Authors: Katie Price
'Love you,' Mickey whispered as he held her later.
'You too,' Angel replied happily.
She wasn't quite so happy the next day. Things
started to go downhill when they unwrapped
presents. She had been so excited about giving
Mickey his watch and he was suitably impressed.
'Babe! That's awesome, thank you so much!' he
exclaimed, hugging her.
'Is it real?' his mum asked. A question that,
frankly, Angel thought, was bang out of order.
'Yes,' she replied, trying not to sound offended.
Mickey then handed her a small package. Inside
was a set of lingerie, red and quite cheap-looking.
'Oh,' she said, and she couldn't keep her face from
falling. It wasn't at all the kind of thing she would
wear, and to have to open it in front of his parents
was embarrassing.
'Thanks,' she said, stuffing it back into its
wrapping. She hadn't expected him to spend a
fortune on her, but surely he could have bought
her something a little nicer?
'You can model it for me later,' Mickey said,
winking at her and causing Angel to turn away to
hide her irritation. His parents gave her an M&S
toiletries set (
which was going straight to a charity shop
,
Angel thought). She had bought them a huge box
of handmade Belgian chocolates and two bottles of
champagne. To try to shrug off her disappointment,
she left the room to phone home and wish
everyone a happy Christmas. As she spoke to her
mum, she suddenly felt homesick hearing all the
familiar voices in the background talking and
laughing. Her parents took it in turns with
Gemma's to have Christmas lunch at each other's
house and even with her away it remained a firm
tradition. Despite Frank's tendency to be strict,
Christmas Day was always a laugh: everyone stuffed
their faces, drank too much and then played
charades.
Her mum passed her on to Gemma. 'What did
he get you then?' was practically her friend's first
question.
'Some gorgeous underwear,' Angel replied,
trying and failing to impress her friend.
'Agent Provocateur? Coco de Mer?' Gemma
asked excitedly.
'No, I'm not sure where he got it,' Angel lied.
Gemma's 'Oh' spoke volumes.
As she returned to the living room, Angel tried to
pull herself together, telling herself sternly that it
was the thought that counted. But that was the
trouble: cheap, tacky underwear didn't seem like
such a good thought. Her mood didn't improve
when she offered to help Sandra in the kitchen and
then spent the next three hours peeling veg and
washing up while Mickey and his dad, Dave, sat on
the sofa drinking beer. Angel couldn't help comparing
it with her house, where everyone always
mucked in to help on Christmas Day, even her dad.
Mickey's mum talked non-stop about Mickey, how
wonderful he was, how talented, how handsome,
and while Angel agreed with a lot of what she said,
even she had to draw the line when Sandra
declared that Mickey was one of the best singers in
the country.
No but yeah but he's got crap taste in
presents
, was what she wanted to say, hearing
Mickey and Dave laughing in the living room.
By the time Christmas lunch was served, the men
were half drunk and Angel's mood had worsened.
Conversation revolved entirely around Mickey and
while Angel didn't expect to be the centre of
attention, a bit of interest from his parents would
have been welcome.
'Must have done your career no end of good,
going out with Mickey,' Dave said at one point. 'All
that publicity from going out with a pop star, I bet
you could hardly believe your luck!'
That was so the wrong thing to say to Angel that
she was too stunned to reply for a second. Then,
when she was about to retort angrily that she was
doing just fine before she met him, Mickey said,
'Actually, Dad, we've both done well out of it. I'm
just glad she's with me.' And he took Angel's hand
and kissed it. She had barely a second to smile at
him when Sandra exclaimed, 'Ahh! Isn't he
romantic?'
God, get me out of here!
thought Angel, not
knowing how much more Mickey-worship she
could take. After lunch, the men fell asleep in the
lounge while Angel and Sandra cleared the table
and washed up. Angel felt stir crazy; she was someone
who liked to be doing something and sitting
around the house was seriously doing her head in.
She waited for half an hour and then changed into
her tracksuit and told Sandra she was going
jogging. The cold December air revived her and
she ran for half an hour, belting to the park and up
the hill, trying to tire herself out for a long evening
ahead.
