I woke up on my twentieth birthday to find Mel C sitting at the end of my bed holding two streaming mugs of tea and a bunch of flowers.
'Happy Birthday Melanie!' she said handing me a mug.'How are you feeling today?'
Oh God, my birthday.Despite the good news about Simon I'd been depressed for the few days leading up to it.'Oh it could be the worse I suppose,'I replied,'but don't expect me to be happy all day. I never am on my birthday.' To be honest, I wasn't too thrilled about leaving my teens behind.
'At least it's twenty and not thirty!' said Mel, looking on the bright side. Knowing how I felt, she'd put five sugars in my tea to sweeten me up (I usually took three). 'Anyway, guess what ?' she continued as she 
handed over the flowers. 'We've organised a magical mystery tour for you! Dress cool and bring a jumper. That's all I'm saying. We're leaving in half an hour.'
Of course halfway down the motorway one of them let slip that we were going to a massive reggae festival in Brighton, but it didn't matter. I was touched that they were making so much effort on my birthday. As we 
drew up we saw hundreds of people milling around the venue. There was a lot of red, gold and green to be seen and we could hear- and feel- a heavy reggae bass vibrating from behind the barriers. Geri went off to pick up the tickets.
Fifteen minutes later she came back looking flustered. 'Something's happened to our passes!' she said, a horrified expression on her face.
'They're saying they never received the booking. 'It's bullshit.'
'Well what are we waiting for?' I asked, looking around the others.
'Let's blag it!' So we climbed over a wall and bunked in.
A few hours later we ended up on Brighton beach picking fish and chips and scraps out of a plastic container with a woofen fork. Suddenly I heard a pop. I looked up from my chips to see Melanie holding a foaming bottle of champagne. There were no cups so we passed it around and swigged it. Half an hour later, feeling tipsy, I was overwhelmed by a huge sense of love for these four caring, wonderful, ballsy friends of mine, especially Melanie and Geri, who had organised the entire day. I forgot about feeling depressed. When we toasted 'The Future!' I realised that I had everything to look forward to. A new decade and a new way of life were beginning.
he next week we were assigned a personal assistant, Camilla Howarth.
Camilla was a very well spoken, loyal, tough but understanding person. She was extremely professional and hard working, and was also someone who loved to enjoy herself. She made sure we were all right from day one.She did everything from booking cars and buying Tampax to overseeing interviews and checking and the planning the schedules. She was very much on the case, almost like a policewoman in charge of force. She didn't order us around,though. She never said,' You can't do this,' or 'You'd better do that.' She was a silent leader, subtly showing the way.
She also had her party side and sometimes she'd be up all night drinking. You'd knock on her door and she'd yell, 'Come in!' and you'd have a complete laugh with her. Then the following day she'd be the first up , arranging wake-up calls, organising us again. She was amazing. It was a huge relief to hand all life's details over to someone else. Now we could concentrate on the important things, like recording the album and finding a record company to release it.
Simon recognised that we were all very strong personalities with completely different (but complementary) ways of doing things and he sensibly saw that as an asset rather than an obstacle to our success. After more than a year of being together, we'd developed a dynamic between us that worked. Things couldn't have been any other way. We just had to be ourselves. If anyone tried to meddle with that they were dead meat.
He encouraged us to play up our differences. A highly intuitive marketing man, he could immediately see the widespread branding appeal of five distinct styles within a whole. There was something for everyone in 
the Spice Girls. Whoever you were, you could related at least one of us in a basic way.
Not long after we signed with Simon we chose Virgin Records as our record company. I was attracted to Virgin because their artists included Neneh Cherry (gasp!), Isaac Hayes, Massive Attack and Lenny Kravitz, all big favourites of mine. Even better, we were very different from Virgin's other acts. They didn't have a strong British pop band on their books, so they'd have to concentrate on us if they wanted to make it in that area, which of course they did, because pop is where the money is. We met and liked Ashley newton, the head of A&R at Virgin, and Ray cooper, his partner. The atmosphere in the Virgin offices in West London was upbeat. It felt right.
The day we signed with Virgin is a little hazy in my mind, probably because we spent most of the day boozing it up at a london records party. In a final bid to persuade us to sign with them, Tracy Bennet at London had hired out a boat on the river, piled it high with food and drink and Djs and inveigled us all on board.
