Angel Uncovered (7 page)

'Thank you,' Angel replied, leading her through to the
kitchen. 'As you can see I'm not doing too well.' And to
her horror she found herself bursting into tears.

Alessia immediately took control and made Angel sit
down and tell her what was wrong. She found herself
giving an edited version of her feelings. Leaving out any
mention of her depression she talked instead about Cal,
how closed off he had become.

'Angel – all your husband will be thinking about at the
moment is the World Cup. You understand that, don't
you?' Alessia replied calmly.

'Of course I do!' Angel replied passionately. 'But he
won't let me in and I can't bear it.'

'Your husband is a very complex man, no?' Alessia
commented. 'He feels things very deeply, I can see that.'

'Sometimes I wish he wasn't,' Angel replied, trying to
brush away her tears.

'Ah, but that's why you love him,' Alessia replied,
echoing Gemma's words. 'He is an enigma, even after all
the time you have been together.'

'What would you do?' Angel asked. She was not in the
habit of trusting people she didn't know very well, but
she trusted Alessia.

'You can't push someone like Cal, he will only open up
to you when he is ready,' she replied. 'In the meantime
you are going to have to be strong.'

Angel was in no state of mind to reflect that Alessia
seemed to know an awful lot about her husband, and
after her visitor had gone she had yet another phone
conversation with Cal where he was offhand with her.
She felt so lonely, and lost. That night as she lay in bed,
unable to sleep, she realised that she couldn't cope any
longer with feeling so depressed, and with Cal being so
distant while she was so far from her family and friends.
She had to go home. Surely then she would feel like her
old self again?

'It's Cal,' said her mum, holding out the phone. Angel
shook her head. She didn't want to speak to him, didn't
want to listen to him shouting at her for walking out on
him like that. But her mum continued to hold out the
phone and Angel knew she had no choice. Sighing
deeply, she took the handset. Michelle picked up Honey
from her highchair and tactfully left the kitchen.

'Hi,' said Angel tentatively, bracing herself for the
onslaught.

'What the fuck is going on?' Cal demanded. He
sounded absolutely furious.

'I come back from my trip and find that you've
gone and all you've left is a scrap of paper saying "
Sorry,I had to go home
." What kind of shit thing is that to do to
me?'

'I'm really sorry, Cal, I just couldn't stay there any
longer, really I couldn't. It was making me feel so
unhappy. And I was worried about how it was affecting
Honey.'

'Bollocks! You were only thinking of yourself. You just
wanted to get back to your friends and your work, and
never mind me. We're married, Angel, we're supposed to
be together. You were barely out here a month, you
didn't give it a chance.'

'I did, Cal, honestly, and –' she hesitated here,
wondering how best to continue, '– you were distant with
me as well.'

'What!' he exploded. 'I bought the villa, hired a nanny
for you, bought you a new horse! What more could you
want?'

'It wasn't about all those things. I need you to talk to
me, to open up. I felt so lonely, Cal.'

'Yeah, well, I've got a hell of a lot on my mind at the
moment, can't you understand that?'

'Of course I know that, and I want to be there for you,'
she replied.

'So when are you coming back?' he demanded. 'You
know I'm signed for the next two years. Do you really
think our marriage can survive just seeing each other
every two weeks?'

'I can't come back yet, Cal. I will soon, I promise, I just
need you to give me some time,' Angel pleaded with him.
Maybe now was the moment to tell him how she had been
feeling? 'I'm really sorry, it's just that I've felt so down
lately . . .' There, she had said it. But Cal's response was
not what she had hoped for.

'Yeah, well, so have I – married to someone who
doesn't give a shit about me and walks out when things
get slightly tough. "For better, for worse" we said,
remember?'

'You make it sound like I've left you, Cal, but I haven't.
I just can't stay in Italy at the moment,' she said
despairingly, wishing he could understand how she felt.

'Yeah, whatever,' Cal answered, and all the fight
seemed to have left him. 'I'd better go, I've got things to
do.'

'Will you be able to come over soon?' she asked.

'Not for a couple of weeks. I'll speak to Lucy about her
joining you in a few days,' he said abruptly.

'Okay,' she answered, feeling terrible, 'I'll call you
later.'

'You can try. I might not be in,' he said. 'Give Honey a
kiss for me.'

And then he was gone, and for the first time in their
relationship there was no
I love you
. What had she done
to their marriage? She'd told him she was down and it
didn't seem to register, but then he was angry with her,
so that was hardly surprising. And he was not himself
either. They seemed locked in parallel worlds, not even
close anymore, not the way they used to be.

