The Footballer's Wife by Kerry Katona

Author:Kerry Katona [Kerry Katona]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Ebury Publishing
Published: 2008-04-03T04:00:00+00:00

chapter thirteen

JODIE HADN’T DARED to switch her phone on for the past four days. Journalists had somehow got hold of her number and had blocked up her voicemail with requests for comments on what she’d witnessed.

She was in the middle of a photo shoot on a blustery hilltop in the Yorkshire Dales. Jodie was feeling less like Cathy and more like a drowned rat. The photographer had promised her that the weather would make the pictures look windswept and moody, but the last thing that Jodie wanted to do – this week of all weeks – was stand around in a decidedly unsexy place having to look sexy. As she stood pressed against a rock, her head thrown back and her gossamer top ripped provocatively to the nipple, she could see two women heading up the limestone steps to where she was teetering. Jodie grabbed a towel; they’d been assured privacy for the hour that they needed to get the right shot but these women were heading towards her and the photographer, bold as brass. One thing was for sure, they didn’t look like ramblers who were stamping their feet about their right to the use of public footpaths at all times.

‘Jodie, can we have a word?’ the first woman asked.

Jodie looked at her photographer. What was going on? ‘Depends.’

‘We’re from the Globe and . . .’

Jodie looked at the pair. She had to tread carefully. The Globe newspaper had given her her first break and was still a large contributing factor to her income. But she was damned if they were sneaking up on her like this. She smelled a rat. Her photographer had gone quiet. If he had known nothing about this he’d be telling them to take themselves back to where they came from as quickly as possible, but he was inspecting the lens on his camera as if this somehow negated all that was going on around him.

‘Did you tell them we were going to be here?’ Jodie demanded. He looked guiltily at her and shrugged. Although he was freelance, he too got a lot of work through the Globe; he was probably only doing what he thought was necessary to ensure future work. It didn’t stop Jodie wanting to kill him though. ‘Right,’ she said, pulling her jeans on and quickly slipping into the jumper and coat that she’d been fantasising about as she stood there sodden. ‘End of shoot. I’m not making any comment. If you want to talk to me then you need to go through my agency.’

‘Leanne told us you were here.’

Jodie faltered, but only for a split second. ‘Pull the other one.’ She knew that Leanne would never do that without informing her first. No, it was definitely the photographer. She tramped away from the three, making her way down the five hundred or so steps that led to the bottom of the sheer cliff face and towards the car park. Jodie wasn’t happy. The photographer, who had hastily packed his kit up, was hot on her heels, as were the journalists.

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