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4 ‘I’m so proud of you I could pop’

‘I’ve seen this advert on TV for a show called Popstars: The Rivals,’ I said to our Garry one day. ‘I’m thinkin’ of applyin’.’

‘I thought you hated all that,’ he said, looking at me as if I’d gone crazy.

Garry had a point. When the shows Popstars and Pop Idol had been on in recent years I’d always said I’d never go down that route.

‘I’d rather do it by meself,’ I remember saying cockily, several times.

This was a new show, though, and the idea really appealed to me. Popstars: The Rivals was going to create one girl band and one boy band which would compete against each other in the race for the Christmas number one.

‘How cool would that be?’ I said to Garry. ‘Imagine being in a girl band and hanging out with a group of girls all the time. I’d love it. If that ad comes on again, write the number down for me …’

Spookily, at that very second the advert flashed up on the telly. Garry and I looked at each other and screamed in surprise as we scrabbled for a pen and he wrote the number down. I phoned up straight away and asked for an application form, hardly able to believe this had all happened in the space of a few minutes.

‘How weird was that?’ I said to my mam afterwards.

‘It must have been meant to be, Cheryl. Good luck.’

‘Thanks, Mam. Don’t tell anyone else I’m applyin’, will ya?’

It was about four or five months since my split from Jason and I was in a much better place. Even so, if this didn’t work out, I’d rather keep it to myself. I didn’t want anybody worrying about me all over again.

A few weeks after leaving Jason I had started contacting old friends I’d slowly cut myself off from when I was with him. One friend, a girl from Liverpool, had asked if I fancied a waitressing job on the Tuxedo Princess, which was a floating nightclub on the Tyne. It was only about six weeks after the split when she asked me and I was still a shell of my former self, totally lacking in confidence and all skinny and washed out. I didn’t even have my job in the café any more, because Jason had got me in such a state towards the end of our relationship that I couldn’t even cope with that.

‘Surely you don’t want to give me a job?’ was my reaction.

‘I’m proud of you for getting out of that relationship,’ my Scouse friend said. ‘I believe in you.’

She needed someone to serve shots of cocktails like ‘sex on the beach’ on the boat two nights a week, and after a bit of persuasion I agreed to give it a go. Right from the first night I could feel that it was doing me good to have to do my hair and put on a dress, and it was amazing how easy I found it to socialise again.

Meeting people who were normal and pleasant and out to have fun on the boat was just so refreshing, and each time I went to work I smiled and enjoyed myself. ‘I can see the future again,’ I thought.

That’s exactly how I was feeling in August 2002, when I received a letter inviting me to the London auditions of Popstars: The Rivals. In my application form I’d explained all about my performances at Metroland and my recording experience, and I’d attached a little passport-sized picture I’d had done in a photo booth in the shopping centre. I was quietly optimistic when I sent it off because even though I’d done nothing with my singing for a good couple of years, I had a very strong gut feeling that the audition would go well. The feeling I had was so powerful I swear it was almost spiritual, but I was determined to be very level-headed about it too, and not let my intuition rule my head. ‘I’ll just do me best,’ I told myself as I prepared to travel down to London a week or so later. ‘That’s all I can do. There’s nothing to lose.’

I got a loan from the Provi man for £100 and took myself off to River Island, where I bought some little shoes with heels, a pair of brown trousers with a pleat down the front, a flowery top and a choker with a cross on it. As I packed I practised the song I’d chosen to sing. I was heavily into R&B and soul music, but I knew because of the title of the show I needed to sing a pure pop song, and so I chose S Club 7’s ‘Have You Ever’, because it was the pop-iest thing I knew.

‘If you don’t get in, you can just come home.’ That’s what I was thinking to myself as I got on the train to London.

I was 19 years old. I was all by myself and my heart and head were full of nervous excitement the whole journey.

