Tough Love (18 page)

‘Chances?'

‘It's not just bumping into them,' Tony muttered. ‘I mean, no disrespect intended – but when have your mum and dad ever been to a place like this?'

‘
Never
is probably the answer. Mum'll be asking them for scampi in a minute.' Tony sniggered. ‘What you laughing at? I'm serious.' Leanne could hear Tracy asking for a bottle of their most expensive red wine. She rolled her eyes. ‘Not the best, but the most expensive. That's her all over.'

‘Has she robbed someone's benefit book?'

‘No, surprisingly, she hasn't. Believe it or not, Dad's come into money.'

Paul had phoned Leanne to tell her. It was part of his campaign to get back into her good books because he'd been so contrary before she had left London. He'd offered to take the family out to Maxwell's, a nightclub that no one other than Paul, it seemed, ever went to. Everyone had politely declined and Leanne had pointed out to her dad that his son owned the best nightclubs in Bradington, and if they were to go anywhere maybe they should go to one of them. ‘When was the last time one of our Markie's clubs played “My Coo Ca Choo”?' Paul had asked.

‘What?' Tony nearly jumped out of his seat.

‘Horses or something. Hard to believe, eh? He went to book a holiday the other day and his card got refused so he promised Mum he'd make it up to her. Suppose this is part of him making it up.'

‘How much?'

‘Fifty grand, apparently.'

‘He'll piss that away in no time if he's booking holidays and buying two-hundred-quid bottles of wine.'

Leanne nodded. ‘You're probably right but I think he might actually be happy at the moment. God knows why because she treats him like dirt half the time, but he loves being with Mum.'

Tony leant forward. ‘Shall we get this down us as quick as we can, then go somewhere we can be on our own?'

‘Great idea,' Leanne said, her eyes twinkling.

*

Two hours later, Leanne and Tony were sitting in a small car park on the outskirts of Bradington. Below them stretched the city lights. ‘It looks like the view from Mulholland Drive from up here.'

‘I can only agree because I've seen the film, even if I couldn't make head nor tail of it. But Los Angeles it isn't.' Tony paused. ‘You been to LA, Lee?'

‘A few times.'

‘Bloody hell.' Tony sounded embarrassed. ‘I keep asking you daft stuff like that but what do I think you've been doing for the last seven or so years? Not sitting on your backside in Bradington like me. And it's not like all the pictures of you on some
beach are just fake backgrounds. You're probably somewhere exotic, aren't you?'

‘Was, Tony. That's in the past and now I'm just trying to get myself sorted.'

Tony leant across and, without a word, he kissed her and she responded – she didn't want to break away from him and wished it could last for ever.

Lisa was in Steve C's London office, with Jay beside her. The receptionist, Liliana, was walking around outside singing a Polish lullaby to baby Blest.

‘Right,' Steve said. ‘Before they get here, is there anything else I need to know?'

‘It's all there, I swear,' Jay said. Lisa threw him a poisonous look.

Jay had been asked to list every indiscretion he had had, from the cloakroom attendant at the 101 Club in Hale to the A-list movie star who had been in Italy promoting her latest film.

‘You're a fucking dick, Jay,' Lisa said, fighting tears. ‘Why can't you keep your cock in your pants?'

‘I'm sorry,' Jay said pathetically.

‘So these
women
are all you need to tell me about?' Steve asked.

‘What d'you say “women” like that for?' Jay snapped defensively.

Steve leant forward in his leather chair, propped his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. He was quite good-looking in a Daniel Craig sort of way, Lisa thought. If he'd only smile a bit more. Not that either she or Jay gave him a lot to smile about.

‘Well …' Steve began slowly. ‘The thing is, Jay, I've heard a few rumours on the grapevine, and, as it's my job to hear rumours on the grapevine about you two, I listened. A little bird tells me you might be having a little bat for the other side.'

Lisa threw up into her handbag. Steve grabbed some tissues from his desk and handed them to her. She spat into them, then screamed at the top of her lungs, ‘Is that what you were up to on the plane?'

‘This is disgusting! I can't believe you're listening to that rubbish!' Jay said indignantly.

