Cheryl: My Story by Cheryl Cole

Author:Cheryl Cole
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Non-Fiction, Azizex666, Biography
ISBN: 0007500157
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2012-10-11T04:00:00+00:00

11

‘I just want to be a wife’

‘Remember when you gave me money for charity when I did Celebrity Apprentice?’

‘Yeeees …’

‘Well, I’m raising money for Comic Relief again. Can you make a donation?’

‘Sure. What are you doing this time?’

‘Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, with Kimberley and a few others.’

There was a long pause before Simon said, ‘You’re mad. I’ll tell you what, I’ll pay you not to do it.’

I started laughing but Simon was deadly serious, and for the first time I realised I didn’t have a clue what I was letting myself in for.

Kimberley had asked me to do the climb after she had already agreed to take part and then took a wobbler.

‘Please, Cheryl, I don’t want to do it on my own,’ she begged. ‘I’ve asked Sarah and she said no, she couldn’t cope. Will you come?’

I wasn’t used to seeing Kimberley like that. Normally I was the one who was panicking and needed calming down, and she was always the sensible one who kept a cool head and took control.

‘OK, I’ll do it,’ I said. ‘I don’t mind a challenge.’

To me it was just a charity walk. All I had to do was give up a week or so of my time and put one foot in front of the other, and we’d raise a load of money to help protect people in Africa from malaria. There were seven others taking part – Gary Barlow, Chris Moyles, Alesha Dixon, Denise Van Outen, Fearne Cotton, Ronan Keating and Ben Shephard from GMTV, all of whom I’d met before. I wasn’t bothered who else was going anyway; I was there to raise money for a good cause and help Kimberley do the same.

I was so busy in the run-up to the climb, in March 2009, that I had no time to prepare properly or even think about it.

At the beginning of the year I’d spent some time in a recording studio with Will.i.am, who had been telling me ever since I recorded my little part on his ‘Heartbreaker’ single 12 months earlier that I should record some solo material.

‘You know you’re gonna do a solo record, right?’ he said to me over and over again before I eventually said ‘yes’.

‘I don’t know how to do it on my own,’ I’d protested the last time I saw him, when we met up in London.

‘I’ll help you, every step. I want to be involved with your career. Come into the studio, write with me. I know we can do some great stuff. Say yes. You won’t regret it.’

He gave me one of his charismatic smiles.

‘OK. I’ll try, after The X Factor. But I’m really not sure about this.’

When the day came to actually go into the studio with him I was nervous but excited. I’d written songs before, but this was Will.i.am I was dealing with, one of the world’s biggest producers. How could I go into a studio – just me, Will and a pen – and write music?

As I stepped into

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