Love, Lipstick and Lies (22 page)

I knew my relationship with Leo had reached the end of the line. By September 2012 I’d had enough. I had been patient, given him time to get a job and earn some money, but he had done nothing. It started to get so bad between us that I called him a ‘gigolo’. He hated that and denied that he was anything of the sort. Yes, he was good-looking, but looks aren’t everything. He needed a job but I had the feeling that as long as he was with me, he would never get one. He just didn’t
do
anything.

He nearly left one weekend. He packed his bags and went off somewhere. Then he texted me asking me if I still loved him. I didn’t want to be with him but I guess there were still some feelings there, so I replied that I did, but I couldn’t carry on like this, I needed him to get a job, I needed him to be independent. And on we limped for a few more weeks. But the atmosphere between us was awful, and I lost count of the number of times I said, ‘If you’re not happy, just go.’

‘If you want me to go, I go, no problem,’ Leo would reply, sounding not in the least bit bothered. Not like the first time I had told him to go when he had cried his eyes out.

That said it all really. I’d reply, ‘And that’s exactly my problem, Leo. If you really wanted me you would fight for me, you wouldn’t have this blasé attitude.’

It was a very long way from the romance we had first experienced.

Finally, just as I was at my wits’ end, I got a call from my manager telling me that Leo had sold a story to an Argentinian magazine where he said that he had walked out on me and God knows what else. I confronted him in front of my friends about it.

‘No, me no interview,’ he protested.

But then my manager emailed me the entire article and still Leo denied it. I saw red. ‘I want you to fuck off out of my house. Now!’

‘No. Me no go. Me stay,’ he replied.

That made me even angrier. ‘Well, I don’t want you here! Go!’

Later I found out from my nanny that he had already packed three suitcases and sent them back to Argentina.

‘Okay, me go,’ he answered, not seeming upset or even bothered.

But he still made no move to leave.

‘I meant now!’ I told him. ‘You could check into a hotel.’

‘No.’

It was like a re-run of Alex, I couldn’t get rid of him! So I said, ‘I don’t want you in my bed, you can fuck off out of there.’

For a day or two he moved into the guest room. I couldn’t believe that he had so little self-respect that he would hang around when I’d told him it was over. On the morning Leo finally slung his hook, I didn’t even say goodbye to him as I was at my friend Melodie’s, having my hair done. I only know what happened from the nanny, who was there. Apparently a taxi arrived to collect him but Leo took his time about leaving, saying goodbye to everyone, trying to wring out the emotion. The kids were glad he was on his way. They couldn’t bear him by the end. Junior even chanted ‘Hip hip hooray!’ when Leo had closed the door. Only Harvey mentioned him again because he is used to routine and he remembered Leo taking him out on the quad bike.

Apparently there were paps waiting by my front gate, and I wondered if Leo had tipped them off.

As soon as I knew he had left I breathed a huge sigh of relief. It was over. I could move on with my life. And even though things hadn’t worked out with him, I felt I could trust him not to sell any stories. I never thought he had it in him to stab me in the back and come up with a load of rubbish just to make money and get his face in the mags. How wrong can you be?

* * *

I actually heard from Pete after I’d ended things with
Leo. It was Bonfire Night and I was at Melodie’s when I got a phone call. I didn’t recognise the number.

‘Hi, it’s me,’ someone said.

‘Who?’ I asked.

‘It’s me, Pete,’ he said, and then went on to say that I shouldn’t worry and he hadn’t called me to have a go at me. He never phones me so it was a complete surprise to hear from him. He told me that he’d heard that Leo was trying to sell stories on me and that he wanted to stick up for me as he didn’t want to see me get hurt. As the mother of his kids he said he would do anything to help me out as Leo wasn’t going to be nice about me.

This was completely fucked up! I thought, as Pete carried on about how he didn’t want to argue with me any more, how he was in a happy place and wasn’t going to be in this industry much longer. How he was really happy with his own life, how he wanted me to be happy, how he didn’t want anyone to say a bad word about me …

I thought, You absolute hypocrite! What have you been doing to me for the past four years? Never once standing up for me in the press, allowing them to rip me to shreds, making out that you are the good father and I’m the bitch!

