Angel (8 page)

After fifteen minutes, Richard called out, 'Ready
to try some topless shots now, darling? I'm loving
what you're doing.'

To her own surprise she didn't hesitate, she just
shook back her hair, undid her bra, whirled it
round her head and then tossed it to the far side of
the studio – much to Richard and Danni's
amusement.

He continued to call out instructions but Angel
found that she knew what to do almost instinctively.
She smiled, turned, pouted, shook her hair, played
with different poses and attitudes. She could tell
from Richard's smile that she was doing well.

An hour and a half later, after several changes of
underwear and make-up retouches, they stopped.

'Fabulous,' Richard said simply. 'I don't get a girl
like you very often. You've got real star quality,
Angel, a natural talent.' He must have seen her
doubtful smile because he hastened to add, 'And I
promise you, I don't say that to all the girls, very far
from it, as Danni will tell you.'

Danni nodded enthusiastically, giving Angel a
smile and thumbs-up. Angel was on cloud nine. It
was such an amazing feeling, discovering that she
was good at something and being praised for it. She
had never felt that special. And here she was, doing
what thousands of girls would envy her for. And to
her huge surprise she had loved every minute of
the experience.

'Don't you think I'm a bit flat-chested for this
type of modelling?' she asked anxiously. She
couldn't help comparing her 32B breasts with the
32DDs all around her.

'No, you're perfect just the way you are and
don't let anyone tell you otherwise!'

As soon as she left the studio she called Gemma
and filled her in on how the shoot had gone. She
was in a bubble of happiness on the train back to
Brighton; she wanted to smile at everyone.

The bubble burst as soon as she stepped through
her front door. Still fired up by what she'd done,
Angel raced into the kitchen where Frank, Michelle
and Tony were having dinner.

'They liked me! I'm going to be in the paper next
week!' She stood in front of them, grinning
excitedly, and looked at them expectantly.

Frank angrily pushed his plate away. 'You should
have asked us first,' he said loudly. 'Who are these
people, taking advantage of a young girl like that?'

Angel looked at him, feeling her happiness drain
away. Trust him to bring her down. But he wasn't
finished. 'And what kind of photos are they,
anyway?'

'Bikini shots,' she answered defiantly. But she
wasn't able to meet his eye and he stared at her.

'Angie. Tell me the truth. Are you doing topless
modelling?' He moved over to where she was
standing and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to
look at him. 'Are you?'

'Jesus Christ, Angel, you're not topless, are you?
I don't want every lad at college looking at your
tits,' Tony put in furiously.

Angel stared angrily at her dad and her brother,
then looked at her mother, who was helplessly watching
the scene between her husband and daughter.
Angel shrugged bitterly. What had she expected
their reaction to be? They were only thinking of
themselves. They had never seen her for who she
really was and what she could do. And they couldn't
see what a difference it could make to her life.

She turned on her heel, blinded by her tears. 'You can't stop
me,' she shouted back, catching her mother's stricken expression. 'I'm doing
it and that's it.'

For the next three weeks, Angel stayed at Gemma's
and travelled to London every day for more shoots
with Richard. The paper had loved the first
pictures of Angel and booked her to do a whole
week of Page 3, which was very unusual on the
glamour circuit. A Hollywood film about a stripper
was about to open in London and the paper wanted
their own take on the film, with Angel performing
her own striptease for the readers. She couldn't
believe her luck when Carrie gave her the news.

'This is a massive break, darling,' Carrie had told
her on the phone while Angel was at Richard's. 'I've
a hunch that you'll be going places very soon.'

Angel laughed. 'I'm already going places,
Carrie,' she replied, thinking that she could be
stuck in some boring dead-end job and instead she
was having the most fun ever.

'This is just the beginning, take my word for it,'
Carrie answered. 'Speak to you later, darling, I
have to fly now.'