It was a great idea and we had a wicked time giggling our way down the Thames but we'd already made our minds up to go with Virgin. We were totally honest about this with Tracy before we went along and he was really nice about it. 'Why don't you come to the party anyway?' he offered.
Okay , we will!
While we were on the boat, we started thinking about the big contract signing later in the day. 'Let's give Virgin a shock! Let's send blow-up dolls to the meeting in our place!' Camilla was duly despatched to Ann 
Summers in Soho to buy five life-sized rubber dollies, which she customised to look like us by spraying on different coloured hair.
We sent the dolls ahead of us in a chauffeur-driven car with instructions to the driver to announce that the Spice Girls had arrived. I wish I'd seen the faces at Virgin when they saw them. Later on I thin we chucked 
the dolls into the canal at the back of the Virgin offices. Well I remember seeing them floating around, anyway. But I don't remember much else.
After drinking loads more bubbly at Virgin, we trashed a taxi on the way to a restaurant, removing Vicky's knickers in the process. The floor of the cab was awash with fag ends and spilled champagne. What's more we'd had a vicious flower fight with the bouquets given to us at Virgin and there were scrunched up petals and leaves all over the place. Luckily Simon was waiting for us as we pulled up. When the taxi driver complained about the mess , he was given 50 (Pounds) to help clear it up. Thanks Mr Fixit!
Simon had booked us a table at Kensington Place, a posh restaurant off Kensington High Street, which was probably a bit of a mistake. Geri had to half-carry Vicky to the loo to put some make-up on her and Vicky came out of there with lipstick up to her nose. It had been a long alcoholic day and we just weren't used to drinking like that. No one's face actually fell in their plate, but it wouldn't have surprised me if it had. We were bolloxed.
Simon had a very good way of introducing is to things slowly. For instance, he'd take us to a posh restaurant once in a while and we'd be totally impressed, then after we'd calmed down about it he'd take is to another one. We were still living on very little money. Emma and Victoria were based at home. Me, Mel and Geri were lodging in a chaotic house in Cyprus Road, North London that Pauline, Emma's mum, had found for us.
Our first read brush with the high life was when we went to meet Virgin America in Los Angeles. It was an unbelievable trip. We were so impressed with First Class. It was the first time any of us had experienced it. 
We were all gadgeted up.' How do you work this?' 'Check this out!' It was amazing. You could order your dinner whenever you wanted and I think I ate everything on the menu. But it was still very long flight and none of us slept properly.We must have looked about fourteen when we got off the plane, completely unused to flying, with no make-up on. We were so exited as we walked into the airport and saw a limo pull up. 'Oh my God, look at that!' we gasped.
'It's for you girls,' said Simon with a grin on his face.
We started screaming and jumping up and down, then bundled in and pressed our faces against the windows.'Look! Yellow cabs!'
We arrived at the Four Seasons which, well, you only see hotels like that in films like Pretty Woman. It's funny because when I go back there now the staff always say how they remember us from that first trip. We couldn't contain our excitement. We ripped our bags out of the car, dumped them outside the hotel and ran into the foyer. Soon we were racing around the bar and outdoor areas like revved-up nutters, before we'd even checked in. It was very, very funny.
We were in each other's rooms all the time because it was lonely just sitting there in a posh suite with no one to talk about it to. When we were together high-energy screeches reverberated everywhere. Our voices were permanently raised two pitches.
Whenever we went back there it was always the same. We'd see sonmebody famous, like Stephen Dorff, and exclaim,'Oh my God, look how small he is!' We'd bump into Elyon John or Eric Clapton in the lift and explode with amazed laughter, our hands tightly pressed against our mouths. We couldn't contain our excitement and stood there giggling our heads off. They probably thought we were all crazy. The hotel was fill of besuited staff opening doors for you and greeting you and bringing room service. It was a huge shock to us all. That's their job, they're used to it, but we'd never seen anything like it before.
From LA the five of us flew to Hawaii for a two-week holiday at the Kea Lani Hotel on the island of Maui-Simon's treat. The idea was to give us time out to enjoy being together, way from the daily pressures. It was a fantastic resort set in acres of lush, tropical gardens, with three pools, a private beach and a gym. 
Paradise as dar as I was concerned. I'd never been anywhere like it in my life.