But I kept it all in, I didn’t bite back. I wondered what his motive was for calling me, because I didn’t believe that it was out of concern. It was way too late in the day for that, and too much had happened. Then it all became clear this was about the court case I had against
him and Claire. He must really want me to drop it, I thought.

‘Let’s just get on,’ Pete repeated, and said again how he wanted to protect me. He even suggested we should meet up.

Since he’d left me in 2009 I had frequently suggested that we meet up, to discuss the children, and to get closure finally on why he had walked out.

‘I’ve always said that I would meet up with you, Pete,’ I told him. We actually arranged a time and place. But when it came to it, he had to cancel and we rearranged and then I couldn’t do it. I wondered if we both knew all along that it was never going to happen.

A couple of weeks later the story of Pete wanting to help me appeared in
Now
magazine. There I was on the cover looking all sad-eyed, and there was a picture of Pete looking all sincere and concerned, next to the headline ‘Let Me Help You’. And inside an article where ‘friends’ said that Pete was trying to help me through this time. I felt that whole phone call was a set up so that he could then go and sell a story on me. I had no faith in him at all. It felt like everyone around me was ready to shit on me. I could never trust Pete again.

But he was right about one thing: Leo did a kiss and tell on me. Within a couple of weeks there he was on the cover of
Now
magazine, selling his story. Even though I say I’m desensitised to what the press writes about me, the fact that Leo went and sold a story did hurt. I did feel betrayed. This was someone I had been with for
nearly two years, he had been part of my family, I had loved him and he’d said he loved me. It brought back a lot of bad memories.

According to Leo I was more interested in Googling myself than in having sex with him. Well, I didn’t want to have sex with him because it was boring! And as for Googling –
he
was the one continually Googling
himself
… There were more lies about how I had begged him to marry me. More rubbish about how he’d spoken to Pete and wanted to be like him.

Lots of people have sold stories on me in the eighteen years I have been in the business: friends, people I thought were best friends even, but I can honestly say I was genuinely shocked that Leo had done the same. Although I’d had my doubts about him, I’d thought he had a strong character and that he came from a good family.

Incredibly, after he had sold the story he emailed me, saying he was sorry. Well, it was a bit late for that.

I replied and told him that I was very surprised that he had emailed after he’d said very bad, untrue things about me. I would never have sold stories about him and had never thought he would do that to me. ‘I guess I was wrong about you,’ I said. ‘If it makes you happy to make money doing stories, then that is your choice. It’s a shame you didn’t have the same energy to work and learn English when you were with me.’ I told him he had behaved exactly like the mother of his daughter, who had sold stories on him.

He replied that he was very angry with
Now
magazine, that he was very nice about me in the interview and they had changed everything. How he had said that I was a good parent, worked hard for my children and was the best mother to Harvey. Yeah, I can just imagine the journalists wanting to write positive things about me.

I replied, ‘Leo, if you’re angry with
Now
magazine, why did you tweet the article? If it really isn’t true then why don’t you tweet to say that they changed what you’d said?’

He replied, ‘It was in my contract to tweet.’ And told me the magazine had promised to fix the article next week, and he was going to talk to his solicitor and fix the problem. ‘I apologise, Katie. Peter is not my friend, nor do I want to look like him. The journalist changed everything I said. I am very angry because I do not like lies, I only wanted to speak well of you and say how important you were. Sorry.’

It was pathetic! And yet again my name was being dragged through the mud and people were making money out of me by telling lies. And yet again I thought, Who the hell can I trust? In spite of all the things Leo had said about me he carried on sending me texts saying that he loved me, how I should go and meet him, and he texted all my friends, telling them that he loved me! But how could he possibly love me if he was selling stories to the press? One thing was for sure: I didn’t love him. He had destroyed any feelings I’d ever had for him, any respect.

