Chanelle Hayes - Baring My Heart (10 page)

D
espite what you might think, it was never my intention to be on
Big Brother
. It hadn’t ever crossed my mind. I had this vision of finishing college, going to university and then getting a career as a speech therapist going. So when my college friend Lisa asked me to keep her company while she went to a
BB
audition in Manchester, I agreed but I had no intention of giving it a go myself.

While we were queuing with all the other oddballs, the Channel 4 researchers chatted to the wannabe housemates, homing in on anyone quirky-looking or ultra-loud. After a while, when my feet were beginning to ache, a young guy with a clipboard approached me and Lisa.

‘So why do you want to be on
Big Brother?
’ he said, looking straight at me.

‘Oh, I’m not auditioning,’ I told him, putting my hand on Lisa’s arm. ‘I’m just here to support my friend.’

‘Ah, I see. But I’m afraid you can’t go any further in the line unless you audition too,’ he said with a smile.

I have no idea if that was true or if he just saw some sort of potential in me but, before I could reply, Lisa said, ‘Oh, yeah, that’s fine. She’d love to audition as well, wouldn’t you, Chanelle?’

‘Erm, OK. I guess so,’ I said, shrugging my shoulders. ‘I might as well now we’ve come all this way.’

And suddenly, the idea didn’t seem so ridiculous after all. What did I have to lose – apart from a few hours of my time? It turned out to be quite fun and the interview was straightforward enough – I just had to blather on about myself, which – trust me – is no challenge. Whenever I’m nervous, I speak at a million miles an hour, so I was just gabbling on about anything and everything. I’m surprised they could understand a single word I was saying but it must have worked because, at the end of it, I was asked to fill out loads of forms and someone then called to ask me back for a second phase of interviews. While this was quite exciting, I did feel bad because Lisa didn’t get any further and, of course, was disappointed.

‘What did you do that I didn’t?’ she asked.

‘I honestly haven’t got the faintest idea.’ All I can think is that they thought my likeness to a certain Spice Girl was a good selling point because they kept asking me about her. I also told them the story about my real mum’s murder and they seemed to think that was fascinating. I guess it helped that I wasn’t just some clueless bimbo. In fact, when they did IQ tests on all the potential housemates at the audition, mine came out as 114. This may not actually mean much to you but the average British IQ is 100, so I clearly had more brains than some of the typical airheads in that room!

I was called back a second and third time and, even though I never actually thought I’d get chosen, I went along with it out of curiosity. The whole process was so cloak-and-dagger that it was
quite exciting. One time, I had to get a train from Wakefield to London and was cryptically told to meet a girl with a spotty umbrella at Covent Garden tube station. You’d think I was trying to get into the MI5, not a bloody reality-TV show!

Then, a few weeks before the series began in May 2007, I was called to another meeting where one of the producers said, ‘Right, Chanelle, you’ve made it onto our final shortlist.’

‘What? That’s amazing,’ I said, although I didn’t have the foggiest why. ‘What does that mean then?’

‘Basically, it means that we think you’ve got the full package,’ said this woman. ‘You’re glamorous, confident and you’re clever. Plus you look like one of the most famous celebrities in the world.’

‘Thanks very much!’ I said.

‘So this is where it gets serious. We’ve selected a number of potential housemates for the final list but, if you want to make the final line-up, you’ve got to keep it a secret from everyone you know.’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘So I can’t tell anyone at all?’

‘Well, you’ll probably have to let your parents know. But they must be sworn to secrecy too. If this leaks out anywhere in the media, you will automatically be dropped from the shortlist.’

‘Right,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry, I’m good at keeping secrets.’ Bloody hell, this was intense. But she hadn’t finished yet.

‘You’ll also need to go into hiding for a while, so your identity doesn’t leak out.’

‘What, I have to live in a cave or something?’

The producer laughed. ‘Not exactly but, if you’re still keen to be involved, you’ll go abroad with a chaperone and keep a low profile for a few weeks.’

‘What about college?’

‘You’ll have to arrange a significant amount of time off. We realise it’s a big ask and you might decide it’s all too much –
which we’d entirely understand. It’s entirely up to you, of course. Perhaps you need to go away and have a good think about it?’

