Tough Love (29 page)

Leanne took a deep breath. ‘I know you are, but it was either disappoint you or be dragged through the papers again but this time through my own doing. I can't. For me, for Tony but, most importantly, for Kia, I just can't do it.'

‘Right,' Victoria said, giving nothing away.

‘I hope this won't affect the page-three project, but if it does then I'm sorry.' Leanne thought she should get this out into the open now.

‘Of course it won't. But next time you promise me a scoop, deliver on it, will you?'

‘Of course.'

Leanne felt bad that she had let Victoria down, but pleased that she had had the conversation. She was quite impressed with herself. Tough conversations would be part and parcel of her new job and she was getting the hang of them. Suddenly a thought occurred to her. She picked up the phone and pressed redial.

‘Victoria, it's Leanne again. Strictly off the record, a story will break this week that has nothing to do with me but would wipe me off any front page.'

‘Really?' Victoria said. Leanne could tell her antennae were up. ‘Go on.'

Leanne felt little loyalty to Jay, but she couldn't hand the story to Victoria on a plate for fear she might be implicated. ‘Get your source at the other papers to sniff round about Jay and a rent-boy. That's all I'm saying because that's all I know,' she said.

‘Are you
sure
that's all you know?'

‘Yes,' Leanne said adamantly.

*

Tracy had packed her bags. Her airport outfit was hanging up in the front room – a pink velour tracksuit and some boots Karina had ordered from the catalogue. She had been sent two pairs by accident and Tracy loved it when that happened. Her case was full of sarongs from previous holidays and her lucky towel. It featured a line of cats pulling their pants down and looking cutely over their shoulders. ‘Do cats have shoulders?' Scott had asked, when she'd brought it back from Magaluf.

‘Do cats pull moonies?' Tracy had replied. ‘It's a fucking joke towel, Scott. It's not a representation of a day in the life of cats.'

Kent was ready too. He had his two pairs of shorts, his pink neon trunks and his Elvis shades, which he saved for special occasions.

Tracy was watching an old episode of
Fifteen to One
on Challenge TV when she heard a rustle behind her. She took a gulp of her pre-holiday
piña colada
(her own concoction: one part orange juice, one part coconut juice, forty-two parts rum) and began to moan about the TV without turning to check that she was talking to Kent.

‘Remember this? Rock-hard questions, went on for months and then at the end all the poor bastard won was a Grecian urn.'

‘Yeah, we used to watch it together, didn't we?'

Tracy spun round. Paul was standing over her, with a manic glint in his eye. ‘Get out!' she shouted.

‘No use screaming at me – lover-boy's at the shops. I've just seen him go.'

‘I'll call the police,' Tracy said. Paul wasn't a violent man, but everyone had their limit and she had the feeling she might have pushed him to his.

‘I don't think they're going to run round here, are they? Not after all the wolf-crying you've done. I've come round so's me and you can have a nice little chat. You never give anyone the chance to have their say when you've decided you've had enough of them – and you've dicked me over one too many times.'

‘Piss off! I'm not talking to you,' she said, and
pushed him. Usually he would have backed away, but now he grabbed her wrists and shoved her into a chair. She sat down with a thump.

For the first time since she'd met him, Paul looked really dangerous. ‘Come on,' she said, trying to sweet-talk him. ‘Whatever's wrong we can sort it out.'

‘We can't, though, can we, Trace? I know you too well. You're only interested if there's something in it for you. That's why I got the credit cards, because I was mug enough to think you'd be bothered about me when the money ran out. I'd be able to remind you of the good times we'd had together. But no. You just wanted the cash. Fuck me, fuck everyone else.' Paul took a step towards her. Tracy flinched. ‘And what's this?' he demanded, flinging his hand back. Tracy ducked. ‘Going away?' he asked. And she realised he was pointing at her going-away outfit.

‘No! I'm just airing it.' She was panicking.

‘Don't talk shit!' Paul shouted, lurching forward. ‘Scott told me. The Dominican Republic, no less! And how've you paid for
that
?'

Tracy gazed at him.

‘You've robbed me fucking blind! That's how.'

Tracy was genuinely shocked. ‘What you on about?'

