PART 1: How We Fell In Love
Soon, we were standing on the stage, rehearsing our song. It was going well when suddenly the producer had an idea. 'Drop your tops to show as much flesh as possible,' he told us. There were four huge television screens behind us and, with our tops lowered, it would create the illusion on the screens that we were not wearing any clothes. We looked at each other. We weren't comfortable with the idea, but there was no one there who we could turn to for help. We didn't want to ruin our chances, so, reluctantly, we pulled our tops down a little. Mel, who was standing on a box to make us all the same height, got angry and began to curse under her breath. 'Do it again,' the producer said. 'You need to take your tops a bit lower.'
It was at that point we got the giggles. Pretending to be naked felt so odd, so unnatural, and the more we giggled and knew we were not supposed to, the more irrepressible our laughter became. Laughter lightened the situation. We were angry and this was our way of being rebellious. 'Get off and come back when you've got yourselves together,' the floor manager said. We discussed our options. We didn't want to sully things with the television show, but we did not want to look naked - it was not us. We were scared that if we took so long debating it that it was too late to reshoot the song.
When we went on stage that night, I started the song with the line: 'A few questions that I need to know; how you could ever hurt me so.' As I sang, I looked at the monitor and saw, projected on to the backing screens, the film they had taken of us with our tops lowered. We looked naked and miserable. This was not what All Saints was about. I didn't see Rob again for several months after that. Then we were asked to perform at the Concert of Hope for the Diana, princess of Wales memorial Fund in December. Apart from All Saints, it would be all male bands performing, and we felt quite uncomfortable walking into the rehearsals. It was a room full of boys all showing off and practising their scales. They were all dressed up, too, while the four of us were comfortable in our everyday clothes. It was cold and I was wearing a Puffa jacket, baggy trousers and a wooly hat.
Boyzone, 911 and Peter Andre were there. Gary Barlow, Take That's lead singer and songwriter, was sitting at the piano, and he announced: 'Everyone come around the piano and we'll have a sing-along.' Then he looked at us and said, 'This is your chance to show what you can do.' He was so patronising, it made me cringe.
All of a sudden, a big, bright ray of sunshine came through the door. It was Rob. It was the end of November and raining outside, and he was wearing a big fluffy coat. He looked like a wet bear. I thought to myself: 'That's someone to be impressed by.' Just by walking into the room, Rob changed everything. It was the first time that Rob had been in the same room as another member of Take That since he had quite the band. He had not had major solo success and, at that time, Gary Barlow was seen as the most talented and promising member of the band.
Rob came straight over to us and gave us each a kiss, then he went and said hello to the others. He was a really down-to-earth guy and it shone through. He was so much more real than anyone else there. He seemed totally out of place - just as we were.
I had my 23rd birthday part soon afterwards, and at the concert I'd plucked up the courage to invite Rob. When I first walked into the bar it was so empty - there were just the other members of the band, my sister Lori and her friends. I sat with them at a table and ordered half a pint of lager. The first person to walk in was Rob. It was early - about 8.00 p.m. - and he came straight over and wished me a happy birthday. He was with his friend, Charlie. He also got half a lager and we sat there chatting, mainly about rehearsals. I kept thinking: 'I'm really happy he's come to my birthday party.' Rob and I talked for about an hour. It was very sweet. We were both sober, and it was innocent and refreshing. I really appreciated that he had come early and that we had time together before everyone else arrived. I got to know him a bit then. I knew I liked him. I loved his eyes.
Other guests started to arrive. Mel was dating Stuart Zender, the bass player with the band Jamiroquai, and all of Jamiroaquai were there. After being with Rob, I didn't want to talk to other people and found it hard to walk away from him. I kept looking over at him. That was when I knew I was attracted to him. I know it sounds odd, but as soon as I fancy someone I avoid them. I'm terrified that my feelings might be read. Now I was worried that I might make a fool of myself, and I didn't know what to say. There were so many pretty girls at the bar - blonde girls in short skirts. Just as at school, they made me feel unattractive. I had come straight from a photo shoot to promote Under The Bridge and I was wearing black leather trousers and a black T-shirt. I knew I didn't stand out - I felt I looked like one of the waitresses.
