It was later in life that Len Goodman found his soulmate, Sue Barrett.
The couple married in 2012 in a surprise ceremony after 10 years together and Len always referred to her as “My Wonderful Sue”.
He had been married before, to his first competitive dance partner Cherry Kingston before splitting after 15 years.
Here, in exclusive extracts from his autobiography Better Late Than Never: From Barrow Boy to Ballroom, he recalls their wedding, its aftermath, and the day he met his true love, Sue.
Cherry and I were dance partners but we also became
boyfriend and girlfriend. We became romantically involved, like many dancing couples, because we lived in each other’s pockets.
I don’t want to make it sound mercenary and calculating, because it wasn’t, and there is no denying that Cherry was a pretty girl. But we just slipped into our relationship from what started out as a kiss on the cheek, to a kiss on the lips and then, well, I’ll leave that to your imagination.
Cherry and I got married on April 27, 1972, two days after my 28th birthday.
With hindsight I realise life sometimes fires warning shots. I’m probably no different to most people in that I resisted all the tell-tale signs. It was a case of carry on regardless.
Two weeks to the day before our wedding my father was feeling unwell.
He had pains in his chest.
Luckily, he drove to his doctor’s surgery as soon as he felt them. In the waiting room, he had a massive heart attack. Being there saved his life.
Ten days before the wedding Dad had a quadruple bypass, and two days later he was on the road to recovery, but still in hospital. I should have taken this as warning number one: postpone the wedding.
But things were too far gone and I felt pressure from Cherry and her mum. Who could blame them? On Monday April 24 we went to the church for a dress rehearsal, and everything seemed to go off without a hitch until the vicar dropped his bombshell, not that he intended to. “Have the banns been seen to?”
Always the joker I was back as quick as a flash. “We don’t want a band thank you very much, an organ will do.”
The vicar had a look on his face that said, “very funny”. “The reading of the banns is a legal requirement for a church wedding, they must be read out for three successive Sundays before the wedding. I’m afraid the ceremony cannot go ahead,” said the vicar.
At this point everyone turned to look at me as if to say, why didn’t you get the bloody banns read?
I spent most of my birthday talking to what seemed like everyone in the Church of England at Canterbury trying to get a special licence.
As I put down the phone to the Church of England man it rang again.
It was the Black Prince Hotel in Bexley where we were holding the reception. “I’m sorry, Mr Goodman, but I’m afraid our kitchen has caught fire and we’re going to have to move your reception.”
Finally the big day arrived and after all the upset, rushing around and hectic time, I guess it was inevitable I had a hangover.
I arrived at Christ Church in Bexley Heath at 2.45pm and waited for the bride. She looked absolutely lovely. The ceremony went without a hitch.
After a glass of champagne everyone sat down to enjoy the meal. The starter had just been put in front of everyone when the Maitre d’ whispered in my ear. “Can you please take a call from the hospital.” My father had had a relapse and was not expected to make it through the night.
Back at the top table I explained and said for everyone to enjoy themselves, but it put the mockers on everything. I spent the night at the hospital and when I got back Cherry blamed me for leaving. I don’t think she ever forgave me for messing up the wedding.
Things ended when Cherry went off to Paris. She had a car full of dresses and took her mum. The day after Cherry left, a friend called me. “Len, Cherry is going to leave you and she wants her mum to meet her future husband.”
“You what?” was about all I could manage.
With hindsight I knew that ours was a dancing marriage, one that lacked that spark of real love.
Cherry was not the one and only but it was still a bugger at the time. As the old saying goes: don’t get mad, get even. Our house was about a mile from Cherry’s mum’s house in Bexley Heath.
Over the next two days I took everything of Cherry’s, all of her clothes, minks, jewellery, records, a nest of tables, and laid everything out on her mother’s front lawn.
A few years later at the golf club I noticed an attractive girl sitting at a table. I didn’t like to stare but I had a feeling I knew her. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Original or what?
“Yes, Len, you do. I teach dancing in Essex and I’ve seen you many times at competitions, but possibly you remember seeing me when I used to have lessons at your school. My name’s Sue.”
“Sue. I tell you, if you’re ever looking to change dance schools give me a call, I’m looking for a good teacher.” A few days later she called.
Sue was brilliant; she worked every Saturday, and three days a week she would drive to Dartford from Southend at seven in the morning, get the train to London and then after work take the train back to Dartford to work in the studio until 10 before driving home.
After working together for 10 years, we discovered all our metronomes were in sync and Sue and I are very happy.
Despite the fact Sue taught in my school we hardly talked to one another – she would teach her classes and then go; it’s so very different from the sort of relationships that develop in a more normal office environment.
But sometimes things come along when you’re least expecting it – maybe a bit on the late side, but my life is finally complete.
I have had many wonderful experiences, but the best was meeting my Sue. She has been a brilliant help at the studio, especially during my “TV life”. Sue, I couldn’t have done it without you.
* Better Late Than Never: From Barrow Boy to Ballroom by Len Goodman is published by Ebury Press at £12.99.