The suite that we stayed in was unbelievable. There was a massive frony room with big white corner sofas that went all the way round the walls, a marbled floor, artexed walls and a huge balcony that overlooked the sea. The decor was all whites and lemons and beiges and the beds were enormous. Even if I went back there today I'd be impressed. It was better than the Four Seasons and that's saying something. It was just amazing. 
On our first afternoon the hotel manager came across us lounging by one of the pools and politely asked us to leave the hotel premises. The place was so posh that they didn't believe we were staying there. 
Loudmouthed girls with regional accents in tiny bikinis and skimpy sarongs weren't among their usual clientele, apparently.
The hotel was full of rich kids on holiday with their parents, bored shitless and dying for something or someone to spice up their holiday.
One day we gathered all the strayers together, hired a van and drove around the hot spots of Maui. 
Needless to say, their parents weren't too pleased when they rolled in at 4 a.m., reeking of alcohol (or in some cases, vomit).
'You're not seeing those...those "girls" again, Sebastian!'
There was a lot of sneaking around in the middle of the night after that. We couldn't actually go out and party much because some of us were under twenty-one, the legal age limit for drinking in Maui.
Our suite was like a penthouse. While Geri, Melanie and Vicki were in the gym, Emma and me would put some music on- something tacky like Sinitta- and jumo and dance around this massive room for an hour. 
We were manic. One night we had a big party and invited all rich kids. It was all paid for by 19, so let's go mad!
There were three nearby beaches: the hotel beach where the waves were small and safe; a longer stretc where the waves were ridiculously high; and a nudist beach. Emma hated the unsafe beach and she was always having panic attacks thinking that one of us would drown. As I ran into the sea she'd scream, 
'Please don't go in there!' A few minutes later me and Melanie would come out battered and gasping for breath, bikinis half-off, semi-drowned, having been swept right under the waves and dragged along the seabed. But we kept going back. It was a top surfing spot with loads of gorgeous surfer dudes wandering around.
I often went off alone for long walks down the beach. One afternoon I wrote in my Diary:

Being out here with the sound of the ocean and that burning sensation from the sun makes life feel so wonderful. Here I've found things in myself that for once I like and love. You could say that I've grown onto the next level in my head and heart. I now can honestly say that I like my own company. I feel as though I'm a wide open, half blank, half full book waiting and yearning for knowledge about all kinds of things and things and forms of life.

Some days Emma stayed by the pool while Geri and I went to the nudist beach. I'd go completely nude on the nudist beach (that's the point isn't it ?). Geri didn't, but came along because there were plenty of odd things to stare at.
Walking down there one morning, I stopped to watch a guy climb numbly up a palm tree, pick some coconuts and shimmy down again. When he landed he turned round, noticed me and came over to say hello. Very lean with long black rough hair, he looked a bit Mexican-Indian. His green eyes starled me. 
They were hypnotic. Ding dong! It was that feeling again.
His name was Nalu, which means 'wave' and he lived a very simple life, close to nature, selling coconuts on the beach. He was a bit exxentric, a non-conformist who slept in his car rather than going back to his family home. To me he seemed very spiritual, calm and accepting. And I really really fancied him.
Vicky wasn't impressed though, 'I saw him pooing on the beach and washing himself in the sea afterwards,' she told me with a look of complete outrage on her face. 'Doesn't he know what a toilet is? It's disgusting!'
I ended up going off with Nalu for nights on end, sleeping rough on the beach under the stars or in his little car. It was a proper holiday romance. But as with all holiday romances, it had to come to an end.
We packed our bags and off we went to the airport. At the check-in desk the man took one look at out tickets and frowned.
'Erm, I think you've got your dates wrong, ladies!'
Dur! We were a day warly. We had one more night in Maui and two problems. 1.We'd checked out of the hotel so we had nowhere to stay. 2.We had hardly any money.
We ended up in a tiny shack with horrible beds and dirty sheets. Emma and I were sharing a room and couldn't face the lumps and stains so we stayed up all night on the beach with Nalu, eating ice creams and watching crabs scuttle across the sand. That was our best night of the holiday in my opinion. It was fantastic.
