Please Let It Stop (11 page)

I don’t go into relationships lightly, but once involved, I give 100 per cent. Then it goes wrong and I get very upset. It’s not as if I thought Paul was Mr Right – he certainly wasn’t – but sometimes you just can’t help yourself and I did love him – or thought I did at the time. After we split up I started to get pains in my stomach. My periods were seriously heavy as well and I felt very strange so I went to see the doctor. I found out I’d had a miscarriage a week after Paul had left. I was very distraught. I’m a great believer in the effects of stress on our physical health and I’ve little doubt that finding out about the affair contributed to the miscarriage.

At least one good thing came from our relationship and that was meeting one of my best friends, Sandie, who was a friend of Paul’s. Though I’d first met Sandie when Paul and I were still together, it wasn’t until after I’d broken up with him that she and I really got to know each other. Sandie is sharp-witted, very funny and charismatic. She is also challenging, something I find very attractive in people. You just know that Sandie won’t automatically agree with you. And if she disagrees she’ll make a very strong case. On top of
that I think she brings out my mischievous streak. In fact, I know she does!

Until I met Ben I didn’t really have many girlfriends. Having had my social life restricted by my childhood, the idea of developing friendships wasn’t a natural part of my life. When I met Tony he was quite protective and didn’t want me to go out without him. That suited me fine at the time: I was in a new situation with a man I loved, so it presented no problems. Up until this point I’d had only brief friendships that drifted apart, such as with the girls at school, and then with the girls from Ben’s gregarious social scene, where we were thrown together not really through choice.

One of the things I decided to do after Ben and I split up was to turn my birthday into a big occasion. I started having themed birthday parties, which involved a great deal of effort on my part, but it was an effort I enjoyed making. I’ve had an Andy Warhol Party, a White Party and a Tequila Party among others, and each has been more spectacular than the last. They have also meant that, as well as inviting people I know, I have met many new people, some of whom have become very dear friends. Carole is one of these.

I met Carole through Anna-Marie, a girl who had modelled for Ann Summers and who ended up marrying the footballer, Lee Hughes. Anna-Marie brought Carole along to my first themed party in 1998. My first impression of her was that she was very friendly, but a bit ‘full on’. I think this was a reflection of the stage I was at. I didn’t have
any of what I would call real friends and I wasn’t used to people being in my space. At one point she came up to me and said, ‘I’ve heard you have written a book (my first book,
Good Vibrations
). I’m writing a book called
Me and My Shadow
.’ Carole’s book was about MS, an awful disease which she’s managed to deal with very well. She is truly one of the sunniest characters I’ve ever met. After our initial meeting we met again and got on very well and I soon realised I had completely misunderstood her. Carole is exceptionally warm and friendly. I’d say she was my first true friend, my spiritual friend, a woman who brings light into my life whenever I see her. She carries a lot of positivity with her and puts me into a wonderful mood. Along with Sandie, she has since become part of a close group who I know will be my friends for life.

After splitting up with Paul I wasn’t dating anybody, though I was spending a lot of time with a friend, Dave. Dave was part of Ben’s crowd and I’d known him for several years. Ben was still ringing me and we were talking. ‘You shouldn’t be spending time with Dave,’ he said. ‘You can’t trust him.’ Thinking he was just jealous, I didn’t take any notice. I should have, though. Dave was one of the leftovers from the Ben era and that should have been a warning in itself.

Dave and I got on well; we flirted but nothing more. I was happy to have a friend and not anxious to be involved with anybody. After two lengthy relationships, there was
no doubt I needed some ‘me’ time to reflect, if nothing else. Christmas was approaching and the plan was that my sister Vanessa, her boyfriend Steve and Dave would spend Christmas with me at my house. Dave’s young son would join us on the day. The house I was living in at the time, in Caterham, had three bedrooms. I would have mine, Vanessa and Steve would be in another, and Dave would be in the single room. It was Christmas Eve and we went off to Croydon to a bar called McCluskey’s. We were all in good spirits and had a really great time, drinking and dancing. Vanessa and Steve left early and went home, while Dave and I partied on until closing time. Dave was quite drunk and he was telling anyone who would listen that he and I were going to get together that Christmas. We were definitely not together in the physical sense and I didn’t think too much of what he was saying: I just took it as part of the whole Christmassy mood. Of course, I was flattered but I had no intention of getting involved with Dave. When we arrived home Vanessa and Steve were still up. I went and joined them in the lounge, and we were just sitting around talking when I began to feel completely overwhelmed by this strange tiredness. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before and my head felt very weird. I decided that my night had to end there and wished everyone goodnight. I didn’t understand what was going on since I had never experienced a feeling like this from alcohol. It was now about 3am.