‘Well, were you? That trolley dolly on the flight from Thailand? The one who was smiling at you? What happened there, Jay?'

‘Nothing! Nothing at all! I swear to God!'

‘You always swear to God and then what happens? I find out you've been with someone else,' Lisa said. She thrust her handbag, full of sick, at her husband. ‘I'm going.'

‘Where you off?'

‘To sort my face out. Where else?'

*

Lisa looked in the toilet mirror at her tear-stained face. She felt old. She opened her bottomless pit of a makeup bag, took out her Touche Eclat and her bronzer, then set about making herself look normal. But she couldn't remember what normal was.

When she had been at school she had been naturally pretty. She wasn't big, just a size ten, but over the years she had shrunk to size eight and, in times of stress, to a bony size six. She knew that clothes hung better on her when she was smaller but she would never admit this to the press. She often said she was so tiny because she had a high metabolism, but that was rubbish. She ate less than a thousand calories a day and
that
was why she was tiny. Nobody batted an eyelid about her size, though. So many celebrities were dieting themselves into non-existence. What Lisa would give to have a day in Greggs going through the cakes! But she couldn't. Her image was sacrosanct and she had to maintain it at all costs. At times like this she wondered if it was worth it.

She checked her reflection one last time and then made her way back to Steve's office.

‘I'm not gay!' Jay said, as soon as she came through the door.

‘I don't think you are, Jason.' She only ever called him Jason when he was really in trouble. ‘But you can't stop thinking of new and more ridiculous places to stick your dick.' Steve winced. ‘And seeing as
you've not gone down the man route yet, as far as I'm aware, you've probably just thought, Fuck it, why not? Am I right?' She glared at him, demanding an answer.

‘That's your problem, Lisa. You always think you're right, that you've got everything sewn up. Well, you're talking bollocks,' Jay declared.

‘Listen to me, you shit. I've put up with your lies and your cheating for years because I truly believe – believed,' she corrected herself, ‘that we were meant to be together, but at this moment in time, I feel like throwing in the towel.'

‘Woo! Lisa, come on,' Steve said. ‘I'm sorry I asked that but I need to know all the facts. I'm sick of being hit from left-field by some stupid story about your extra-maritals, Jay. It makes us all look like dicks.'

‘Well, I'm not gay, that's for sure,' Jay said, folding his arms, his eyes glassy with tears.

‘Oh, don't start fucking booing as well, Jay. We can do without that,' said Lisa.

‘You're the one who's just puked in a handbag and flounced off to the toilets. Jesus!'

‘Right!' Steve shouted. ‘Time out. Jay? There's no substance to these rumours?'

‘None whatsoever.'

‘Lisa, you're in the paper on Sunday talking about how solid your marriage is. Last thing you or anyone else needs is you storming out the door right now.'

Lisa nodded. He was right.

‘So here's what we do. You need to sort your heads out. Go home, talk to each other. Sunday, you'll look lovely in the paper and that nanny of yours with her week-old news will be tomorrow's chip paper, yeah?'

‘What if she says something really bad about us?' Jay asked.

‘Lisa's tackled anything we think she might say. We've got editorial control on it, so we're fine. They can't print anything I've not signed off first.' Lisa had even answered questions on Leanne, saying only that she wished the girl well and she was sure that Leanne was as fed up as she and Jay were with the rumours that dogged her.

‘Listen, Jay, when this goes in the paper tomorrow, people'll like us again, I'm fairly sure of it. Aren't you, Steve?'

Steve nodded. ‘Lisa's done a great job.' He paused for a moment. ‘But you, Jay, have got to sort yourself out. There's only so long the great British public will put up with your shit and your denials. And when they turn, you don't want to be on the receiving end.'

‘What they going to do? Stone me in the street?' he asked petulantly.

‘No. They'll just dislike you, and that means they'll want feeding stories about what a twat you are and the papers will be only too glad to dish
them up. And you know as well as I do, Jay, that those stories are easier to find than the ones about you being a good little boy.'

Lisa stared at her husband. He couldn't meet her eye. ‘Well, thanks as always, Steve. Hopefully, Jay, you might learn to keep it in your pants and we won't have to go through all this every three months.' She stood up and shook Steve's hand.