‘Stock-piling money from my cards when I wasn't looking, weren't you? Drawing out whatever
you felt like. You were on to my credit-card scam and you were milking me –'

‘No!' Tracy shouted. ‘Honest, Paul, I wasn't.'

‘You knew my card would bounce because you had the money in your account so you could piss off with Elvis.'

‘I didn't, Paul, I
swear
.'

‘Stop lying to me!' Paul bellowed.

Usually, Tracy could talk her way out anything, but now, if Kent didn't make a swift appearance, Paul would do something stupid …

*

Leanne and Jodie were in the hallway, listening, petrified. Leanne was going to call the police, when Jodie reminded her that a domestic at the Cromptons' would be way down their list. They'd rescue a cat stuck up a tree first.

As they dithered Paul yelled, ‘Stop lying to me!' and the sisters froze.

Then Tracy began shouting as if her life depended on it: ‘I sold that story to the papers about our Leanne. That's where the money came from – the one about the footballer and our Kia. I got a decent wedge for it. I was going to tell you about it, Paul, honest.'

Leanne paled visibly as Jodie stared at her.

‘I'd never rob you.'

‘But you'd sell your own daughter out?' Paul raved. ‘You're a cunt of the highest fucking order, aren't you?'

Rage filled Leanne and she flew into the room. ‘You bitch!' she shouted. ‘Drag me through the papers, bring the press to my door, fair enough, but your granddaughter?'

Tracy looked wildly at her daughter. ‘Leanne – you've got to understand.' She glanced at Paul, stood up and sprinted to the other side of the kitchen. ‘You bastard!' she spat at him. ‘This is all your fault!'

‘
He
's a bastard?' Jodie put in. ‘Am I hearing right? You shopped your own daughter! You're a disgrace.'

‘I didn't. I had to say that to yer dad to leave me alone.'

‘And you couldn't have said you robbed the money from somewhere else? Your “lie” had to involve selling a story to the paper about your daughter?'

‘Yeah,' Tracy lied again. ‘No one else has owned up to it, so it was the first thing that came into my head.'

‘You can't even admit it now, can you?' Leanne snapped. ‘Not even now you're cornered and everyone knows you did it.'

‘I didn't,' Tracy said weakly.

‘Let's go to the bank, then. You can get a statement
and show me where the money you paid for the holiday came from.' Leanne knew that any money paid by a newspaper would have been credited in its name to the account.

‘After everything I've done for you, this is how you repay me,' Tracy whined.

‘I'm not standing here listening to this. I'm going,' Leanne told her father and Jodie.

‘That's it – leave!' Tracy shrieked defiantly.

Paul stepped towards his ex-wife, who shrank away from him. ‘I don't know where we got these girls from, but the tips of their little fingers have more good in them than you've got in your whole rotten body, you bitch,' he said quietly. Then he put his hands on Jodie and Leanne's shoulders and guided them out of the house.

‘Oh, and you lot are all so fucking perfect!' Tracy howled impotently after them.

They got outside just in time to see Kent coming back from the shop. He seemed shocked to find the three united outside the house.

‘You're welcome to her, mate. She's a nasty bitch,' Paul told him.

‘Enjoy your holiday,' Jodie said. ‘Never thought to wonder where the money to pay for it came from, did you?'

Leanne glared at him. Any man who would take Tracy back after the way she'd treated Kent must be pathetic, she thought.

‘Where's Tracy? What've you done to her?' he asked, waving a jar of pickles.

‘We've done nothing,' Leanne said. ‘She's done it all herself.'

The papers showed Jay Leighton no mercy. The story of the football star and the rent-boy had been a massive splash and was showing no sign of abating. For the past few days, Lisa had been besieged in her home, but she didn't care any more. She was well past trying to hold together her sham of a marriage. She was packing her things, making sure she did it herself. She wasn't employing someone to come in and then sell the story of how she couldn't even put her own belongings into a suitcase.

Jay came into the room, his head twice its normal size. He'd been crying non-stop for almost a week. Lisa ignored him and went to feed Blest. She was getting the hang of having a baby, and enjoyed being a mum.