She walked wearily into the living room where her mum
and dad were looking after Honey. Both of them looked
up at her expectantly and her dad said, 'Well? When are
you going back?'

She shook her head. 'I can't go back at the moment,
Dad.'

Frank frowned. 'I'm sure you've got your reasons but
it really isn't good for your marriage to spend so much
time apart. Cal needs to be with you and Honey. It isn't
fair on him.'

'I know, Dad. I can't really explain how I feel. I just
know I can't live in Italy at the moment. Maybe in a few
months' time . . .'

'A few months!' Frank exploded. 'Well, I just hope you
have a marriage to go back to. You should be with him,
especially now. The World Cup means everything to him!'

That was her dad all over; everything was black and
white to him. And he always tended to see Cal's side of
things. Frank had been the one who had discovered Cal's
talent for football as coach to the local youth team, and
had put him on the path to success. Without Frank's
support Cal might very well not have made it as a
professional footballer – his alcoholic mother had never
taken much interest in him. Frank had become a father
figure to Cal, encouraging him and looking after him,
inviting him into the family.

'Are you sure, love? Do you want to talk about it?'
Michelle asked anxiously.

Angel shook her head, and then because she couldn't
bear this conversation any longer said, 'Actually, Mum,
I've got a headache. Will you look after Honey if I have a
lie down?'

''Course, love,' her mum replied. Upstairs Angel
curled up on her bed with Cal's towelling robe that still
carried traces of his aftershave. She pressed it to her face
as she wept. There was just one thought in her head.
Please don't leave me, Cal. Please.

In the week that followed Angel felt even worse. She had
assumed she would feel better when she was back in
familiar surroundings. Instead her feelings of depression
and inadequacy didn't let up. Her friends were all
thrilled to have her back but all of them wondered why
she hadn't stayed in Italy and Angel grew tired of
explaining that she hadn't argued with Cal and that she'd
be going back soon. Gemma was the only one she
confided in about the way Cal was barely speaking to her
and how difficult he had been in Italy.

Every time Angel called him – he never called her
anymore – he kept the conversations short, said he was
tired or busy. She knew how preoccupied he was with
the World Cup, how intensively he was training, and
longed to be able to give him encouragement. But he
sounded so angry and hurt and refused even to talk
about his concerns that Angel hated herself even more
for what she was doing to him. Even when he found out
that he had made the final squad he still didn't seem to
be happy.

'Are you sure you couldn't go back for a while?'
Gemma asked when the two of them met in London for
some retail therapy one Saturday. Michelle had offered
to look after Honey to give her daughter a break.

Angel shook her head. 'I just can't yet, Gemma. But
I'm so worried Cal's going to leave me.'

Gemma shook her head in disbelief. 'I know he's really
angry with you, but he'd never,
ever
leave you!'

'Well, I know who will be made up that I'm not around
– that cow Flavia,' Angel said bitterly.

'If you're that worried then get back out there!'
Gemma exclaimed.

'Come on,' Angel answered, despairing of this
conversation, 'I thought we were supposed to be
shopping.'

'We're supposed to be getting something for you to
wear for your birthday.'

Angel was twenty-three at the end of the month and
had pinned all her hopes on making things right between
her and Cal on the celebration. Jez had arranged for her
to have her party at Sugar's, her favourite club in
Mayfair. It had been the setting for many of her nights
out with her friends and for several of her encounters
with Cal before they were a couple. Including one
memorable night – memorable for all the wrong reasons
– when her boyfriend of the time spiked her drink. A very
off her head Angel had tried to seduce Cal, but he'd
resisted. Now she planned on sneaking somewhere
private with him and re-enacting their encounter, except
this time she hoped he wouldn't resist . . .

The two girls wandered round Topshop and Miss
Selfridge – Angel always liked to see what was on the high
street before she went to the designers. It was strange
being out in London again. In Italy no one had known
who she was but back in England she was a huge star and
whenever people spotted her they wanted her autograph
or her picture. Angel had deliberately dressed down in
skinny jeans, flat pumps and a baggy white vest cinched
in with a chunky gold leather belt. She'd tied her long
hair back in a pony tail and put on huge shades . . . but
still she was recognised. When the attention got too
much, and she felt as if she couldn't escape it, Gemma
suggested they get in a taxi and head up to Selfridge's.
Angel was grateful for the suggestion – she wanted to
have fans but at the moment was feeling way too fragile
to deal with them.

Gemma was great to shop with as she had her finger well
and truly on the fashion pulse and no trend ever passed
her by. She was a good influence on Angel who, left to
herself, would probably stick to jeans and short skirts.
Gemma forced her to experiment, getting her out of her
comfort zone.

