Santa Baby (5 page)

‘I still can’t believe that you’re Angel Summer’s half-sister!’ Kara exclaimed, pouring out two glasses of cava. Tiffany flopped back on the cream leather sofa.

‘Maybe I’m not. Maybe Tanya is just saying it to wind me up,’ Tiffany said gloomily. She shuddered inside as she remembered the grotty flat she had met her mum in. It had been so dirty and cheerless, not a single
photograph
of her children anywhere to be seen. Tanya was in her late-forties but looked considerably older, with her grey complexion, sunken cheeks and decayed teeth. She had shown little interest in Tiffany other than wanting to know what her job was. She had seemed disappointed when Tiffany told her that she was a waitress but that she wanted to be a stylist. Maybe she had wanted her daughter to give her some money? The reunion had left Tiffany feeling utterly depressed and wishing she had never contacted her in the first place. But Tanya had said sorry in the letter … that was something, Tiffany supposed. And much as she wanted to close the door on all thoughts of her mother, she felt a spark of sympathy for her and her wretched life. Her dad had always brought her up to think of Tanya as someone who needed help, who hadn’t intended to be a bad mother.

Kara pulled her back to the present. ‘I don’t think she would do that. There would be nothing in it for her – and from what you told me, she only sems to care about herself. Stop obsessing. Let’s watch the show.’

She pressed Play on the remote control and Angel’s beautiful face appeared on screen as the opening credits rolled.

‘OMG! I can see a resemblance now!’ Kara said excitedly, looking from Angel to Tiffany.

‘Can you? I can’t at all.’

‘It’s the eyes and the mouth. Yeah, you have the same-shaped mouth as Angel … I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before. You jammy cow to have those lips!’ Kara, who had a perfectly sweet mouth, suffered from lip envy and was constantly trying to find the perfect pout-boosting lip-gloss. She reached for her latest purchase and slicked it on to her already glossed lips.

‘I’m not so sure about the styling this week,’ Tiffany
commented
as a young mum who had got stuck in the rut of jeans and hoodies was styled to within an inch of her life in a pencil skirt, cripplingly high platform shoes and a tight-fitting jacket. ‘It doesn’t exactly say school run, does it? They should be finding things that will fit with her lifestyle.’

‘Babes, you would be so good on a show like this. Imagine, you could work with Angel. You’d become famous! And I could come on as your PA slash manager!’

Suddenly Tiffany had a horrible thought. She had mentioned her ambition to become a stylist in her letter to Angel with no intention other than that of giving some background about herself. But perhaps Angel would see it differently and think that Tiffany was after something. She did a mental head-slap. She should have steered clear of the whole stylist thing. Chances were that she was
never
going to hear from Angel now.

After the girls had watched the show, Harley returned from football. He was so tall and broad that he made the flat seem even tinier.

‘So have you told Tiff our news?’ he said, sitting down on the sofa with a beer.

‘You’re getting married? Kara’s pregnant?’

Harley smiled. ‘Not quite there yet.’

‘I finally told Mum and Dad that Harley and me were living together,’ Kara put in.

‘Welcome to the twenty-first century, Kara!’ Tiffany teased. She had always thought that her friend should come clean with her folks and that they would most likely survive the shock of their only daughter, ‘their princess’, living with her boyfriend. ‘And? How did they take it?’

‘They were completely cool. I wish I’d told them ages ago.’

‘Except Kara’s mum went round singing from “Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)”, so I could hear,’ Harley said dryly.

‘God! Who wants to get married anyway?’ Tiffany said, folding her arms.

‘One day you’ll want to,’ Kara said knowingly. Tiffany didn’t bother to reply.

‘Billy was asking after you tonight.’

Billy and Harley played football together. Billy was
always
asking Harley about Tiffany. ‘I told him you still weren’t seeing anyone. Nor is he.’

‘He still loves you!’ Kara chanted. Tiffany threw a chocolate-brown fake-fur cushion at her.

‘Crap! He just wants to be friends with extras,’ Tiffany said cynically.

Kara shook her head. ‘Nope, it’s more than that.’ But Tiffany didn’t believe her.

