Tough Love (27 page)

Since the picture had been in the paper and she, Leanne and Charly had ended up in the gossip column of the
Mirror
, pictured coming out of the Glass House, Jodie had had a lot of attention. Which all served to enforce her own skewed idea that the thinner she got the better she looked. And a wealth of magazines supported it – a celebrity put on a few pounds and their picture was plastered over the pages of the very publications that had purported to be ‘concerned' when the same celebrity had got too skinny. Why else would they use wafer-thin models and constantly print articles about the new size zero? The celebrity world was shrinking and Jodie was happy to shrink with it.

She spat the remaining bile into the toilet, grabbed the mouthwash she kept close to hand and swilled out her mouth. She checked her reflection in the mirror again, in case it had changed in the last five seconds, and, almost happy with what she saw, set off to meet Leanne again.

She was coming out of the bathroom when she heard Tracy complain, ‘I've paid for the holiday. You can get some spending money from somewhere.'

‘But it's all-inclusive,' Kent replied.

‘Just because it's all-inclusive doesn't mean you turn up frigging penniless. What if I want to buy
some table mats or have my hair braided or something? Use your head. Anyway, we're stocking up on fags when we get there, so don't pack too many clothes. Box of two hundred is three quid there. Flog 'em at the Beacon when we get back and it'll pay for the holiday.'

Jodie tiptoed down the stairs. She couldn't wait until her mum buggered off on holiday.

*

Jodie walked into Markie's office. ‘
Bonjour
, all,' she said to Markie, Leanne and some new girl who was sitting in the corner.

‘You disappearing?' Markie asked.

‘What d'you mean?'

‘Well, you're nearly skin and bone.'

‘I've got a high metabolism,' Jodie replied defensively.

‘Like fuck you have.' He got up to answer a call on his mobile.

‘What's that meant to mean?' Jodie squealed at Leanne. ‘Cheeky bastard.'

‘Shall we go for some lunch?' Leanne asked.

‘Fine.' Jodie flounced out.

In the nearby pub, she ordered soup and a sandwich. She wasn't stupid. She was going to eat in front of Leanne because she didn't want her nagging. There were probably about six hundred
calories in what she'd ordered but she'd soon get rid of them with a visit to the toilet.

‘I wanted to talk to you because I'm getting a lot of girls from the
Globe
.' Leanne hadn't signed a deal with the paper but the page-three team had been putting people in touch with her. ‘I want you to know that whatever happens you're my number-one priority.'

‘Thanks, boss,' Jodie said, tucking into her sandwich.

‘I'm playing it by ear, really, trying to build your profile. I've lined up a shoot for two men's magazines. They're really keen. I think you'll do well on some sort of nostalgia level. They liked me when I was younger, but now I'm old and knackered there's a new version.' Leanne laughed.

‘You're not knackered!' Jodie assured her, and spooned up some soup.

Leanne's phone rang. ‘Hello?' She frowned as she listened to what the person at the other end was saying. After a few moments she asked, ‘What exactly does that mean?'

Whatever the person said to Leanne, it made the colour drain from her face and her jaw drop. ‘No way,' she said.

She cancelled the call and stared at her sandwich.

‘What?' Jodie asked.

‘Nothing. It can't be right. I need to get it checked out.'

‘Get what checked out?' Bloody hell, Jodie thought, it was like pulling teeth.

Leanne looked at her. ‘You know that picture of me? The carwash one?'

‘Duh!' Jodie said. Of course she did. It had somehow become one of the most widely recognised images of the decade.

‘Well, according to the guy who was just on – he deals with contracts all the time – Jenny's been claiming royalties on my behalf and keeping them.'

‘Does that mean you'll get some money?'

‘If what he says is right I'm due more than fifty grand.'

‘Get lost!' Jodie said.

‘Seriously.' Leanne was in shock. ‘That would sort me out, Jode – fifty grand.'

‘I should bloody hope so. Do you know how many hours that is at the Beacon?' She looked at the ceiling, which she always did when she was working out the price of a round. ‘Ten thousand! Fuck me! All you had to do was wash a car in your knickers. Not a bad day's work.'