After a couple of hours Rob came over to me and said he was leaving. Stuart's birthday gift to me had been a Polaroid camera. 'Will you take a picture with me?' I asked Rob. He pulled me close and hugged me for the photograph. It was lovely, full on. It felt electric. It was then I thought that maybe he was attracted to me. This was not just a hug for my birthday.
The Concert of Hope took place the following day at Battersea Power Station in London. It was a huge event - there were ten bands and an audience of 6,000. I didn't see Rob, but I knew he was there and that was exciting. I was carrying around hundreds of Polaroids, and showing people the highlights of my party. I wanted to show Rob the photo of us together. I kept it at the top of the box so that I could locate it quickly if I saw him. An hour before the show, we held a final rehearsal. I left the dressing room, wondering whether Rob was around and whether I would bump into him. We rehearsed Never Ever and I was walking off stage when I heard a voice 20 feet behind me singing at the top of his lungs.
It was Rob. We all turned round he came over to say Hello. 'Oh, my God,' I said, 'I haven't got my pictures on me.' I was wearing my stage clothes - a long coat with no pockets. At the end of the evening, everyone was leaving. I had the pictures in my pocket and, as we walked out of the main door, I heard Rob shout: 'See you later!' I turned around. 'I have a picture to show you,' I said. He walked over and I showed him the Polaroid. 'It's a great picture,' he said. Later he told me he was touched by the sweetness of me showing him the picture. I left feeling satisfied.
I could not stop thinking about Rob. I had a sense that he liked me and I wanted to see him again. I asked our manager to get Rob's phone number for me, but I lacked the courage to use it. What would I say? How would he react? I liked the fact that I had his number, that I could call him if I wanted to.
A week later, I opened the newspaper and saw that Rob had been on a date with Denise Van Outen, who was in a class above me at the Sylvia Young Theatre School. I knew that they had flirted together when Rob appeared on the Big Breakfast, which she hosted. I told myself I was not upset or angry, I just wanted to be Rob's friend. That night I went out to a party and got very drunk. I was coming home in a cab when the moment seemed right - or at least right enough - to call him. I dialled Rob's number quickly, almost without thinking, and before I could change my mind. His roommate, Charlie, answered. 'Hello, is Rob there?' 'No,' Charlie said. 'He's just gone out to get some milk.' 'It's Nicole from All Saints,' I said. 'Can I leave my number?' One second later, Rob called me back - not out at all, just screening his calls. We were both clearly happy to be speaking to each other.
'I'm going to a studio in the country to work on my album,' Rob said. 'Why don't you drive down tomorrow night and have dinner with me?' It would be a crazy thing to do. I had only met him once. I hardly knew him. 'Okay' I said.
The next day, I could barely think about anything else. I had booked a taxi - it turned out to be a beaten-up Nissan, and it was precarious on the icy roads. The car was noisy, and smelt of damp. It was snowing. I was wearing a pair of white hipster trousers, a black top and a big, green parka coat. I was freezing. Rob said the journey would take 45 minutes; it took an hour-and-a-half. I kept thinking to myself: 'This is the middle of nowhere. You are nuts, Nicole. What are you doing?' When I finally arrived at the farmhouse, I paid the driver quickly, I did not want Rob to see the dilapidated car I had driven up in.
Rob greeted me at the door. 'I've saved dinner, so we can eat together.' He said. Rob was wearing tight grey trousers that looked uncomfortable. All tight and tucked in. I could see everthing. 'Let's go and eat in the dining room,' he said. I followed him. He was carrying two plates covered in clingfilm. That night, the cook had made roast dinner with potatoes and Yorkshire pudding - all the trimmings. It was difficult to eat and I didn't know how to act. I wanted to be myself and friendly but I was feeling very nervous. I was acting like the girls that I loathe: no personality, just agreeing with everything.
'What about Denise Van Outen, the?' I found myself asking. 'She sent me a bird with a card saying: "Can I be your bird?"' Rob told me. 'I gave the bird to my mum.' After dinner, we went into the studio where Rob and I sat on a sofa and tried to look busy. I did not want just to stare at him. I picked up a book, but quickly put it down. I felt like a spare part. In the recording booth, Rob did something wrong and said into the microphone: 'I'm being distracted by the beautiful person behind me.' Suddenly included, I laughed and leaned back, banging my head loudly on the shelf behind my head. I went red with embarrassment. Instantly I hated myself.