Well, what could I say? ‘Oh, actually, I’m going to turn down this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity because I don’t want to skip a few lessons or go on holiday for a bit.’ As bloody if! Wild horses would not stop me doing this now.

‘No, that’s all fine,’ I said with a nod. ‘No problem.’

When I got home, I told Mum straight away. I thought she would kill me for even considering taking off so much time halfway through my A Levels but I was wrong – she was thrilled!

‘You’re kidding?’ she said as I broke the news. ‘I knew you were up to something. This is so exciting!’ She paused. ‘Right, we need to get you some new pyjamas. And you’ll need to get your hair done.’

‘All right, Mum, calm down!’ I said and laughed. ‘I haven’t got a place yet – there’s still a long way to go. But promise me you won’t tell Dad. He’ll go mad and there’s no point until we know for sure whether I’ve made it.’

‘Yes, he will be furious,’ she agreed. ‘But you can go back and finish your A Levels afterwards, can’t you?’

‘Definitely,’ I said. ‘I’ve worked so bloody hard for them, I’m not giving them up now.’

Mum and I managed to keep our secret from Dad, although it was hard because we wanted to talk about it all the time. A few weeks before the show was due to start, I headed to France with my allocated chaperone, who was called Jenny. Fortunately, we got on really well and we’re still friends now. But we had to keep moving around every three days or so, as the producers were so worried about the housemates’ identities being leaked. It was completely ridiculous and over the top – I felt like I was in a James Bond film!

It was also a nightmare getting my various different stories
straight. I’d told college and my friends there that I needed a few weeks off for an operation on my polycystic ovaries, which they obviously had no choice but to accept. But I’d told my very closest friends that I was going to Cuba for a family wedding because I knew they’d want to come and see me in hospital otherwise! As for Dad, Mum and I cooked up this elaborate fib that I was going on a lengthy field trip to Wales with college. I was leading a total double life!

A few days before the start of the show, Jenny and I came back to London and stayed at the Danubius Hotel, opposite Lord’s Cricket Ground in London. I thought by this point that I probably hadn’t made it into the final line-up because we hadn’t heard anything. I wasn’t allowed to go outside at all, so it was quite a claustrophobic experience. Then, the day before the launch, Jenny took the all-important phone call.

‘Right,’ I heard her say. ‘That’s great news. I’ll tell her.’

As she came off the phone, I grabbed her with both hands. ‘What? Am I in?’

‘Yes, Chanelle,’ she said and beamed. ‘You’re in!’

Even then, I didn’t believe it. ‘But maybe they’re just saying that and I’m not really,’ I said, pacing around the room.

‘No, trust me. This is it,’ Jenny assured me. ‘You are definitely a housemate. A hundred per cent.’

‘OH. MY. GOD!’ I screamed and we both started jumping up and down. This was the best news ever!

‘Let’s order champagne,’ I said, gasping. ‘We have got to celebrate!’

And so we did, late into that night – although Jenny, being the ultimate pro, was careful that we didn’t draw any attention to ourselves. It’d be the biggest disaster now if anything scuppered my chances of going into that house.

Although it was still meant to be top secret, I called Mum,
who was beside herself with excitement. ‘Shall I tell your Dad now?’ she asked.

‘No, Mum, we can’t! Not when we’ve come this far. He might phone them up and tell them I can’t go in, or go to the press or something. We have got to keep it quiet until I’m in there,’ I told her. ‘Promise me you won’t say anything.’

She, of course, agreed. We both hated keeping such a big secret from him but we knew how he’d react. As it happened, the press had already been lurking around outside our house for several days by this point. God knows how they’d got wind of my name but Dad had been saying to Mum, ‘It’s strange, the street’s very busy today. Why are there so many people out there?’

She’d managed to throw him off the scent and it wasn’t until the morning the show began, on 30 May, that he found out the news. A photographer had plucked up the courage to approach him outside our house and said, ‘Is it true that your daughter is going into
Big Brother?
’

The penny dropped and Dad stormed inside. ‘Christine!’ he yelled. ‘What the hell is going on? Is it true about Chanelle going on that awful TV show?’

Poor Mum had no choice but to admit the truth and, just as we’d feared, he was so angry he actually phoned up the channel, demanding to speak to the producers responsible. He ordered them, ‘Don’t you dare put my daughter on TV!’

