Gazza: My Story (43 page)

The apartment is only rented till the summer, then I’ll decide. I haven’t put much of my personal stuff in yet. That’s mainly at my mam’s or my dad’s, all the bits from my career. They keep telling me to sort it all out, but I can’t face it. I don’t want to look back at my past. It’ll be too sad. I might cry.

All this year, I haven’t been able to make any big decisions about my life and the future because of all the money arguments with Shel. Now those are over, for the moment anyway, which is why I want to tell some of the things I’ve never talked about before, until now.

In the hardback book, I never criticised Shel. I just criticised myself for being a bastard, which I was, beating her up, getting drunk, neglecting the kids. I admitted all that. I’m not proud of how I behaved. I wish I’d never done all that. It meant that I took all the flak, all the stick, so that it looked to everyone else that I was a total, 100 per cent bastard, with no saving graces. I never said a bad word against Shel. Go on, find me a sentence where I was nasty about her. When my family or friends had a go at her, I defended her. I didn’t criticise her behaviour for one simple reason – I loved her and loved the kids.

But now, because of what’s just happened, I feel I want to talk back, to give my side of our relationship
for a change. It’s a bit like coming out and saying I was an alcoholic. For years and years I never admitted it. I was just a bloke who drank a lot and got stinking drunk. That was all. Where was the problem? I denied I was an alcoholic, to everyone, most of all to myself. Coming out about my drink problem, admitting it, has helped me to come to terms with it, and move on.

In the same way, if I now tell something about my side of life with Shel, I hope I’ll be able to move on. I now realise I’ve been in denial all these years about her, not admitting the truth that was staring me in the face. I can’t see myself ever having a proper relationship again, because I have so little confidence with women, or about myself, unless I try to face up to what happened with Shel. So here’s a little of what did happen, from my point of view, as I now see it, looking back over those fifteen years or so since I first met her in 1990.

At that time things were tough for Shel. She had no money, her marriage had finished, her husband was having financial difficulties and she was about to lose her home. As I said before, she had to work hard to support herself and the kids. She was even shoving free newspapers through letterboxes for a few quid.

I helped her out a bit not long after I’d met her, just to keep her in her house, stop her being homeless, then I bought her a car so she could take her kids to school. And then it went on from there, all the time. Yeah, I did shove money at her, indulge every whim, give her daft presents all the time, that’s me, how I’ve always been, too generous for my own good.

I remember one thing about her, even before we were having any arguments. I found some notes that she’d written down. About me and her together. God knows what they were for. I still don’t know, even now. I know therapists advise battered wives to keep notes, but this was long before I touched her.

Whatever it all meant, we soon split up, which we did all the time, and got back, and so it went, on then off. I’d behave badly, get drunk, be a pain, which I’ve told yous all about, then I’d plead with her and she’d have me back. She didn’t have to, of course. We weren’t married. But she did.

When I went to Italy, I really did beg her to come and live with me. That was all my doing. But it was a mistake. I found myself at twenty-four, having been single all my life, suddenly living with a partner and having to be a father to two children when at the same time I
was trying to get to grips with a new culture, new people and a new language. Anyway, that ended in tears and she went back to England.

I got called in one day by Manzini, when I was playing for Lazio, to say she’d been on the phone to the club, wanting to talk to me. I rang her back and found her saying, ‘Let’s get back again.’

After she’s come back to Rome, I was driving her in the car and I slowed down because I wanted to give her a kiss – but she refused, said she didn’t want to. We’d just got back together. So that did piss me off. I was really upset. That evening I got blind drunk, smashed up the villa and she got really scared. That was all my fault, really stupid. I admit it. All I’m doing now is telling you the extra little things that were going on, which I didn’t mention earlier. I was taking all the blame because I felt so guilty.

When she decided that was it, she was going back for good, I said all right then, I’ll give you some help to buy a nice little place back home in Hertfordshire. That will be it, I said, I’m sorry for what’s happened. I’m sorry I’ve been a bastard, but we’ll part as friends, and go our independent ways in life from now on. As it turned out, I ended up buying her a much bigger
place. But that’s down to me being too generous again, I guess.

While in Italy, I was continuing to help her out financially from time to time. I didn’t begrudge it at all. I was getting well paid playing for Lazio and I could easily afford it.

It’s true that I was not there when Regan was born. I admitted that earlier. But I had arrived the day before to see her, at her house in Hertfordshire, having come down from Scotland where I was playing with Rangers. Regan was born the next day, the Sunday. I wasn’t there – because she wouldn’t let me in. I stood on the doorstep and she told me to go away. Her mother was there and I asked what should I do. She said it would be best if I did exactly what Shel wanted. So off I went.

There was a double-page spread in a Sunday newspaper the following day, which turned out to be the day Regan was born, revealing that I’d been out on the piss just as Shel was due to give birth, suggesting what a sod I must be, what a lousy father. It was from that story I learned that my son was going to be called Regan. What really was going on behind the scenes? Why would she not let me be there for the birth, even though I arrived the day before?

It’s true that for the next two weeks I didn’t turn up and was drunk most of the time, but I did want to be there for the birth. And I loved Regan to bits when I saw him for the first time and cuddled him in my arms. We got back together, once again. She got me to do a piece for the
News of the World
saying she was the good one and I was the monster. We split the money. I put £20,000 of my share in Regan’s name for when he’s twenty-one.

