Minogue - Dannii: my story

First published in Great Britain in 2010 by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd
A CBS COMPANY

Copyright 2010 by KDB Artists Pty. Ltd.

This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.
No reproduction without permission.
All rights reserved.

The right of Dannii Minogue to be identified as the author of this
work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78
of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

Simon & Schuster UK Ltd
1st Floor
222 Grays Inn Road
London
WC1X 8HB

www.simonandschuster.co.uk

Simon & Schuster Australia
Sydney

A CIP catalogue copy for this book is available
from the British Library.

ISBN: 978-0-85720-052-5 (Hardback)
ISBN: 978-0-85720-053-2 (Trade paperback)
eBook ISBN: 978-0-85720-054-9

Typeset by M Rules
Printed in the UK by CPI Mackays, Chatham ME5 8TD

For my family who have always been there
with love and open arms

For Kris and Ethan Edward who are my world

In loving memory of my dear friend Laura

H aving a baby: joyful, a quiet celebration with family. An intimate and magical moment of discovery shared with your partner. Hmmm... I wish!

Tuesday, 24 November 2009

The car is stuck in rainy London traffic and, as usual, Im running on what some of my closer friends would call Minogue Time, which basically means Im late. For most of the afternoon, Id been hurtling around Somerset House on ice skates, filming a segment for The X Factor with one of my contestants, Stacey Solomon. It was all good fun, but now Im tired, and Im wilting into the soft leather back seat of a very slow moving Jaguar.

My friends, Sam and George, are due to arrive at my apartment in Battersea at any minute for supper and Im not even close to home. Whats worse is that Ive recklessly opted to make my much-lauded veggie lasagne tonight, which, as the cooks among you know, takes some time to prepare and then an hour or so on top of that to bake, so Ill almost certainly have to rustle up a hearty salad as soon as I get in to keep us going in the meantime.

Damn! My BlackBerry is ringing again and its a work call. I feel too tired to talk. I just want to get home and chop vegetables.

Hello!

At least the car is moving now.

Hi, D.

Its Nathan, who works for my management, and hes chuckling. Youre gonna laugh at this, he says, cautiously.

Something tells me I wont.

Simon from our PR company has just called to say that a national newspaper is claiming that youre three months pregnant and that you went for a scan at the weekend. Theyre running it front page tomorrow and want us to comment isnt that ridiculous?

I dont answer. Im numb and I feel slightly faint.

Obviously, need to confirm with you that its a load of rubbish before I get back to them, Nathan says.

I still dont answer and now I can hear my own breath.

D?

Er... can I call you when Im out of the car? I ask him flatly.

Oh!

When I usher Sam and George into my apartment, minutes after I get in myself, I settle them in the lounge and tell them I have to make a quick business call before I start dinner.

Guys, pour yourselves a glass of wine, I say. I wont have one. No, its fine really. Im too tired. I need to be fresh for work tomorrow. Ill just pop some music on... Sorry about this... Wont be long.

I wonder if I got away with that. Do they think its odd Im not having a glass of wine with them?

Now quite flustered, I dash into my bedroom, which is next to the lounge, and call Nathan and tell him the truth. He tries to calm me down, then puts me on to Simon, my publicist, who informs me that the newspaper is going to print with the pregnancy story. Front cover. In thirty minutes. Its literally sitting on the press waiting for the editor to give the go-ahead to run it.

Simon, I whisper urgently. Youve got to help me. How can we stop them running this story? Yes, Im pregnant, but only about six weeks. Kris knows, of course, but we havent even told our parents yet. I want to tell my mum and dad face to face when I go back to Australia, not like this, not splashed across the papers... I cant breathe, hang on a sec...

My face feels flushed and my palms are sweating and shaking so much that I almost drop the phone. I pop my head around the bedroom door.

Sorry, guys. Wont be long, I call out to Sam and George. Im doing a lasagne for dinner. Nice?

Back to the call.

Seriously, is there a way we can stop this?

It turns out that the only way we can stop it is by admitting to the newspaper that I am, in fact, pregnant, but just six weeks. Simon informs me that its an infringement of a womans rights for any media to make a pregnancy public knowledge before the three-month scan. If the newspaper knows for sure Im only six weeks pregnant, then they cant print the story.

But I have to call Kris and ask him if its OK first, I say, now brimming over with tears. Ill try to get hold of him now and get back to you.

We have to do it soon, Dannii, or theyll run the story anyway, Simon says, solemnly. Call me straight back.

I try calling Kris, but its 5:30a.m. in Australia and his phone is off. I text him and then try calling him again but still theres no answer. The clock is ticking. My blood is running hot and cold. What do I do?

I stick my head out of the bedroom again.

Wont be long now, boys. Help yourselves to more wine. Chat among yourselves and all that!

Right. Im going to have to make this decision all on my own, arent I? Ive already had to tell my management and my PR company that Im pregnant before I was ready to; now Im going to have to tell a national newspaper too, just in time to stop the whole world from finding out even before Kris and I have had a chance to tell our families and friends the happy news, and while cooking a veggie lasagne. This isnt how it was supposed to be.

M y life hasnt always been quite this convoluted, of course. Its often at moments like this, when I feel slightly out of control or a little bit misplaced, that I try to remember a simpler and more tranquil past: times spent at home in our back garden in Wantirna, wearing a big toothy smile, head to toe in mud and ecstatic with my latest catch of frogs or blue-tongued lizards, with my brother, Brendan.

What? Dannii Minogue? Covered in mud and grappling with a big, fat scaly lizard? Can you imagine? Most of my friends now cant imagine, but its true. Its where it all began.

We lived in what my dad called a battlers area, which was a suburb of Melbourne called Scoresby. It was full of struggling young families with new mortgages and very little money. There were no roads, no footpaths and, believe it or not, no sewage. Dad worked as an accountant at a place called Mackays in Moorabbin, while Mum had a part-time job dishing out cups of tea at the local hospital. In comparison to now it was pretty much a no frills way of life. We lived in Scoresby until I was about three.