You Only Live Once (18 page)

Still the punishment didn’t stop. I endured a further two trials – a disgusting eating task called Vile Vending where I drew the line at chewing on a kangeroo’s testicle, and then the sixth task, Car-lamity, which actually wasn’t too bad compared to all the other trials. I had to drive round a circuit, going through slime and spiders’ webs, with the usual disgusting eating challenge thrown in too. I got eleven out of twelve stars. I don’t think they’ll be setting that trial again as I told Ant and Dec that I’d quite enjoyed it! But by then I felt as if I’d had enough. I wanted to go.

I told the others in camp that I was sorry but, physically and emotionally, I just couldn’t do any more trials. I asked if they would support me and go the Bush Telegraph to tell the production team that I had done enough and shouldn’t have to do any more. They all agreed to do it. I’m sure that, proud as they were that I had done so well for the camp, they must have been pretty pissed off as well that I was getting to do everything. And then I went to the Bush Telegraph myself and said, ‘I’m telling you now . . . and I swear . . . that I am not doing any more trials.’

‘OK,’ the producer or whoever it was said – you don’t get to see them, ‘we’ve taken note of your views.’ But I could tell that they didn’t believe me. I returned to the camp, and not long after that Ant and Dec came bouncing in to reveal that I had been chosen for the seventh trial.

‘I’m not doing it,’ I told them. ‘I’m ready to go.’ Of course, they couldn’t really say anything as we were live and time was running out. So as soon as they’d stopped filming I returned to the Bush Telegraph and said, ‘Look, I’m serious about not doing the trial. I want to go home.’ I didn’t care about losing the money or not winning. All I wanted to do was go home and see my kids and Alex.

For two whole hours the producers tried to persuade me to stay. I even saw the psychologist and said, ‘I’m not being funny, but you lot are making me feel that I’m in a nut house by trying to convince me to stay. I want to go! I’ve made my mind up and nothing is going to change it.’

So then the producer said, ‘OK, we understand but please could you go to the trial with Joe Bugner [the other contestant who had been voted in for it], and then say, “I’m a celebrity . . . get me out of here!”’ They told me that I didn’t have to do the trial but, for filming purposes, it would be great if I could at least go along and deliver that line. I felt as if they hadn’t listened to a word I’d been saying! ‘I’ve just sworn that I won’t do the trial! There is no way I’m even walking to the trial and wasting my breath, unless I’ve got my rucksack on my back and I can say that I’m leaving. In fact, no way am I even going to the trial because I know that I’m a trouper and I will end up wanting to help Joe. I’ve sworn I won’t do it. Please, just let me go!’

But they didn’t give up easily. Their next tactic was to line up my family and friends on the phone, no doubt to try and talk me out of my decision. ‘Your mum’s on the phone, will you talk to her?’

‘No!’ I told them. ‘I’m thirty-one years old, I’m an adult. I’ve made my decision . . . I want to go home.’ Then they got Diana on the phone and I wouldn’t talk to her either; they got Mark Wagman, one of the directors of Pricey Media, and I wouldn’t talk to him. They told me that Gary had arrived and said that he really thought I should stay, and did I want to talk to him?

‘No! I don’t want to talk to anyone, I just want to fucking go! You’re making me feel mad by trying to talk me round!’

‘But maybe you could win if you stay on,’ one of the production team said.

‘I don’t care! I just want to go. Let someone else win. I’m really missing my kids. I can’t bear not to be with them.’ Surely I could not have been any clearer!

‘OK,’ they said. ‘What can we do to keep you in here?’

‘Nothing!’ I exclaimed. ‘I just don’t want to be here any more. It wouldn’t matter if you offered me a million pounds!’ By now I was face to face with the producer and he said, ‘Could you just stay in for another twentyfour hours?’

‘No, I’m going. Please don’t make me go through the barriers on my own, because I will.’

So after those two hours I returned to camp and, thankfully, fifteen minutes later the producer told me that I could go within the hour. Thank Christ for that! I thought.