I wanted her to move up to Scotland with Regan. I said we could buy a big house, a proper family house, and be a proper family. She said that would only work if we got married. I so wanted to see my son that I agreed. That’s how the subject of marriage first came up. In an article in
Hello!
Shel said that I asked her to marry me and then she found out she was pregnant. But that’s not how I remember it happening. I got used to the idea in the end, and fancied getting married, but at the same time I did worry that we were not ready for it. We were still arguing and rowing, splitting up.

When I was in Hong Kong, with the England team, I got this big bunch of flowers one day and a lovely Father’s Day card from Regan. Dennis Wise was
my room-mate at the time. He can tell you I was so touched I was in tears. So I rang up Shel and before I knew what I was saying, I was asking her to take me back and yes, we would definitely get married. When I got home, I did go down on my knees and propose.

I wasn’t talked into it, tricked in any way, though I did worry about selling our wedding to
Hello!
– knowing how often those people who sell themselves end up in divorce.

Shel organised the whole wedding and she looked stunning, she really did. I enjoyed it, the wedding itself. Danny Baker did a funny home video, talking to me when it was all over. He made a joke that we might get divorced. I said no fucking chance. But if we did, Shel wouldn’t get a penny.

During the ceremony itself, something serious did upset me. When we were each saying our vows, and it came to my turn to say ‘I do’, I’m sure I heard this loud whisper, someone saying ‘YES!’ It was clear to me. They showed the wedding video on that Channel 4 programme about me a couple of years back. The one with all those supposed experts talking bollocks. Paul Merson was on it as well, claiming I was swallowing loads of sleepers. If they show it again, have a look and see if you think
I’m imagining it. What that ‘YES!’ indicated to me was that I was trapped. When I heard it, a little tear came into my eye and my sister Lindsay asked me what was wrong. I said nothing, pet, nothing’s wrong. I didn’t tell her what I’d heard or what had suddenly come into my head. And that’s why the honeymoon was a shambles. I was still so upset.

I loved our house in Scotland, in Renfrew. Shel made it really nice, but I never felt positive about our marriage.

When I beat her up at the Gleneagles hotel, which was the worst thing I ever did, a photograph of Shel and her bruises was almost immediately in the papers. I wonder who told them so quickly, eh? Piers Morgan has now said in his recent book that he took a call ‘from a “friend” of Sheryl Kyle’ (that’s Shel, of course), telling him what had happened. I don’t know if that’s right, but according to him this ‘friend’ said that Shel wouldn’t pose for photos, but if she were caught in a paparazzi-type shot, that would be okay. And, guess what, that’s how it happened. OK, I was the bastard who did it, no argument there, but I certainly didn’t want it in the papers, did I?

That last time, which I talked about right at the start of the book, when we gave it one final go, she made
it clear she was being tough with me as a test, to see if I could take it. I could understand that. But I hope the kids have been able to make their own minds up.

I do see Regan. I can have access when I want. I take him to places, give him a good time, then usually arrange with Shel to meet somewhere on the motorway. I then hand him back to her, without us saying anything. Last Christmas, I bought Bianca a car. That’s what she asked for. She’s now eighteen and left school and got a job in London. For Mason I got lots of bling bling – a diamond watch, a ring, a bracelet, that’s what he likes.

After Shel and I got divorced in 1998, as part of the settlement I had to pay her £10,000 a month maintenance, towards the education of the kids. I could manage that when I was still playing in the Premiership, but when that finished in 2002 my income dropped dramatically. The real reason I went to China was for the money. Yes, I said I wanted a challenge, to get away, as I told you at the time, but that was only part of it. I was promised £30,000 a month, more than anybody else was offering me at the time. I took it in order to keep up my monthly payments to Shel. In the end, I only got paid one lot of £30,000 from the Chinese. We’re still arguing the toss about it.

When I was in the clinic that first time, and after it she agreed to take me back, I happened to read a story in some newspaper about a young guy saying he’d had an affair with her. When I got back, I asked if it was true, about that bloke. She denied it and I believed her. She said she would sue. Nonetheless, all the time I was with Shel, over all the years, I was always jealous, frightened she would sleep with someone else. My own insecurity.

This last time, when she let me back, she did say she’d been out with someone. I had just got there, been dried out but was on heavy medication, going to a therapist every day, so that was the last thing I needed to hear. That was what was in my mind, driving me mad, when I crashed her Jaguar into the lorry, but I didn’t tell you that at the time.

I’ve since had a couple of anonymous letters from blokes, alleging things, but I don’t know whether they are true or not. It is none of my business and she has every right to do what she wants. We are divorced. But I still get upset. When we were married, and when we were back together again, I was always faithful. It was only during one long separation, which lasted seven months, that I had two one-night stands, but they were
meaningless. The truth was I always loved Shel. She was the one for me.

I never thought for a moment that Shel and I being together as a couple had anything to do with our lifestyle. I never considered it. She did help me, a lot, and I’ll always be grateful, helping me to get into the Priory that first time, helping when I was in a bad way, obsessed and depressed. I know I couldn’t have been much fun to be with. But now I am not so sure what she wanted.