LITMIR.BIZ

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used to being in the spotlight, and usually a few paps don’t bother me at all. This time, though, I felt the heat of the lights and all those eyes on me and I felt so vulnerable, as if I’d forgotten to put my clothes on.

      I clenched my lips together and my heart started to beat really fast. I didn’t want to cry again, but the tears were never far from the surface.

      Then there was another huge flash and the tears began dripping from my eyelashes. Of course that made them snap away even more. That’s what they wanted: Tragic Jade Breaks Down; Jade In Tears at Cancer Diagnosis.

      We got outside with the help of a police escort and I threw myself onto the back seat of the car. I felt safer away from the spotlight.

      I switched my phone on and straight away lots of texts came through. Carly, my friend who helped me open my Ugly beauty salon, had sent me a text saying she’d heard the news and was thinking of me. I was glad she’d got in touch. We’d drifted apart a bit after the salon closed but now I wanted to make peace with everyone. Having cancer makes you realise any bad feelings are just not worth it.

      Of course, if she had heard that meant it had been reported in the press already. It figured. When you get your diagnosis on TV, you’re not going to keep it secret for long because even though the producers edited it out, it would have appeared on the internet.

      I watched the motorway rushing past the window.

      ‘You know, Jade,’ I thought, ‘it isn’t that bad. It can’t be. You’re a mum. You need to be here and live for your boys. You can’t possibly die; you’re just too young. You’ve got cancer; you’ll get it sorted.’

      Why would this happen to me anyway? I’d taken more crap than most people, so why this as well? On top of everything else, why cancer?

       Come on, Jade. Worst things have happened. Surely. Haven’t they?

      Images of bald people crowded my head. Very sick people with oxygen tanks by their beds and tubes in their arms. Hospitals. Treatments.

       Fuck it, it IS bad. It’s cancer! You don’t get much more serious than that…

      By the time I’d reached my house, I felt a bit calmer. Almost convinced this couldn’t be real.

      I spotted the shadows of photographers outside my house and kept my head down as I opened the door.

      They shouted at me: ‘Jade, Jade, are you okay? How do you feel?’

      Well, how did they think I felt?

      Normally, you just try and stop me from saying something. I open my mouth and say whatever jumps into my head. All too often the words bypass my brain so I end up getting into trouble again. But this time was different. My whole world had changed.

      That old Jade had gone and now the words were stuck in my throat. My mouth felt so dry, I wanted to get myself inside the house and away from all the media.

      I rang the bell and waited for Jack to answer. I was so relieved when the door opened and I saw him holding out his arms that I just walked right into them. I felt small and weak and helpless as he squeezed me tightly. Funny, because we weren’t even supposed to be officially together at that time–whatever ‘officially’ means.

      We’d split up ten months earlier because we were always rowing and having ups and downs. He was six years younger than me and could be a bit immature. He certainly wasn’t ready for the media spotlight that came with being my boyfriend. Paps were always catching him out with his arm round girls in clubs or whatever, and sometimes I knew it was an innocent thing, but not always. But despite everything, I knew I had a friend in Jack, so we’d always carried on seeing each other and spending time with each other. We couldn’t seem to keep away.

      And there is no one who gives me hugs like he does. You know the ones where your problems all seem to melt away?

      ‘Jack,’ I cried. ‘I’m so scared.’

      He just hugged me and kept repeating that it was going to be okay.

      He’d been staying in my house as he’d promised me he’d decorate the rooms while I was away in India. As I glanced around I could see that obviously he hadn’t had time to get very far, but I certainly wasn’t going to say anything about it that day.

      I hadn’t even wanted to go to India at first, because Jack was due to go to court for bashing someone with a golf club the previous December and I was afraid he’d be in prison when I got back.

      I had no doubt that he really cared about me but he kept screwing up and things had been difficult between us. He had a great relationship with my boys, though, and that meant a lot. And he was there for me when I really needed him–like today.

      Freddy and Bobby had been staying with Jeff, their father, while I was in India and were due to come back to me in a few days’ time. I really wanted to see them straight away but had hospital trips already arranged for the next few days so I wouldn’t have been able to look after them anyway. Jeff is a good dad–I had no worries there. It was just selfish of me to want to see them for comfort, for the special little hugs that only three-year-olds and five-year-olds can give you. But maybe it was best that they didn’t see me in such a state.

      I called Mum but she said it would be a few days more before she could get back. I got the impression she didn’t really understand the seriousness of the situation but there was nothing more I could say until I’d seen the doctors. I’ve had loads of scares in the past so she probably thought it was just another one, but I knew this was something more. No one had actually told me I had cancer before.

      I was so tired after all the crying, I didn’t feel hungry. My head was all over the place from the different time zones. India is about five hours ahead of England, I think–or is it the other way round? Anyway, we went to bed early. Usually I feel totally relaxed in my warm, soft giant bed. I love my bedroom with its high ceiling and massive TV. It’s always been my special place.

      This time, everything felt different. Soon my pillow was soaked with tears, and I lay there in a panic with my heart thudding. Not to feel all safe and snuggly in your own bed is horrible.

      Jack wrapped his arms around me, speaking softly in my ear.

      ‘You’ll be okay. I’m here,’ he whispered. ‘I’m here every step of the way.’

      Although his words couldn’t take the horrible cancer away, they made me soften inside.

      We talked and I sobbed for ages until sleep overcame me and the room finally went dark.

       Chapter Two Lots of Tests

      21st August 2008

      As soon as I woke up and remembered what was happening, I felt sick. There was an appointment booked for me that morning at Harlow Hospital–the one where doctors had told me over and over again I was okay.

      I got ready to go, my legs like jelly. Jack was coming too, thank God.

      My hands were so sweaty it was as though I’d just washed them. They were shaking as well, like I was an old drunk or something.

      The doctors examined me again then told me they wanted me to do an MRI scan.

      I spoke to Mark while we waited. He told me the papers had already brought out the stories of me having cancer and he read out a few of the headlines. I’m used to seeing my name in headlines but not next to the word ‘cancer’. That kept bringing it home to me again and again. ‘Jade Goody has cancer’. If they said it, it must be true–or not, because we all know they’re not always right, don’t we?

      After a while we were led to a room with a big, scary-looking machine I’d never seen before. I had to lie down on it and was told to keep

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