Normally when I go to bed I leave the door open but on this night I closed it just to let Dave know there was no invitation. I got myself ready for a long night’s sleep: it was a very cold night so I wore a nightshirt and socks to keep warm and as soon as I got into bed I was out for the count. It felt like I hadn’t been asleep long when I woke up and everything looked blurred. I wasn’t sure what I was seeing but I could just make out a face in front of me. I couldn’t actually tell where it was. It was out of register, a bit like seeing something in pixels. I then discovered I couldn’t move my body; it was as if I was paralysed. I could just about turn my head slightly, and out of the corner of my eye could see that the time on the clock was 5am. Then I realised that Dave was in bed next to me and I remember saying, ‘What are you doing?’ He said, ‘Oh, don’t be like that.’ I was angry but I could barely raise the energy to say, ‘What are you doing in my bed?’ I wanted to leap out but I couldn’t move. ‘I just think we’d be so good together,’ he said. ‘Vanessa knows I’m in here and she thinks we’d make a great couple.’

By now I could feel myself drifting in and out of consciousness. I can categorically state that I had never felt anything like this ever before – or since. I suspect that he may have given me a ‘date-rape’ drug, which was not unknown in his circle of friends. I remember telling him to get out of my bed and then drifting off again. When I came to, there was Dave, wanking right next to me. I’d known
this man for ten years and thought we had a strong friendship. Thank God he didn’t rape me. He finished himself off, then got up and went to the bathroom. When he returned, he kissed me on the forehead and said, ‘I’m really sorry,’ and then went back to his room. I still couldn’t move anything except my head and my vision was severely impaired. I then drifted back into semi-consciousness.

Christmas Day felt very surreal. I was sitting alone in the kitchen in my dressing gown, trying to make preparations for Christmas dinner, with this sense of anger and indignation surging through me. I was furious and upset at Dave for betraying my trust. I was also wondering about the idea that my sister had encouraged him, which I doubted, but it was still bothering me. The incident brought back painful memories of the sexual abuse I’d suffered as a child and, like many others who’ve been in that situation, I began to question my own behaviour yet again. ‘Had I created the situation? Was it my fault? Had I done anything to encourage Dave to come into my bedroom?’ I reminded myself that I’d shut the door and made it clear where he was sleeping. Sure, we flirted when we were out but that’s what lots of people do at Christmas. And I was quite sure I had been under the influence of something that was definitely not just alcohol, something I had not chosen to take. Otherwise, why did I lie there unable to move? It was all very confusing and, on top of that, there was the thought that I was just about to spoil everyone’s Christmas. I adore
the whole festive season and nothing is ever too much trouble. Over the years I’ve gone to great lengths to make Christmas as much of an occasion as possible, so the possibility that it was about to turn sour added to my distress.

Vanessa was the first person downstairs. She has since told me that I looked like a woman possessed. ‘I cannot believe you encouraged him last night,’ I said angrily. She looked completely blank so, feeling myself shaking, I told her what happened. She was absolutely horrified and said she’d never done anything of the sort. Our Christmas plans were in disarray and I told Dave in no uncertain terms he had to leave. (He needed to stay at the house until his young son was dropped off, as there was no alternative way for them to meet up by that point.) I don’t know whether it was a nervous reaction or what, but Vanessa’s boyfriend, who was a friend of Dave’s (and Ben’s), just stood there, laughing. I couldn’t believe it.

