Cheryl: My Story (32 page)

I spent the next few days moping round the house and crying. Ashley was trying to phone me all the time but I didn’t answer. I had no idea where he was staying and I didn’t want to know. If he was in the papers again I didn’t have a clue, because I’d made a decision not to read any of them ever again.

So many things were going through my head. One minute I’d be panicking, thinking, ‘If I believe the stories are true then I married a stranger, and how can I ever cope with that?’ The next minute I’d think, ‘How can anybody hurt someone who loves them so much?’ It was agony.

When I hit a really low point one night I phoned Ashley and begged him to talk to me, to give me an explanation.

‘You know you said I did nothing wrong, well I don’t believe you,’ I sobbed. ‘There must have been
something
. You have to tell me. It’s driving me mad.’

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong.’

‘Ashley, I don’t think you get where I’m coming from. You can’t just keep saying nothing. It’s not fair. Tell me what I did wrong and at least I can deal with my flaws.’

‘It’s not you. There’s nothing like that.’

‘But there
is
. Can’t you see that by saying nothing, or saying it has nothing to do with me, it’s like saying you’re guilty of the whole lot. Is that the case, Ashley?’

‘I don’t believe this …’

It was like talking to a brick wall all over again. I would have preferred him to say: ‘You know what, Cheryl, I slept with them all and I loved it.’ That would have been less of a torture than not knowing the truth.

When I put the phone down I started sobbing hysterically, like a little child does, crying so hard I was gasping for air and wanting to be sick. The house felt huge. It has six big bedrooms and it’s spacious at the best of times, but now I felt like a tiny, teeny person who might get lost inside it. I tried to get ready for bed but I got angry seeing our bedroom and thinking how Ashley had wrecked our life together.

‘How
could
you?’ I screamed, kicking a pair of his shoes. ‘Why did you do it, Ashley? What did I do to deserve this?’

If anyone had heard me they’d have thought I’d finally cracked up, because I was ranting and raving and talking to myself. When my head hit the pillow I started screaming and crying into it. I’d got some sleeping pills off the doctor, and they were a lifesaver. I actually felt good just for 10 minutes before I fell asleep, but in the morning I had to face the whole nightmare all over again. It started the minute I woke up, and the horrible realisation that Ashley had gone and this was my reality hit me all over again.

I started smoking 20 cigarettes a day when I normally only have one or two, and I was drinking too, just to try and relax and knock the sharp corners off my feelings. I was well aware I could fall into a dark depression again. If I’d gone that way after having my heart broken as a teenager I knew it was a strong possibility I could go back there now. In hindsight, the pain I felt at 16, after splitting up with Dave, was absolutely
nothing
compared to what I was suffering now. It wasn’t even one-thousandth of the agony I was going through, yet at the time I’d thought I could never feel any lower.

For days I didn’t want to see anybody, even my close friends and family, and I could feel myself retreating into my shell. I was protecting myself, I guess. I didn’t trust anyone or anything around me, because I didn’t even know who I was any more.

I had to get back to work, though. I had studio time booked for my second album, and Will had asked me to be the supporting act on some of the European dates for the Black Eyed Peas’ spring tour.

I’d been frightened of doing it at first but Will had more or less repeated what he’d said to me about me recording solo records. ‘I know you can do it. Trust me. You
will
be amazing. It’s the next step for you. You are going to be a huge solo star.’

We had rehearsals coming up, which I knew was a good thing as moping around the house was doing me no good at all. The tour excited me, and I imagined I could focus completely on my work instead of my pain. It was a way of escaping, I hoped.

I remember going into the Metropolis recording studios in London to work on the album and thinking, ‘This is the one thing I’ve got left. I’m not going to stay at home and wallow in all those horrible feelings and thoughts when I could be doing what I love and making music.’

I’d smile at the security guard on the way in and go through the motions of acting normal, but inside I was dying, and I mean dying. Every day I was getting worse. I thought I was actually going to fall apart it was that bad, and being chased around London by photographers certainly didn’t help. I began to really loathe and despise the paps, more than ever before. I couldn’t understand how one human could do that to another. I’d felt like a hunted animal for a long time, but now I was so badly wounded the chase felt more inhumane than ever.

Derek was in constant touch, calling and texting. I’d tell him how I was feeling sometimes, but I didn’t want to be a burden. He was still like my little angel though, giving positive advice and cheering me up by telling me he looked forward to seeing me when I went to LA, as I had some recording time booked out there too.

‘Can you make it to the tour?’ I asked him hopefully, as soon as I knew the dates for the Peas. ‘You could dance with me on “Parachute”.’

‘I’ll be there for the last week,’ Derek said. ‘How does that sound?’

I was delighted. The tour was going all round Europe and I was really looking forward to it, for lots of reasons. The main one was that it would be like going back to the early days with Girls Aloud, as I’d be performing to different territories, to people who didn’t know me and would have no preconceptions. It would be pure performing and not too much pressure, as I was only the support act. It would be great to work with Will again too, and whenever I felt like I was cracking up I’d try and visualise being on the tour, dancing with Derek, being inspired by Will, and being happy because I still had my music, and nobody could take that away.

About a week after Ashley had left he came round to the house one night to collect some of his stuff. I’d answered his calls a few times by now, and every time he’d told me he didn’t want our marriage to end. He sounded torn apart, completely. I felt sorry for him, because despite what he’d done he was still a human being, a person I’d loved more deeply than I’d ever loved anyone before, and he was suffering.

As soon as he came into the house I gave him a cuddle. He squeezed me and clung to me like a little boy. There was no screaming and shouting and I asked him nothing, because I knew it was pointless. Actually, it reminded me of the last time I had seen Andrew in prison, when I reached the conclusion that if he wasn’t going to help himself there was nothing more I could do.

