Please Let It Stop (14 page)

I love my father and am extremely proud of him. Unlike me, he didn’t have the support of his father; in fact, quite the opposite, really. Despite this, Dad has risen above all the challenges life has thrown at him to become one of the
most successful men in the UK. There have been low points in my career when my father has reassured me, saying, ‘There is nothing to fear but fear itself.’ He has always been my rock, the person to turn to when I needed that extra encouragement. Above all he is someone I always knew would be truly honest with me, even if it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. He has always had great belief in me and I am only glad that I have been able to live up to it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I like dating. I like the idea of meeting different people and going out for dinner or drinks, and just getting to know them. I’m not one of these people who expects romance or even a passionate evening from every date. Having said that, I am very selective and my friends even think I’m too fussy. I get frustrated by this as everyone has a flavour or type they prefer and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being focused on what you like. I don’t want to compromise. I also have so many exciting projects and opportunities, and he would have to be very special to drag me away from all the things I’m enjoying at the moment.

After I’d split up from Ben and finished with Paul, I did what a lot of women do: I went out with my friends, mostly with Carole. Carole was also single and we had a ball going out together and just having a good time. It was a new experience for me as Carole was my first truly close friend and it was the
first time I really shared that ‘girls, we’re in this together’ kind of feeling that I imagine many women have enjoyed for much of their lives. Early in 2000 I met Toby Anstis, the DJ and presenter. Soon after I’d bought Knickerbox, Toby decided to run his breakfast show from the window of the Knickerbox store in Kensington. We had a bed in the window and when I turned up at the store we got into bed together and he interviewed me. Toby had mentioned to my publicist, Ghislain Pascal, that he’d love to go on a date with me. I was newly single and a bit out of touch with the dating thing but I thought Toby was lovely and it would be good fun.

Toby is a very warm, friendly person and a true gentleman – but he is also a bit accident prone. On our first date he accidentally threw a glass of wine over me. On our second date we went to the cinema and he tipped a bucket of popcorn into my lap. On the third date we went to Richmond and he nearly got me killed crossing the road. As lovely as he was, I didn’t want to risk the prospect of being struck by lightning or having something drop on me from a great height, either of which could be serious possibilities when dating Toby!

Then I met the Flip Flop man. I gave him that name on the basis of one exasperating date – and, no, it doesn’t have anything to do with sex! His name was Paul and he was gorgeous, but he was was a little overawed by who I was and what I did for a living. When he found out, he didn’t know how to react and didn’t quite know how to talk to me.

One time we were due to go to the Atlantic Bar and he rang me and said, ‘Look, I’ve had an accident playing hockey and I’ve injured my foot. I’m on crutches. Do you still want to go out or rearrange?’ I reassured him that crutches were fine. He turned up without them, which was not a good look and meant that when he walked he dragged the injured foot behind him. I was not impressed. After we’d been at the Atlantic we ended up walking in the direction of Leicester Square. It was agonising to walk with him and I kept wishing he’d brought the crutches. When we got to the traffic lights near the Trocadero he said, ‘You’ll never guess what has happened.’ I was not surprised to hear that the shoe on his injured foot was damaged: half of the sole had come away – hence the title of Flip Flop man! Undaunted, I told him that we could go into the Trocadero and buy some trainers so he could throw away the shoes. He refused my suggestion point-blank, saying he did not want to dump his shoes. No, he would find some Superglue and fix them. We then had to spend ages looking everywhere for Superglue. We didn’t find it. And I didn’t go out with him again.

I am a generous person so naturally I like men who share my values and ideals. That does not mean they have to have as much money as I do but in some way its nice to be made to feel special. On a date I will offer to pay half. Most guys don’t accept on the first date, preferring to pay themselves, and then I will usually say, ‘Well, I’ll get the next one.’ I am
happy to adapt to situations and have no hard and fast rules, only that I don’t like men who are penny-pinching. Recently I went on a date with one such person. My friend Val had set me up with an actor. I was wary at first because he said he had a beard and I am not a fan of facial hair, preferring a clean-cut, smooth look (designer stubble excepted). He told me over the phone that he’d had to grow a beard for a part in a film so he had no choice. I hate to sound shallow but the beard was worrying me; however, I don’t like disappointing people so continued with the date. He wanted to meet at the Mandarin Oriental for a drink and I thought that was a good choice. By the time I saw him he had at least trimmed the beard and it looked OK.