To cap it all I had to return the pink love-heart ring to Bill because Leo had never paid for it. A courier actually came to the house to collect it because Bill was going legal. Even then Leo had the audacity to say that the ring I wore was never the real one; that he had never been in possession of the real ring, so why should he pay for it? He totally lied. He even tweeted that I was a prostitute, though he claimed that someone else had written it. So I went legal and we got a copy of his signed apology.

I really hoped that was the very last I would ever hear of Leo. At some stage I’d have to get round to altering the tattoo of his name on my leg into something else, just as I’d had Pete’s name on my wrist altered into a rose. I know my mum is rolling her eyes as she’s reading this, she hates my tattoos and always has a go at me for getting them done. But at the time they always seem like such a good idea … and there’s nothing you can’t change into something else.

I’m well known for having had a number of boob jobs. It’s something that I’ve always been upfront about. And up until recently I always thought it was fine that I’d first gone under the knife when I was eighteen. Now that I’m older and wiser, I think eighteen is way too young. You should wait until you are twenty-one at least. At eighteen you still have a teenager’s body and I don’t think you’re mature enough then to make an informed decision about something as life-changing as cosmetic surgery. So I would definitely advise any girl to wait until she is twenty-one.

Also, she should be really clear about why she wants the surgery; she should only be doing it for herself, not because she thinks it will please a man. I’ve always had my boob jobs done for me and no one else. In fact, there have
been times when the men I’ve been with haven’t wanted me to have surgery. It is serious and always carries risks, I don’t think anyone should be under any illusion about that. I should know, I’ve had enough … which is why I say you need to be mature enough to understand that. And, of course, you should do your research carefully and choose a surgeon with a good reputation, never go to one just because they’re cheap.

I was shocked by the scandal involving the PIP implants, when it came to light that industrial-grade silicone, which is only supposed to be used in products such as mattresses, was instead used in the breast implants of over 40,000 women in the UK. I was fortunate enough not to have these implants myself, but my heart went out to those women who did, through absolutely no fault of their own. It was disgusting that this company had done it, thinking more about their profits than the women involved.

In February 2012 I actually went on the current affairs programme
Newsnight
, presented by Jeremy Paxman, to talk about the scandal and to give my perspective on surgery. I think my friends and family were more worried about me appearing on it than I was! As my brother said, who could have thought that Pricey and Paxman would have been in the same sentence and then the same studio! My late nan would have been so proud of me as she used to watch it.

Paxman has quite a reputation as an interviewer, but having never watched the programme, I was not worried.
But I thought it was good that I had been invited on to it. Ten years ago I could never have imagined being on something as serious as
Newsnight.
I thought it was a sign that people knew I had opinions and something worth saying. You can’t survive in the media industry as long as I have just by looking pretty and smiling. I’ve got common sense so I thought I would stick to talking about only what I knew and my own experiences, otherwise the other guests would be able to wipe the floor with me. In the end I think it went well, I didn’t try to be anyone else but
moi
. I had to let off steam afterwards, though, and changed into a cheeky black leather mini-skirt and heels to hit a club. There’s only so much serious debate a girl can take in one night …

* * *

Ever since I’d had my fifth boob job done in LA in 2009 I had known that I wanted to get them done again. I had never liked them. My nipples were slightly lopsided because the surgeon had cut around them when he performed the surgery – apologies to anyone out there who is squeamish! – lifted them up, and then stitched them back on. It’s called the ‘anchor scar’ technique, in case you were wondering. As time had passed, inevitably my boobs had dropped, and they needed tightening again. There was also too much loose skin; I needed a bigger implant to fill the breast. And I wasn’t happy about the scarring either. All in all, they needed to change!

Even I couldn’t quite believe that it was going to be
boob job number six. Then again, some of the ops have been more like repair jobs, which I have to laugh about because it sounds as if I’m taking my car to the garage to have an MOT! The thing about having boob jobs is that there always comes a time when they will need redoing. In September 2012 that time had come round again.