'Mickey's upstairs,' Sandra told Angel when she
got back, and, grabbing a glass of water, Angel went
to the bedroom. There she was shocked to discover
Mickey snorting a line of coke. He started when he
heard the door open.
'Thank Christ, it's only you!' he exclaimed with
relief, pretending to sink back onto the bed in
shock.
Angel shut the door behind her. 'Why are you
taking that?' she demanded.
'I just fancied a little pick-me-up, babe, do you
want some?'
Angel shook her head, frowning. Yes, she had
agreed to once at the party last month, and she had
done it one other time at a club a couple of weeks
ago, but Christmas Day at his parents' house was
hardly the time or place.
'I thought you only took it when we went
clubbing.'
Mickey shrugged. 'I just do it every now and
then, but it's not a problem, babe, honestly.' He
held out his hand and when Angel took it he pulled
her onto the bed beside him.
'My parents are watching TV, aren't they?' he
whispered, kissing her neck. Angel nodded.
'Well,' Mickey whispered again, undoing her zip
and putting her hand on the bulge in his jeans, 'I've
got another Christmas present for you.'
Should I be worried about Mickey's drug-taking?
Angel wondered afterwards as she showered. It
shocked her that he had taken coke on Christmas
Day with his parents downstairs. How often was he
doing it when she wasn't watching? Would he
have told her if she hadn't caught him at it? Angel
was uneasy. It was something she was going to
have to watch, she decided. She knew very well
that he occasionally took coke when they went
clubbing. But when she had asked him about it the
other day, feeling that one line was enough for
her, whereas he would do five or six, he had just
laughed it off and kept saying he didn't have a
problem. She stared at her reflection thoughtfully,
listening to the sounds of the TV and Dave's loud
laugh drifting upstairs.
Mickey was on good form for the rest of the
night. True, he drank a fair bit, but she didn't
catch him sneaking upstairs for any more fixes
and, as if making it up to her, he stayed close to
her for the rest of the night as they all watched TV.
But she was disappointed on Boxing Day. Mickey
had promised to come with her to Brighton to
meet her family, but when they woke up he
complained of having a sore throat. 'I think I'd
better stay here, babe, I feel really rough,' he
croaked feebly from the bed.
Angel couldn't help feeling hurt; she had made
the effort to come to his family's and endured two
whole days with them. And he really didn't seem ill
to her – a slight cold, maybe.
Typical bloke
, she
thought crossly,
thinking he had man flu
.
'Well can I borrow your car, then?' she
demanded, pissed off with him. 'Because how else
am I going to get down there?'
She could tell that he really didn't want her to
borrow it – it was a bright red Porsche 911 and his
pride and joy – but the alternative would be to
come with her and he obviously wanted to do that
even less.
She could tell her parents were surprised that
Mickey wasn't with her, but, as usual in her family,
no one said what they really thought and it was
brushed under the carpet. She had been dreading
seeing her dad, but he treated her no differently
than he always did: he gave her a hug and asked
her how she was and then changed the subject to
football. But it was such a relief to be home, away
from the claustrophobic atmosphere at Mickey's,
and to get a bit of TLC from her mum, who insisted
on cooking Angel's favourite dinner of roast
chicken and roast potatoes, even though Angel said
she didn't have to as she must have spent enough
time cooking on Christmas Day.
While Michelle was busy in the kitchen, Angel
found herself alone in the living room with her
dad.
'So how's Mum been lately?' she asked, keeping
her voice low so Michelle couldn't overhear.
'Oh, you know, the usual, up and down,' her dad
answered. 'She's missed you.'
'I know, I will try and see more of her, it's just
I've been so busy,' Angel replied, feeling guilty.
'We've all missed you. Prince has been pining,'
her dad added, watching Angel stroke the Labrador.
'Really? Sorry, boy,' she said, patting him. 'I've
missed him too,' she said, 'but there's no way I
could have him in London with me at the moment.
My flat's tiny and I'm hardly ever in.'
'Why don't you come back home, then?' her dad
replied, almost as if he missed her. Angel felt
uncomfortable. This wasn't how they usually talked
to each other.
