Read an Excerpt
Holly Hagan
Not Quite a Geordie
By Elissa Corrigan John Blake Publishing Ltd
Copyright © 2015 Holly Hagan
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-78418-403-2
CHAPTER 1
Where It All Began
Since I signed my life away on a reality show, it seems nothing can ever be private again. Not that I'm complaining – I knew exactly what I was getting into before I etched my autograph on the contract. With that in mind, I suppose you're going to want to know every last detail about what led me to star in one of the most outrageous TV shows ever made. How I, Holly Victoria Hagan, was plucked from obscurity to be cast in the hugely successful series Geordie Shore.
But first of all, let's start at the beginning.
I wouldn't say I've had a privileged childhood, but I was given the best upbringing my parents could provide. My mam, Vicky, and my dad, Barry, are your typical, hard-working northern types. They met in a nightclub called The Madison, a very popular spot in the late eighties. Locals affectionately called it 'the Madhouse' or 'Mad Dogs', which gives you an idea of the kind of place it was.
Mam was just a tender twenty-year-old when she was spanking the planks in The Madison most Saturday nights. She would be out with a gaggle of her glamorous friends, boogying round her handbag, knocking back spritzers and eyeing up the local Teesside talent.
It was on one of these nights my mam first spotted my dad. She was instantly smitten because he was quite the catch, back in his heyday. He was 6' 2", with big broad shoulders, a rugged exterior and a canny attitude all the ladies loved. He was standing over by the ladies' toilets, so my mam kept walking past, hoping he would notice her, but he never even batted an eyelid. Poor Mam! Not even at ten to two, when you'd cop off with any woman who wasn't taken, she didn't get a look. Although, don't get me wrong, my mam was never a ten-to-two boiler. Tall, busty and blonde, she used her assets to their full potential. She was a real looker – to borrow a phrase from Geordie Shore, 'a worldie'.
It wasn't until three weeks later when my dad, Barry, was back down at the Madhouse with a group of his pals that he and Mam first made contact. Legend has it, he kept making eyes at her all night. Mam was flattered because she'd fancied him ever since she'd first seen him. This bit of eye flirting carried on for a while, with neither of them making a move to go and speak to the other. God, it makes me cringe to even think about my parents flirting!
Although oblivious to Mam at the time, there was another strapping hunk vying for her attention (remember this part because it becomes very important later in the book). His name was John and was equally good looking as my dad. Tanned, blue-eyed, with a muscly frame and a wicked smile, John wasted no time in making a move on Mam by asking her friend if he could dance with her. My mam's friend had to politely decline on Mam's behalf because, unfortunately for John, she only had eyes for Barry Hagan.
Dad was twenty-one, already married and had a one-year-old baby, my half-brother, Leon. But my mam had no clue he was otherwise taken at this point – she just knew him as the local Middlesbrough hunk. It was only a while later that she learned the full extent of his background and marital status.
John, who was obviously gutted not to get a dance with the hottest chick in town, politely stepped aside like a gentleman and let my mam go for her man. Which was good news for me because without John stepping aside that evening, Holly Hagan might never have been born.
From that night on, my mam and dad were inseparable. They fell in love, and as a result, Dad ended his relationship with his wife at the time. By all accounts, it was a messy, tough time and one I cannot even begin to fathom so I'm not going to. I wasn't there, and that kind of business was between the adults back then. It's not for me to start commenting on it now.
My dad and mam moved in together shortly after Dad's split from his wife and like any young couple in love, they worked hard, enjoyed being together and made plans for the future. They were serious about each other, so much so that three years later, they decided to have a baby. They told me they had wanted a child for so long and eventually, after a year of trying, my mam broke the good news to my dad: she'd finally fallen pregnant.
Mam had always wanted a little girl, but back then you couldn't tell which sex your baby was going to be, so it was a nice surprise for her when, on 7 July 1992, the midwife presented her with a newborn girl.
She was in labour with me for seven hours and twenty minutes. By all accounts it was a fairly easy birth – well, as easy as giving birth can get.
My mam and dad immediately fell in love with me. A seven-pound six-ounce bundle of joy and there wasn't a dry eye in the house as they all wept tears of happiness over the new addition to the family. There were four of my relatives in the room when I was born and I was the only one who wasn't crying! Odd how I never cried when I was born, but as you'll come to learn I've shed a lot of tears throughout my lifetime.
