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just freezes up–but now wasn’t the time for it.

      ‘Mum,’ I shouted. ‘Stop it! Stop! I need you. I need you more than ever. Come on, be a mum.’

      I grew more and more angry as she carried on saying nothing. Not a word.

      ‘You’ve never been a mother to me!’ I screamed and slammed the phone down.

      I was so angry. Why couldn’t she just put me first for once? It wasn’t about her–it was about me. I needed her to be strong for me, but she couldn’t do it, not then.

      It had always just been Mum and me so I understood why this news would shatter her world. She split with my druggie dad when I was about a year old. She found a gun under my cot that she knew must have been his. She kicked him out straight away and he ended up in and out of prison until he died when I was twenty-three. So it’s only ever been the two of us, but our relationship has had its ups and downs over the years, as anyone who has read my autobiography will know! Let’s just say that a lot of the time I’ve had to be the mother rather than her.

      I came off the phone seething that she couldn’t find some words to comfort me at a time like this. But it was devastating news for her as well and I didn’t want us to fall out.

      Fifteen minutes later I rang back. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I am really sorry.’

      ‘So am I, Jade,’ she sobbed. ‘Ring me when you get home.’

      I lay down and cried, feeling so alone.

      Next I rang Danielle, a good mate of mine for the last seven years. We’re both single mums and often hang out together. She was on holiday in Portugal.

      ‘I’ve got cancer,’ I said as soon as she answered the phone.

      ‘Oh, Jade!’ she cried, really upset. ‘I can’t believe it! What have they said to you? How serious is it?’

      I’d thought I wasn’t really hearing the doctor’s words in the Diary Room in my shocked state, but something he’d said came back to me. ‘They say it’s grade two, whatever that means.’

      Danielle was really sweet but the fact that she sounded so upset was upsetting me as well. I hung up, promising to call her as soon as I got home.

      Next I called Jack, my on-again–off-again boyfriend of the last three years. Mark had already told him, so at least he didn’t find out from the TV or something.

      ‘You’re going to be okay,’ he said. But how did anyone know that?

      ‘I’ve got cancer,’ I kept repeating over and over. I think I was just trying to get my head around it.

      ‘Doctors can do all sorts of things these days,’ said Jack. ‘They’ve caught it early on. You can deal with this. I’ll be there for you every step of the way.’

      We talked for a few hours and he really helped to calm me down. After we came off the phone I managed to get a bit of sleep, which by that stage I really needed. But when I wakened in the early hours of the morning, it was the first thought in my head: ‘I’ve got cancer.’

      19th August 2008

      I got on the Virgin flight home to Heathrow just feeling numb. The Big Brother producers sent someone from the team with me, but I didn’t know him so I had no one to talk to in the airport or on the flight.

      Usually when I sit down on a plane I’m excited to see what films are showing and what’s going to be on the menu. I love those little tiny portions of airline food set out on a tray, with the packets of salt and pepper and the freshening wipe. Now I had no interest in anything.

      I didn’t want to smile or chat to anyone because all I could think of was that C-word.

      I have cancer.

      I wanted to get home and for my mum to rub my head the way she sometimes did and tell me everything would be okay.

      I tried to close my eyes and think of my boys. Most of all I longed to touch their soft skin and kiss their cheeks so hard. I wanted to hold them like I’d never done before.

      I tried to just listen to the hum of the plane engines and ignore the sound of babies crying and moody passengers asking for more drinks or extra blankets.

      I didn’t want anything now except my family.

      I pushed a pillow up against the window, closed my eyes and thought of Jack.

      Imagining him holding me and telling me it was all a dream made me feel a bit better.

      As all these thoughts were rushing through my mind, I wanted to scream ‘Why me?’

      Just when I was getting on with my life and putting all the bad things behind me. My mum becoming a crack addict when I was eighteen; my dad’s horrible death of a heroin overdose in a Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant; my bad relationships; the racism row over my argument with Shilpa Shetty. Why is the Big Man in the Sky giving me another challenge?

      Then I suddenly got this really weird feeling.

      I don’t know how to explain it but I thought that if my life was in danger, it was about time I sorted it all out. It made me want to do special things.

      Like make peace with my dad. He’s dead, so why do I still hate him? I decided I would go and put some flowers on his grave.

      I wanted to see my half-brothers: my dad’s son Miles, who I’d never even met before, and my mum’s son Brett.

      I wanted truly, properly to forgive my mum. To tell her none of the past mattered any more.

      Bobby and Freddy were only five and three but I decided I wanted to take my two special boys to a poor country and let them see that what they have–all the toys and holidays and the nice home–is not like that for everyone. I wanted them to appreciate the things we had.

      And, for me this is weird, I wanted to reach out somehow and find a religion.

      I never listened in my RE lessons at school–or any lessons at school for that matter–and I don’t know much about God and religious stuff. Churches always seemed like a place for other people.

      Now I was forced to think about dying I wanted to understand about living. For I could suddenly see that despite everything I’ve had–like my kids, houses, money and fame–I hadn’t really deeply appreciated it, because I didn’t think I had to.

      I didn’t want to feel any more anger. I wanted to be at peace with everyone now.

      I sat and thought about the list of things I wanted to do as the plane carried me back home to my family thousands of miles away. I had no idea how long I might have to do them all so I’d have to get started straight away. Just in case.

      20th August 2008

      The flight took eleven hours and it was the following morning when we landed at Heathrow. I unclipped my seatbelt and felt myself welling up again.

      For the past nine years, since Big Brother 3 in 2002, I have lived my life in the spotlight and I knew this would be no different. I’ll never forget that moment when I stepped outside the Big Brother house and saw those cameras flashing and realised: ‘Oh my god, I must be famous!’

      But landing at Heathrow that morning I wished I could switch it all off for the day.

      An air stewardess led me to the VIP lounge. I put my arm through hers and walked as fast as I could. My legs still felt like jelly. I wanted to run away and hide.

      The word ‘cancer’ seemed to be etched behind my eyes and echoing round my head.

      Then I spotted a big horde of photographers waiting for me.

      I could hear the clicking of the camera shutters as I approached. I

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