Leanne laughed. ‘Since you put it like that …'

Jodie had noticed that Leanne hadn't touched her sandwich. Now her sister took the top slice off it, looked at the contents, then picked it up and bit into it. This was a good time to go to the toilet, Jodie thought. Leanne wasn't about to follow her while she was preoccupied with eating.
She threw her napkin over her own half-eaten lunch and excused herself.

A moment later she was in the toilet, hunched over the bowl, the usual mixture of elation and disgust flooding over her.

She flushed the toilet and opened the door. Leanne was standing outside with her arms folded. ‘What you doing?' Jodie asked defensively.

‘Listening to you throw up by the sound of it.'

‘The soup went down the wrong way.'

‘How many times a day, Jodie?'

‘What do you mean?'

Leanne's eyes bored sternly into her. ‘You know what I mean.'

‘I don't do it often.'

‘Then how come I hardly ever see you eat, and how come you're now unnaturally thin?'

‘Get off my case, Leanne. It has nothing to do with you,' Jodie said, and went to the basin to scrub her hands.

‘I'm your sister and I care about you, so it does have something to do with me.'

Jodie gave her a withering look. She didn't need this right now.

‘I'm also representing you. And I'm not going to put you forward for things if you're skin and bone.'

‘I'm not skin and bone, I'm fat.' Jodie grabbed at her stomach.

‘There's nothing there!' Leanne said angrily.

‘There is!' Jodie said, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

‘Jodie.' Leanne's voice softened. ‘How long have you been doing this?'

Jodie looked at her and began to cry, lurching, heavy sobs. ‘Years. I don't know what else to do to look good,' she said, knowing it sounded stupid.

Leanne took her in her arms. ‘We'll get you help.'

‘But I don't want to be fat.'

‘It's not about being fat, it's about being well.'

But Jodie knew it wasn't. It was about looking good, and she was a long way from thinking that being well was a decent trade-off.

‘I feel like I need a PA,' Leanne joked, looking at her to-do list. She was meeting a string of girls who had been recommended to her by the
Globe
. Later she and Jodie were going to the doctor to find out if the NHS offered help to people suffering from bulimia, but first Maurice was coming to run through her options with regard to Jenny and what seemed to be a case of misappropriated funds, and she had to call Victoria Haim.

When Maurice arrived, he shook Leanne's hand and got straight down to business. ‘Jenny has two options. She settles out of court and sends you a cheque for, by my reckoning, sixty thousand four hundred and eighty-two pounds and fifty-six pence, then pays all future royalties to you. They won't be as substantial as the first amount because the popularity of something like this is rarely sustained for more than a few years. Or she refuses and you sue her. She'll be dragged through the courts and no
doubt the papers will make sure her name is mud. Either way, you can't lose.'

‘I don't want it in the papers,' Leanne said, full of dread.

‘Believe me,' Maurice said, ‘neither will she. Would you like me to call her now?'

‘You'd do that?' Leanne asked.

‘Trust me. With this snaky witch the pleasure would be all mine. I know plenty of people who've had a run-in with her and I'll feel I'm getting one back for more than you.' He dialled the number and waited.

‘Hello, this is Maurice Grey. I represent Leanne Crompton.' He paused for effect. ‘I know you have been accruing royalties for the carwash picture and I estimate conservatively, that it will have earned in the region of sixty thousand pounds. Will you let her have a cheque for the exact amount straight away? Then you can revert payment to her. Yes?'

There was a squeal at the other end. Leanne thought it sounded like the high-pitched gabble you heard when a cartoon character took a phone call. ‘Well, no amount of abuse is going to change anything, is it? What's it to be, then? Court and a few months' exposure and humiliation at the hands of the media?'

Maurice hung up. ‘She'll have an answer for me by tomorrow.' He beamed.

*

Tracy was itching to leave the country. Since she'd dumped him, Paul had been nagging her about his mounting debts. Her parting shot had been, ‘Well, top yourself, then.' The last thing she needed was to open the door and find Scott in floods of tears, but that was what she was dealing with now.

‘She's left me!' Scott said, blowing his nose and dissolving into tears again.