I reached for another book and started reading. It was a book full of rhyming words to be used for writing song lyrics. I tried to look engrossed. After about an hour, Rob came out of the booth and we all walked down the road to the pub. I felt more relaxed and less like an accessory. We got very drunk, drinking pint after pint. Finally I felt like myself. Suddenly, it was 11 p.m. and I realised I must be staying the night - even though I had brought nothing with me and I had a video shoot for under The Bridge first thing in the morning.
We left the pub and stood outside. Rob had not held my hand or anything. It was cold, so I put my parka hood up. It was snowing really hard. Rob pulled down my hood and kissed me. Back at the farmhouse, Rob and I sat watching television. We were so drunk that we passed out on the couch. All I kept thinking was: 'I have a video to do tomorrow, I must wake up.' The couch was narrow. Eventually we roused ourselves and went upstairs to Rob's room, I slept in a T-shirt and black bellywarmer knickers - I really had not thought beyond arriving at the farmhouse. I turned my back to him. He made the situation funny and we laughed. I kept saying 'Could you please make sure I get up in the morning?'
Someone woke us at 7.30 a.m. There was thick snow outside the farmhouse and I had to get back to London. We drank strong black coffee out of big mugs. Suddenly, Rob stood up and, perfectly imitating Liam Gallagher's voice and walk, strode across the room with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, saying: 'I'll check if the cab is here.' The car arrived and Rob walked me to the door. 'I'll call you later,' he said. It was a slow ride back to London in the snow. At the video shoot, I was regaling everyone with my night's adventures when one of the stylists arrived with the newspapers. On the front page of The Sun was a photograph of Rob with Denise Van Outen under a headline proclaiming that they were now an item.
Rob had told me the truth about him and Denise, but I had a very hard job convincing everyone, especially Natalie, who was very protective. 'He's a Celebrity pop star.' She said. 'Don't be naive. Please be careful Nic.'
Rob called that afternoon. 'I had a really good night last night,' he said. 'Me too,' I said. I felt triumphant. I thought I would hear from Rob again in a day or two, but there was nothing. I was determined not to call him. I began to feel I should not have gone to the studio - not all that way, just because he'd asked me to. Part of me felt I should have played harder to get.
A week later, I was getting ready to go out for dinner with Mel when the telephone rang. It was Rob and he sounded completely wired. 'Hello Nic,' he said. 'Can you come and get me? I'm at a party.' '"Where?' 'North London.' 'Are you all right/' 'Yes, I just want to get out of here. I want to leave. I've been up all night.'
I rang Mel and told her. She was annoyed that I was dropping everything for Rob. 'But he sounded really desperate.' I said.
I got into a taxi and went to the address Rob had given me. It was the house of one of the guys in his band. Rob was lying on the couch. He looked as if he had been to hell and back. Apart from a couple of people clearing up, no one else was there. Rob needed a bit of care. He found it hard to reveal his vulnerability; being out of it was almost an excuse to show that side of himself. We left and went back to his place. It was two nights before the New Year. I stayed over.
In some ways, this is when Rob and I started seeing each other, but we were not ready for anyone to know about it so we spent New Year's Eve apart. Rob did a private show at the Atlantic Bar in London's West End. Meanwhile, Zoe Ball invited me to go to her party with Natalie, her boyfriend, TV presenter Jamie Theakston, and Samantha Janus.
When we arrived, it was very dark. There was a DJ and 60 people having drinks. At midnight we gathered round for the countdown to the New Year. Everyone gave each other hugs. In my heart, I wanted to be with Rob, giving him a New Year's kiss, but I ended up kissing Samantha Janus instead!
But on the morning of January 2 1998, I was caught by press photographers leaving Rob's house. The next day it was in all the papers: 'What is Nicole Appleton doing leaving Robbie Williams's house first thing in the morning?' It was the first picture they got of us together.
My first thought was: thank goodness I had brought a change of outfit and didn't walk out wearing last night's clothes. Our very public love affair had begun.
