This week, soap fans were hit with the shocking revelation that devious Emmerdale newcomer Celia Daniels is, in fact, the top dog of the sinister drugs operation that has silently infiltrated the village.
Off-screen, there’s been further revelations made by actress and television icon Jaye Griffiths about her private life, bravely opening up about her experience of an abusive relationship, childhood racism and ageism in the entertainment industry.
Appearing on Kaye Adams’ How to be 60 podcast, Celia detailed her horrific ordeal at the hands of an abusive man with whom she spent five years, marred by control, violence and gaslighting.
‘I couldn’t tell anybody because I was so ashamed. I disappeared for about five years. You would now use the term gaslight – but I couldn’t make a decision,’ she said. I didn’t know if what I thought was real was real, because he would constantly tell me I was wrong and the day after he hit me, I would get jewellery.’
‘I lived in this twilight existence and I had to start again. I had to find out that someone walking behind you didn’t mean you were going to get clobbered, that people sometimes said truthful things. But that took a very long time. When I finally went to the police they said on average a woman is hit 37 times before she tells anyone. All I did was lie – ‘no, I’m fine thanks, I’m fine.’ That’s exhausting.’
Demonstrating the level of control her ex-partner wielded, Jaye said: ‘If I put the heating on in the house there could be consequences to that – ‘you f*****g waste my money.’ So, I wouldn’t put it on, if I didn’t put it on and the house was cold, there’d be consequences to that, so you live in a world of – what should I do? what’s for the best?’
Jaye went on to detail how she approached the re-building process after the relationship finally ended.
‘You start with little things. I like tea, but no milk, I like coffee black, I do not like bread. I am allowed to change my mind and I’m going to have a sandwich. I want a herbal tea, because I can. Those small choices are your foundation, because you can decide without consequence.
‘And then time passes and you get stronger. I look back now and I think: ‘f**k.’ People say to me: ‘why didn’t you just leave?’ and I want to stab them in the eye and go: ‘where? And tell who? And do what?’
Though Jaye has now been with her husband for over 20 years, she opened up about how the abuse initially impacted her current relationship. ‘It took years for me to truly believe that this was a nice guy, I always knew he was a nice guy, but was that enough?
‘The other one was nice out in the world. In private, are you more important than their ego? That’s where it counts. Not out at a do. We had rules – you couldn’t come up behind me, you couldn’t touch my neck. That took three or four years for that to stop. Now, if someone touches my neck, I don’t freak out, so that’s good. I don’t like it, but I don’t freak out.
‘Home is now safe, as it should always have been; that’s what everybody deserves. Our house is peaceful, aside from a nutty Italian greyhound. Our house is so safe and my life is gentle; there’s no drama. He doesn’t do big romantic gestures – he doesn’t know what they mean – but he does bring a cup of tea, he does cuddle the dogs, he does make dinner every single night. He does things quietly and he’s very funny, so my life is lovely and I’m lucky. Not everybody has that.’
Relationships weren’t the only thing discussed on the podcast, as Jaye also opened up about her brutal childhood experience of racism. ‘My mum’s white so, walking hand in hand, people spitting at us, people shouting things. It was incredibly common in London in the 70s,’ she said.
‘It was just expected grief. My mum would always take two sets of clothing, so if we went to the seaside we’d come back in pristine clothes, so that no-one could say we looked dirty. That effort required to just navigate the tube train, that’s what gets into your marrow.’
She also spoke about ageism in the entertainment industry. ‘When I got to 60, I didn’t work for eight months; I became invisible. Fifties is still sexy. Sixties isn’t sexy. We need to sex up 60. Because we’re perceived now as dried, but actually, we’re not
‘I run marathons. So stop treating me like I’m fragile, because I’m not. I’m probably fitter than you, I’ve probably got a better VO2 max than you, certainly got a better resting heart rate than you, so shut your face. I would like to do more parts like Celia, where she actually does s**t, not sits in an office talking about what other people do. I want to be in fights. I want to hit the stuntman and he flies across the room, because I can still do that’
…speaking of Celia, last night viewers learned that she’s certainly more than just the no-nonsense, hard faced farm boss we’ve come to love thus far. She’s actually the head of a ruthless drugs gang, with a penchant for turning vulnerable children, like Dylan Penders (Fred Kettle) and April Windsor (Amelia Flanagan) into dealers.
Speaking exclusively to Metro, Jaye said about the twist: ‘She’s the boss, there’s no one else, it’s her domain. She has overseers who do the actual work and she just runs everything. When I was told that there would be a woman of colour being the ultimate drug queen – fab.
‘Everyone assumes it’s Ray. Good-looking white bloke, everyone assumes he’s the boss, but actually he is a child compared to Celia.
‘If you cross Celia, write a will! She does not like or accept failure. Mistakes are something she has very little patience or tolerance for. There is many a merry-go-round to navigate. Oh my goodness [laughs], there’s so much more to come. It’s so delicious! I know I shouldn’t enjoy it this much, but I’m afraid I do. I’m just going to say there’s a stunts coordinator, that’s all I’m going to say.’
Just how dark is Celia’s story going to get? According to Jaye, we’ve seen nothing yet.
‘I’m a little bit scared!’ she said. ‘I want people to remember it’s just pretend. I am looking forward to the [gasps] moment. Sometimes it’s difficult to believe how far Celia will go.
‘However far you think she’ll go, she’ll go further, and that’s what makes her so scary. Where our line would be, there are no lines for Celia, never has been and never will. She will go that far, so be careful…’
