Tough Love (5 page)

She swallowed the lump. ‘I just wanted to say hello.' Then the tears were flowing.

‘You crying, Lee? Bloody hell, Kent, our Lee's
sobbing,' Tracy squawked. ‘Someone been at you?' She always went into defensive mode when she thought someone had harmed her kids.
She
could be as rotten as she wanted but if anyone outside the family laid a finger on them they'd have her to answer to.

‘No.' Leanne tried to pull herself together. ‘I'm all right, just a bit homesick.'

‘That lot in the
Mirror
was making out you were on your arse the other day. You're not, are you?'

‘No, I'm fine, Mum. Just a rocky patch. I'm changing agents.'

‘Well, you can always come back here.'

Leanne could hear her lighting a cigarette. ‘Thanks,' she said. She knew her mother didn't think it would come to that, but Leanne wasn't so sure. If she didn't sort something out soon, she wouldn't stay in London where there was nothing for her and Kia.

‘'S all right, love, any time. Kent, pass us the remote, will you?'

Leanne half smiled. ‘See you, then.'

‘Ta-ra.'

Leanne pocketed her phone and headed on up the street.

‘'Ere, that's Leanne Crompton, phwoar! Show us your tits, love,' a passing man exclaimed.

A large part of Leanne wanted to slap him across the face and say, ‘Don't be so rude!' But a little bit
was secretly pleased that she was still recognised. She pulled her cap down over her face, silently chastising herself for being grateful to some oaf, and marched off in the direction of the station.

*

‘Miss Crompton.' Eddie Ball walked into the reception area of Coco Management and thrust out his hand, casting a lascivious eye over Leanne. Eddie was everything she had expected of men in the glamour-modelling world but had rarely experienced. Desperate times call for desperate measures, she thought. She took a deep breath and plastered on a smile.

‘Come through, come through.' He let his eyes settle on Leanne's chest. She pulled her cardigan tighter.

‘So, then, what took you so long to come to see Uncle Eddie?'

Bit forward, Leanne thought. She'd only met the guy twice before. ‘I've been having a break,' she said.

‘Rumour has it you've been touting yourself around and having doors closed in your face.' Eddie smiled as if that might cancel out the meanness of what he'd just said.

Leanne shuffled in her seat. ‘Who told you that?' She tried to keep the smile on her face.

‘Oh, it's a small industry.'

‘Isn't it just?' she said breezily.

‘I like you, Leanne. But I think you know as well as I do that your career as a glamour model is over. You need to diversify.'

‘In what way?' she asked, trying to keep the shock and hurt out of her voice.

‘Well, I've got a business on the side where I know for certain you could earn big bucks.' He looked Leanne in the eye.

‘Really?' She was all ears now. Maybe it was presenting, she thought optimistically.

‘Yes, really,' Eddie said, grabbing a portfolio from behind him. ‘Have a look at this little lot.'

Leanne opened the folder and began to leaf through it. She recognised a few girls from years back. Women who would now be in their thirties.

‘They work all over the world. See Leonie?' Eddie said, pointing at the woman on the page Leanne was looking at. ‘Earned two hundred grand last year tax free while she was living it up in Dubai.' Leanne wasn't sure about moving abroad, but for that kind of money … ‘A girl like you, Leanne, I think we're talking closer to a million.'

Suddenly the penny dropped from a great height. ‘Are these women hookers?' she asked plainly, too horrified to be outraged yet.

‘Good God, no! Hookers stand on street corners, Leanne. These are high-class ladies
offering a bespoke service to our bank of high-net-worth male clients.' Evidently Eddie believed his own hype.

‘High-class hookers, then,' Leanne said, an edge to her voice now that she knew what Eddie was suggesting.

Eddie sat back in his chair. ‘Call it what you want, my love, but it's more money than you'll ever see again –
and
you'll get to live the life and call the shots. If you want to be sniffy about it then good luck. But don't come crying to me when you're scanning beans in Kwik Save.'