They chatted on for a couple of hours until eleven but Tiffany turned down Kara’s offer for her to stay over. As she stood shivering at the bus stop she wondered when Angel last had to get on public transport. Her whole life must be one of wealth and privilege now, where she could buy anything she wanted, do anything she wanted, go anywhere she wanted … The world was her oyster, whereas Tiffany just had an Oyster card … an out-of-credit one at that. Though she knew from the celeb mags and tabloids, who were obsessed with Angel and Cal, that the couple had gone through a very rough patch. He had an affair while Angel was battling post-natal depression and then she had left him for Ethan Turner, an American baseball player. She and Cal had actually got divorced and it had looked as though Angel was going to marry Ethan. But she had jilted him at the altar because she had realised that she was still in love with Cal, and the couple had reunited
and
got married again. Their story was so dramatic and so romantic!

Tiffany thought of her own disastrous love life: a two-year on/off relationship with Billy which had eventually fizzled out. Kara could say that Billy loved her all she liked – Tiffany knew he just wanted to be friends, or rather friends with extras. And yes, every now and then Tiffany gave in to his booty call. The thing about sex with an ex was that she knew what she was getting; it was an itch she could scratch. But she never felt good about herself afterwards. And cute as Billy undoubtedly was, he was not the love of her life. Tiffany didn’t even know if she believed that she would one day meet the love of her life. Was there really ‘the one’ who was out there, just for her? She wasn’t sure. All she did know was if the bus didn’t come soon she was going to have to go into the kebab shop and buy some chips to keep her warm. What was the betting Angel Summer hadn’t done that in a very long while?

‘HOW COME YOU
even look good in the morning?’ Angel demanded, as she padded into the kitchen. Cal was making Honey her breakfast before he took her to school, and looked glowing with health. She planted a kiss on her daughter’s head and went to check her own appearance in the mirror in the hallway. This was her first day off in ages, and as far as she was concerned being on TV three days a week and having to wear make up under the studio lights was playing havoc with her skin.

‘I look so rough, I’m getting lines,’ she wailed. ‘Now I’m thirty, you’ll be trading me in for a younger model soon, I just know it.’

Honey and Cal exchanged eye rolls. Angel dragged herself away from scrutinising her reflection and sat down next to Honey. She swiped a piece of her daughter’s toast, which Honey promptly swiped back.

Cal came over and put his arms round Angel. ‘Even in those ridiculous slippers, you’re still the most beautiful woman I know.’

Angel held up one pink fake-fur-slippered foot and said defensively, ‘I get cold feet. I can’t be glam twenty-four/seven.’

‘Don’t I know it!’ Cal shot back. ‘You put them on my legs every night.’

‘I knew you had your uses,’ Angel teased.

‘I’m good for other things as well,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘How about I show you tonight?’

Angel considered her husband’s tip-top physique. ‘How about you do?’

And then there was no time for further conversation as it was the usual morning whirlwind of making Honey’s packed lunch, plaiting her daughter’s hair, cleaning her teeth and making sure she had her book bag and water bottle.

After hugging her daughter and Cal goodbye, Angel sat back down at the breakfast table with a bowl of porridge and a cup of tea. She intended to have a lazy morning, then meet her best friend Gemma for lunch in their favourite Italian – though how relaxing that would be she wasn’t sure as going out with Gemma and eight-month-old baby Milo felt like being part of a military campaign. Gemma wanted everything to be perfect all the time.

She flicked through the pile of post on the large glass-topped kitchen table, pausing when she came to a letter from her new agent Susie. Carrie, the woman who had first discovered her as a model when Angel was just seventeen, had recently retired from the business and had moved to Spain with her husband to run a bar on the Costa del Sol. Dave the husband would be doing most of the work, Angel was pretty sure, while Carrie would be very good at telling him what to do. Still she had to hand it to Carrie; she’d never thought their marriage would last as Dave was considerably younger and Carrie’s previous relationships had always been short-lived, but they seemed happier than ever, and Carrie, who had been the toughest businesswoman Angel had ever come across, had completely mellowed. Now the Carrie Rose Agency was run by Susie, who was much more laid-back than her former boss.