Inevitably England was a bit of a bump down to earth afte all that excitement. Back to the house in Cyprus Road, with its dirty green carpet, dusty old fireplace and horrible dining table, we muddled along waiting to put our big plancs into action, impatient to get on and rule the universe. It was October 1995, nearly a year before we would release our first single. We had the rest of the album to record before 'Wannabe' come out, but that certainly didn't fill all our waking hours. At one point I resorted to decorating. I did up the boy's toilet with loads of porn and nailed Madonna's sex book to the wall. In contrast I made sure that the main bathroom was very pretty and feminine.
One day in the String Room we started talking about how desperate we were to perform again. Within no time we were planning a showcase for our families and friends, who still didn't really have a clue what we 
were up to. We booked a small banqueting suite at the Holiday Inn in borehamwood and rehearsed out set at Cyprus Road. My mum and dad and Danielle drove down from Leeds and met me at the hotel. It was the first time any of our families had met and we'd organised drinks and a sit down dinner to help smooth the introductions.
The whole night went fantastically. Our songs and performance impressed everyone and the mums and dads got on really well. I think it made a big difference to my mum and dad , who were still very worried 
about my future. It put their minds at rest to talk to other parents- who all had similar worries- and see for themselves how professional the group had become. It was obvious that we'd been working hard, which meant a lot to them. They were also relieved that I hadn't gone off the rails. One of my dad's greatest fears was of me or Danielle 'going wild' or 'getting in bad company'. He'd seen it happen a lot among his friends 'and colleagues' kids. For years he'd been expecting the worst -teenage pregnancy, crime or drugs- and was pleasantly surprised that none of it had happened.
A couple of days after the Holiday Inn showcase I got a letter from my dad. I was amazed to see his writing on the front of the envelope and hesitated before opening it. He'd never written to me before. What did he have to say to me that couldn't be said in person, or on the phone?
Nervously I lit a cigarette and started reading.

Hi Melanie,
How are you ? I bet you are surprised that I'm writing to you. Well, there are certain things I want to say to you that are more easily expressed in a letter.I just want to say that I appreciate all you did for me and your mum and Danielle last weekend. I know it must have taken a lot of organising, time and money. We all had a fantastic time, me more than anybody. 
I can't begin to tell you how proud I fely of you in that room with all the parents.
I feel proud that you have turned out so level headed, self sufficient, generous and a lovely girl. I hope in times to come you don't change. I don't know what the future holds for you and the group, but I think, you will make it big time and I am keeping my fingers crossed. Whatever happens, take in all the experience, all the travel, the people etc, and just enjoy it full.You will make mistakes along the way, everybody does. The way to gain experience is to learn from your mistakes. Always take your camera with you and take lots of photos. When you are an old and married woman not only will you have your memories but also photos to show your kids.When you make it big and have lots of money, do not ever forget you background or where you were born and brought up. Your family and friends are the ones who have always been there for you and always will.
I know you didn't have a happy teenage life and that was mainly due to my strictness. That was my way of showing how much I love and care for you. I wanted to protect you from the dangers of life. Also, I pushed you too hard with your schooling. I thought education was the most important thing for you to achieve.
Although I have never told her this, your mum is the rock of the family. Without her, both you and Danielle would not be where you are now. Ever since you were five, she's been fetching and carrying you two to dancing school, comps , shows, theatres etc- it must add up to thousands of miles. The main thing I am eternally grateful to her for is for moving us from Hyde Park to here. Also, I thank her for keeping you two occupied. Every night you had somewhere to go and things to do. When I pass Hyde Park or go to Chapeltown and see kids hanging around the street corners, I know the best thing we ever did was move to Kirkstall.
Anyway, I will stop rambling on. I just want to say that I've been meaning to say all this to you quite a while. I love you very much and I am very proud of you. And no matter what happens in the future I will always be here for you.
Love
Martin
P.S. Eat your vegetables and STOP SMOKING!
STOP SMOKING
I feel a song coming on...
Old Man River, he just keeps rolling along.

I was shocked. It was hard to take in at first. My dad had never been so open with me in my entire life. A huge lump formed in my throat. I shumped into a chair and re-read what he'd written, tears rolling down 
my cheeks. The letter moved me more than I can say. At long last I had won my dad's approval and acceptance, after so many years of trying to prove myself to him.
