Читать книгу It’s Not What You Think and Memoirs of a Fruitcake 2-in-1 Collection - Chris Evans - Страница 40

10 ‘Let’s go round again’—Detroit Spinners

9 ‘Love really hurts’—Billy Ocean

8 ‘Blame it on the boogie’—Jackson 5

7 ‘Eye to eye contact’—Edwin Starr

6 ‘Never too much’—Luther Vandross

5 ‘Always and forever’—Heatwave

4 ‘It’s a love thing’—The Whispers

3 ‘December, 1963 (Oh, what a night)’—The Four Seasons

2 ‘Young hearts run free’—Candi Staton

1 ‘You to me are everything’—The Real Thing

The next day I woke up and still couldn’t believe what had happened. Of course the night before I had driven straight back over the exact route I had come home but someone had obviously got to my records before me. All that I found was one lonely twelve-inch single of ‘Relax’ by Frankie Goes To Hollywood.

I was so close to throwing in the towel that morning but Mum made me a cup of tea and gave me some kind words of encouragement, enough to cause me to think about the situation a little more rationally. I could give up but what good would that do? Was this situation redeemable? What would Bill, my nice old Scottish boss, have done? One thing is for sure: he wouldn’t have sat there feeling sorry for himself.

One hour later I was in Woolies buying every compilation album they sold—all the hits, Christmas or otherwise. I ended up with around twenty albums and just about enough tunes to get me through the Christmas party season—after which you could almost guarantee some of the other guys were bound to sell up and move out of the mobile DJ world, having cashed in one final time. Sure enough this year was no exception. I earned my extra cash and snapped up some other dude’s record collection sometime early in the new year and before I knew it I was back on top—and with a much better variety of tunes than I had in the first place.

Being a DJ, as I had hoped and suspected, did indeed have many advantages, including that when all the other blokes were drunk and trying to chat up the girls (by the way, why do blokes wait until they are least able to do this, i.e. towards the end of the night when they can barely walk or talk?) I would be stone-cold sober. Not only that but I would have a set of wheels outside ready to go, whilst everyone else had to resort to running the gauntlet of the queue at the cab rank, a notorious hot-spot for punch-ups—second only to the queue for the late-night chippy.

It was this sobriety and availability of transport which led me to meet Alison, the mother of my daughter Jade.

By now I was the DJ at the mighty Carlton Club, the same place where my brother had DJ’d a decade or so before. Alison was a regular there and was absolutely stunning, with masses of cascading blonde hair and a dazzling smile. She also used to wear these long flowing dresses that followed her obediently around wherever she chose to float—and that’s exactly what she did, she floated—magnificently. She was cool, curvy, sexy and funny, what was not to like?

Alison and I got it together one evening when a friend of hers came over and ‘told’ me to ask her out. To be ‘told’ to ask a girl out when you have also been informed that if you do then the answer is going to be yes is one of life’s great joys. I promptly did as I was ‘told’ and Alison and I were very much inseparable thereafter.

Within not very long at all I was staying over at her house most nights—her mum was very liberal, something for which we were both hugely grateful. This ‘understanding’ meant we were free to do all the things young couples liked to do and we did them a lot. We did them so much in fact that one day a little baby called Jade arrived.

I was twenty-one by now and financially things were going well for me, by that I don’t mean I was on the way to my first million or anything like that, but well enough for Alison and I to buy our own house. Which we did, a sturdy old three-bed terraced house with a tiny front garden, a yard at the back and a knockthrough living/dining room downstairs. But a baby was something neither of us had planned and it wasn’t long before it became obvious things were not going to work out.

Alison had been nothing but supportive of me when it came to my efforts in the world of entertainment, especially when I mooted the idea of getting back into radio. I had arrived home one night and seen a guy who I used to work with at Piccadilly who was now on the telly; somehow he’d managed to bag his own slot and although not bad, he was a little bland to say the least. If he could make it, I knew I definitely had a chance, and the difference now was I also had the funds to back me up.

I discussed my feelings with Alison and she was nothing but encouraging and positive—this is her natural disposition. In fact it was she who pushed me to make the initial call to get back into Piccadilly. I remember specifically what she said:

‘Go for it, if that’s what you really want, you have to go for it.’

Alison was totally selfless when it came to my ambition but I simply wasn’t around enough to be supportive of her in the far more important task of bringing up a young child—in short, I was a selfish prick. I came back to the house one day and Alison had had enough: she had gone back to her mum’s with the baby.

What did I feel at the time? I’m ashamed to say relief. I saw Alison going back home as leaving me free to carry on chasing my dreams—pathetic, I know, but that’s where my head was at the time. To think now what it must have been like for her to be effectively abandoned by the father of her child and, being such a young age herself, left to bring up a little girl all on her own makes me feel awful. Not surprisingly it’s the one thing I wish I could go back and change.

Thank Christ, Alison is the decent person she is and has continued always to put Jade first. She could so easily have let her feelings towards me dictate her decisions but she instead has remained steadfastly loyal to Jade and her well-being, and has done all she can not to let her own feelings get in the way of any chance Jade and I may have of getting to know each other. Jade has always come first with Alison, regardless of whatever else may be going on, testament to what a truly fantastic mum she has been and is one of the many reasons Jade loves her to death.

Inevitably, from the point Alison moved back to her mum’s we grew further and further apart. With our relationship effectively over I decided to move to Manchester, but before I did so, Alison insisted we meet to talk about the future as far as Jade was concerned.

We arranged to meet one evening to discuss what we would do as a long-term strategy considering we had a child together. We met in a pub called the Britannia in Warrington. I’ll never forget that night. Alison laid it on the table, plain and straight. That’s her style. She said if I couldn’t be relied upon to be around on a regular basis it would be best if I stayed out of the picture altogether.

Alison had had enough of me not being there when I said I would be and stated in no uncertain terms that she was more than capable of bringing up her daughter on her own. If I wasn’t prepared to help her, she would much prefer to get on with things by herself rather than having Mr Unreliable hovering around, wondering whether or not he was going to turn up or not. Understandably her support for me and my career was no longer what it once had been—her priorities had changed and Jade came first, now and forever.

Alison and I both agreed that if one day when Jade was older and wanted to find out who her real father was, then that would be up to her. In the meantime Alison wanted to be free to find someone else to be with in life and if that person came along, then she also wanted Jade to have the chance of having a proper full-time dad. So we decided, for the next few years at least, that it would be best for me to disappear from the scene altogether.

I talked to a friend who had grown up without her real dad being around about my situation. She told me that she loved her stepdad, i.e. the guy her mum had got together with when her real father had left, and furthermore she neither cared nor wondered who her real father was, nor did she have any inclination to track him down.

So that is what we did, we parted company and went our separate ways. There was no screaming or shouting, just a flat sadness. As I drove back to Manchester that night and away from my responsibilities I felt a nagging sensation deep in my gut. I’d convinced myself it was the right thing to do and in many ways it was, but at the same time I knew of course it was entirely wrong. I supported Alison and Jade financially from day one but so what? Jade was my daughter and I had decided to leave rather than look after her. Something that I now realise was unforgivable.

Having said all that, I’m pretty sure this arrangement would have worked out fine if it weren’t for one thing—the fact that I would one day become famous and with that would come a whole load of unexpected consequences, including the inevitable intrusion into innocent people’s private lives, which Jade and her mum would have to deal with. Neither Alison nor I thought for one second that this would ever really happen—at least not to the extent it did—not that night in the Britannia pub in Warrington over two halves of lager and a bag of salt and vinegar crisps.

*Please note, these are in no way, shape or form, personal favourites of mine.