‘Please,' he begged, for what must have been the eightieth time that day. ‘Don't do this to us.'

‘There is no “us”. There's only ever been you,
and I've been too much of a mug to see it. Prancing around you, covering up for you when all you do is shag around. Well, let someone else clean up your mess. Give that rent-boy a call. I'm sure he'd be happy to oblige.'

‘What about the house?'

‘Have it. What do I care? I've got enough money for the time being.' Jay looked puzzled. ‘Oh, don't worry, I'm not losing my touch. I'll be making sure I get what's due in the divorce settlement.'

‘You can't divorce me!' Jay moaned.

‘Can and will,' Lisa said, wiping Blest's chin.

‘Where are you going to live?'

‘None of your business.'

‘I'll find out. I'll ask Steve,' Jay said, like a sulky child.

‘No, you won't. Steve's not going to represent you any more.'

‘What are you on about?' Jay asked, stricken.

‘He can't represent both of us and I'm the safer bet. He's staying with me.'

‘You can't do this to me! I made you!'

‘Well,' Lisa said, ‘if you think that you're more deluded than I thought you were. I'll be out of here by tonight. If you want any contact with me you can call my solicitor.' She slid a business card to him. ‘And if you want to see Blest that's fine, but I doubt you will, seeing as your track record with kids isn't great.'

Lisa knew he didn't believe any of what she was saying, but for the first time in her life she genuinely didn't care.

*

Leanne admired her reflection in the mirror. The simple black floor-length gown she was wearing looked perfect. As she twirled to see a glimpse of the back, Tony kissed her neck. ‘You're beautiful,' he said.

Leanne smiled. ‘You don't look bad yourself.' He was wearing a tuxedo, and his usually stubbled face was clean-shaven.

‘You all set, then?' Tony asked.

‘Ready as I'll ever be.' She squeezed his hand.

Tonight was the launch of Leanne's Angels. She had been trying to come up with a better, more original name for her girls but this one had stuck and the papers seemed to like it, so she had kept it. She had planned to launch them in Bradington – stick to her guns on representing girls from outside London and make the launch distinctly northern – but Tony had persuaded her differently, to Victoria's delight. He had said that the party needed to be in London so that the city would know what had hit it. So, Leanne had hired a banqueting suite in the middle of Mayfair and invited the tabloid press. She was sure she'd see a few familiar paparazzi but she didn't hold a grudge.
As the man had said to her, live by the sword, die by the sword, and she would make sure she was on the other side of the lenses.

She, Tony and Kia were staying in a central London hotel. Kia was very excited to be back in London, but she wasn't begging to return to her old life. Leanne had promised she could come to the party for a bit, as long as she stayed with Tony. She herself had to be interviewed and, of course, keep an eye on the girls.

Markie, Scott and Karina were waiting in the foyer of the hotel as Leanne, Tony and Kia walked down the sweeping staircase.

‘You scrub up well,' Markie said, kissing his sister's cheek. Then he shook hands with Tony. Leanne checked for any undercurrent of animosity, but if it was there, she couldn't detect it.

‘Our Jode's shitting herself,' Karina said helpfully.

‘I don't know why. She's the one everyone wants to interview from what I can gather,' Leanne said. She'd been fielding interest about her prospective clients all week and everyone wanted to know if her sister was one of the Angels.

‘Good luck, Lee,' Scott said, smiling. Leanne squeezed his arm. She was so glad he'd come. She knew it was hard for him. He missed Charly desperately and it didn't help that she'd been in the gossip columns hanging on Joel Baldy's arm. Seeing her
here tonight in the flesh was going to rub salt into the wound, but Leanne knew that he was putting his own feelings aside for her tonight. Leanne just hoped that Scott could get himself another girlfriend and forget about Charly. But she knew that was easier said than done.

Paul came round the corner. He was in a tuxedo too.

‘Dad, you look really smart,' Leanne told him.

‘No need to sound so bloody surprised,' Paul said, dusting himself down.

‘Before we go, I'd just like to say I'm really glad you've all come this evening,' Leanne told them. ‘It means a lot to me to have all my family here. And it'll mean a lot to Jodie too.'