Not long after that I moved into a pretty house in Watford with Melanie. It had belonged to Geri's aunt and we rented it from her mother, who lived just over the road. I was determinate to make it into a proper home so I bought loads of furniture and made a real effort decorate. I painted the bathroom deep blue and stencilled fish on the walls. I stuck luminous stars on the ceiling and around the bath and the door. 
(Believe me, when you came in drunk at night and couldn't find the light in the hallway, those stars were a godsend.)
Each wall in the front room was a different colour-red,blue, green and white. I made the curtains from some multicoloured muslin that I bought from an Indian shop on the corner and ordered a bright green sofa bed from Argos. Next I turned the Kitchen/dinning room into a leopard skin lounge. I did it all within about forty-eight hours too.
Mine and Melanie's ritual was to watch Blind Date together. Then she'd either go off to Sidcup or stay at home with me. There wasn't a lot to do in Watford but one evening we put on our roller skates and skated up a steep hill to the nearest pub. After a couple of lagers we started wondering how on earth we were going to get back down again. At the top of the hill we looked at each other.' Come on, let's just go for it' 
Wheeee! As we gathered speed I began to panic. I grabbed onto a trafic light stand and clung to it for dear life as I watched Melanie zooming towards me. Her face was a  picture of fear and giggles as she whizzed along, totally out of control.
Melanie and I had an underlying understanding of each other. At the time I was going through a lot of emotional crap, especially with Richie, and Melanie was always covering for me. For some reason, though, I couldn't open up to her. I think I was unable to accept that somebody could be so nice to me without having an ulterior motice. I couldn't figure her out, even though- or perhaps because- she was really quite straightforward and normal. She was very affectionate and loving and it freaked me out. She'd give me a hug and I'd be like,'Get off me! What are you doing ?'
'What's wrong with you?' She's ask genuinely concerned.
It became a pattern of behaviour- I was horrible to her, she was nice to me. She'd buy me flowers and I'd respond by saying. 'What have you got me those for? I don't want them!' I was used to my friends saying 'Sort yourself out!' or my mum saying 'Forget about it. Tough it out and it will all be all right.' I couldn't understand someone wanting to be intimate and real with me. I think it scared me. Deep down I knew I wasn't all that nice.
I was so yeah-yeah! in public that the last thing I wanted to do was show anyone my deepest emotions. I wanted it to appear as though I was handling things, but because we were in such close proximity Melanie inevitably saw me crying or depressed or spending all weekend in bed in a slump.
'Why are you being like this ?' she asked me once. 'You're so lovely, you've got so much get up and go. Come on, get out of bed!'
'I'm fine,' I said defensively, 'I'm just doing the student thing.'
I was an emotional infant. I couldn't understand it when someone wanted to know 'how I felt'. I found it imposing and rude and my first instinct was to react aggressively. Melanie was very sensitive, the kind of person who would get more upset that you were if you were down. I found that unusual. I now thank her for being the way she was with me. She showed me that it was okay to reveal your weaknesses and that a real friend would always be compassionate if you did.
Funnily enough, she was the one that I wanted to get closer to. I didn't show it , but I actually wanted her to understand me and help me. I almost wanted to be like her. When we got drunk together we'd hug each other tightly, but it wouldn't be spoken of the next day. We'd go back to me being horrible and her being nice.
To this day I always say yo Melanie when I get drunk, 'I'm really sorry about how I was.'
'It's all right,' she always says.
'No it's not , I really hurt you.'
'I know,' she says.
And I say, 'You see! I did hurt you! I'm so sorry.'
I'm like a stuck record, poor cow, but looking back I must say that I'm quite disgusted by the way I treated her. She was such a wonderful, amazing person and she didn't deserve it.
That Christmas Melanie went home and I went on holiday with Geri to Gran Canaria for two weeks. It was one of those cheap last-minute package deals, the type you pay for knowing that you're going to Grand Canaria but not where you're actually going to stay.Our rooms were shite but the hotel was amazing. We nicknamed it Frankenstein's Castle. Built into a rock, it was a maze of dark, rocky, hollowerd out corridors and open walkways. Geri had a long white dressing gown that she enjoyed floating around in. I remember seeing her from the bedroom window as she dreamily deifted down the stairs in it, out to the car park to get something from the car and back to the room. She looked like something out of an old French film. 'Let's do that together!' I suggested. Only differently, of course. We floated down to the reception, flashed the front desk, then rushed back up to our room and giggled for hours.