As soon as Mam held me for the first time, she knew at once what she wanted me to be called: Holly Victoria Hagan. Little Holly Hagan ... It's funny because when my mam's cousin came to the hospital to see me for the first time and found out they'd named me Holly Hagan, she said, 'That sounds like a famous person's name.'
Mam and Dad were like any other young couple with a baby. They lived together and were totally devoted to me. I was a pretty good baby, too – I slept through the night, I was responsive to my mother's wishes and I only ever whinged when it was absolutely necessary.
Neither of my parents had come from money, so they had to graft for anything they wanted. When I was born, they were living in a council house in a run-down housing estate in Middlesbrough called Grove Hill. Grove Hill's only other claim to fame is that the footballing legend Brian Clough also grew up on its rough streets.
Mam was twenty-three when she had me, which seems so young by today's standards. She'd been working at Greggs, the bakers, ever since she was sixteen, but had to give up when she had me.
To support his new family, my dad had to work away, down in Essex on a construction site, and return back up north at the weekends. It was hard for my mam because she was, in effect, a single mother. There were a lot of young girls and single mams living on the same street, which was good for Mam at the time because they all helped each other out (my mam was one of the few living on the street actually to have a partner). Even though the area was a rough place to live, the people who lived there were the salt of the earth. It was a close-knit community and everyone knew each other.
The other mams would jokingly call my mam 'the posh one' because she came from a place called Thornaby-on-Tees, which was a lot more upmarket than Grove Hill. It never bothered Mam though, and it's not like they ever held it against her; they just used to playfully take the mick. Mam always tried to fit in with them by going on nights out and round to each other's houses, something the other girls appreciated. It's one of the best qualities my mam has, the ability to get on with literally anyone she comes into contact with.
Mam went back to working at Greggs when I was eighteen months old. She had always been a worker and genuinely enjoyed getting out there and earning her own money. She enrolled me in a private nursery, which was expensive and she got no help to pay the fees, but with both my parents' wages, they could afford it. But their relationship was beginning to show signs of strain. They were spending hardly any time together because Dad would be down south five days a week. Mam worked on Saturdays, which is when he would look after me, and then my dad would be out with his mates of a Sunday down the pub before he would go back down to Essex again.
Thinking about it now, it's a wonder how they managed like that for so long. It was as if they were living completely separate lives. It can't have been easy on either of them, especially Mam, who had to juggle work and looking after a child.
We stayed in that house in Grove Hill until one day, when I was three, we were burgled. My dad was still working away and it was really scary for Mam. She was a young woman on her own looking after me and some scumbag decided to rob from our house while we were asleep. It's the lowest of the low, if you ask me, but in Grove Hill, that's what life was like. It wasn't uncommon to hear of someone being burgled round there on a weekly basis.
The final straw came when Mam heard a commotion outside the window of our house. She looked out, expecting to see another domestic going on between the neighbours, but instead she saw a car on fire with three screaming people inside. Having someone torch a car with people still inside is not something you want on your doorstep and that, coupled with the burglary, really shook her up, especially as Dad wasn't around. It was horrific and the next day she started making plans to move. She would be leaving her friends and neighbours behind, but what choice did she have?
The house we moved into wasn't very far away, but it was in a slightly safer location. It was still a hellhole if you ask me, but it was marginally better than the last house. The new neighbours were much older than my mam and most of them had saved up enough money to buy their council house. It was a lot quieter and there were no single mams with kids running around, but Mam seemed to be a lot happier there, and it was where I spent the majority of my childhood. Although a step up from the last house, I was still very much aware that it wasn't a nice place to live. I wasn't allowed to play out or even step foot outside the front door for a second without an adult being there.
When I was four, I was enrolled at the local school, St Joseph's RC primary in Middlesbrough, which gave my mam a little more time to be able to work. Mam was craving a change: she was sick of coming home from Greggs each day smelling like pastry, having to wear those embarrassing hairnets and deal with rude customers. Her relationship with my dad was getting worse, too. So when she saw an advert in the paper for an assistant at Vision Express she applied for the job and a few months later was given a position in the Middlesbrough branch. The change she needed at the time, it gave her more confidence and she could work longer hours and earn more money.