'Oh, I couldn't, I have shoots every day,' she
replied, more breezily than she felt. 'I'd spend all
my time commuting.'
Seeing that they were nearly on the dangerous
topic of her work, Angel quickly changed the
subject and asked if he had seen Cal lately.
'Yeah, he dropped round the day before
Christmas Eve.'
'Is he okay?' asked Angel, her heart beating a
little faster, as it always did when she was thinking
of Cal.
'I think so – he's doing well at Chelsea – he's been
on as a sub for the first team a couple of times. I got
the feeling that things aren't great between him
and his girlfriend – what's her name again?'
'Mel,' Angel replied, trying hard to suppress a
look of delight.
'Never understood what he saw in her. Too vain
and too much make-up. I don't know, I used to
wonder why . . .' Her dad trailed off, looking
embarrassed all of a sudden.
'Wonder what?' Angel asked, now more surprised
than uncomfortable at the turn the conversation was
taking.
'Why you and he never got together. You always
seemed to have so much in common,' her dad
managed to say, his face flushed with the rare effort
of talking about emotions.
Angel could hardly believe her ears. 'Cal's never
been interested in me! And anyway, I've always
thought he was way out of my league.'
'Don't be daft, you're worth a hundred of that
Mel girl.'
Had he been drinking?
Angel wondered, but was
chuffed nonetheless. It was so out of character for
her dad to talk like this, but she loved him being
protective.
'I know Cal has always had a soft spot for you,
because you both, you know . . .' Again, her dad
trailed off.
'Were abandoned by our mothers?' Angel put in
bluntly.
'Well, yes,' her dad said awkwardly and switched
on the TV. Angel sank back into the sofa. She'd had
no idea her dad had thought about her and Cal like
that. She chewed her thumbnail, ignoring Danni's
orders to leave her nails alone, absentmindedly
watching the game. Talking about Cal's mother
made her recall the incident she had always blamed
for the barrier that had gone up between her and
Cal.
It had been Cal's first game as a professional for
Brighton a couple of years ago, and the whole
Summer family had gone along to cheer him.
Angel knew that Cal had asked his mother to come
as well, but when she looked around the stadium,
Angel realised she hadn't shown up – probably too
drunk to make it. Later that day, Angel had
walked in on Cal and her dad, clearly in the
middle of a heart-to-heart.
'Why does she always do this to me, Frank? She
promised she would come and watch me play and I
really thought that this time she would. How
fucking stupid of me.'
Seeing Cal's face, Angel froze, stunned to see
such a display of raw emotion from him. Cal looked
up at her, his eyes brimming with tears. Frank said
quickly, 'Give us a minute, Angie.'
Angel had turned on her heel and run upstairs.
She knew what a big deal the game had been to Cal
and she wished she could say something to comfort
him. But when they met over dinner later that
night with the rest of the family, Cal wouldn't even
look at her. He completely ignored her.
While the others went into the living room, Cal
and Angel cleared the table. Clearing her throat,
Angel had said, 'Cal, I just wanted to say that I'm
really sorry that your mum didn't turn up today.'
Cal carried on with what he was doing. 'Don't be,'
he replied harshly. 'She's just a fucking loser. Count
yourself lucky to have such great parents.' And with
that he left the room. From that moment on, the
easy familiarity between them was over. Cal
obviously regretted that Angel had seen him break
down and made sure he was never alone with her
again. He broke off all contact with his mother,
moved into a studio flat and focused all his energy
on football and on breaking as many girls' hearts as
he could. For a while, after the scene Angel had
witnessed, Cal continued to come round to the
Summer house several nights a week and always for
Sunday lunch, and she couldn't help but think he
sometimes blamed her for taking her family for
granted when things between her and her parents
got strained. Then he met Melanie and started
spending less and less time with the Summers and
more with Mel. And their encounter in the Brighton
club had changed things once more, making it
almost impossible for them to talk normally.
Angel stayed in Brighton for two days, and while
she didn't see Cal, she got to see lots of Gemma.
Being with her, seeing Jeanie and Bill, brought
home to her how very much she had missed
hanging out with her friend.