He asked me what I’d like to drink so I asked for a glass of champagne. I don’t drink fast so it’s not like I drink vast amounts. As we were talking I mentioned I’d sent my driver, Brian, away because I didn’t want him to know about the date. Brian is very professional and confidential but I guess I wanted to keep it private. After that we jumped into a cab and went to a restaurant in Fulham. By this time I was quite hungry and looking forward to my meal. Almost as soon as we sat down, he said, ‘I’m not into dessert because I don’t have a sweet tooth.’ I told him that was fine and I wasn’t that fussed about sweets either. He then said, ‘I’m not having a starter. I’m not into them, either. Are you having one?’ Well, I hadn’t come all this way for one course, so of course I was having a starter. In
fact, I’d already spotted what I was having. By now I had detected little signs of frugality. The next thing, his phone rang and he took the call. I heard him on the phone saying, ‘Thanks, thanks.’ Thinking it might be something to do with an acting part I asked who it was and he said, ‘Oh, it’s my mum wishing me good luck for the date!’ This was not turning out to be a good date.

There was worse to come when the bill arrived. Anyway, when I offered to pay half he didn’t hesitate. Quick as a flash he said, ‘Yeah fine, that’s great.’ Without further delay, he proceeded to divide the bill
exactly
down the middle. It came to £64.42 and it took him a while to work out that it would be £32.21 each. I was flabbergasted, not by his slow maths but his tightness. I took £40 in cash from my bag and put it on the table. ‘I like a woman with cash,’ he said. He wanted to put exactly half on his card and went to great pains to explain this to the waiter, who was looking more embarrassed than I was. When the waiter returned with the change for me, I picked it up and put down a ten-pound note for the tip. ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded. ‘That’s your money.’ ‘I know,’ I replied. ‘I’m leaving a tip.’ He said it was far too much and he’d already paid the tip but I hadn’t seen anything except a few measly coins. I left the tip anyway.

Clearly an opportunist, he asked if I was calling my car. I told him I was and it would probably take me at least an hour and a quarter to get home from Fulham. He asked if he could have a lift to Green Park and, not having a great
sense of where we were, I asked him if it was on the way. He said it was. When my driver came, he said it was in the opposite direction but we drove him there and got rid of him. While I have no desire to see him ever again, I certainly don’t harbour any ill feelings towards him.

The same cannot be said of another man whom I had a lucky escape from. It all started in October 2006 when he contacted me through my publicist, Ghislain. He worked in the City and apparently he’d been to school with my cousin Bradley. He also said he had shared a kiss with me many moons ago. Once Ghislain had passed the email on to me I realised that he’d actually kissed my cousin Tina, so I replied to him saying that he had the wrong girl. A series of amusing exchanges ensued during which he made self-deprecating remarks about always getting the wrong girl. I was amused and a little bit charmed. My sister Vanessa was far more pragmatic: ‘Jaq, he will be ugly. Nobody can be that funny
and
good-looking.’ She said I shouldn’t even bother thinking about it. I should know better than to ignore my sister’s advice, but I did, and carried on communicating with him. He sent me another email and asked me if I would sponsor him on a charity event. I tried to help but he confessed it was just an excuse to contact me again. He had such an amazing sense of humour, the type that makes you laugh out loud, and I was really warming to him. Around the same time, I met up with my cousin Tina at my grandmother’s funeral. She remembered him and so we sent
him a text from my phone – which meant he now had my number. One Friday night I was at home catching up on all those episodes of
I’m a Celebrity
that I’d missed, when he texted. He asked me if I’d like to see a picture of him. I said that would be good. He then said, ‘Naughty or nice?’ I said ‘Both,’ and then, realising that could have consequences, quickly texted, ‘Nothing that will make me blush.’ Ten minutes passed by and I was getting a bit worried. The next thing I knew I had received a picture of him. Not his face or even his head, but his naked torso. Why had he sent it? A few minutes later, obviously after waiting for me to react, he sent a further text asking, ‘Have you cum yet?’ I suddenly felt ill. I texted him and said, ‘You have just gone from funny to sleazy. Sorry, but you have got the wrong girl.’