Leanne stood up. ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, Eddie. I'll see myself out.' She left his office, slamming the door behind her. But once she was out in the street her confidence left her and fresh tears welled …

At home with Kia that evening she couldn't get Eddie Ball out of her mind. Maybe this was the end of the line for her. Maybe her choices really were
that
limited. She had thought she'd be able to make some money, maybe get a contract with
Reveal
magazine or something, but the truth was that if any of the magazines wanted to publish a story about her, they didn't need to pay her. They would get a picture of her from a paparazzo and write what they wanted. Well, she thought angrily, as she jabbed at the remote control, I'd rather scan beans for a living than do anything Eddie bloody Ball
suggests. Although at that moment she couldn't even see how she'd swing herself a job in Kwik Save. The truth was, she wasn't qualified for anything. As she tormented herself with her morose thoughts Kia, who had been sitting cross-legged in front of the TV, got up, came to her and gave her a big hug.

‘I love you, Mummy,' she said.

Leanne looked at her beautiful daughter and thought her heart might burst. ‘I love you too, sweetheart.' She held Kia tightly to her. No matter what happened, she thought, at least they had each other.

Leanne looked around the little terrace house that had been her home for nearly four years. It had been a heartbreaking decision to leave London because she knew that she was saying goodbye to her career. But the simple fact was, she could no longer afford to live in the city.

The furniture was still there but the house had been stripped bare of her belongings, which were now packed into a removal truck. Her heart plummeted when she placed the last of her possessions – a few coat-hangers and a couple of Kia's teddy bears – in the back of the van. Jenny had told her several times when she was earning well to see a financial adviser but Leanne had always put it off. She didn't really like talking about money and had thought things would be all right. Well, so much for that, she had thought yesterday, when her bank had refused her an extension to her overdraft.

Leanne loved Greenwich and the thought of having to leave was too much for her. Everyone else wanted to live in Notting Hill or Camden Town and be seen falling out of a pub with Jude Law, but Leanne had wanted somewhere safe and quiet for Kia, whose dad had first brought Leanne to Greenwich. They had hidden themselves in the Rose and Crown and he had declared undying love to her. He had only been able to stay with her for an hour but that was how it had always been: snatched moments and promises that were never kept. After that encounter, Leanne had gone from the park to Greenwich High Street as if she was walking on air. While she was strolling along the row of tiny houses, which looked as if someone had uprooted a picture-postcard English village and deposited it in the middle of London, she had decided that when she had enough money she would move there. After her first major shoot, when she'd appeared in
Packed
, the top men's magazine, she had spotted that this house was available for rent. She and little Kia had moved in the following day.

‘You all set, love?' the van driver asked.

Leanne nodded.

‘I don't want to go!' Kia exploded.

Leanne knelt in front of her and pulled her close. ‘We don't have a choice, darling. I'm really sorry.'

‘Jemima Forster says it's because we're tramps that we have to move,' Kia shouted, then dissolved into floods of tears.

‘That's not true,' said Leanne, firmly, ‘and if I see Jemima Forster again, I'll tell her exactly what I think of her for saying that.' She stroked her daughter's hair. She had a feeling that Kia wasn't going to see her school friends again. Unless Leanne could find some decent money. And that didn't look like it was going to happen any time soon.

*

Leanne drove along the M60 following the removal van. When she saw the familiar exit for Bradington, her stomach performed flip-flops.
This is it
, she thought. I'm back where I started.

She drove past the old sports centre where Markie had taken her and the others swimming when they were kids. He used to like to see who could hold their breath under water longest. Jodie would always win, popping up with a beetroot face well after everyone else had given up. She drove up to the roundabout at the top of Manchester Road. One way led to Bilsey, a small, quaint village, and the other to Bolingbroke, the sprawling estate where Leanne had grown up. She took the Bolingbroke turning. She had been in touch with
Jodie, who seemed to be looking forward to having her back. Leanne had always enjoyed her sister's visits to her in London. Jodie was good fun, and since Leanne had moved away, she had been the one sibling who had kept in close touch with her.