I said my goodbyes to the other contestants, and genuinely wished all of them well. As I left camp and walked across the bridge that would lead me to freedom I was so happy! I could go home and see the kids! I didn’t for a second regret leaving though I felt I might have let my friends and family down, and I suspected that my mum would probably bollock me for not sticking it out. But I knew I was doing the right thing. I was missing the kids too much; I didn’t need to prove anything more to anyone. Although the money would have been great, I didn’t actually need it, nor did I need the fame. I’d gone in there and tried my best; I’d done my trials and proved I was a trouper.

But as I walked out it was a very different feeling from last time when I had been on such a high. Even though I was relieved to be going, I felt nervous and selfconscious, as if the crew were looking at me in a way which said, ‘You’re such a failure for walking.’ I didn’t feel any warmth from them and thought, ‘Bloody hell, it’s only a game!’ Because I had chosen to come out of the jungle rather than being voted out, there was no one to meet me at the end of the wooden bridge, and no press call. The studio was deserted. I suppose they want to make it feel like you are a loser who doesn’t deserve any attention.

Once I was out of the studio I had to get straight into a van which took me down to the catering tent. Thank God I wouldn’t have to face another a trial! I was so looking forward to being reunited with Alex. I was sure he would be there because he was supposed to have flown over with my brother and Gary and Phil. However, when I walked into the tent he wasn’t there. I felt really disappointed but was sure I would see him soon. At least there was a close friend to meet me – Michelle Heaton. But she didn’t have good news for me. I was stunned when she told me that it looked as if Alex had been giving stories to the press while I was in the jungle. Apparently on Sunday there had been a frontpage story in a tabloid that he was flying out to Australia to propose to me and had already picked out a pink diamond ring.

I felt sick to my stomach at the betrayal but couldn’t let on how upset I was because ITV were still filming me. I just didn’t believe that Alex could have done this to me. From the moment we got together, I’d told him that I didn’t want another ‘Katie and Peter’ relationship where all our personal life was constantly splashed across the papers. Alex had talked about me to one paper early on, and even though he had said really lovely things, I’d told him I couldn’t be with him if he talked to the press about me. That if it happened again then we would be over.

I was adamant about this. I didn’t want to marry anyone who’d try and get famous by using my name or make money by selling stories about me. And he knew exactly how I felt. There had been several times over the past months when Alex had said that an interview in such and such a magazine had been lined up for him, and I would say, ‘Excellent . . . if they want to do an interview about what you do, then you should do it. But don’t get famous on the back of doing interviews about me. And if the magazine only wants to do the interview with you if you answer questions about me, then don’t do it. It means they want to know about me, and this should be about you.’

Straight away I wanted to talk to Alex to find out what the hell was going on, but I didn’t have my phone and I was being filmed as I was driven back to the hotel so I didn’t want to say too much or show how shaken up I was by the news. I felt very confused and upset. I loved Alex so much; I wanted to marry him. Why had he done the one thing that he knew would end everything for us?

Back at the hotel I was no closer to finding out what had happened; all I knew was that Alex hadn’t flown out with my brother as he was supposed to but was on his way to Australia separately. I was being filmed for my own TV reality show and made it clear that I wasn’t going to talk about Alex on camera; I needed to find out for myself what was going on first.

Once the camera was off I phoned him. ‘I can’t believe you’ve done a story. It’s over between us,’ I told him straight out. But inside I was willing him to tell me it wasn’t true and that he loved me, this was all a misunderstanding. But while Alex sounded really upset about me ending our relationship, his explanation of what had happened was very confusing. He didn’t tell me why he hadn’t flown out with my brother, for instance, or why he hadn’t told anyone else what was going on. I wasn’t getting clear answers to my questions and felt very confused by what he was telling me. It just didn’t ring true. I am quick to react to things and tend to jump straight in, without taking my time, so I ended the call by telling him again that we were finished. I don’t know quite how I found the strength, because I was devastated, but I did. Alex sounded very upset too and told me again that he hadn’t done any story, but by then I didn’t know if I could believe or trust him.