'You look great in that!' she exclaimed as Angel
emerged from a dressing room. She was wearing a short
black dress with star motifs all over it.

'Really?' she asked, not at all sure.

'Absolutely. Stars are very now. But . . .' Gemma hesitated
and Angel knew what was coming next '. . . you
really need to put on some weight.'

Angel rolled her eyes. 'Not this again! I
am
eating,' she
lied. 'I'm just not that hungry at the moment because I
feel so stressed about Cal.'

She could see that Gemma wanted to say more so
ended the conversation by going back into the dressing
room and putting on another dress. Gemma was
enthusiastic about everything she tried on and Angel
tried to share her friend's excitement but her heart
wasn't in it. In the past shopping for clothes with Gemma
had always been a great pick-me-up. Now it felt like just
another chore. The only thing that slightly buoyed her
up was wanting to look good for Cal, as a way of making
up for what she had put him through . . .

She ended up buying the black star dress and a short
purple tiered skirt then treated Gemma to lunch at a little
Italian restaurant in Soho that Cal had introduced her to
and where no one ever bothered her. She even managed
to eat something, but any pleasure she had taken in the
day evaporated when she received a text from Cal.

'I don't believe it!' she exclaimed angrily.

'What's the matter?' Gemma asked.

Sighing, Angel handed over the phone and her friend
read the text.
Angel, please contact my manager re arrangements
for where you and Honey are to stay during the World
Cup. It needs to be sorted asap.

'What's the problem? Won't you just be staying with
the other WAGs in some luxury hotel? What's the matter
with that?'

Angel sighed, 'It's just the way Cal is speaking to me at
the moment, giving me orders . . . I hate it. Of course I'm
over the moon for him that he's playing in the
tournament but I'm dreading staying with those women.'

'Those WAGs, you mean!' Gemma teased her,
knowing how much the word wound her friend up.

Angel gave her the finger then said, 'I just don't fit in
with them – all they care about are their designer outfits
and their Burke bags.'

'It's Birkin actually,' Gemma corrected her, smiling.

'See!' Angel replied, and this time she was smiling as
well. 'I don't even speak their language. You should be
the one who goes, not me! You'd make a much better
WAG. And I really don't want to see that bitch Simone.'

'It's not for long, Angel. Knowing England, they'll
probably be knocked out in the first round. Maybe your
mum and dad could come out with you as well?'

Angel shook her head. 'I do love them, Gemma, but
you know my dad does my head in sometimes, especially
where Cal is concerned.'

'Well, we'll just have to get you WAGged up then –
starting from
now
. Show me your nails,' Gemma ordered.

Angel held out her hands. There was no messing with
Gemma when she went off on one. When Angel modelled
she always had perfect fake gel nails – short, usually with
a French manicure, or painted bubble gum pink or
sometimes dark red if she felt like being sophisticated.
But as she wasn't working at the moment she'd ditched
the fakes and her nails were in terrible shape from where
she'd been biting them. Gemma pulled a face. As well as
being a make-up artist she was also a trained beautician
and her own nails were always perfect.

'They are minging! You'll have to make an appointment
with Mum.'

Gemma's mum, Jeanie, ran a beauty salon in Brighton.

'Okay, next – hair.' Gemma looked critically at Angel.

'Now come on, Gemma, you can't knock my hair. I
only had it done the other week
and
I had some highlights.'
Angel was very proud of her long hair and did her
best to keep it in condition. She had been platinum
blonde in the past but was now a warm honey shade.

'Well, what about a change? What about getting it all
cut off in a bob and having a fringe?'

'You are fucking joking, aren't you? I don't want a
Lego head!' Angel was outraged by the suggestion. 'I
know I'd only regret it and end up having to have
extensions, and I don't want to do
that
.'

'I was only joking,' Gemma replied laughing at her
friend's over-reaction. 'Okay, next – tan.' She looked
critically at Angel who stuck out her tongue cheekily.
Very luckily for her Angel had been blessed with skin that
tanned easily to a golden-brown and only resorted to the
fake variety when she had a shoot or a big event. 'Not
bad, but you'll have to get yourself sprayed before you go
out there and book yourself in for a couple of sessions for
while you're there.'

'Isn't this supposed to be about football. Does it really
matter what I look like and what I wear?' Angel shot
back.

Gemma looked as if Angel had just killed a fluffy kitten
with her bare hands. 'What are you talking about? Of
course it matters! You're going to be in every celeb and
style mag, you have got to look shit hot!'