I'll Be Home For Christmas. Abbey Clancy

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СКАЧАТЬ obviously feeling desperately uncomfortable, no matter how hard that speech had tried to convince me otherwise. And I suspected I knew why.

      ‘And what about you, Vogue? Paulette? What will Jack Duncan be doing for you? It’s not just his professional talent that’s getting a second chance with you, is it?’

      She looked up at me, finally meeting my eyes, and trying very hard to look defiant. She didn’t quite pull it off but it was a valiant effort.

      ‘No,’ she eventually said, biting a chunk out of her lip as she tried to continue. ‘No, it’s not. We’re giving it another go. I know that’s not what you expected to hear, and I know it’s a tricky situation. . .’

      ‘Tricky?’ I said, my voice rising about three octaves. ‘Tricky? You really think that’s the right word? For you getting back together with the man who broke both our hearts? The man who fooled us both? The man who jumped from my bed to yours, entirely possibly on the same day? I think that’s a bit more than tricky! And I think you’re completely mad for even considering it.’

      She nodded, because nothing I’d said could possibly have come as a surprise to her. This was why she’d avoided telling me for so long – because she knew exactly how I was going to react.

      ‘I know you think that. And I don’t blame you. But it’s easy for you to say – you were only with him for a few months, and went straight from him to falling in love with Daniel. And I’m happy for you, I really am. It was different for me, and at the end of the day, babe, even though I know you’ve got my best interests at heart, that you want to protect me, it’s my life. It’s my life, and my decision, and if it’s all a terrible mistake then it’s mine to make. Do you get that?’

      She was starting to sound a bit angry now – and Vogue angry is a sight to behold. I hoped that at least part of her was angry at herself, because she knew on some level that what I was saying was right. She just really, really didn’t want to hear it.

      I stood up, and brushed down my top as though there were crumbs on it, just to give me something to do with my hands. I was so upset, I could feel the tears starting to build in the back of my eyes. I always cry when I’m angry – it’s a really annoying habit, because it makes me look weak and vulnerable when I’m actually feeling self-righteous and strong.

      ‘I get that,’ I said quietly, and turned to leave. ‘And you’re right, it’s your life. But it’s also my career – so I’d ask you to keep him away from me, all right?’

      I didn’t give her the chance to reply. I just did my best flounce out of the room, and finally gave in to the urge to slam the door.

      *

      I spent the next ten minutes in the ladies’, crying my eyes out. The loos hadn’t been renovated at all, and still vaguely smelled of sweat and perfume and baby oil from the women who used to use them.

      I locked myself into one of the stalls, and just let it all out. By the time I’d finished, my eyes were red and swollen, and my hands were shaking with emotion. I wasn’t sure which was worrying me most – the fact that Jack Duncan, and everything he represented, was slithering like a snake into our new Garden of Eden, or that my friend was making a huge mistake in her love life.

      They were both pretty shitty situations, and making it all so much worse was the fact that she’d been hiding it from me. I didn’t know how long this had been going on, but it already felt like Jack was making his mark – as soon as he’d arrived on the scene, the deception had started. Maybe some of that was down to me – Vogue was scared of telling me because she knew I’d blow my top. Maybe if I’d been less of an emotional melting pot and more of a calm listening ear, she’d have felt able to confide in me earlier. Maybe not. Who knows?

      Either way, I felt devastated. Like the rug had been pulled from beneath my feet. Like the future was now a very uncertain road, to be crossed late at night after six pints of lager.

      I splashed cold water on my face, and stared at myself in the cracked mirror. There were still bright red lipstick kisses all around the edges from its previous customers.

      I looked like a pufferfish, but I didn’t suppose that mattered. But I felt like a zombie, which mattered more.

      After a few deep breaths, I decided I had to talk to Daniel. He was one of the most calm, steady and sensible people I knew. Maybe that’s why we worked so well together – I could get overexcited at an episode of Coronation Street, but he was always on a level. He’d hear me out, and let me cry, and then say something so utterly sensible and sane and perfect that I’d feel better about the world immediately.

      I didn’t see the point in going back to Patty’s lair, where I wouldn’t be able to hear myself think for all the baby-sacrificing, so instead I found myself a quiet corner in the little courtyard garden outside.

      It’s not huge – not in this part of London – but big enough for a table and chairs, and a few boxes of flowers. The noise from the street is pretty minimal, and it’s an unexpectedly calm spot.

      Usually it’s occupied by at least one builder on a fag break, but it was blessedly empty when I emerged into the sunlight, clutching my phone and sniffling.

      Daniel answered on the first ring, which told me two things: that he’d finished his chores around the farm (collecting eggs from the chickens and feeding our Billy goat, who we’d named Gandalf because he looked so wise and intelligent); and that he hadn’t yet started work (finding new and funky samples to use on a track by Vella, one of the new artists he was working with).

      ‘Good morning, gorgeous,’ he said immediately, and I couldn’t help but smile. Honestly, the fact that he could make me smile even when I felt so awful was enough to warm my insides.

      ‘I love you,’ I replied. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

      ‘I do. Because you bought me that T-shirt that has it printed all over the front: Jessy Hearts Daniel. I’m wearing it today. Gandalf was very taken with it. You OK? You sound a bit . . . damp. Have you been crying?’

      ‘Erm. . .yeah.’ He knows me too well.

      ‘Did Patty throw a dart at your face?’

      ‘No! I confiscated her darts after the last time!’

      ‘OK. Have you been thinking about that scene in The Lion King where Simba realizes his dad isn’t going to wake up?’

      ‘No, but now I am, and it’s not helping. It’s Vogue, Daniel. She’s back with Jack. And she’s given him a bloody job – here! I just can’t believe it . . . and I’m so angry . . . and I’m not just angry, I’m worried . . . about her, and about us, and about everything!’

      The words rushed out of my mouth so fast they sounded a bit blurry even to me, so I completely understood when Daniel didn’t respond immediately.

      After a few seconds, he finally spoke. But all he said was one word: ‘Ah.’

      It’s a short word, and possibly not even a word at all, more of a sound or an exclamation, but it told me a lot.

      Because while Daniel knows me inside out, I also know him inside out – and an ‘ah’ like the one he’d just murmured isn’t a simple thing. For a start, he didn’t sound shocked. He didn’t freak out, or swear, or drop the phone in surprise. СКАЧАТЬ