At school I made a best friend, a girl called Laura O'Callaghan. Soon we became inseparable and, being an only child, she was like a sister to me. We were so close. After school, while my mam was working, I would go to her house. Laura's mam didn't work and so my mam paid her a little bit of money each week for making my tea. It was a situation I was happy with: I got to see my best friend, and Mam was happy because I was being looked after by someone she trusted.
But my mam would never palm me off with just anyone, she was always very careful about who she let into my life. My nana, Olwyn, was like my second mam and all through primary school I would spend the majority of my time round at hers. Every Saturday she would take me swimming, and she actually taught me how to swim. It's funny, the inconsequential things you remember from your childhood, but when I think about those swimming lessons, I always remember the smell of sausage sandwiches. My nana would get me one straight after swimming and she'd use the 50p from the clothes locker to buy me a chocolate bar. The little pleasures make up so many of my memories, and every time I get a whiff of a sausage sandwich it will always remind me of Saturday swimming with Nana.
Sometimes on the weekends Nana and her partner, Alan, whom I absolutely adored, would take me to this place called Beamish in Durham. An open-air museum you could walk around, showcasing what everyday urban life was like in the early twentieth century, it was like stepping into another world. I thought it was awesome. We'd spend all day there, playing with the livestock, riding the trams and buying 'ye olde' traditional sweets from the gift shops.
I always have such happy recollections of my time there, especially with Alan. Like a big, cuddly, gentle giant, he had an amazing, fun personality and my face would be hurting by the end of a day because he'd made me laugh so much. Unfortunately, he died a few years ago and I was totally gutted. He was really special to me, and I'll always treasure fond memories of us climbing all over the Beamish steam trains.
There are moments when I wish I could roll back the clock and remember more from those early years, but I can't really. The one piece of advice I'd give anyone is to treasure the small things in life because you come to realise that they were the big things you'll always miss and you can't get that time back.
Anyway, I loved being with my nana and every Christmas we would always go round to her house because she cooked the best turkey dinner you could imagine. When I say 'we', I mean Mam and me because my dad was hardly ever there on those special days. When I look back at all my old Christmas photos, I seem happy amongst all my toys and the bits of shredded wrapping paper, my smile beaming from ear to ear. Mam and me around Nana's Christmas tree, but I've rarely got a photo with my dad in it and that does make me sad.
Regardless, our Christmases were brilliant. My mam would always save up to make sure I wanted for nothing, even if it meant getting into debt. She couldn't go to banks, so she was relying on lenders like Provident and Shopacheck to make sure I had the easiest life possible – she wanted me to have the best of everything and not to miss out. It's only as I've got older that I realise how much Mam did sacrifice for me, although at the time I never really understood it and she was very good at making sure I was oblivious to our financial situation. No matter what it took to get me something I wanted, she would always try her best for me.
Most of the early years kind of merge into one, except for one year when I was five years old and my parents almost split for good. Two days before Christmas my dad had left my mam. They'd had a massive row and he went back down to Essex for work. I could tell he and Mam had been on a rocky road for a good few years. Although I know they must have had some blazing rows, they both shielded me from the arguments. I never really witnessed any of the fall-out from their relationship; they were always so careful not to have a slanging match in front of me.
But kids are more perceptive than parents think and I could tell their relationship had changed from when I was younger. It was like they couldn't stand being around each other now. I know my mam was still deeply in love with my dad, but it was just too much for her to take. She knew she deserved better, but she didn't know how she would cope without him. Now, she'd say my dad had done her a favour because she would never have been strong enough to leave him but back then, when he finished the relationship and told her he was spending Christmas away she was devastated.
Mam never said a word to me at the time. I never knew where or why he went. All I knew was that Dad had left us at the best time of the year, and I was gutted. I caught my mam crying about it. She never knew I'd seen her but that vision of her wiping the tears away always stays with me. It's only as I've grown up and Mam has explained the situation that I can fully appreciate how much pain she must have gone through.
At the time, she would plaster on a smile and never let on how much she must have been hurting. She really did keep it together. In some ways, I wish she had told me more of what was going on, and then in other ways I'm glad I didn't know. She says she never wanted me to think of my dad as anything but a great guy, even though she could have slagged him off to high heaven. But she chose the moral high ground, which shows a tremendous amount of courage and strength.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Holly Hagan by Elissa Corrigan. Copyright © 2015 Holly Hagan. Excerpted by permission of John Blake Publishing Ltd.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