Angel ripped open the envelope, expecting to find a cheque or contract in it, and was entirely thrown when she discovered the letter from Tiffany. Her first reaction was one of complete shock, followed by a flash of excitement that maybe it was true and she did have a half-sister. Then disbelief followed. Maybe this Tiffany Taylor was just trying it on. Over the years she and Cal had received more than their fair share of letters from nutters. Maybe Tiffany Taylor was a stalker-nutter? She read the letter again. It seemed reasonable. Tiffany didn’t sound like a nutter; she sounded down-to-earth and funny. Though you never could tell. Cal’s ex-girlfriend Simone hadn’t seemed like a nutter either, and then she had revealed herself to be a complete psycho bitch when she had stalked Angel and tried to stab her with a kitchen knife.

She reached for her phone. As always in moments of crisis, Angel had to know what Cal thought. He was typically calm and measured in his reaction. He didn’t even sound too surprised.

‘I always wondered if you might have a half-sister or -brother, but I thought your mum just mentioned a half-brother?’

‘God knows how many children Tanya gave away,’ Angel said grimly. ‘Do you think this Tiffany Taylor could be my half-sister then?’

‘It’s possible, isn’t it? But don’t rush into contacting her. I’ll get Sean to check her out. See what he reckons. Then if you do go ahead and meet her, we could always do a DNA test to know for certain.’

‘But what should I do now?’ Angel asked him. The letter had shaken her up, reminded her of Tanya whom she would rather forget. She couldn’t forgive the woman who had abandoned her, and becoming a mother herself had only hardened that feeling.

‘Shall I tell Mum and Dad?’ Angel had a good
relationship
with her adoptive parents Frank and Michelle, which had grown stronger over the years. But she didn’t want to do anything to upset them, especially Frank who’d had a heart attack three years ago.

‘I wouldn’t say anything to them just now. And, babe, don’t stress about it. Meet Gemma and we’ll talk about it later. Love you.’

‘Love you.’

It was all very well Cal telling her not to stress about it, but Angel couldn’t help it. Meeting her birth mother had been such a disaster. There had been no connection between the two of them. Tanya had expressed no regret for giving Angel away, nor did she seem to care about her daughter at all. Halfway through the meeting, her aggressive boyfriend had turned up and demanded money from Angel. And that had been the last she had heard of Tanya. She was only surprised that she hadn’t received more begging letters from her mum over the years or that she hadn’t sold her story. Angel wondered what had prompted Tanya to make this revelation to Tiffany now.

Angel padded upstairs to have a shower and paused on the landing to look at one of the many photographs of Honey that adorned the walls. Her beautiful daughter was smiling away for the camera as she sat proudly on her pony. Angel didn’t think it was possible to love her any more than she did. Honey meant everything to her; she loved her daughter with all her heart, would have laid down her life for her, could not imagine living without her. How sad that Tanya had never felt that overwhelming love for her own children …

‘I’ve got your usual table, Angel,’ Alonzo told her as she walked into the cosy Italian restaurant in the Brighton
Lanes.
She and Gemma had been coming to the family-run restaurant for years and loved the food and the friendly atmosphere. Angel could afford to eat at the most expensive restaurants but she never liked anything too fancy – she liked keeping it real.

She sat down at the table by the window and Alonzo brought her over a glass of champagne – well, she didn’t like keeping it that real! And as she watched the world go by, she wondered where Tiffany Taylor was, wondered what she was like as a person. Would they have anything in common? Would there be some kind of connection between them? Or would it be an upsetting re-run of her meeting with Tanya, when she’d felt nothing but sadness and rejection?

She was lost in thought when Gemma arrived, pushing the bright red Bugaboo into the restaurant. Instantly Angel got up and hugged her friend but Gemma was distracted, worrying about getting Milo out of the buggy as she thought he should still have been sleeping. Gemma was following a baby-care book that advocated a strict routine, whereas Angel had always been more relaxed – at least when she had fully recovered from the post-natal depression that had blighted the first six months after she’d had Honey.

‘Can you get the antiseptic wipes out of the bag and clean the high chair?’ Gemma asked as she unclipped Milo from the harness and picked him up.

‘I’m sure it’s clean,’ Angel replied, but the look on Gemma’s face told her she had better do what was asked or she wouldn’t hear the last of it during lunch. Once Gemma was satisfied it had been given the antibacterial treatment, she carefully manoeuvred Milo into it. He beamed away, showing off a new tooth. Thankfully he was a very chilled-out baby. He must take after his dad.