Under The Mistletoe: Mistletoe Mansion / The Mince Pie Mix-Up / Baby It's Cold Outside. Kerry Barrett

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СКАЧАТЬ don’t like him? With well-cut clothes he could be pretty hot, along with the right moisturiser and tweezing. What he needs is a man-over.’

      ‘Perhaps,’ I said, trying not to think of his deep moss green eyes and the way his mouth twitched at one corner when he made a joke. Or the top of his boxer shorts sitting invitingly low on his flat waist, yesterday morning after he’d stayed over…

      ‘Or else they’ll make out you’re my lesbian lover,’ she said and nibbled her cake.

      Just imagine that headline! “Double Birdie for Kimmy and Melissa. Indignant Jonny and Adam say their Exes had Always Been a Few Strokes Under Par.”

      ‘I could cause a diversion, if you like?’ I said. ‘We could swap clothes. I’ll distract them whilst you could go back the way you came.’

      ‘That’s sweet but I’m not sure you could pull it off. It’s taken me years to develop my taut bum. You’d stretch these tracksuit bottoms. They cost a fortune.’

      How come I didn’t feel offended by her unintentional insults? Probably because they were just that – she was too wrapped up in her own problems to think her remarks through.

      ‘We’ve got more or less the same colour hair,’ I insisted, ‘and we’re about the same height. I’ve got some big bug sunglasses, like Victoria Beckham’s. It’ll be fun!’

      ‘Your bingo wings might give you away.’

      Melissa clearly had an expert eye as she’d been able to spot them through my winter clothes.

      ‘No one will notice them under your tracksuit top,’ I said. ‘Plus it’s spitting with rain. I’ll hide under an umbrella.’

      She took another mouthful of sponge, chewed slowly and actually swallowed it for once. ‘Okay,’ she said, her smooth tones returning. ‘Just don’t talk to them. Your Luton twang would be an absolute giveaway. But have you got anything else I can change into? No offence, but those skin-tight leggings are very last season – and not terribly flattering, even with my pins.’

      ‘So why are so many photographers here, today?’ I asked.

      She shrugged. ‘Probably some tart has made up some kiss ‘n’ tell story about Jonny. There’s no major championship for a while, so they’re looking for personal, newsworthy stuff. One of those slimy bastards did shout out something about a mystery blonde.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s all so clichéd. And amazing how many of those bimbos go quiet when you threaten legal action.’

      Five minutes later, she was upstairs with me, sorting through my wardrobe. You’d think she was choosing some outfit to attend a fashion show, finally selecting white jeans with a designer (okay fake, but she was kind enough not to comment) leopard-print shirt. Then, in front of me, she stripped off and I almost gasped out loud at her washboard stomach and perfectly round boobs, clearly visible through a skimpy lace bra.

      ‘Jonny bought them for me,’ she said and wiggled her chest. ‘They were a first anniversary present.’ She handed her stained tracksuit bottoms and top over to me.

      ‘I’ll, um, just get changed,’ I muttered, and scuttled into the bathroom. I slipped on the velour tracksuit bottoms and rubbed the waistband between my fingers. Wow. They were so silky, I could hardly feel them on. I came out of the bathroom and smiled at Melissa. She lay on the bed, next to Groucho.

      ‘You’d think I could at least have a dog,’ she said, ‘but Jonny’s allergic.’

      ‘What would you get?’ I asked. ‘A tiny one?’

      ‘Oh no. Handbag mutts are sooo not on trend. Whereas a Corgi, that’s classy. If it’s good enough for the Queen…’ She stood up and cleared her throat. ‘Thanks for the help, Kimmy. To return the favour, why don’t you let me sort out that muffin top? I’ll send my personal trainer round; treat you to a couple of free sessions.’

      She did have a point – I’d hardly managed to pull the tracksuit trousers over my size twelve hips. It would be nice to look toned, although I’d keep a few J-Lo curves. I’d be one of those celebrities the magazines praised for “keeping it real”.

      Melissa eyed me for a moment. ‘Maybe carry a magazine in front of you. Otherwise they’ll think I’ve had a breast reduction.’ She stood up and headed for the door, but something silver stopped her dead in her tracks. She reached down to my bedside table. ‘I’ve seen those cards before. It belongs to one of the paparazzi.’ Her cheeks flushed. ‘I should have known better. You’re just like everyone else – not interested in the real Melissa Winsford, just after some dirt to sell.’

      Surely she didn’t really believe I could be that low? ‘Accuse me of anything but that, Melissa – I don’t know why I kept it. The guy’s a creep.’ I snatched the card and tore it up.

      ‘Why should I believe you after the number of times I’ve been let down in the past? Like the nurse who told the papers about my varicose veins or the beautician who took a photo of me on her phone whilst I was having my top lip waxed.’

      Hmm, I remembered that picture – not a flattering look. ‘Melissa, you don’t know me well, but I’m a loyal friend – just ask Jess. And the easiest way to insult me is to suggest I’m out to make a quick buck. I have long-term plans to earn money through my cake business – not get paid for selling secrets about people I like.’

      She stared at me for a moment, and then shrugged. ‘I just don’t get it – all this interest in the trivial parts of celebrities’ lives. Imagine knowing if Audrey Hepburn had cellulite or Marilyn Monroe suffered from spots.’ She shook her head. ‘Tell me. What’s the appeal of reading about stuff like that?’

      I thought for a moment. ‘It’s good to know that despite fame, people are still human, you know? Not much different to the rest of us. That way, maybe my life isn’t so bad. That way, maybe it’s possible that one day I’ll get me a life full of glamour and designer clothes and second homes abroad.’ I shrugged. ‘Anyway, if you’re a true fan, any news is totes interesting – what your favourite star eats for breakfast, how they met their boyfriend or girlfriend…’

      ‘But it’s gone too far nowadays. Let’s face it – James Dean wouldn’t be such an icon if we’d seen lots of photos of him with his fingers up his nose. But apparently it’s a two way thing – if I want coverage of my new DVD then I’ve no right to any privacy.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I’ll delete your phone number. Don’t call me again.’

      ‘I’d never contact those slimeballs outside!’ I followed Melissa onto the landing. ‘If that was my game, don’t you think I would have done so by now?’

      ‘With what story?’

      ‘How about finding out that you do use Botox? The magazines have been asking that for months now, quizzing specialists, asking for readers’ verdicts.’

      She paused at the bottom of the stairs.

      ‘You can trust me,’ I said in a soft voice, and smiled. ‘Come on. Tell me your favourite cupcake. I’ll make some for tomorrow night. Terry from next door is coming over to watch telly and go in the hot tub. It’ll be just a cosy neighbourly night in.’

      ‘I don’t think so,’ she said, stiffly. ‘Jonny’s been away at some charity event and СКАЧАТЬ