We were all supposed to be flying in one of my father’s company’s Gold Air planes to Madrid for New Year’s Eve to see Cirque du Soleil. Between Christmas and New Year Dave bombarded me with phone calls and messages, saying he regretted what he had done and was very sorry. I didn’t pick up the answer machine, having decided that I would deal with him when I was ready, which I did. I phoned him just before New Year’s Eve and told him what I thought and that there was absolutely no question of us ever being friends again, which meant he wasn’t coming to Madrid
and I never wanted to see him again. Vanessa got rid of her boyfriend not long after that. We were both in with a bad crowd but neither of us realised it. They covered it well. But they were gone now. In my head Dave had metaphorically gone to a place where I dismiss people who’ve done the wrong thing by me, simply by saying ‘concrete shoes and the nearest river’. It just means they will never be allowed back in my life again.

CHAPTER EIGHT

O’Connell Street is Dublin’s main thoroughfare, a major shopping precinct and also one of the widest streets in Europe. Halfway along the street is the imposing GPO building, once the headquarters of the Irish provisional government. It’s also been the scene of some bitter conflicts between the Irish and the British and you can still see bullet holes in the columns of the building. In 1999 I was to face my own battle over a piece of O’Connell Street when we decided to open a shop there. I didn’t know it at the time but it would test all my courage and resolve.

While run to a formula, our party plan operation is open to regional differences, both in the way it is received and the revenue it brings in. We’ve found, for example, that the further north you go, the less inhibited people are. Without wanting to offend southerners, it seems northerners are more relaxed and sociable and the parties there are always much more raucous. Then there is Ireland, which is easily
one of our most profitable markets. In fact, our party plan operation there is much more profitable than in the UK. Following the success of party plan, we had decided to expand our retail operation, a project we embarked on in 1995. Between then and 2001 we opened fifty-two stores. Since party plan had done so well for us in Dublin, it seemed only logical that this wonderful city should be part of our retail expansion programme.

We found a fantastic location on O’Connell Street which was larger than any store premises we had at the time. Our research indicated that if we opened there we would do very well. Things seemed to be progressing well until, in July 1999, I received a letter from one of the councillors from the Dublin Corporation. Its premise was pretty clear: he was asking me not to open. He felt –
they
felt – that a store like Ann Summers would be totally inappropriate for O’Connell Street and for Dublin.

I wasn’t pleased but I know I’m a good communicator, especially on the subject of my business, and decided that I would be able to change their preconceived ideas about our stores. I wrote back to them and invited them to come over and meet us. The idea was that they would see the organisation for the corporate business it was, which would hopefully neutralise their image of us as some hidden, shady operation. I’d spent a lot of my career changing people’s perceptions and felt strongly that I would be able to do so this time. The Project Manager, Ciaran McNamara,
flew over with a colleague called Allan Taylor, who was the chief valuer for the Dublin Corporation. I had planned things meticulously, arranging for John Clarke, my Retail Director at the time, and Vanessa, who was not only Buying Director but also adept at liaising with local councils in the UK, to give them a tour of a couple of our stores. After that they would be shown around our head office and then we would sit down for a meeting. At this time we were still based in our original building, Gadoline House. It was prominently located on the main A22 but looked deceptively small from the outside. Much of the warehouse was on the lower ground floor, and both offices and warehousing stretched far back beyond what the eye could see, behind the BP garage next door.

Most of the offices were located at the front of the building on three levels. The warehouse was massive, with further offices running along each side. The main board-room was at the front of the building on the top level. There was a large boardroom table, which was big enough to accommodate large area sales meetings, and the room had an ambience to impress both the bank manager and potential franchisees.

We were all sitting there in the boardroom and right from the start the atmosphere was very tense. As a businesswoman I am not unused to dealing with difficult situations and have certainly proved myself to be a successful negotiator; however, sometimes you just know
that even if you were the world’s most experienced diplomat you would not be able to find a way through. I immediately realised that what I had sitting before me were two men who were determined to be difficult. I was at the head of the table. Vanessa was on my immediate left with Allan Taylor sitting next to her, who, as far as I could tell, didn’t look me in the eyes throughout the whole meeting. In fact, it seemed to me he didn’t want to look at me at all! Perhaps he thought I was some sort of scarlet woman, who knows?