‘Charly?'

‘She's run off with Joel Baldy. How can I compete with him? He can buy her new boobs without having to save up. It's not fair!'

‘Come in,' Tracy said, pulling him into the house. ‘Who the fuck's Joel Baldy?'

‘He plays for Manchester Rovers.'

‘What is it with girls and footballers? They can't keep their knickers on when they're around,' Tracy said, without realising that her words cut through her son. ‘I've always known she was a little slag. When I get my hands on her I'm going to knock fuck out of her.'

‘No!' Scott sobbed. ‘You can't! I still love her. Sting sang, “If you love someone, set them free.” What am I going to do, Mum?'

Tracy looked at him. He was a pathetic mess. She wished sometimes she could take a bit of
Markie and give it to Scott. He needed toughening up. ‘You're going to get out there and shag anything you can get your mitts on. That's what you're going to do.' Honestly, Tracy thought, sometimes I have to be both mother
and
father to these kids.

‘I can't do it, Mum. I can't! I just want
her
.'

‘Bloody hell.' Tracy wanted to take her son by the scruff of the neck and shake sense into him. ‘Right, well, you'd better go and sort him out, then.'

Scott gawped at her as if she'd gone mad. ‘Joel Baldy? It'd be like trying to get at the Prime Minister.'

‘Jesus, Scott! I know you're not the brightest star in the sky but even you must know that if you want to do something badly enough, there's always ways and means.'

Scott looked at his mum, but she couldn't be bothered with his swollen features any more. He'd soon forget about this and move on, she thought.

*

Outside the rain was beating down. It was six in the evening and Leanne was waiting for Tony to come home. The buzzer sounded.

‘I'll go,' Kia said. She loved answering the door.

‘Don't forget to check who it is.'

‘It's Uncle Markie,' Kia called from the hall, ‘I think.'

Leanne headed to the door to greet her brother – and froze when she saw who was standing, sopping wet, in the hallway.

Jay Leighton was unshaven and wearing a hoodie top. He held out his hands in a placatory way. ‘Don't freak, Leanne, I don't want any trouble.'

‘Get out of this flat.'

‘Who's this, Mummy?' Kia asked.

‘No one,' Leanne said pointedly, for Jay's benefit. ‘I'll be with you in a minute, darling. Go and play.'

Kia eyed the adults, then headed into the spare room, her adopted bedroom.

‘Come through,' Leanne said, walking into the lounge. Jay followed her. ‘How did you find me here?'

‘Photographer friend.'

‘Does he know you're here?' Leanne asked, alarmed.

‘Course not.'

Something else occurred to Leanne. ‘Does Lisa know you're here?'

‘I don't know where she is. She left me on holiday.'

Leanne wondered what he wanted. A bit of her couldn't help savouring the moment. Jay Leighton was a sorry sight. He'd promised her so much and
not meant any of it. Now she wanted him to come good. She had no feelings for him but if he'd come because he wanted to see Kia, to build a relationship with her, Leanne would allow it to happen. His timing was perfect, she thought. If he'd arrived a day later, she'd have been in the papers saying he wasn't Kia's dad.

That was what she and Tony had decided to do. In time Leanne would tell Kia who her real dad was, but for now she was going to quash all speculation and tell the journalist from the
Globe
that Tony was Kia's father. They had been an item years ago and were again. Tony was more than happy with this, and it would free Leanne and Kia from tabloid scrutiny.

Leanne's nerves about the interview were getting the better of her, and Jay's presence in Tony's lounge was doing nothing to ease them.

‘So, what brings you here?' she asked.

Jay stepped towards her and took her hands. ‘Leanne, I'm really screwed and I need your help,' he gabbled. ‘I've done a lot of bad things but in particular I've been seeing this guy. Now I've got no one else to turn to.'

Leanne was waiting for him to mention Kia, to talk about something other than himself.

‘So, I was wondering … would you come out and tell everyone that Kia's mine? No one'll think I've been anywhere near a man then. It'll kill two
birds with one stone. You get to tell the kid someone's her dad, and I get to keep this quiet, because if it gets out I'll be finished.'