Angel was still smiling to herself as she slipped
into her first outfit of the shoot – a purple and
black corset, suspender belt, stockings and a black
lace thong – and checked out her appearance in
the dressing-room mirror. Danni had put Angel's
hair up and given her smoky eyes and red vampy
lips.

'Ooh, very Moulin Rouge,' Richard exclaimed as
she walked into the studio. 'I love it, darling!'

'So do I,
dahling
,' Angel answered cheekily.

Richard laughed. 'You're learning, now get your
arse over here and we can get going.'

Angel was having a ball. She had such a good
rapport with Richard and he loved the fact that she
had so many ideas of her own about how she should
look. The two of them bantered and joked their
way through the shoot. The paper wanted Angel to
remove an item of underwear each day so that on
the last day she'd be naked.
Talk about a steep
learning curve
, Angel thought; it was less than a
month ago that she had worried about posing
topless and now here she was, about to reveal all, or
nearly all. She was lying on a white fur rug on the
studio floor, stark naked and trying to find the best
position to pose in which wouldn't reveal everything
she had.

'I think it's best if I'm on all fours, sideways to the
camera, with one knee slightly in front of the other
so you can't see my you-know-what.'

Richard looked through the lens and called out,
'That's the one, hold it. Perfect.'

If only the rest of my life could be going as well as my work
,
Angel thought as she travelled back to Brighton on
the train. It was such an exciting time for her, but
there was a pit of loneliness inside her, the sad
realisation that none of her family seemed to want to
share her good fortune and be happy for her.
Neither Tony nor her dad were speaking to her.
Although Angel was used to her dad's disapproval, it
still smarted to be cut out so completely, and Tony's
was doubly hurtful. They were so different but they
had always got on well, looked out for each other and
been a part of each other's lives. Now she felt adrift,
completely isolated from the family. Her mum came
round to see her at Gemma's one night when Frank
was at football training, but it wasn't a very good
meeting. Michelle was upset about the rift and
anxious to make up with her daughter, but she didn't
have any suggestions about how to heal things.

'What about doing fashion modelling instead,
love?' she asked. 'I don't think your dad would
have a problem with that.'

Angel sighed. 'I've already told you, I'm not tall
or skinny enough to be that kind of model, and
anyway, I love what I'm doing now. There's
nothing wrong with it, it's not like I'm doing porn!'

It was so frustrating, why didn't they get it? But
as far back as she could remember, it had always
been the same – whether it was her passion for
riding or her artistic ambitions, her mum and dad
simply didn't understand her. She might have
guessed that she couldn't expect any support from
her parents with her modelling ambitions.

'You really want this many?' The newsagent looked
dubiously at Angel as he counted out ten copies of
The Sun
. Angel nodded, trying to be casual. 'Yeah,
someone I know is in it,' she said, all the while
trying to contain her excitement. As soon as she got
out of the shop she opened the paper at Page 3.
Her first ever photo shoot in a national paper. She
couldn't move for a minute, spellbound by her own
picture. She laughed delightedly as she raced back
to show Gemma. They spread the paper out on the
living-room carpet, alternately staring at the
pictures of Angel and laughing hysterically.

'I can't believe it's you!' Gemma kept saying.

'I can't believe it's me either!' It just didn't seem
possible that she was in the paper and was going to
be looked at by millions of people! Gemma wanted
her to take the day off so they could celebrate, but
Angel had several castings in London, which she
knew she couldn't miss. Reluctantly, she got her
things together and headed off to the station. On
the train her thoughts turned to Cal. She wondered
if he had seen her picture and, if he had, what did
he think? Would he see what she so wanted him
to – that the girl from Brighton was now a woman?

It had been two months since she'd said goodbye
to him but her feelings for him hadn't changed. She
still wanted him, still loved him. He was in regular
contact with Tony and her dad – they had both
been up to watch him play for Chelsea reserves last
night, but he hadn't asked Angel. All she knew was
that his football career was going from strength to
strength and he was still with Mel. According to the
local gossip grapevine, she was desperate for him to
ask her to move in with him in London and so far
he hadn't.