I was still reeling from what had happened when I had my interview with Ant and Dec. I told them that I had finished with Alex and wanted to be single again. Looking back, I realise I was too harsh, dumping him in such a public way, even though I had already told him on the telephone. I really regret humiliating him like that, but at the time I felt so hurt by what I thought he had done. I am trying not to be so impulsive in future.

The only good thing was that I was able to talk to the kids. I couldn’t wait to go home and see them but was going to have to stay for a few days more while my contract with ITV was sorted out. As I had walked from the show I lost a lot of the money, but really wasn’t concerned about that.

I’d been so in love with Alex and we’d had such a good relationship that this problem had come like a bolt from the blue. We had never had rows before because we’d had nothing to argue about! In stark contrast to how I felt when Pete dumped me – when even in the middle of being so shocked and upset I still felt a sense of release – this time I was utterly heartbroken. I just wanted to curl up in bed and cry.

Two days later Alex arrived. He came straight up to the suite and as soon as I saw him I realised how much I still loved him. I thought he looked gorgeous and longed to cuddle him and for everything to be put right between us, but I was still so angry with him that I made myself be cold and a bitch and kept him at a distance. We went up on the terrace to talk while my friends waited below. They were pretty sceptical about me seeing Alex again, and had already said that I shouldn’t – that he hadn’t been there for me when I came out of the jungle, and how if he loved me he should have been on the plane straight away to come and see me. But I wanted to hear what Alex had to say. Deep down, I didn’t want to let him go. If I made up with him, it would be my decision and nobody else’s.

It was an intense and emotional meeting. We were both hurting. Alex said, ‘I can’t believe you dumped me on national TV!’

And I said, ‘Yes, I fucking did, Alex, because I thought you’d done that story on me! You didn’t fly out when you were supposed to, and you didn’t let my brother know where you were staying, so you have to admit that it looks like you might have been doing a story.’

He told me yet again that he hadn’t sold the story, he hadn’t bought me a ring, and he wasn’t going to propose. We talked it through and by the end of it I just knew I wanted to be with him, that we would get over this. We spent the night together and made love, and being with him again felt so perfect. I felt complete now that he was with me.

We should have talked it over straight away and I shouldn’t have been so quick to tell him it was finished, but he wasn’t there and it was such a crazy time with me being told so many conflicting things. Now I look back and just think, ‘Thank God we did sort it out.’ I might have lost him otherwise and I can’t imagine my life without Alex.

Over the past months I’d had many arguments with my friends and family who thought I shouldn’t be with him because he was a cross-dresser. But I couldn’t give a fuck what other people thought. I loved Alex, and I knew he loved me. I felt so right with him, felt protected by him, and more than that even the kids loved him to bits. I had found a man I could be my absolute self with. Only I could judge the strength of our relationship. I couldn’t live my life according to how everyone else wanted me to. I wasn’t going to be with a man just because other people thought he was right for me. I was old enough to know how I felt, to know what I wanted out of life and who I wanted to live it with.

I wanted to be with Alex.

CHAPTER TWENTY

GOODBYE 2009

Back home it was wonderful to be reunited with the children. I had missed them so much and never, ever wanted to be away from them so long again. And ever the straight talker, I told my family and friends that I loved Alex and didn’t care what any of them thought, my relationship with him was right and I wanted to be with him. I felt very sure of this. But I also made the decision that I didn’t want the press to know anything about us. Of course, the paps were bound to see him coming and going from the house as they were always parked outside, but I didn’t want to give them any chance to photograph us together. And once again I told Alex that I didn’t want him to do any interviews about me; that if he was interviewed then I wanted it to be about his fighting, not about me, and he agreed.

Meanwhile, just as I was reunited with Alex there were stories in the press that I had phoned Pete as soon as I’d come out of the jungle, begging him to take me back. They were complete lies. In fact, Pete had phoned me as I was travelling home, saying that he had posted a message on Twitter that we weren’t getting back together as he was so sick of the rumours. I think a story had just come out saying that I wanted to get back with him – the same old, same old. I said, ‘Pete, I don’t even bother saying anything any more when the lies are printed. What’s the point?’ It was a perfectly friendly conversation. I had thought about him so much when I was in the jungle and now I had something to say to him. ‘I’m really sorry if you think I was a bad wife to you, and I’m sorry for anything I’ve done since we split that might have upset you, but I’m still the same person you married.’