His grip was firm and strong and Lisa knew he was the only person in the world who understood what she was going through because her useless lump of a husband certainly didn't. He just thought the entire world was conspiring against him.

Jay shook Steve's hand limply and shuffled out of the room.

Once they were alone in the foyer, waiting for their driver to pick them up, Jay said, ‘Lise.'

‘What?'

‘I think I might be a sex addict.'

Lisa looked him up and down contemptuously. ‘
I
think you might be a dick.' She didn't give Jay a chance to answer, just turned her back and called the driver to find out what was keeping him.

*

Wine glass in hand, Karina gazed at the six-page tabloid exclusive on Jay and Lisa Leighton's nanny
while Izzy played on the floor in front of her. In the first picture the woman was mumsy-looking, the sort you'd entrust with your kids. She didn't seem the type to hot-foot it to the nearest rag. And what exactly was the story? Karina wondered. The six pages were filled with a lot of pictures of the Leightons, a few of the nanny, Jeanine, in the customary wronged-woman pose, and the rest was just bits of claims she was making.

She had alleged that Lisa had seen Leanne to try to silence her in case she had any bright ideas about going to the papers herself to put paid to the rumours about Jay's extra-marital affairs.

Karina couldn't believe her sister had met Lisa and not said anything. How could she keep something so juicy to herself? She'd always been like that, Karina thought, peeved. Always made out she was better than everyone else, not one to stoop to gossip. Karina couldn't believe her sister had never read
Heat
or followed a
Closer
diet. Too busy living the dream instead of reading about it.

The other rag in front of Karina contained the scoop of the year: Lisa Leighton speaking out about her marriage. There she was, arguably the most famous woman in Britain, talking about her life and mentioning Karina's sister. ‘I wish Leanne Crompton all the best, I really do. I believe she's a very nice young woman, but any rumours surrounding her little girl are malicious and haven't
come from myself, Jay or Leanne. It's just people wanting to make money out of our lives.'

Karina sat for a moment and wondered how much people actually made from these stories. She and Jodie had always known that their mum made a few pence out of ‘exclusives' she dropped to the weekly gossip magazines. She never gave them anything truly revealing, just something about Leanne's latest trip to Bradington or her new haircut. Imagine if you had some real gossip, something more than this Jeanine had, with her six-page spread, or even Lisa Leighton herself. There was probably a small fortune to be had, Karina thought.

As she threw back her wine and helped herself to more, Gaz came in. He had been working till five that morning and had just got out of bed. ‘You on the booze already?'

‘It's Sunday,' Karina reminded him.

‘“It's Sunday,”' Gaz mimicked. ‘“It's the weekend.” “It's the Queen's birthday.” Any bloody excuse.'

‘All right, fucking hell! And what were you drinking last night? Mineral water? I don't think so.' Karina hated it when Gaz got snippy with her. She deserved a glass of wine when she wanted one – after all, she stayed at home and looked after their kid while he was out working in knocking shops and lap-dancing bars. Other girlfriends would have
put their foot down, but not Karina. She saw herself as Girlfriend of the Year and thought Gaz should too.

‘Who brings the money in round here – and the coke? Me,' Gaz said.

‘Well, big fucking deal,' Karina retorted. ‘For your information, I'm going to be earning something this month too, so stop whingeing.' She folded the papers and put them under the settee. She hated it when Gaz made out he was the sole breadwinner while she just sat in the flat enjoying the spoils.

‘You been selling your dirty knickers on eBay again?'

Karina threw a cushion at him. ‘You cheeky bastard,' she said indignantly. ‘I haven't done that since Izzy was born.'

‘So where's the money coming from?' Gaz asked.

Karina tapped her nose. ‘Never you mind. Let's just say I have ways and means.'

Jodie was standing behind the bar of the Beacon watching Brian Cooper, Bolingbroke's worst drunk (and he had his fair share of competition), lurch from side to side on ‘his' bar stool. ‘Down at the Old Bull and Bush, da da da da da …' he sang tunelessly.