My first house
, Angel thought happily as she padded
around the tiny one-bedroom flat in Belsize Park in
North London, putting up photographs of her and
Gemma in an attempt to make it feel more like
home. She was renting the flat from Carrie, who
had offered her a very reasonable arrangement,
because although her modelling career was starting
to take off, she was hardly loaded. Her mum hadn't
wanted her to go and had begged her to stay but
Angel's mind was made up. It was time for a change
and she had to seize the opportunity she'd been
given. It was time to say goodbye to the old Angel
and embrace the new.

Her dad had sat in silence during the drive to the
station but at the last minute he hugged Angel
tightly to him and gruffly told her to take care of
herself. And she had made things up with Tony, as
Gemma had threatened to dump him if he didn't
stop being so uptight about his sister's choice of
career. So it was with a much lighter heart than
during the past few weeks that she came to London.
And here she was now, in the capital. Close to
Camden with its great weekend market, which
Angel loved browsing through to discover a vintage
top or dress, something that no one else would
be wearing, and within walking distance of
Hampstead with its chic bars and cafés. She was
close to Hampstead Heath, so she could get away
from people and noise and cars and escape into
open space if she wanted to. The first few days, she
couldn't wait to go exploring, getting such a buzz
from being on her own, in her own flat, in the city.
She felt free as she walked around. There were no
memories here and no people to remind her of the
past and the small world she had left behind. But it
was also strange, suddenly being free to do
whatever she wanted – she could go to bed
whenever, wake up when she liked, eat whenever
she wanted without her mum nagging her to come
down from her room. It was both liberating and
terrifying.

But Carrie kept nagging her to go out
socialising.

'Listen, darling, it's not enough to be good at
your job, there are hundreds of other girls out
there who are models. In order to stand out you
need to get noticed by the press, make a name for
yourself,' she told, or rather ordered, her when
Angel dropped by her office.

Since the pictures of her striptease had appeared
in the paper, she'd become a hot property and
Carrie was keen to cash in on her success.
Practically every other day Angel had a casting or a
shoot. Today she'd done a shoot for a lingerie
catalogue with three other glamour girls and it had
been a real eye-opener.

One of the girls, Andrea, a dead ringer for
Thandie Newton, was lovely, down to earth, funny
and not at all full of herself. The other two – Lisa
and Vicki – were absolute bitches who had made it
their mission to be as unpleasant as possible to
Angel from the minute she had walked into the
studio, barely bothering to say hello to her, and
looking her up and down as if she was something
they'd stepped in.

'How long have you been modelling for, then?'
demanded Lisa when they were in the dressing
room, getting ready. She was an overly made-up
blonde, who would have been pretty if she hadn't
looked as if she was trying so hard.

'Nearly two months now,' Angel replied.

Lisa sniffed dismissively. 'It must be beginner's
luck then, you getting on Page 3 so soon. Don't
expect it to last, though.'

'Who thought up your name?' asked Vicki, the
other model, a blonde clone of Lisa.

'No one, it's my name,' Angel answered, not
liking the way the girls were looking at her. It made
her feel as if she was back in the school playground.

'Leave her alone, you two,' Andrea called out.
'You were new to this game once yourselves, about
a hundred years ago!'

The blonde clones shot Andrea an evil look and
then tottered out onto the balcony together to have
a cigarette and no doubt carry on with their
bitching.

'Ignore them,' Andrea told her. 'They're just
jealous. And while they're having a fag let's grab the
best thongs.'

Angel was very relieved that Andrea was there
because Lisa and Vicki didn't get less bitchy during
the shoot. There were snide little digs about her
hair ('
Brunette – isn't that a bit last season'
), her nails
('
Oh, we didn't know the natural look was in'
) and her
breasts
('Ever thought of having a boob job?').
But
Angel had the last laugh when Dawn, the
photographer, a very straight talker, used her and
Andrea more than the other two and told Vicki
she'd put on weight.