I felt I had to say these things. Maybe it was my way of finally closing the door on our past, and letting Pete know how I felt. ‘I want you to know how sorry I am. I genuinely did love you and I’m sorry if I wasn’t the wife you wanted me to be.’ And I went on to say, ‘You will see a different me from now on. I’m not going to mention you, and I’m going to cut down on doing interviews in magazines.’

I really hoped things could be amicable between us, though only time would tell. And I still felt, and think I always will, that if only Pete had stood up for me when we broke up and said, ‘She’s the mother of my children and I don’t want a bad word said about her,’ then I wouldn’t have received the battering I did from the press. Writing this now, over a year on from our break-up, I can honestly say that I do forgive him, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget. I don’t think I deserved to be treated like that by the press.

* * *

I’d had time to do a lot of thinking while I was in the jungle and had come to the decision that I was going to cut back on the interviews I did in future. I was sick of the gossipy slanging matches I had got involved with in the past. I didn’t want to do any more trashy interviews slagging other people off. If I did interviews now I wanted them to be more grown-up, based around things that were actually worth talking about. I’d had such negative press, seen so many lies written about me, that now I’d had enough of it. It didn’t seem to matter how many times I pointed out that something wasn’t true, no one seemed to want to believe me. I felt that if people wanted to believe instead that the sun shone out of Pete’s arse, then let them. I couldn’t defend myself any more than I had. Every single day the tabloids wrote made-up stories about me, such lies I didn’t even know how they could fool the public into buying the papers. But I didn’t want to be part of that world any more. I wanted to be more mature, to concentrate on doing things with the kids, on my relationship with Alex, on my business interests and on my riding. I wanted to be happy!

I felt that some of the tabloids and celeb mags had treated me like shit. Why should I do an interview with them which they would end up twisting and turning into something horrible? I felt they didn’t show any respect for my feelings, or even treat me like a human being at all. I was sick and tired of doing an interview about something good in my life one week, only for them to print something hurtful and untrue the following one. I wasn’t going to be abused like that any more.

In future I would still do press calls and interviews when I had a new book, TV show or product to launch because I enjoy doing them, but I didn’t want to continue in the same rut of giving the paps pictures which they could then write a pathetic story around. After returning from Oz I’d had a couple of nights out in London, including attending Piers Morgan’s the Morgan Awards, and because I was still jetlagged and hadn’t eaten much I did get a little drunk and I looked absolutely horrendous in the pictures. It was no big deal, but of course the press made it out to be worse than it was and I ended up on the cover of various celeb mags. I knew that I was an idiot when I had too much to drink and didn’t like what I became then. It was silly to let myself do that. All I wanted to do was be a good mum, have a good relationship with Alex, and buckle down to my work and my riding. I felt as if I had turned over a new leaf.

I also decided to stop writing the column for
OK!
magazine where I talked about my week. It was supposed to be a fun column but, increasingly, I felt the magazine turned it into something bigger. They would put headlines about me on the cover and make it look as if I’d done a photoshoot for that particular column, and that just seemed to filter into the other tabloids and then everything would be blown up out of all proportion. Meanwhile one of the tabloids in the same group as
OK!
would write the most hurtful, hateful rubbish about me. I agonised over the decision, especially since I had done so many interviews and photoshoots with
OK!
over the years – including my first marriage and photoshoots with the children – and had allowed them special access to my life. I had trusted them. Also I’m a very loyal person. I knew Richard Desmond, the owner of the Express group which included
OK!
and had socialised with him and his wife many times over the years – in fact, he had come to my wedding to Peter, and I had been to his house for dinner and he had come to mine. So I wrote him a letter, setting out my reasons for deciding to leave my column in
OK!
and saying how hurt I had felt by some of the stories which had appeared in other publications in the Express group. At the end of the day it’s not just about money for me, it’s got to be about personal loyalty.