But because I was 19 and an adult who could make my own choices, they told him the final decision was down to me. And hell would have frozen over before I gave up this golden opportunity. No wonder then that dad actually threw his shoes at the TV when he saw me go into the house that night! Still, it’s worth mentioning that his anger didn’t last too long because, once the show was underway and all these reporters were knocking on the door offering him £5,000 for an interview, he
was like, ‘Oh, come on, Christine, let’s cheer up! Perhaps it’s time to get that new car and some new carpets now?’

Back at the hotel, on launch morning, we woke early and I had to get into disguise for the journey over to the
BB
studios at Elstree. Jenny draped a huge towel over my head and we dashed outside to a waiting car. When we got there, we spent the whole day in a poky dressing room with no contact with the outside world. Not even the production staff were allowed to see me. It was horrible and my nerves were shot to pieces. I felt like crying all day and poor Jenny spent the entire time trying to calm me down. Food was brought to the room on trays as if I was a
high-risk
prisoner and, if I needed the toilet, I actually had to book in a slot so that I didn’t cross paths with any of the other housemates going in and out of their own dressing rooms. It was just insane.

When early evening came, I changed into the Victoria Beckham-style grey dress I’d so carefully chosen and had my make-up done. By now, there were just a couple of hours to go until launch. Jenny gave me a couple of shots of vodka to try and relax me but I kept feeling like I couldn’t breathe properly. Eventually, after what felt like the longest wait in the entire world, I was ushered into a blacked-out car and driven the short distance across the compound for my big red-carpet arrival. It was then that I heard Davina’s booming voice introduce me: the
BB
adventure was finally beginning.

Once I had escaped the booing crowd and disappeared inside the house, I felt strangely OK. Everyone else there was in exactly the same boat as me, not knowing a soul. I made a beeline straight for the twins, Sam and Amanda Marchant – who you might remember as Samanda. They were lovely and we got on well from the start. But what was weird about the first couple of days is that, out of the 11 of us, there were no blokes
at all. So there were a lot of hormones raging, as you can imagine. I actually went into the Diary Room and said, ‘Why are there only girls?’

But on the third day, there was a new arrival. An actual guy! For all of us younger ones, this was an exciting development. We needed a man to flirt with and to get the banter going.

It just so happened that the bloke they had chosen to send in was quite hot. His name was Ziggy. And he was about to make my time in
Big Brother
very, very interesting.

Z
iggy wasn’t his real name, of course. He was actually called Zach Lichman and he was a 26-year-old music promoter. He’d also once been a model and in a minor boy-band called Northern Line. They had about three singles before they split up.

He came into the house wearing a smart black suit, white shirt and skinny tie and I couldn’t hide my reaction – he was fit! I’ve watched the clip back on YouTube and my face was hilarious – my jaw was literally hanging open in disbelief and I was jumping up and down on the couch! In her voiceover during his entrance, Davina had said, ‘I’m seeing a bit of Posh and Becks happening in the house with Chanelle.’ That was clearly what the producers were hoping for too – it was hardly rocket science, was it? To be honest, because I’m an outrageous flirt, I’d probably have been interested in anyone they sent in who was semi-good looking. But looking back, I can’t believe I fancied him because now he looks more like a mixture of Cliff Richard and Pat Sharp to me than a demi-god like Becks!

Still, I can’t deny the strong attraction between us at the time.
We may have ended up fighting like cat and dog eventually but I genuinely don’t think I could have survived being on that show without having him in there.

When he first arrived, all of us girls had been forced to give our suitcases back to
Big Brother
, so we barely had any clothes. But Ziggy gave me one of his grey T-shirts to wear, which I took as a sign that he quite liked me. Then, in his first task, he had to ‘date’ each of us, one by one, over dinner in a private room. I was the last date and, though it was kind of awkward, there was definite chemistry there. As he somehow ploughed through his 11th course, he told me, ‘I think you’re lovely. I’m drawn to you.’ I was quite taken aback by this. And then he said, ‘I’ve had a lot of dates today but this was one that I’ve been looking forward to.’ That was obviously music to my ears, although it was so weird to be having this intimate exchange so publicly on TV. And I was so nervous that I went and ruined it by blabbing, ‘Shall we go to bed?’ What an utter idiot.

He looked very confused and spluttered, ‘Go to bed? What did you say?’