He replied saying, ‘There is a fine line … I have just crossed it. Sorry.’ Meanwhile he had sent a facial picture of himself and I realised my sister was right. The next day I still felt disturbed about what he’d done. I had deleted his texts and wanted never to hear from him again. While I was in the car on my way to London, he sent me a text, trying to blame me for what had happened. I ignored it so when that didn’t work, he got bitter and wrote, ‘I’ve been with the wrong girls for the last thirty years.’ I felt like I’d had a very lucky escape.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I like a party. Whether it’s my own or someone else’s, I love big occasions where everyone goes to a lot of trouble to dress up and gets into the spirit of things. In 2000 I held an Arabian Nights birthday party to celebrate my fortieth birthday. It was to be at my father’s home, The Chalet. As well as my close friends and family, guests included Sid Owen, Lucy Benjamin, Steve McFadden, Dean Gaffney, Michael Greco, Toby Anstis, Barry Fry and his wife Kirsty, Ron Noades and his wife Novello and Jasper Carrot, who arrived in spectacular style in his helicopter.

The decor was absolutely beautiful. We organised everything through an events company who put a massive Bedouin-style marquee over the entire patio area which showed off two stunning water features on either side of the dance floor. The whole feeling was everything you would imagine of the Arabian Nights, with rich, over-sized cushions and jewelled accessories. The draped ceiling represented a
starry night and there was even a statue of a camel. All the waitresses were dressed as belly dancers as they greeted guests with cocktails. The girl band Fierce performed a number of their hits and even Sid got up and sang along with his friend Lonyo. We laid on courtesy buses to and from the Selsdon Park Hotel, where many guests were staying, and valet parking for the guests that drove. I wore an amazing Neil Cunningham creation, a black fitted dress and Manolo Blahnik shoes.

It was lovely to see everybody. My sister was there, looking radiant, partly because she is beautiful but also because she had dumped Steve after ten years and had got together with Nick, a policeman whom I instantly liked. Seeing him and my sister together, I knew they were just right for each other. Nick would eventually become my brother-in-law, but in the meantime he had added some extra excitement to my birthday by bringing a friend with him who was absolutely gorgeous. Actually he wasn’t just gorgeous; if a man can be beautiful, that was how I’d describe Dan. He had dark hair and blue eyes. His was a face that you just wanted to gaze into. I went over and met him, and I was blown away by his infectious smile and warm and friendly personality. There was definitely electricity between us. However, nothing happened that night because I was the hostess and I was making sure all my guests were having a good time.

My sister and Nick went out with a group that included Dan and, as I was single, I often joined them so we saw a
lot of each other. It was so obvious that there was a major attraction between us. By now there was lots of flirting going on but he wasn’t making a move. I think we were both conscious of the age gap between us, seventeen years, which obviously concerned me, but Dan seemed older than his years and intellectually we were on the same level.

I normally prefer men who are just a few years younger than me. I live a younger lifestyle than my age and a lot of men in their mid-forties would be on a different wavelength to me. I like younger men because they have more energy, like to have fun and are open-minded about everything, not just sex. The only thing I would say is that a date is a date until it becomes something else.

That was about to happen when Dan and I went with the others to the Glasshouse in April 2001. We had our first real kiss there. At the end of the night he offered to give me his phone number so I could ‘call him’. I said, ‘No, Dan. If you want to take me out, you call me.’ I wasn’t going to start making the running. Clearly, he’d never had to make much effort before, but he did call as I hoped he would.

Our first date was the best first date I’ve ever been on. We chatted and laughed all night. It was so natural – you know when you’re with someone and you don’t have to try to have a good time, it just happens. We started the night off in a bar with champagne. We then decided to move on and went outside to look for a cab. It was proving impossible to find one. A man with a Rolls-Royce pulled up and
said he’d drive us where we wanted to go for seven quid. He wasn’t a cab driver, it was just a fluke. We went from bar to bar and we were out for hours. In fact, we’d met at six in the evening and didn’t get back until four in the morning. Dan couldn’t believe that we were out that late, partly because he knew I’d just had an operation on my knee, but neither of us wanted the night to end.