The Footballer's Wife Read Free

habit. He was now clean and seemed to be contrite – although he still couldn’t look Len in the eye, Charly noted.
    Len had accepted an uneasy truce with his son over the last few months, but Charly had a feeling that it would all come out in the wash at some stage. Although her dad had managed to keep his temper in check for a good few years, the legacy of the old Len was never too far away. A look or a pause was enough for people who knew him well to think that there was a possibility that he might blow. Not today, though. Today Len was as proud as punch, Charly could tell. They were in VIP seats with the rest of the Wives and Girlfriends and the TV cameras that were filming the game kept panning to Charly, who managed to maintain sphinx-like poise even when Joel, star player for Manchester Rovers, scored. The reality was that inside she was jumping up and down with excitement.
    Charly couldn’t believe sometimes how much her life had changed beyond recognition. When she and Joel had first met she had been living in a tiny flat with her then-boyfriend Scott Crompton who, although a lovely bloke, was too much of a pushover for Charly to see herself with permanently. She had met Joel at the opening of the Glasshouse nightclub in Bradington, where Charly had been out for the evening with Scott’s sisters Leanne and Jodie. Leanne had signed Charly up to work as a glamour model for her recently founded agency and the three had gone out that night to promote the new enterprise. Joel had chatted to Charly and she knew immediately that there was a connection. When he asked for her number she hadn’t hesitated. They had been together ever since.
    A year on and Charly could pick and choose the modelling assignments she undertook and she didn’t have to work if she didn’t want to; Joel’s huge salary took care of both of them. Leanne’s modelling agency was doing well and Jodie was the one who was bringing in the most business. This didn’t surprise Charly in the slightest; Jodie was a real grafter and would work her socks off to make sure she succeeded.
    Jimmy cheered when he saw an image of hissister flash up on the screen, which was more of a courtesy than the away fans were affording Charly. They had begun chanting a song speculating in which orifice she was most fond of having sex. Charly wasn’t bothered; they might be making a joke of her but she’d be the one waking up in Egyptian cotton sheets in the morning, with freshly squeezed orange juice awaiting her prepared by the maid. Most of the chanting fans would be getting out of bed when their alarm told them to, next to a wife they never spoke to, to go to a job they despised. She knew where she’d rather be standing.
    â€˜What are that lot singing?’ Len asked, straining to hear.
    â€˜Don’t worry about it,’ Charly said, putting her hand on her dad’s large, tattooed arm.
    A look of shock registered on Len’s face as he realised what the away fans were chanting about his daughter. Soon his eyes were bulging out of their sockets with indignation. ‘Dad, leave it,’ Charly urged him.
    â€˜I’ll leave nothing. That’s a bloody disgrace!’ Len said, flying off in the direction of the nearest steward. Charly watched as her dad protested vehemently, pointing at his daughter then pointing to the away crowd. She wanted to curl up and diebut thankfully she had her Christian Dior shades on which helped keep her expression inscrutable.
    â€˜What’s he showing us up for?’ Jimmy asked. Charly thought this was particularly rich coming from someone who’d spent his life showing his family up. Other people in the area where they were seated were now craning their necks to see what was going on. Len jabbed his finger at the steward who in return went to grab Len to throw him out. Len quickly pulled away and followed this move with a lightning punch that sent the steward reeling.