Abbey Clancy - I'll Be Home For Christmas

It was scary – on all kinds of levels. But right then, feeling the way I was about people I’d trusted, it was sounding a bit less scary, and a bit more like an escape hatch.

‘Yeah. Scary. But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong, does it?’

‘No,’ he replied, quickly. ‘Sometimes it means it’s right. I was bloody terrified when your mother told me she was pregnant with Becky – and now I’m a doting grandad! I suppose you just have to trust your instincts, love. They’ve never let you down yet.’

He was, of course, wrong on that front. My instincts about Jack had definitely let me down. And, maybe, my instincts about Vogue. I couldn’t quite put Daniel in that category, but I couldn’t deny I was having a bit of a wobble about him either.

‘What does Daniel think about it all?’ he asked, when I didn’t answer him – I was too distracted pondering how crap my instincts were.

‘Well . . . I haven’t told him yet.’

‘That’s where you start, then, isn’t it? He knows you. He knows the business. He’s a sensible lad, and he’ll be honest with you.’

I knew my dad meant well, but it was possibly the worst thing to say right then. Because that was exactly the problem – this whole thing with Jack, with Daniel having his suspicions about it and keeping them to himself, was making me question exactly how honest our relationship was. Plus, on my side, I’d been hiding the Cooper Black thing from him.

I mean, what would our Billy goat Gandalf say about all of that? I think he’d have been disappointed in me for keeping secrets.

‘You’re right, Dad. I’ll speak to him, talk it over.’

‘Good girl. You do that. And whatever you decide, love, you know we’re 100 per cent on your side, don’t you? Always.’

‘Always – I know. Love you, Dad!’

‘Love you too, Jessy. And put more clothes on, all right? You’ll catch your death.’

Obviously, I felt better after that. But not better enough to talk to Daniel, not just yet. Instead, I went down to the basement to find Neale, my stylist and friend. Neale also knows me, and he knows the business, and more to the point, I knew he’d have a secret stash of chocolate, which I desperately needed. Nothing cheers a girl up quite like a KitKat.

I walked into his domain to find him plastered in make-up, listening to R. Kelly being played extremely loud through his speakers.

Now, Neale is gay, but he’s never tried this before – at least not so far as I know. I stared at his multicoloured cheeks and brightly painted eyelids and glitter-coated lips and was lost for words. It all looked very weird – especially as Neale is a short, slender man with close-cropped dark hair and trendy glasses. He looked like he was about to march in the Nerd Pride Parade.

‘Just trying out some new samples!’ he said quickly, turning the music lower and gesturing to all the cosmetics spread out on the dressing table. ‘They all get sent to me for free – honestly, Jess, it’s like a real-life fairy tale!’

OK, I thought, we all have our different versions of happiness, and this was clearly his. I flumped down onto one of the beanbags he had scattered around the still-not-renovated room, and looked at him imploringly.

‘I need chocolate,’ I said.

‘Oh! It’s one of those days, is it? Feeling a little delicate, are we?’

He rooted around in one of the drawers, and handed me a snack-sized Twix.

‘This is rubbish,’ I said, tearing the wrapper off and stuffing half of it into my mouth. ‘There’s only one finger – it goes against all the laws of Twix!’

‘You’d hate me in the morning when you woke up with a zit on your nose. Anyway, wassup? It’s not even lunch-time and you look like someone just decapitated an Andrex puppy in front of you. They didn’t, did they?’

I held my fingers up to tell him to wait for a while – I was too busy eating, drooling, and generally making a chocolatey mess of myself to speak. He started removing some of the slap from his face while he waited for me to finish, and didn’t even look disgusted as I chewed – true friendship.

‘Well,’ I said, eventually, wiping my face with a tissue I swiped out of his hand, ‘no Andrex puppies have been harmed in the making of this morning, as far as I know. But I kind of feel like one myself. There are a few things to mention, so I’ll make a list. First, Vogue has gone and offered Jack Duncan a job here.’

Neale paused, his hand frozen mid-wipe, his face now half rainbow and half clear.

‘No way! Doing what?’

‘Scouting. Managing. Shagging. Whatever it is he does. I know it’s her business, and her call, but still. . .’

‘It makes you feel a bit sick in your mouth?’

‘Yes! Or maybe that’s the Twix, I don’t know. Secondly – and this has to stay between us until I know how she’s playing it – she’s also taken him back.’

‘ Back back?’

‘ Back back. I practically found them bonking in her office. . .’

This, of course, is a very big overstatement – it’s also distracted Neale, who is now gazing off into the distance, probably imagining Jack Duncan naked. As I’ve said, he’s drop-dead gorgeous – to look at, at least.

‘OK. Well, that’s up to her, I suppose. But I can see why you’re worried. This is all new, and the whole point of In Vogue was to get away from people like Jack, wasn’t it? Even if he is fit enough to win Best in Show at Crufts.’

‘Exactly! And on top of all that, it turns out that Daniel knew about it. Well, kind of knew about it. . .’

Neale pulled another beanbag over and sat by my side. He gave me a quick hug, and then a quick talking-to: ‘What do you mean by “kind of”? You mean he’d heard some gossip ?’

‘That’s what he said. He said he didn’t want to repeat it in case it came to nothing, and he didn’t want to upset me.’

‘Well, I can see why you needed chocolate, honey. Daniel loves you to pieces, and there’s no way he’d do anything to hurt you – he was trying to protect you, even if it doesn’t feel like that right now. You know he’s your happy-ever-after, don’t you? I can tell you’re annoyed with him, but you should probably take it down a notch and not do a full-on diva about it. Just because you’re in a couple doesn’t mean you have to tell each other every thought that enters your head, does it?’

He was right, of course. And it wasn’t like I’d been entirely honest either.

‘No, it doesn’t. And while we’re on that subject, what do you know about Cooper Black?’

‘ The Cooper Black?’

‘No, the knock-off Cooper Black I got from the market the day I got that Prada handbag for twenty quid. Of course the Cooper Black!’

‘OK, OK, no need to snap your bra hook at me. . .Well, obviously, he’s a mega-babe from another planet. Super-hot right now. And – well, I do know one of his friends, actually, since you asked so nicely.’

‘One of his friends? One of his real friends?’

‘No – one of his knock-off friends I got from the market! Yes, a real friend – JB. He used to be in the band with him. JB’s lovely – can’t sing for shit, mind, but he looks great and he can dance. That’s how I met him.’

‘Out dancing?’

‘Yeah. At that club I took you to once. You remember?’

It was hard to forget – or at least hard to remember, which is the sign of a good night out. It had been the night after my first single launch, when I’d performed with Vogue to a packed crowd of writers, movers, shakers, and my entire family. It had been an incredibly stressful time, not helped by the fact that I had a row with my parents afterwards. I’d needed two things in life that evening: a Big Mac and a carefree night out, and Neale and his pals had kindly provided me with both.