One advertisement caught her eye but it seemed a little ambitious. She went to a call for Bertie, a new musical starring Anita Harris about the famous music-hall performer Vesta Tilley. Victoria was auditioning to be part of the ‘company’, one of the all-singing, all-dancing members of the chorus. She had continued to develop her image: she had the look (moody), she had the costume (all black), and she had the perfect song to match (‘Mein Herr’). She had decided on the classic song from Cabaret as her principal audition piece; it would prove to be an inspired choice in the future. She liked the song particularly because she felt she could put it across well, a legacy of all the drama classes she had taken over the years. As Joy Spriggs shrewdly observed, ‘She was always very good at drama. She used to do very, very well in all of her exams. I mean, she’s acting all the time, isn’t she really? She’s acting her persona. Yes, she’s role-playing.’
To her delight, she received a phone call at the Old School House saying she had got Bertie. She had just turned nineteen and was technically still at Laine’s so this was a considerable achievement. She would be going into a real show, not killing time on a cruise ship.
Unlike Melanie Brown, who gave up her boyfriend when ambition and Blackpool beckoned, Victoria decided to get engaged. Mark maintained, ‘I knew Toria was the one for me. She was the sweetest girl I had ever met and all I wanted was for her to be my wife.’ His proposal was not a surprise because they had already designed a £1500 engagement ring together. He had also asked Tony for his daughter’s hand in marriage.
He got down on one knee at a romantic candlelit dinner at a restaurant near Tower Bridge and she accepted. Tony and Jackie threw a champagne pool party so that all their friends could celebrate the good news. Everyone seemed genuinely delighted, except perhaps her sister Louise, who had never warmed to Mark.
In her autobiography Learning to Fly, Victoria said, ‘I never for one moment thought that I would marry Mark.’ The engagement seemed to be an acknowledgement that they were in a strong relationship and was one less thing to think about when her career was moving forward. Even though they were not married, she decided to add his name to hers.
All seemed set fair during Bertie’s six-week run at the Alexandra Theatre in Birmingham. Victoria was paid £250 a week, her first real wage, and was looking forward to her West End début. Without warning, the transfer to London was cancelled. It was back to the drawing board, poring over the new issue of the Stage and taking some promotional work handing out leaflets or plugging products. She even worked for the Daily Mirror on promotional visits to newsagents, wearing a T-shirt two sizes too small for her.
In August 1993 she noticed a small ad seeking a girl singer for a new group. This was six months before Chris Herbert’s. She had harboured a secret ambition to break into pop so sent in a CV and a picture of herself dressed in black, naturally, sporting a pair of sunglasses in the manner of her fashion idol Audrey Hepburn. It did the trick and she was called for an audition.
The ad had been placed by Steven Andrews, a professional model from South London, who wanted to be a pop star. Victoria sang ‘Mein Herr’ as usual and also danced to the club hit ‘Let Me Be Your Fantasy’ by Baby D. Steven was impressed – even more so when at a call-back she stood out from a dozen other girls performing the crowd-pleasing classic ‘Band of Gold’ by Freda Payne.
Victoria was hired as lead singer, although, in a precursor for what was to happen later, nothing was signed and there was no immediate prospect of a deal. Twice a week, the new group of three boys and two girls would meet to rehearse. It proved to be an excellent grounding for her future. Steven recalled, ‘She was never late or moody. She just got on with it. Everybody pulled together.’
Steven did think that Victoria lacked confidence in front of the microphone. He was more concerned, however, that the only time she seemed to get upset was when Mark was there, sitting in. He put it down to Mark’s possessiveness and hated him turning up. A clue to Mark and Victoria’s relationship is found in the birthday card she gave him for his twenty-second birthday, which he later revealed to the world. It read, ‘I’ll still love you when you’re old! Lots of love, your Little Pop Star! Victoria xxx’
Considering how Victoria’s abilities were questioned by the media in future years, she was the only one of the future superstars who was actually already the singer in a band when Chris Herbert put the group together. That experience did not mean she was feeling positive during the audition.
She had no idea she was making an impact, although she did notice that girls with what she perceived to be far better voices were picking up their bags and melting away into the Oxford Street afternoon. Her ‘look’ was keeping her in, and the fact that she coped comfortably with the dance steps they were required to do.
After performing ‘Mein Herr’, she packed up to leave and Chris told her he would be in touch. He meant it. She might not have made as big an impression as Melanie Brown had, but she was not far behind.
4
Back at the office in Lightwater, Chris started to sift through his notes and scoresheets to decide on the best twelve contenders for a second audition. The idea was to have a closer look at the probables and possibles and, obviously, come up with a final five. He couldn’t help noticing that his secretary, Louise, was still fielding calls from a persistent young woman from Watford. To his surprise, they seemed to be building a nice rapport.
Eventually Chris’s curiosity got the better of him and he told her to put the girl through. He soon discovered for himself that Geri Halliwell was a force of nature. She had seen the original advertisement in the Stage and had kept in touch to let them know how keen she was, but on the day she was nowhere to be seen.
Several possible explanations for her absence were volunteered. One was that she had been on a skiing trip and suffered sunburn. Another was that she had needed to make a flying visit to her grandmother in Spain. Chris was impressed by her audacity in keeping her foot in the door. He could see from the photos she sent in that she was sexy without being Hollywood glamorous.
‘She was very bubbly on the phone and we wanted to see her. It didn’t dawn on me at the time but I think she obviously knew she would have failed in an early-round audition and she wanted to bypass that. I think she’d worked that one out and I think that was her strategy.’
Geri almost admitted as much when she said, ‘I didn’t think I would have got an audition because my vocal technique was not very good then.’ If it was her game plan, it paid off because Chris took a chance and invited her to the call-back at Nomis Studios in West London.
Unlike Melanie Brown and Victoria Adams, Geri hadn’t spent half her time as a youngster attending dancing classes. She didn’t have any trophies and cups on the sideboard or framed photographs of her singing sweetly in a stage musical. But somewhere along the line she had developed an overwhelming desire to be famous. Chris noted, ‘She was incredibly hungry for fame.’
Geraldine Halliwell is one of the few women that Kylie Minogue could look in the eye. She is very petite – not much more than an inch or two over five feet. As a child she showed no inclination to grow. Her Spanish-born mother was so concerned at her small offspring that when Geri was nine she took her to see a specialist doctor to find out if she needed medical help. Her Spanish relatives helpfully nicknamed the little girl La Enana which translates as ‘the Dwarf’. It wasn’t exactly an improvement on her earlier pet name, Cacitas, meaning ‘Little Poos’.
Her mother, Ana Maria Hidalgo, was a stunning girl from a village near the historic city of Huesca in north-eastern Spain. She came to London when she was twenty-one to work as an au-pair and fell for the dubious charms of Laurence Halliwell, whom Geri describes as a ‘total rogue’. He was a ‘car-dealer, entrepreneur, womaniser and chancer’.
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