When I arrived at King’s Cross I felt the old familiar tingle in my bones that I first experienced four or five years earlier on my trips to London. It was that exciting feeling that I was in this twinkly, sparkly place, where I felt sure my future lay. It was like a sixth sense; I can’t explain it any other way.

This was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. That’s how I felt as I made my way to a little hotel near Wembley Stadium, close to where the auditions were being held. I was on my own, and my future was completely in my hands. Nobody was there to help me, but then again nobody was there to drag me down, either. This was all up to me, and on top of all my other emotions I felt proud of myself for being there, for pursuing what I loved. I could so easily have curled up into a ball in Newcastle, but I hadn’t, and I felt good about myself.

I can barely remember singing my song to the producers, which was the first hurdle I had to face, because I was that nervous. I will never forget coming face to face with the three judges though: Louis Walsh, Pete Waterman and Geri Halliwell.

I knew Louis managed Westlife and Boyzone and had been a judge on the Irish version of Popstars the year before, but that was about it. I also knew that Pete Waterman was one of the famous Stock Aitken Waterman music producers and had also been a Pop Idol judge. The person I was most daunted by, though, was Geri Halliwell, because she was so famous. I’d listened to the Spice Girls when I was growing up and had really liked them, and to be stood in front of Ginger Spice herself was really intimidating.

‘Breathe,’ I told myself as I took centre stage, wearing a badge with my identification number: L786. ‘And don’t forget to smile.’

I think I only sang for about half a minute before the judges stopped me, and Louis said, ‘I wanna put her through.’

‘You have the most beautiful eyes and skin I think I’ve ever seen in my life,’ Pete Waterman said, which took me completely by surprise. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a compliment like that and it gave me a real boost.

Then all three judges started saying things to me at once, asking if I was sure I wanted to be a pop star, and if I realised how much hard work it would be. Geri told me it wasn’t glamorous, and Louis said: ‘It’s early mornings, late nights and lots of bullshit.’

I told them I wouldn’t be happy doing anything else, which was the honest truth.

As I walked out of the room shaking, smiling and thanking them all, it felt surreal. I’d got through to the next round, and it had all happened in one crazy minute! My head was spinning and spinning. It was just so exciting. I phoned my mam straight away to tell her the good news.

‘That’s nice,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell our Garry. I’m just cooking his tea.’

There was no hoo-hah, but I think that was a good thing. I needed to keep my feet on the ground and focus on the next stage of the competition. There was a whole week of singing and dancing auditions to get through next, with the aim of selecting 10 girls and 10 boys who would battle it out for a place in the boy band and the girl band.

Looking back, that entire week is quite a blur in my head as I was a complete emotional wreck.

I spent the whole time either on my own in my hotel room thinking about what I had to do next, or giving it my all in front of the judges. There was nothing else in my life, because nothing else mattered.

When Louis told me I’d made the last 15 I couldn’t stop crying, but it was Geri who delivered the really big news, travelling up to Newcastle to tell me I’d got into the final 10 and would be competing in the finals, live on TV. Geri didn’t tell me quite as plainly as that, of course. As I would have to learn myself in years to come, it makes better television if you string out the moment when the big decision is revealed. It’s something I hated then and I still hate now, but Geri played the game brilliantly.

I remember sitting in my mam’s front room listening to Geri rambling on and on for what felt like an age. I really couldn’t make head nor tail of what she was on about, and I felt absolutely terrified.

‘You’re in!’ she said eventually, to which I replied, ‘You shouldn’t do that. That was really horrible. You shouldn’t be allowed to do things like that to people.’

I was so excited and wanted to tell everybody, but the news had to be kept secret until all the auditions and heats we’d gone through so far had been shown on television.

In the meantime, I had to move down to London to share a house with the other girl finalists and prepare for the live shows. Just as I was packing my bags, the phone rang and I ran downstairs to answer it.

It was Dolly’s daughter, and my immediate thought was that I wished I could tell her and her mam my good news before I left Newcastle.

