Kerry. Emily Herbert

Kerry - Emily Herbert


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recently, as she herself pointed out, before all this began, she had hardly ever been abroad at all.

      D-Day was 25 November 1999. It was actually seen as a high-risk strategy to launch a début single at this time of the year, given that competition is extremely strong for a Christmas Number One, and so all the more established acts – and some surprises – tend to release a new record in late November. However, it worked. ‘Right Now’ sold 30,000 copies in its first week, reaching number 10 in the charts. It didn’t quite match the Spice Girls a couple of years earlier, but it was quite enough to make a big impact and reassure Virgin Records – who had also been the Spice Girls label – that they definitely had another winner on their hands.

      Kerry could scarcely believe everything that was happening to her. The launch of the record took place at Andy’s Records in Warrington, allowing her the chance to see her mother for the first time in ages. ‘It’s all been a mad whirl – I can’t believe our single’s finally out!’ she said. ‘Today is the first time I’ve seen my mother in months. We did an interview on Radio 1 today where we could play a record of our choice – Liz chose “Mama” by the Spice Girls as a tribute to all our parents and I just burst into tears.’

      Of course, Kerry herself was well aware that they were seen in some quarters as potential rivals to their illustrious forebears. ‘Everyone compares us to the Spice Girls, which is a real honour, but nobody could ever be them – they opened up the world of pop for bands like us and introduced girl power,’ she said. In actual fact, not only were the Spice Girls themselves on the verge of imploding, but Atomic Kitten were going to last the course. They were also loving every minute of it. ‘It’s amazing – I’ve already been to Japan and Ireland and next year we’re off to Italy and South-East Asia,’ said Kerry. ‘I’d only been abroad twice before now and that was to Spain.’

      On the day the single actually entered the charts, the girls celebrated by playing at Liverpool’s Anfield football ground. ‘We played at half-time and I kept expecting to hear chants like, “Get your kit off for the boys!”’ said Kerry. ‘But, actually, the crowd were really nice and supportive. Liverpool were playing Sheffield Wednesday on the day and Tash thought they were called Ashfield Wednesday. And that’s what she called them on live radio! Obviously, we’ve never let her live it down.’

      In the event, the single stayed in the charts for eight weeks, which would have been a major achievement at any time of the year and was particularly so in the run up to Christmas. By the time the new Millennium had been seen in, Atomic Kitten, who six months previously had been complete unknowns, were bona fide established stars. The band who did manage the Number One slot that year, incidentally, was an Irish outfit called Westlife. But more of them anon.

      The girls were coping with their new lives like true professionals. The three of them gave an interview early in 2000, in which they were more than able to hold their own. ‘We’re not pretending to be something we’re not,’ said Kerry firmly. ‘Half these girl bands or manufactured bands get signed up and then they get changed, the record company says this is how you’ve got to be, whereas we make the rules up and we break them as we go along.’

      If truth be told, that was remarkably similar to early Spice Girls pronouncements. And there was another hark back to the Spices when the Sun newspaper gave them nicknames – Natasha was Ginger Kitten, Fluffy Kitten was Liz’s moniker and the Sex Kitten attribute went to Kerry. Unlike the Spice Girls’ nicknames, however, they never really caught on.

      Natasha was equally feisty, becoming enraged when it was suggested that Atomic Kitten itself could be accused of being a manufactured band. ‘Accuse?’ she cried. ‘I wouldn’t say it was a matter of accusing us, I would just say that it was a matter of their opinion. If people want to think we’re manufactured, then that is up to them. Everyone’s manufactured in that someone puts money into you, someone’s got to sign you and it is their money that you’re using. If people can be bothered reading the papers and read what we say in interviews, then they’ll know we’re not manufactured. We got signed when our album was already done, it’s all been ours. It’s not like they’ve come in and given us songs, they’ve all been ours from the beginning. We’re nobody’s puppets.’

      Indeed, the trio was determined to present themselves as normal girls next door. ‘That’s why we appeal to a lot of our fans,’ said Natasha. ‘They look at us and say, “That’s me! I do that!” We went to the première of The Beach and we were bouncing up and down, going, “Ole, ole, ole, ole” and I overheard a girl saying, “Look, everyone else is being dead posh and they’re being, like, mental.” We’re just us, we don’t put an act on for nobody, we’re just typical teenagers.’

      It was true, they were typical teenagers who were making quite an impact on the world, although not everything about their lives was typical, and there was a price to pay as well – no boyfriends. ‘You don’t get the chance to have a boyfriend,’ said Natasha ruefully, ‘because you don’t have the chance to get to know them. You can have a date with someone, but then you don’t get to see them for three weeks, and then it’s maybe for an hour and you don’t know if they like you because of what you’re doing or because of who you are.’

      It was a situation all three were prepared to accept for the time being, however, and, in truth, it was a situation which wasn’t going to last long. There was also more at stake now, as well. Kerry continued to attract the most attention, while she herself was well aware of her motives behind joining the band. ‘I’m in this for personal reasons,’ she said. ‘I was brought up in Care and I want to prove to myself that it doesn’t matter who you are or what kind of background you are from, everybody is special. I want to show to myself and to kids out there who are in Care or whose parents are divorced or whatever, things can get better, I am living proof that it can be done. I’ve never had money, and I’ve never needed it, so I’m certainly not in it for the money … although fame is pretty cool as well.’

      In March 2000, the next single, ‘See Ya’, came out. It did even better than the first and got to number 6 in the charts. Again, canny marketing played a big role; the song had previously been heard in the films Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends and Bring It On. Now that the single itself had been released, it was also being used as the soundtrack to Fiat’s advertising campaigns in France and Italy, which did its popularity (and amount of airplay time) no harm at all.

      The girls were also touring, and played in front of thousands at Wembley, again a sign of their new-found prowess. ‘The whole tour has been fantastic,’ said an enthusiastic Kerry. ‘We’ve been getting on really well and hanging out together. It’s still all very new to us but we don’t get nervous – just excited. We’ve been enjoying every minute of it.’ Neither was she letting it go to her head. ‘Being put into Care was probably the best thing that ever happened to me,’ she said, explaining that it helped keep her feet on the ground. ‘I haven’t had a sheltered upbringing and it has made me realise you have to make your own way in life. It’s also taught me to enjoy every moment. Atomic Kitten will never be stuck up. We’re just three girls out to have fun.’

      But there was something else on Kerry’s mind, too, for, young as she was, she had already met the man she was sure was going to be the right one for her. His name was Bryan McFadden.

       3

       PLAYING IT COOL

      Bryan McFadden was born on 12 April 1980 into an Irish, middle-class family, something he once described as ‘straight out of The Partridge Family’. Like Kerry, Bryan was a singer, in his case with the massively successful band Westlife. It was quite a step up in the world; he had once had a job in McDonald’s, earning £150 a week.

      Westlife had originally come about after its three founding members – Kian Egan, Shane Filan and Mark Feehily – all from Sligo in Ireland, had taken part in a local production of the musical Grease. The three performed


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