As Angel and Andrea walked out of the studio
together, they swapped numbers. 'You'll have to
come out with me and the girls one night,' Andrea
said. 'Not all models are like that pair of witches!'
Angel was glad for the invite. Apart from Cal, who
she wouldn't have dreamt of phoning, she didn't
know anyone in London.

But she didn't want to be bullied into socialising
by Carrie. Now, she shrugged, looking at Carrie
across her desk. Going out and clubbing was one
thing with Gemma, in a place where she knew
people; it was another thing entirely to do it in a
huge city, without friends nearby.

Carrie fixed her with her piercing blue eyes
(which Angel was convinced were blue contact
lenses) and said, 'This is non-negotiable, Angel, I
really need you to get out there.'

She didn't need to add,
or I'll drop you
, but her
meaning was clear.

'Okay, I'll do my best,' Angel replied, irritated
that Carrie had started attaching conditions to their
working relationship. But she owed her so much,
she quickly reminded herself. Surely it wouldn't be
too much to ask to go to a few parties.

'You don't have to do anything,' Carrie
answered. 'One of my girls can't make it to the film
premiere of the new James Bond movie tomorrow
night, so why don't you go? And there's an after-party.
Turn up, get yourself photographed, I'll be
happy.' And she thrust the invitation at Angel. 'It
will be very good for your profile.'

Angel spent the run-up to the event worrying
about what to wear. She wasn't earning that much
money yet so couldn't afford to blow it in designer
shops. In the end she scoured the second-hand
boutiques in Camden and found a sexy black silk
Chinese-style dress, which fitted her perfectly and
emphasised all her curves, with splits up each side
showing off her tanned slim legs. Angel reasoned
that she was known for showing off her breasts, so
tonight she'd keep them covered up and show off
her legs instead.

That done, she had her hair cut and coloured.
She was still brunette, but now had gold and bronze
highlights running through her hair. 'Just to give
you a bit of a lift, darling, and your hair some extra
depth. Not that you really need it, because you look
sensational,' said Jez, a seriously camp hairdresser
and a complete sweetheart, recommended by
Danni.

Then it was off to get her nails done – Angel's
least favourite part of grooming as she was a closet
nail-biter. The glamour models she'd met so far all
had nails that were nearly as long as Tanya
Turner's, which Angel thought was hilarious and
not her at all. She couldn't imagine how they
actually did anything like put on a pair of tights
without laddering them or inserting a tampon
(ouch, best not to think about that one), or why any
man would want a set of talons like that near his
tackle . . . She preferred her nails short and natural-looking,
but today she made an exception and had
them painted scarlet.

Finally, back home in the bath, came the removal
of practically all her body hair. In her line of work
it would have been career suicide to show off
stubbly armpits or even a hint of a pube. When she
first started Angel had tried waxing, but she
couldn't wait for the hairs to grow back, plus having
a Brazilian wax, however good the results, was one
of the most excruciating experiences of her life, and
one that she never wanted to repeat – she couldn't
imagine childbirth to be any more painful than
that. Finally, a hair-free (well, practically, except for
a landing strip) Angel called up Gemma in a panic,
worrying about going to the event on her own.

'Pull yourself together!' Gemma told her, just a
few minutes before the car was due to pick her up.
'It'll be a laugh.' But Angel didn't feel much like
laughing when the car dropped her off at the end
of the red carpet and she was confronted with
having to walk down the whole length of it to get
into the building. She hung back a bit, temporarily
overwhelmed by the crowds of people waiting
behind the crash barriers, shouting out the names
of the stars whose attention they wanted to attract.
Everywhere she looked were glamorous, beautiful
women in evening dresses and handsome men in
suits, familiar faces from the film, music and TV
worlds –
Oh my God, was that Madonna, she was so tiny!
In a daze she also saw Elle Macpherson, Sharon
Stone, Victoria Beckham looking gorgeous in her
Roberto Cavalli, Christian Slater and the hot
gardener from
Desperate Housewives
. She was half
hoping that none of the waiting photographers
would notice
her
, but no such luck.