‘I’m sorry Cheryl, it’s not good news.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Me mam’s died. It was the emphysema. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you.’

I think I just stood there, gasping for air. Dolly had been like a grandmother to me, and her death devastated me all the more as I hadn’t been able to share my news with her before she passed away. I immediately wondered if I should still go down to London.

‘When’s the funeral?’ I whispered, although straight away I knew that I wouldn’t want to go. Funerals made me think of Lee Dac lying in his coffin, and I absolutely hated them with a passion. I also thought of the deaths of two of my own grandparents. My mam’s dad had died of drink when I was 14, and I never met my other grandfather. He died of a heart attack after playing a game of football, and actually collapsed in my father’s arms, when my dad was only 17. The first time I heard that story I sobbed my heart out, thinking how terrible that must have been for my dad, coping with that at such a young age. I imagined him crying, and ever since that day I’ve never been able to bear seeing grown men cry.

I definitely didn’t want to go to this funeral, but I desperately didn’t want to let Dolly down either.

‘Next week, not sure which day yet,’ came the reply.

I felt panicky. I had no idea what my schedule was the following week. I cried my eyes out when I came off the phone, but when I eventually dried my tears I had a very clear thought in my head.

‘What would Dolly want me to do?’

‘Get on the buckin’ train, Cheryl,’ I heard Dolly’s voice say, and so that is what I did.

I was told later that I was named as one of Dolly’s granddaughters at her funeral, which was very moving. Looking back, I think Dolly’s passing made me more determined than ever to succeed, not just for myself, but to make the people who loved me proud.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, I now found myself living in a huge mansion worth millions of pounds in Weybridge, Surrey, along with nine other girls, including Nadine Coyle and Sarah Harding and, eventually, Nicola Roberts and Kimberley Walsh. The house absolutely amazed me. I’d never even stayed in a nice hotel before, let alone a place like this. Everything was shiny and luxurious and there was even a swimming pool, which made it seem even more grand.

‘This is just mad!’ Nicola said when she moved in a little while after me.

I clicked with Nicola straight away. I’ve always liked Scousers because they tend to have the same mentality and sense of humour as Geordies, and I soon found out that Nicola was from a similar background to me too. We laughed our heads off about how different this house was to what we were used to back home in Newcastle and Liverpool.

Nicola was very striking and I thought her long red hair was absolutely stunning, but she was painfully shy and right from the start I felt very protective towards her. She was only 16 and I wanted to take care of her, like she was my little sister. Nicola had actually been sent home from the competition earlier on but was given a second chance after another girl decided to pull out at the last minute.

I would have found that very stressful, but despite the set-back and her shyness, Nicola actually had an amazing amount of self-confidence, because she knew she was a good singer.

‘I know I’ll get through,’ she’d say every week.

Deep down, I also had plenty of self-belief, but that didn’t stop me suffering badly with nerves.

‘Whatever you do, don’t let the nerves ruin your chances, not now you’ve come this far,’ I told myself over and over. I also had the attitude: ‘If I don’t make it this time, I’ll still get there,’ which was a great leveller for me.

I was enjoying myself like I never had before, which helped a lot too. It was summertime, the sun was shining and I was spending my days practising my singing, making friends with girls who were all chasing the same dream, and all in such amazing surroundings. Even if I didn’t make the band, I knew I would never regret this time.

‘What will you do if you don’t get through?’ Nicola asked.

‘Learn from the experience,’ I said confidently.

That’s honestly what I thought, and when those words came out of my mouth I knew that just getting this far in the process had done wonders for my self-esteem.

‘Your skin’s amazing,’ was the very first thing I’d ever said to Kimberley, when we’d met in the earlier stages of the competition. I had walked up to her, completely out of the blue, and said that to her because I was just so fascinated by how beautiful she looked. Kimberley had looked at me deadpan, muttered ‘thanks’, and said something about using a certain foundation cream. At the time the only make-up I wore was eyeliner and a bit of mascara and lip-liner, and I felt embarrassed and wondered if Kimberley thought I was a weirdo.