We were two girls on a mission. We seemed totally in synch with one another and there was never a moment when one person wanted to go to the beach and the other wanted to stay in the pool. We hired a hideous purple bubble car with a roof that peeled off ( Ithink it might have been a Citroen 2CV ) and drove around the island looking for adventure. We laughed from afar at the big men with 'Gran Canaria bellies' who sun-bathed with their feet in the sea. We giggled at the crap podium dancers in the loval 'happening' night club. 'We can dance better than them!' we insisted.
Normally when you go on holiday you take a certain amount of money with you and work out a daily or weekly budget. Not me and Geri though! We spent our money on anything and everything until suddenly it was all gone. We had about five posters left. 'What are we going to do ?'
There was only one answer. We drove back to the local club and  got ourselves jobs as podium dancers. We were paid about 10 pounds a night, enough to keep us in food , petrol and drinks. I wore hipster bell 
bottoms and a crope top, Geri wore hot pants and a bra. We worked from 11 p.m. until 4 a.m., dancing for a full hour followed by a twenty-minute break. It was a though workout. By the end of the evening you'd be dripping in swear, muscles aching, longing for bed, with echoes of Eurotrash rave music throbbing in your ears. It was a laugh, though.
One afternoon I was food shopping on the main street when a man shoved a leaflet in my hand. As I looked up at his face he cheekily stuck his tongue out at me. There, right in the middle of his long, thick, pink tongue was an enormous shining gleaming gold stud. I was mesmerized by it. It was the most beautiful, incredible thing I'd ever seen (or so I thought at the time). Wow, I want one of those, I thought.
'Watch,' I told him, because I was completely confident that he'd be seeing more of me in the future, 'I'm going to get my tongue pierced too.' I thought of how my mum and dad would disapprove. 'Shomebody 
shtop me!' I muttered to myself. ( The Mask was my favourite film at the time.)
Geri and I had another great holiday together the next year, in Sri Lanka, with Richie. So what if I had a boyfriend ? she was my best mate and we didn't go anywhere without each other. (Admittedly, i think some 
of the other people in the hotel thought we were a swinging threesome!)
Geri's and my relationship was unique. We could walk into a room and take the whole place over. She'd take one side of the room, I'd take the the occasionally we'd galance at each other as we worked our way 
along. With a look we'd know exactly what was going on, whether one of us wanted to leave or was bored, or it was time to be outrageous. It was great. Neither of us would ever say, 'Oh no, I don't think we should do that.'
It was always,'Yes! C'mon!'
So when Nancy Berry , who was then the international president of Virgin, organised a big party at Virgin after a Rolling Stones concert the next spring, it was a bit of a waste of time telling us to behave ourselves. 
We sneaked into the VIP area by climbing over the fence and managed to stay in there for quite a while, stuffing our faces. We were chucked out in the end though- 'escorted out by security'.
There was quite a buzz within the music industry about the Spice Girls, but people had only heard about us , they'd never seen us perform. Our publicity campaign hadn't kicked in yet because we wanted to have our album finished before we release our first single. So basically nobody had a clue who we were at this point, apart from the people who'd read in Music Week that a new girl group had been signed.
You wouldn't know it to watch us, though. At our first brit Awards in early 1996 ,guests of Virgin Records, sitting at a table with Lenny Kravitz, Vanessa Paradis, and Ken and Nancy Berry, we were convinced that 
people were looking at us, even though they quite weren't.
Nicky Chapman, our PR lady (who wen to become one of the Judges on Pop Idol) was sitting at a table with Take That. 'They're looking at us !' we kept saying, flicking glances over their table table every millisecond. 
When Nicky introduced us as we walked past their table we nearby wet ourselves.
We were terribly image-conscious that night, so much so that when Melanie let down her hair in the foyer, the rest of us screamed, 'Oh my God! What are you doing? Put you hear in a ponytail again. That's what you're known for!' (It was a huge over-reaction ,considering that virtually no one in the whole place knew anything about us.)
'Get lost!' Melanie retorted and we proceeded to have a huge argument in the foyer.
Of course we had no idea that we'd be making headlines at the Brits the next year,even though we behaved as if we did, 'We'll be there!' we'd say to each other with casual bravado. We knew exactly where were going.
'Shomebody Shtop us!'