Karina had been distant, but Leanne put that down to the fact that she was getting on with her life. However, recent reports from Jodie had suggested that Karina was into coke and Leanne didn't think she'd meant the fizzy drink. Coke seemed to be a bit of a problem in her family. Leanne didn't understand the attraction. She hated the thought of snorting something and she certainly didn't like the effect it had on people. A lot of celebrities she knew took it and it made them go on about themselves incessantly, and the celebrities Leanne knew liked nothing more than talking about themselves.

Canterbury Avenue – the gateway to Bolingbroke – snaked away from the well-to-do houses of Bilsey and into a maze of 1960s concrete housing. Over the years the council had tried a number of initiatives to improve the area – sleeping policemen, speed cameras, even shoving hanging baskets everywhere. Leanne had admired them on one of her visits back home but her mother had dismissed them, with the immortal words, ‘You can't polish a turd.'

Kia, who had been asleep for most of the
journey, stirred. ‘Are we at Nana Tracy's, Mummy?' she asked. ‘It smells funny at her house, doesn't it?' She said it as matter-of-factly as if she'd been talking about the weather.

Leanne sighed. ‘It smells of smoke sometimes.'

‘Hmm.'

‘Once I've got us sorted, Kia, we'll get our own place, I promise. It'll be like an adventure,' she told her.

‘Like when we went to the Maldives with Simon and Greg?' Kia asked excitedly. Simon and Greg were a couple who worked together. Simon was the photographer, Greg his manager. They had taken a real shine to Kia on a photo shoot in the Indian Ocean. Kia had loved every minute of it, playing in the sea and being fussed over.

Leanne smiled sadly. ‘Yeah, a bit like that,' she said.

*

Jodie had called her mum the day before to find out if they were going to do something to mark Leanne's homecoming. ‘What? Like get a life-size poster of her from
Loaded
magazine and roll it down the side of the house? Really rub it in? She'll be wanting to skulk back in like she never left, won't she?' Tracy had retorted.

‘Tell you what, Mum,' Jodie said, ‘remind me
not to come to you when I'm feeling a bit sorry for myself, eh?'

Tracy had waved her hand and said, ‘I tell it like it is. People don't like it? They can lump it.' Jodie had put the phone down and decided to organise something herself.

She had called Markie, Karina and Scott and told them to be at Tracy's at two the following day. Markie had said he'd meet them for food later but the others agreed. Jodie visited one of the many town-centre pound shops – Bradington might not have much but it had pound shops by the dozen – and bought a Welcome Home banner with some balloons. She had taken a couple of bottles from the Beacon that were intended for the optics but she would replace them. She wanted Leanne to feel as good as possible when she got home. Jodie had experienced Leanne's life in London and it had been glamorous, whatever her sister had said when she came to Bradington and tried to play it down.

Jodie waltzed into Tracy's with her box of goodies. Charly was sitting on one of the kitchen stools, looking as unimpressed with life as ever. ‘Here –' Jodie threw a balloon at her ‘– you're good at blowing things.' Charly gave her a sarcastic smile, but did as she was told.

‘Our Lee's in the
Sun
again,' Scott said, flattening the paper on the breakfast bar. Everyone
took a cursory glance; it wasn't news. ‘“Leanne Crompton Heads Home. The glamour model has been plagued with financial difficulties since she was dropped by her manager. Now the blonde bombshell will have to fend for herself back up north.”' Underneath the printed article there was a mock-up of Leanne as a cleaner, Leanne as a lollipop lady, Leanne as a milkwoman and Leanne as a police officer: the tabloid's helpful suggestions for her next step up the career ladder.

‘She'll never make a copper.' Tracy blew up a balloon.

‘Think she's dreading coming back?' Scott asked.

‘I would be, wouldn't you?' Charly said, as if Scott was thick to imagine otherwise.

‘Out of here like a shot you'd be, wouldn't you?' Tracy snapped her fingers and raised an accusatory eyebrow at Charly.

‘Oh, and given half a chance you'd stick around for the high life in Bolingbroke?' Charly said, with a withering stare.

‘Knock it on the head, you two, for one afternoon.' Jodie shimmied over to the fireplace and attached the banner above it. She stood back. ‘Well, it looks shit but it'll have to do.'