I tried to correct myself but I could feel my face going bright red. ‘I just mean go to the bedroom or into the living room.’ Smooth, Chanelle. Really smooth!

Thankfully, the misunderstanding was quickly forgotten and we did end up cuddling up in bed that night. We also shared our first kiss sometime in the small hours and I remember thinking, ‘I hope my parents don’t see this!’

Things quickly progressed after that and our days were spent chilling out by the pool in the garden together, or lying around chatting in bed. It’s surprising how fast we became a proper couple but everything is so full-on in there and magnified about a hundred times, mainly because it is so bloody boring.

In the first few weeks, I felt safe with him; like he was looking
after me and protecting me from all the bitching that was going on – mainly at the hands of Charley Uchea. Remember her? She was the one who fancied herself as a real gangster girl and friend of the stars. She actually introduced herself as a ‘south-London “it” girl.’ How tragic. Ziggy said she was jealous of me but I think she was just an unhappy person inside. During one of our rows, the other housemates had to keep us apart as she screamed at me, ‘Posh Spice – you fucking wish! Ugly bitch!’ Urgh. She still sets my teeth on edge, even now – but where is she nowadays?

Secretly, I think Charley hated the fact that Ziggy fancied me, not her, so I was more than happy to flaunt our relationship in her face. But, despite what people might have thought, ours was never a ‘showmance’. Well, certainly not on my part. I can’t speak for Ziggy but I did fall head over heels for him and I remember feeling genuinely elated the moment he told me, ‘I love you.’

I didn’t say it back to him because it was far too soon for me and, as you know, I tend to be a bit guarded on that whole matter. But to hear him say it was so nice and we were forever making plans for when we got out of the house – from meeting each other’s families and friends, to going on holiday together.

We did get physical fairly quickly and it was a frustrating time because we weren’t free to act as we would have on the outside world. At first, we tried to keep things under control and, if we slept in the same bed, we’d wear clothes and be inside separate duvet covers. But after a while, we just thought, ‘We’re adults – we shouldn’t care so much about what people think.’

And that’s when things did get more heated. Sometimes, I would slap Ziggy’s hand away because he was trying to go further but, at other times, I found I was getting caught up in it and it was difficult to stop. Another time, we were in the shower for about an hour and it was getting quite steamy (in more ways
than one), so
Big Brother
decided to turn the cold water on! That was a definite passion killer.

So you’re probably now wondering exactly how physical we got. And I wouldn’t blame you because, when I left
BB
, I saw just how much press coverage we’d generated – it was absolutely crazy. Unbeknown to us at the time, we’d been nicknamed ‘Chiggy’ and our antics were splashed all over the front pages of the tabloids and celeb mags. And, of course, we’d been labelled the new Posh and Becks. At the heart of all the gossip was the one thing everyone was dying to know: did we actually have sex in there? It’s always been a big TV talking point, right from the early days of
Big Brother
3, when Jade Goody and PJ supposedly got it on under the duvet.

Nobody really seemed to have a clue what had gone on though and, after things had got a little passionate between us one night in bed, Channel 4 decided to release a statement denying that anything too risqué had gone on. They said, ‘It hasn’t happened. We have looked at the footage in question and it certainly does not look like they were having sex.’ Despite this, the bookies still paid out thousands of pounds to punters who had bet on us ‘doing it’, because so many reports said that we had gone the whole way!

But with it all being a bit inconclusive, it was all anyone wanted to know about when I left the house. Not whether I’d had a fun time or how I was feeling but whether or not I’d slept with Ziggy. Like it was anyone else’s business! I remember going on
Big Brother’s Little Brother
right after I came out and even Dermot O’Leary asked me outright, ‘Did you have sex?’

I looked him dead in the eye and said, ‘No. Sorry to disappoint you. No. My mum would have kicked me out of my house.’

And that’s the version of events I’ve always stuck to. I never wanted to look like some cheap, nasty slapper who would go
on national TV and do that kind of thing with someone I’d only just met.

But now, all these years later, I guess it’s finally time to hold my hands up and tell the truth. I might be at risk of being disowned by my entire family here but, seeing as I’m writing this book in the spirit of total honesty, I can’t deny it any longer. So here goes: I was lying. We did have sex in the house. Not only that but we did it every single day for about three weeks!