She had been given a second chance too, after another girl who’d originally made the final 10 left because she was pregnant. I was absolutely delighted when I heard Kimberley was returning, because once we started to get to know each other at the auditions we really hit it off and had promised to keep in touch, come what may.

When she was initially voted off I’d felt devastated. ‘Look, Kimberley,’ I said very seriously. ‘If I don’t make it either, you and me will make a group together.’

She’d agreed, and so when she was brought back into the competition we already had a bond, and I loved having her in the house.

I liked the fact that Kimberley was a very down-to-earth person – a typical Yorkshire lass – and I noticed we’d both go ‘wow!’ at the same things. We did that quite a lot whenever Sarah was around, actually, because Sarah stood out. She has such a big personality and I’d never met anyone quite like her. She was very loud and you couldn’t miss her, but despite that I felt I hadn’t got to know her through the auditions at all. Sarah was another Northerner, having grown up in Stockport, but it felt like we were from completely different worlds.

In the house she was the one who was always doing crazy things like wrapping her whole body in clingfilm before she went to bed, saying it was a good way to detoxify. She’d done a beauty course and was always giving us tips, but to me all this stuff was new and really unusual.

I knew more about Nadine than any of the other girls to begin with because I’d actually seen her on TV. Nadine had won a place in Irish Popstars the year before, but was disqualified when she was found to be too young. It had been a bit of a scandal because she had said she was 18 when she wasn’t, but Nadine was really quiet and sweet and it was hard to believe she was the same person who’d caused such a drama.

‘Hi Nadine, it’s nice to meet you,’ I said when I first met her at the auditions. ‘I remember you from Irish Popstars.’ She seemed quite shy but right from the start, I don’t think anybody doubted that Nadine would make it through to the band, because her voice was just so good.

‘Who wants me to make some chicken and rice?’ one of the other contestants in the house asked one night. This was Javine Hylton, and she loved to cook.

‘Yes please!’ the rest of us chorused. I didn’t have a clue how to cook anything fancy like that and nor did Nicola or our roommate Aimee, so we were always grateful for Javine’s chicken and rice. It was really good, and I ate so much of it I noticeably started to put on weight for the first time in years.

We had several weeks in the house together before the live shows started, during which time we were encouraged to have singing lessons.

‘Use your chest voice, Cheryl,’ the teacher said to me one day.

‘What’s me “chest voice”?’ I replied. I’d never had a singing lesson in my life and I didn’t know what she was on about.

‘Well, how do you breathe when you are singing?’

‘I just do, with me lungs.’

Nicola and I retreated to our room afterwards and collapsed in a fit of giggles. Nicola painted my nails and I taught her how to put on eyeliner. Day by day our bedroom got messier and messier, until eventually you could barely see the carpet for all the clothes and shoes, hairbrushes and towels strewn all over the floor.

One morning a really awful pair of trainers arrived at the house. I don’t know where they came from or who they were for, as I don’t remember us having stylists or anything like that in those days, but I was full of mischief and I saw the opportunity for a joke.

I took the trainers to each girl’s room in turn and told them very seriously, ‘These have been sent for you. Davina McCall says you have to try them on now and then wear them for your first performance.’

Their faces fell but they dutifully tried on the trainers, not wanting to go against the wishes of Davina, who was the host of the show. When they eventually found out it was a wind up each girl had a fit and then cracked up laughing. That’s what it was like all the time in the house. It was full of fun, like being on a daft girls’ holiday.

I phoned my mam most days and she would always tell me if there had been a mention of anything to do with Popstars in the papers. There were bits of tittle-tattle all the time, with stories of the girls sneaking out of the house to party with the boys and silly things like that. I never took much notice because I wasn’t involved, but one day my mam phoned me up to warn me there was going to be a story all about me, and it didn’t sound good.