It was exactly the same with Ashley. He knew I was there, willing to talk. He knew that divorcing him was not what I wanted, not really. But I couldn’t do any more. It was just like with my brother. In order to move forward Ashley had to take responsibility, but he didn’t seem capable of doing that. He didn’t stay long and was so tongue-tied we barely spoke, and when he left I fell on the bed and howled into my pillow.

I felt like I’d taken a big step, but it wasn’t a pleasant one. Seeing Ashley had drawn a line under the pointless rows, but it was also a step closer to the end. Ashley hadn’t said sorry for what he had done, or accepted responsibility, not once, not ever. In one way I felt empowered by what had happened, like the victim who finally stands up to the bully one day, goes crazy and shouts ‘STOP’. For me, it felt like the mental abuse, the going over and over the same things again and again in my brain, had finally stopped. There’s only so much a human can take, and I had reached the limit and was not going to keep asking for more.

When I woke up the next day I felt bereft. There is no better way of describing it. My marriage had died, and I was properly grieving for it. It
is
like a death, but the only thing is you’re still alive, living after the death of something that was such a big part of both of you. I could still see Ashley and talk to him, and I knew he was grieving too, and that a part of him had also died. It was just the worst feeling in the world.

15
‘Yes!
This
is what I live for’

‘I’m nervous,’ I said to my mam.

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘Have you got some kind of a shield around you where nothing touches you?’ I joked.

She looked at me nonplussed and said, ‘Calm down, Cheryl, everything will be fine. What are you worried about?’

It was the beginning of May 2010 and we were on a flight to Dublin, where I was playing to a crowd of 14,000, all by myself. That was nerve-wracking enough and as I reminded my mam, I was also supporting the Black Eyed Peas – one of the biggest bands in the world, one I’d listened to and loved for years.

‘It feels like only yesterday I was singing their songs in my bedroom, and now I’m going on tour with them. It just feels so surreal.’

‘I know you’ll do a great job, Cheryl,’ my mam said. ‘You make sure you enjoy it. It’ll do you good.’

‘Mother, I wish I could bottle whatever it is you’re on,’ I smiled.

Her calmness must have rubbed off on me, because I sat back and thought of all the positive things about this tour. I was really looking forward to working with Will.i.am again, and it would be great to get to know Fergie and the rest of the band, because I’d only met them briefly before.

Will is such an intriguing, charismatic person and I’ve always loved a character. There is absolutely nothing boring or regular about him, from his geeky glasses and dreadlocks to his intuitive, warm personality. From the moment I met him we had just clicked. I was in such a vulnerable place when I did his ‘Heartbreaker’ video. Will was this massive superstar, but he was doing his first solo record without the Peas, and so he felt vulnerable too. I hadn’t realised that until later, but we had some common ground there, which really connected us.

I hesitate to talk about fate, because I once said in an interview that I’d seen a psychic who told me I was going to meet a footballer. This was actually true, and it did happen not long before I met Ashley, but the number of times that story was recycled was just ridiculous. I am not one of those people who relies on clairvoyants to guide me through my life, but I do have a belief in destiny. How else could I have known from when I was a child that I was going to be a performer? Anyhow, without making too much of it, I’m sure fate was on my side when I chose street dancing for the
Passions
documentary, because it had led me to Will, and now he was a very important part of my life. It was almost as if he looked at me, the very first time we met, and was able to see into my future, to see what I should be doing. He had a genuine belief in my talent and ability that nobody had ever expressed to me before.

When I arrived in my dressing room at the Dublin venue I found flowers, sent from all the Peas. ‘My God, they’re actually here, in the building,’ I thought. ‘I really am on tour with them!’ I could already feel my adrenalin starting to pump, and it was only about two o’clock in the afternoon. There was also a big Jo Malone hamper from Will, containing scented candles, room spray and perfume. He knows I love all that. It makes me feel at home in a strange place, and it was such a thoughtful gift. Knowing Will, he had already thought about the fact I was used to getting ready to go on stage in a cloud of hairspray, with four other girls who were all having little dramas with sequins and lipstick. It wasn’t like that any more. I was all on my own, in more ways than one.

***

Ashley and I had been separated for two months now, and I was still mourning my marriage in a big way. I’d cried every day, sometimes hysterically, sometimes just shedding a tear when I made a cup of tea and sometimes silently, into my pillow, all night long. The initial stabs to my heart were not quite as sharp but in their place it felt like I had big bruises that ached and throbbed and would never, ever go away. I’d told Ashley I was filing for divorce.

I can’t remember the time or the place, but when I was feeling strong I’d called him and told him I was starting the divorce proceedings.

‘OK. What about the house …?’

‘Shove it up your arse. I’m taking the dogs. I don’t want anything else.’

I instructed my lawyers to deal with it and told them I wanted as little to do with the divorce process as possible. They’d phone me up from time to time asking me whether there were certain ornaments or pieces of furniture I wanted from the marital home, things like that.

‘No, thank you. I’ll get me own tables and chairs. Why would I want to take memories from there? I don’t want anything but the dogs and the divorce papers, and I want it to be quick.’

I knew I was still fragile and vulnerable, but having to perform helped me cope. I was determined to take my mother’s advice and really enjoy the tour.

Stepping out onto the stage for the very first time as a solo artist was nerve-wracking but absolutely amazing. I just thought, ‘Yes!
This
is what I live for.’ I’d divided my set up into three sections: strength, femininity and independence – the three words I chose to reflect me, and the songs from my
3 Words
album. When I got to the independence section I was wearing crystallised Ray-Bans that fogged up, so I did the last two songs peeking out from underneath the glasses, desperately hoping I wouldn’t crash into any of the dancers. It all worked, and the sense of achievement when I came off stage was just the best.