Without going into too much graphic detail, let’s just say we got very good at sneaking off to the bathroom, or disguising it in the bedroom while everyone was asleep. The other housemates didn’t have a clue – or at least, if they did, they were very British and didn’t say a word about it. Whether the
BB
crew knew or not, I don’t know. But they must have because people are watching those camera feeds 24/7. And I did get called in to the Diary Room a few times to be reminded to take my contraceptive pill! Why would they say that if they weren’t aware of what we were up to?

It’s not something I’m particularly proud of and, if I had my time again, I think I’d be far more restrained – although that’s easy to say in hindsight. You might think badly of me but I honestly didn’t realise that people would know what we were doing – the bedroom was always pitch-black at night and you forget that there are night-vision cameras and microphones all around you. That sounds silly I know but it’s true.

I do feel bad that I lied about it but I’ve always been afraid of being judged and, let’s face it, while Ziggy would probably have got a big slap on the back for it, I’d be the one branded a slag. Totally unfair, of course, but that seems to be the way things work in our hypocritical society. But while I used to be terrified about what people might think of me, I don’t really care any more. I was 19 and having a once-in-a-lifetime
experience that most people will never have. And it’s not like it was some sordid one-night stand – we were a couple by then; that’s what couples do. Besides, what we did on
Big Brother
was pretty tame compared to the outrageous stuff that goes on in
Geordie Shore
nowadays!

But whatever, it’s all water under the bridge. And if you watched the show, you’ll recall that it wasn’t long before things turned sour and we began having blazing rows. It wasn’t just idle bickering either – we seemed to bring out the very worst in each other. We argued about everything – I hated him smoking and accused him of having bad breath; another time we had a massive fight over me playing the violin for a task and it kicked off when I started squeezing the other housemates’ spots! It was all so petty but the rows got so out of hand. He called me an ‘attention-seeking hypochondriac’, which really upset me and I began to feel swamped by all the negative feelings.

At least nobody could say we were boring because we broke up and got back together so many times over those weeks that even we lost track! At one point when he broke up with me, he actually used the most cringe-worthy words of all time: ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’

I sat there aghast and said, ‘Oh my God. You just used the words “it’s not you, it’s me” on national TV. How embarrassing is that?’ And it really was mortifying. What an idiot.

Eventually, the rows became too much to bear. I really do think I was having a mental breakdown in there and I demanded to leave. The producers must have been concerned over my state of mind because they let me out and sent me straight to see a psychologist. Once I’d calmed down, they tried to convince me to stay. And to cheer me up, they said, ‘What do you think Victoria Beckham would do in this situation?’

I snapped, ‘How do I know? She’s in bloody America!’

Although I did eventually agree to go back into the house, it was only temporary, as the fights with Ziggy flared again almost instantly. It all came to a head during one massive final row, when I knew I had to get out of there for the sake of my sanity. This time, it was sparked when I accused Ziggy of using my pink towel. Of all the things in the world to squabble about. He started laughing, which was like waving a red flag at a bull.

‘You think it’s fucking funny, Zach?’ I yelled. ‘You’re acting like a fourteen-year-old child.’

Then he got very angry and shouted at me, ‘Who the hell do you think you are? You are so rude.’

I screamed back at him, using the worst language I could find, and then two things finished me off. Firstly, he accused me of being ‘the new Charley’ and then he accidentally called me ‘Sarah’ – the name of his ex-girlfriend!

That was it and I let out the loudest, most blood-curdling scream imaginable, right there in the living room. Seriously, I was that rattled. I knew then that my time in
Big Brother
was over for good and I went to the Diary Room, demanding to leave right away.

‘I can’t live in the same house as Zach,’ I sobbed. This time, nobody tried to talk me out of going. So on day sixty-two, after surviving almost nine weeks, I left through the Diary Room door and didn’t even say goodbye to anyone.

Although I got so close to the end, I never regretted walking out because there comes a point when you know you’ve hit your limit. I didn’t like the deranged person I was turning into – and I still can’t watch back any of the old footage because I find it too upsetting.

To viewers, it might look like some extended holiday in a theme park on TV but the truth is
Big Brother
is mentally challenging and it exposes all of your insecurities and paranoia to
the core. You can’t truly know how much it screws with your head until you’ve experienced it first-hand.

And after what I experienced, I really wouldn’t wish that on anyone.