‘Cheryl, I think someone’s done one of them kiss-and-tells on ya.’

My mind went into overdrive. Only the day before I’d spoken to my dad, and he’d told me, ‘I’m so proud of you I could pop.’ Now my mind was going crazy. I was wondering what had been written about me, and what my family was about to read. Mam didn’t know what was in the story yet, explaining that she’d just taken a phone call at home from a reporter trying to get her to make a comment, and she thought she’d better let me know.

I panicked and worried about every single boy I’d ever kissed, until I actually got to read the article the next day.

I was totally stunned to discover it was a completely fabricated kiss-and-tell from a guy who used to come in Nupi’s café, who I didn’t even remember talking to.

This was my first experience of being the focus of a made-up tabloid story and I just couldn’t believe a newspaper could print such rubbish and get away with it, but they did. It was so weird and frustrating to find myself in that situation. I felt incredibly uncomfortable; the feeling was like nothing I’d ever experienced in my life before. I had to phone my dad and tell him the guy had made it all up, and warn him not to read the paper, which was just horrible, especially so soon after he had told me how proud he was of me.

Not surprisingly, my heart stopped when my mam phoned me again a few weeks later to tell me there was going to be another story on me in the papers.

‘Oh my God, what next?’ I asked. I was still rattled by the last one, and I wasn’t sure I could take another.

The live shows were in full swing now and even though I wasn’t afraid of being kicked off, I was suffering badly with anxiety each time I had to step up to the mic. My nerves used to completely consume my body, in fact. Even if I sang perfectly it felt to me like they were trying to take the breath out of my body on every note.

‘Just tell me, mother. Nothing can be as bad as the last story.’

‘It’s not like that, Cheryl,’ my mam said. ‘Some of your friends have hung a banner over the Tyne Bridge. It’s huge and it says “Vote For Cheryl Tweedy”. They had to get special permission from the council.’

I burst out laughing, as much with relief as pleasure. That was pretty special. Geordies are so proud of their own, and it gave me a real boost.

I was doing really well in the competition and getting voted through each time. I can’t remember any of the comments now, but I know the girls competed against each other every fortnight, alternating weekly with the boys. Each time I’d think, ‘Am I really still here?’ Being on the television didn’t faze me, but the whole idea that I was being judged was horrible, because I wasn’t used to being in that position when I was singing.

I found it very hard when some of the friends I’d made started to be voted off, and it was absolutely terrible when my roommate Aimee went. I genuinely wished I could go in her place, because I was older and felt I could cope with the rejection better.

My mam and sister came to the final show and were cheering like mad in the audience, but practically the only thing I can remember in amongst all the tension and excitement is Davina standing up to announce which five of us, out of the six remaining girls, had made it into the band.

‘The first member of the band is …’ I could almost hear my heart beating.

‘Cheryl!’

I jumped out of my seat, looking more like a Newcastle fan when the team had just scored than a pop singer, and the memory of it still makes me cringe.

Davina had to make me sit down and I perched on a stool in disbelief, shaking and trembling as first Nicola, then Kimberley and finally Nadine and Sarah took their seats next to me. Javine was the sixth girl who hadn’t made it, and I was absolutely gutted for her.

The rest of us just started screaming at each other, and we kept on screaming for what felt like the whole night. I remember going up to the bar and being pulled from pillar to post by so many people wanting to congratulate us. Then it was straight to a London hotel, because we still had the competition with the boys to go through, and the record label wanted us to start work the very next morning. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling for literally the whole night. I couldn’t sleep a wink. I had adrenalin pumping through my veins so fast I thought I was going to go bang. I was absolutely euphoric. My life was changed. I felt it, very strongly, as I lay there in the dark. My life was going to be different now. I was a member of Girls Aloud, as the band had been named. And I just knew that we were going to absolutely smash the boys when it came to the battle for the Christmas number one, which was our next challenge.