In the second part of our exclusive extract from Jane McDonald’s autobiography, Riding The Waves, My Story, the 56-year-old reveals the joy of falling in love with her childhood sweetheart all over again and her memories of her time on Loose Women and how they became friends.
BOOM! Everything went from under me. I’d lost my manager, my husband, all my money, my self-respect and my work.
I’d gone from being at the very top to nobody wanting me any more. I felt my life was in the gutter – so it was sink or swim.
I started working in London’s West End and going out to clubs with youngsters from the cast. I grew my hair, lost weight and got my tiny hips back. The divorce diet worked for me. But I didn’t tell anyone that Henrik had left. Millions of people had bought into my fairytale – now the dream was shattered and I was terrified of disappointing them.
But in 2003 the news came out and Loose Women asked me on to talk about the break-up. They showed a clip of our wedding – me, madly in love, with a gorgeous man by my side and a soaring career ahead of me.
I remember longing for that lost love and tenderness, and I went to pieces pouring out my heart live on air. I left feeling a huge burden had been lifted.
I began to feel like my old self and launched a mini-tour and walking on stage felt like coming home.
Then, in 2004 I was invited to join the Loose Women panel. It was a lifesaver, a fresh start, working with good, strong women who were my bezzie mates.
Lynda Bellingham, Jackie Brambles, Andrea McLean, Denise Welch, Carol Vorderman, Coleen Nolan, Kate Thornton, Lisa Maxwell, Sherrie Hewson and Carol McGiffin, among others.
I felt that I could have rung any of them if I was in trouble, and they’d have all been there. I used to love being on with Carol McGiffin. We were a brilliant double act because we never agreed on anything.
And, God, I loved Lynda. She was so full of life and wise. I wore my Loose Women badge with pride and we started winning all the awards. We were like the girls in Sex and the City.
The number of letters I used to get saying, ‘I’d love to go out with you lot for a drink’. I could understand why: it was always such a laugh, we had the best time!
One night I was out having dinner with Lynda Bellingham when Frank Allen from The Searchers came over. “You used to go out with our drummer, Ed,” he said.
I shook my head – I’d never dated an Ed.
“You probably know him as Wal Rothe.”
“Oh my God, Wal! How is he? I haven’t seen him since I was 19!”
We’d first met in the 80s when I was waitressing at a Wakefield nightclub.
Disco group, Liquid Gold were playing. The drummer, Wal, asked if we could have a drink. He was tall, blond and built like a god. We hit it off and started going out.
I have a mental snapshot of Wal in the morning light walking naked across the room. “Wow, that’s a body!” I thought.
He was the one. And when he started pointing out rings in shops I couldn’t help hoping... Until Ellie, the group’s singer said: “You can’t hold him back, Jane - and I can’t see you twiddling your thumbs while he’s off round the world.”
She was right. I had things to do in my life and Wal needed rock and roll.
I went to become a cruise-ship entertainer, and my life changed for ever. And, here I was in 2008 on TV.
One morning I was at the Loose Women studio when The Searchers appeared on This Morning. I looked up and there was Wal, as handsome as ever. “Jane!” he cried, picking me up and swinging me around. The years just melted away.
“I just can’t believe I’ve met you again,” Wal said, beaming at me. “Give me a call.”
The moment Loose Women was over, I went straight to phone Wal. We talked for ages and ages. He was just as lovely as ever and we couldn’t stop laughing as we raked over our memories.
I don’t often fancy people but I thought Ed was gorgeous. He was tall and dashing, warm and friendly, and I felt proud to be by his side. I was falling in love with him all over again. But The Searchers did 250 gigs a year, so he was often away.
The deeper I fell in love with him, the scarier it felt. We’d split up 30 years earlier because he always on the road.
Ed and I spent that Christmas together, but he seemed a bit jumpy on Christmas Eve.
We went to my local Italian for dinner. Suddenly, Ed cleared his throat and put his hand in his pocket. “Jane, you are definitely the one for me and I should have done this 26 years ago,” he said.
“Will you marry me?”
I was so overwhelmed that I started crying. Then Ed started crying!
People around us were mortified – thinking we’d split up.
“No, no, he’s just asked me to marry him!” I said, laughing through the tears.
In 2013, midway through my new tour, Lynda rang me and said, “Look, there’s going to be something in the papers tomorrow, and you’re not going to like it.”
Oh no, what have you done now?” I joked. “I’ve got cancer,” she said. The world seemed to stop turning. I couldn’t believe it. “Oh no, love! Is there anything I can do?” I said.
“Don’t worry, I’m going to beat it,” she told me firmly. I believed her, because if anyone was going to beat cancer, it was Lynda. She was such a strong, loving, positive person.
Things started changing at Loose Women in 2014. I enjoyed being with the other girls and staying was the safe option. But sometimes you’ve got to jump off a cliff to see if you can fly. I decided to leave the show to focus on singing and touring but the girls and I have remained good friends.
It was a turbulent year and we were all affected when Lynda dropped the bombshell in September that her cancer was terminal. It was very, very sad news.
I was on tour and had to go on stage that night as if nothing had happened.
But when it came to singing “I’ll Be There”, I couldn’t help thinking of Lynda and crying. “Picture me beside you and I’ll be there, feel my arms around you and I’ll be there...” It was hard to sing that song. Lynda’s funeral was held that November in Somerset. There was so much love in that church. Looking around at the packed pews I thought, ‘How wonderful to have been so special to so many people’.
Lynda was one of life’s good people, and I’m honoured to have known her.
I lost a very good friend the day she died and her death had a profound effect on me. It made me think about my own mortality and ask myself, ‘What do you want?’
I thought about Lynda. She knew how important it was to live well and nourish close relationships. She kept on about Ed – “He’s a good one”, she told me, several times. “We need them, you know.” Now her words came back to me and I thought, ‘Yes, I need to spend time at home.’ Ed is more than my rock, he’s my best friend and ally. I don’t just love him, I admire and respect him. I have peace of mind and a beautiful partner with a kind heart, who adores me and lets me run the business.
The second bite of the cherry is so much sweeter than the first and I’m determined to make the most of it.
Police made me stop fan meet and greets
Meeting fans for autographs and photos after a show was always an important part of my tours because my fans mean the world to me.
But after the first series of Cruising With Jane McDonald, the crowds at the stage door kept growing.
One Saturday, my tour manager, Martin Hudson, was called to the stage door: the staff had received a menacing phone call from a man who said he was waiting outside for me.
The first I heard was Martin saying: “You can’t sign tonight. Go in the dressing room, open a bottle of wine, but for goodness’ sake don’t leave until I come and get you.”
I could see people looking worried and running about. “The police have been called,” somebody said.
“Whoa! I’m sure it’s only someone playing games,” I said, taken aback. Then two police officers came to speak to us.
It was a shock when one of them said: “You should think twice in future about meeting your fans after the show. You’re putting yourself in a very vulnerable position.”
“But it would be terrible if I couldn’t meet my fans,” I said.
“I would advise you to stop,’ he replied firmly. “We will give you a police escort to the motorway and make sure no one is following you.”
“A police escort? You’re joking, aren’t you?” I said. It wasn’t until the next day that it dawned on me the threatening caller might actually have wanted to hurt me.
Reluctantly, I had to decide no stage doors from now on.