'Angel, over here,' one of the photographers
called out, a cry taken up by several others of the
pack, and she found herself automatically smiling
for the cameras as they flashed in front of her.
This
wasn't so bad
, she thought with relief, slowly making
her way into the huge cinema foyer, which was
packed with celebrities. A wave of shyness came over
her again and she suddenly felt that she had no
right to be with all these famous people. She was just
a young girl from Brighton. But then she noticed a
woman whose only claim to fame was the famous
married footballer she had slept with and then told
the world about in graphic detail.
Well, if she's here, I
shouldn't feel bad. At least I've been invited because of my
work!
Angel thought, perking up. She despised
anyone who would sell a story about someone they
had been involved with – to betray someone who
had trusted them seemed the lowest of the low.

She made sure she was sitting as far away as
possible from the kiss-and-tell woman in the
auditorium. She looked in vain for anyone she
knew, vowing that next time she had an invitation
to one of these events, she would take someone with
her or refuse to go. She had wanted to bring
Gemma but Carrie said she only had one ticket.
The film was good, but Angel was too aware of her
surroundings to be able to lose herself in it. Next
came the party at Sugar's, an exclusive club in
Mayfair. Once again, Angel had to steel herself to
go in, feeling intimidated by the crowds of
glamorous people all chatting and waving to each
other. Clearly, everyone knew someone here.
Luckily, just as she was contemplating turning
round and going home, she bumped into Andrea.

'Hiya, babe,' she exclaimed, giving Angel two airkisses,
the obligatory welcome of anyone in the
celeb world, as Angel was discovering. 'How are
you?'

'Glad to see you!' Angel replied with relief. 'I
don't know anyone here at all. I feel like a right
Norman No Mates, I'm about to go home.'

'Don't be daft, come and meet my friends,'
Andrea exclaimed and quickly introduced Angel to
the group she was with, which included two
footballers, a TV presenter and a soap star. At first,
Angel felt very shy and tongue-tied – she had never
been around such famous people before, but
gradually she found her feet and before she knew it
she was chatting to Thierry Henry and Freddie
Ljungberg about how the season was going. At first
she could tell they thought she was just another
bimbo glamour girl, but because Angel knew her
football it wasn't long before they had revised that
opinion. But just as she was enjoying the banter,
the blonde clones, Lisa and Vicki, turned up and,
looking at Angel through narrowed eyes, tried to
slide in between the two footballers.

'Nice dress,' said Vicki, sounding as if she
thought it was anything but nice. She herself was
wearing a turquoise satin slip dress, which her
boobs were bursting out of.

'Thanks,' Angel replied, then dropped her voice
and whispered sympathetically, 'How's the diet
going?'

Vicki turned scarlet with anger under the layers
of fake tan and Angel realised that she'd better back
off – it wasn't as if she thought she had any chance
with the footballers. And even though it would have
been fun watching Lisa and Vicki trying and failing
to get their attention, she pretended she needed
the bathroom and slipped away from the group.
The club was packed and she had to weave carefully
through the throng of people. Suddenly her way
forward was blocked. A boyishly good-looking
blond man stood right in front of her, making no
attempt to move. She tried to slip around him,
muttering apologies, but he blocked her escape
attempts. Finally, she looked up and said, more
loudly, 'Excuse me, can I get past?' His smiling face
looked familiar and Angel realised with a jolt that
he was Mickey Waters.
The
Mickey Waters, lead
singer of the boy band Wanted.

'Actually, no, I don't think you can,' he said. 'I
was just about to come over and talk to you.'

'Oh,' Angel replied, in some confusion. 'Do you
know Andrea then?'

'Nope, I wanted to meet you.'

Angel felt a shiver of excitement run down her
spine. Mickey was incredibly handsome, and such a
star! She had never met anyone so famous before.
Wanted had been around for a year and taken the
charts by storm, having more singles going to
number one in their first week than any other band
since The Beatles.