And I’d also decided while I was in the jungle that I didn’t want to read the tabloids and celeb mags any more so I got my mum to cancel all my subscriptions, except to
Horse and Hound
– they don’t make up stories about people! In the past I would come down to breakfast and there would be a whole pile of newspapers and mags on the kitchen table, and more often than not there would be a story about me in them – a made-up story – and I couldn’t stand it any more. I asked all my friends and family not to text me about anything that they saw in the press. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to get wound up by a pack of lies. That was such a good decision! It meant I didn’t start the day on a bad note, upset and pissed off because of what had been written about me. My head felt clearer because I wasn’t getting up every morning and reading a load of shit about myself. Nor would I go online and look at stories there. Free at last! I felt strong about it back then, though in the New Year everything caught up with me again and I was at breaking point once more because of what the press put me through . . .

* * *

It was Christmas 2009 and I was gutted not to have all the children with me. It’s such a special time for me and has always been about having a traditional family celebration, but this one ended up being my worst-ever Christmas. Yes, I had Harvey with me, of course, but he doesn’t really understand Christmas and doesn’t like opening presents because he’s so sensitive to noise and hates the sound of paper ripping. I was with Alex and our relationship and the bond between us was getting stronger all the time, but I missed Junior and Princess so much. I just couldn’t get excited about a Christmas spent without them. And much as I wanted things to be friendly between me and Pete, I did end up resenting him for having the children then.

I felt that I couldn’t wait for 2009 to be over. It had been such a difficult year for me. I’d gone through a traumatic miscarriage, a bitter break-up and divorce, all under the full glare of the media spotlight. I decided to throw a fancy dress party on New Year’s Eve – I wanted to end the year on a high. I had come to the conclusion that nine is not a lucky number for me: it was September, the ninth month of the year, when I got married; 2009 was when I got divorced; and I think Dwight Yorke sometimes played in a number 9 shirt . . . and what a disastrous relationship that was!

So New Year’s Eve found my house transformed into a scene from Narnia, a sparkling enchanted winter wonderland with plenty of glitter and bling and with me dressed as a giant pumpkin! The theme of the fancy dress party was ‘fairy tale’ and I imagine people expected me to be wearing some big Disney princess number or else a cheeky little outfit flashing suspenders and loads of cleavage. But I thought the huge orange suit was hilarious, especially as I had to be pushed through the door since the costume was so bulky! Junior came as one of his favourite characters, Buzz Lightyear, and Princess was Belle. Alex had been debating whether to come as a Greek god while we were in the costume hire shop and I had to say, ‘Not the Greeks! Please stay well away from the Greeks!’ Not because I’ve got anything against Greek people, it was just that I’d had a gruelling year getting divorced from a guy who was Greek! And so Alex came dressed as Alexander the Great and showed off his gorgeous body. All my guests had made an effort and the party was full of Prince Charmings, Snow Queens, Tinkerbells, Wicked Witches and Captain Hooks. I loved it!

The fire alarm went off because of the smoke machine at the disco, but luckily one of my guests was Greg, the man who’d built the house, so he knew how to switch it off before the fire brigade turned up!

After an hour or so I was boiling in my pumpkin outfit and so got dressed up again as Cruella de Vil – all fake fur and a black-and-white wig. There was plenty of dancing and I had a good old go on the karoke machine – I’m always like a moth to the flame with those, especially when I’ve had a couple of drinks and any self-consciousness I have about launching into song goes out the window. Before the party I’d told my friends that I was going to be singing more ballads than they’d had hot dinners because I love them! Luckily they’re used to me doing that by now.

The closer it got to midnight, the happier I was about saying goodbye to 2009 and hello to a new year which I knew had many brilliant things in store for Alex and me. Another quick costume change and this time I was a sexy Minnie Mouse and it was time for the countdown to midnight. I had the microphone. ‘I hate 2009!’ I shouted out. ‘I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!’ And then the worst year of my life was officially over.

Now I had 2010 to look forward to, where one thing was for certain – I was going to marry Alex Reid! But first of all he had an appointment with Big Brother.