OK on her own. There were plenty of awkward moments in those early days (but the more we became used to them, the less awkward they began to seem).
What do you do when you’ve been to all the tourist attractions in Berkshire and the restaurant doesn’t open until seven? How do you act when you’re on your own with your 20-year-old daughter for the first time? How do you say goodnight? How do you say hello? Do you swear less? Should you swear more???
I didn’t know the answers to any of these questions, or a thousand others. But what I learned was that the most important thing is to just spend time together and let your relationship take its course. The important thing is just to keep talking.
I’m still miles behind Tash, of course. She has already had far more relevant exchanges with my daughter than I probably ever will but none more meaningful, and I suppose that is the point.
We’ve even been on holiday together and I – almost – had a father-daughter moment with her on the subject of boys.
And she’s funny, she’s really funny and cheeky too, a lot more I suspect than she lets on to me. She’s also like her mum, inasmuch as she’s sharp as a tack and doesn’t suffer fools. She also of course now has a new little kid brother to hang out with. But before we introduce Noah Nicholas Martin into the equation, let’s get 2008 out of the way first. It was not the year I thought it was going to be.
TOP
10
THINGS TO BEAR IN MIND IF YOU EVER GET YOUR OWN RADIO SHOW
10 Don’t fish for freebies
9 Two great records are better than one poor link
8 Don’t ignore research that says people don’t like you
7 Listen to the listeners
6 How you end what you say is more important than how you begin
5 Empower your audience whenever you can
4 Real people are generally more interesting than celebrities
3 Always be positive
2 Preparation, preparation, preparation
1 Content, content, content
EVERYTHING WAS HEADING SMOOTHLY towards the proposed handover of the breakfast show to me from Sir Terry, who was still scheduled to make the big announcement during his Radio 2 programme on the Monday after the Children in Need weekend in November 2008. Everyone involved was still one hundred per cent on side and singing from the same songsheet.
But one thing that none of us could quite believe is how the news had remained a secret. With every passing day more and more people had to be told, due to their involvement in the ongoing process and, with a story this big, we almost expected a leak to happen. As a result, we had to be on constant stand-by in case the news broke prematurely and action stations were called.
Having said that, if someone had squealed, at least it would have meant we could finally start planning the new show. As it was, we were brimming with ideas and the general need to talk to people about them, yet were still unable to say a word to anyone.
However this was all before the arrival in Studio 6C one night of Messrs Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand.
What happened during this now infamous late-night radio broadcast has been well documented and if you don’t know I can only presume you are an alien reading this book on another planet.
But alright – just in case.
Russell Brand, a very funny, deceptively intelligent comedian in his thirties, his career on the ascent. Good friends with TV chat-show host Jonathan Ross, approaching his fifties, not a comedian but quite funny – sometimes. Russell has a Saturday late-night radio show on Radio 2. Jonathan comes to play one evening and things get out of hand. They call up much-loved veteran actor Andrew Sachs, who played Manuel in Fawlty Towers. He’s not in, so they proceed to leave a shockingly offensive message about his granddaughter on the sweet man’s answerphone. Russell has been intimate with her, it is suggested, and Jonathan seems intent on pressing Russell further on the matter.
What either of them was thinking, few of us have any idea – but whatever the case, the fallout as a result of their ornate thinking in doing what they did was unimaginable.
Disapproval of their antics started with a whimper; just the one recorded complaint to the BBC. But after being picked up by the national press, this rapidly snowballed into a cacophony of discontent with complaints – some now being received from people who hadn’t even heard the original broadcast – being counted in their tens of thousands.
Initially, neither of the two protagonists could see what all the fuss was about. Russell was pictured being ‘cool’ outside his London flat, whilst Jonathan began to lie very low indeed. The programme was pre-recorded, and as the authority to broadcast it didn’t involve either of them, in a court of law they would have been absolved. This was obviously their route of moral defence but it wasn’t washing with anyone. The people they worked with needed their help to deal with this situation; Russell and Jonathan were big personalities with a lot of sway and power, and their silence was deafening.
It was obvious to me what was happening, I’d been there before. When your image is hip and cool an
d outrageous, then to come out and say sorry for anything – even if you know you probably should – is almost like admitting what you do is not who you are. And when your career is based on the assumption that what you do is exactly who you are, it can leave you on quite a sticky wicket.
Should they have apologised?
Yes – absolutely and immediately, and if anyone close to them advised them not to, then they were even more misguided. But as I know only too well, the longer you leave the apology, the harder it is to make and the less effect it has. Every minute without word from the terrible twosome was now making the situation worse for everyone.
For the next fortnight Radio 2 became like a fortress under relentless attack. I came off air on the Monday evening at the end of my show, a week and two days after the incident was originally broadcast. It was 7 o’clock and I went straight downstairs from the sixth floor to the third floor to see Lesley in her office. She was huddled up on her sofa.
The moment she saw me she burst into tears.
‘It’s bad,’ she said. ‘They want a scalp and it has to be a big one.’ By this, I presumed Lesley was referring to the scalp of either JR or RB but to be honest I couldn’t care less at the time. I still thought the blame lay at their door no matter what the editorial guidelines may have said.
‘I can’t believe it – the world’s gone crazy,’ I replied. ‘How on earth did this thing get so out of control?’
I sat down and we talked for ten minutes or so. Both of us were in shock. I had been in many strange situations in my life but this was off the scale. The quiet of Lesley’s office was in stark contrast to the chaos waiting outside.
To see her so wounded made me angrier than I think I have ever been before. She lived and breathed Radio 2. Yet here she was, her world caving in around her, unable to go home, and all because of one stupid phone call that wasn’t even funny.
