Santa Baby (33 page)

After a night when she drank too much wine, listened to Adele’s haunting love songs on a loop, and brooded about Sean, the next day Tiffany was determined to get her act together. She had never let a man affect her the way Sean had, and enough was enough. She had a brilliant career, fantastic friends and family, and yet instead of focusing on that, she was obsessing about a man, thousands of miles away, who clearly didn’t give a flying fuck about her, except as ‘friends’. Not even friends with extras … Just friends. It felt like the worst-ever consolation prize.

And in the process of getting herself together Tiffany realised that it had been several weeks since she had sent the letter to Tanya and she still hadn’t heard from her. She’d had these grand schemes about helping her mother and what had she done about them? Nothing. She wasn’t filming today and she wasn’t going to procrastinate any longer. She was going to see Tanya.

Could there be a more depressing place to live? she wondered as she hurried through the council estate to her mum’s tower block. A children’s playground was the only splash of colour amongst the grey concrete, along with the graffiti gang tags sprayed on the walls. She hesitated at the lifts, wondering if she should take
the
stairs, but her mum’s flat was on the fifteenth floor so reluctantly Tiffany got in the lift, which inevitably stank of piss. When the doors slid open she stepped out, trying to remember which end of the corridor her mum’s flat was. Now it was coming back to her. Number 55 had a rust-coloured door that reminded her of dried blood, with a black iron gate in front of it.

Tiffany rang the bell, which didn’t seem to be working, and then tried knocking, squeezing her hand through the iron bars. No reply. She kneeled down and pushed open the letterbox.

‘Hello, Tanya,’ she called out. ‘It’s Tiffany, are you there?’

Nothing. She called again.

The front door of the neighbouring flat opened and she heard a male voice say, ‘She’s in hospital.’

Tiffany swung round to see a middle-aged man, dressed in a grey hoodie and sweatpants, his belly bulging out over the top.

‘D’you know what happened?’

He shrugged, ‘Got beat up by her boyfriend.’

‘Is she all right?’

Another shrug.

‘Which hospital?

‘Lewisham, I think.’

Muttering a hurried ‘thanks’, Tiffany ran to the lifts.

Tanya had looked rough when Tiffany met her all those months ago. She looked even worse now. One eye was barely able to open, a huge purple-black bruise surrounding it; there was a deep cut on her forehead, and her arm was in a sling. She was also pitifully thin.

Tiffany sat down by the side of the bed, wondering what to say to this wreck of a woman, her mother.

Tanya moved her cracked lips and tried to speak. Tiffany leaned forward to hear her better.

‘Sorry,’ Tanya rasped. ‘I told him I was getting off the gear, after I got your letter. That’s when he hit me.’

Tiffany felt sick; this had all been her fault.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered back, ‘I never meant for this to happen. I wanted to help you.’ She reached out and lightly touched Tanya’s fingers, careful to avoid the drip attached to her hand.

‘You don’t have to say sorry to me,’ her mother managed to get out. ‘I’m going to do it …’ Her voice trailed off, and her eyelids flickered. She was clearly too exhausted to carry on.

For a few minutes Tiffany sat there on the hard, royal blue plastic chair, in a daze. A young Asian nurse walked briskly up to the bed. She smiled cheerfully at Tiffany as she checked the drip and Tanya’s pulse.

‘Are you her daughter? I recognise you from the pictures.’

Tiffany looked at her blankly. Did the nurse mean from TV or the magazine?

She pointed out a small battered photo album with a white and gold plastic cover, lying on the bedside locker. ‘The pictures in there. She was holding it when she was brought in. We could hardly get it out of her hands. She must really love you guys.’ The nurse smiled again and walked off.

Tiffany slowly reached out for the photo album. She opened it up and there was a picture of a very young-looking and very pretty Tanya, holding a baby in her arms.
Angel, 3 days old
was printed underneath in wobbly blue biro. Tiffany turned over the page and there was a picture of a chubby-cheeked toddler, who had to be Angel. Another picture – this time of a baby boy lying in his cot in a blue stripy sleep suit. There were no other pictures of him. Then a picture of Tiffany as a baby, clearly only a few hours old, lying in Tanya’s arms. Chris was there, too, and both of them were smiling.

There were more pictures from Tiffany’s childhood – as a toddler playing in a sandpit; her first day at school in her navy blue jumper and pleated skirt; learning to rollerskate; running out of the sea in a scarlet polka-dot swimsuit, grinning away and showing off her gap-toothed smile as she’d just lost her two front baby teeth. The last one showed her heading off to her school prom aged sixteen, dressed in a black strapless dress and looking self-conscious. Tiffany realised her dad must have sent the pictures to Tanya over the years; it was the only explanation. Then there were also newspaper cuttings about Angel and Tiffany carefully tucked into the plastic wallet at the back of the album, along with three baby wristbands, worn by them in the hospital, giving their date and time of birth, sex and weight. The baby boy was called Matthew. What had become of him? Tiffany wondered.

‘Are you all right?’ She looked up to see a young male doctor standing by the bed and realised that she was crying.

She brushed away the tears. ‘Yes.’ She tried to pull herself together. ‘I need to talk to someone about Tanya and what happens next. She wants to go to rehab, and I’ll pay, whatever it takes.’

‘She has to want to go to make it work, you do know that?’ the doctor said gently, clearly not wanting to trigger a hysterical outburst.

‘Oh, she wants to go,’ Tiffany said with conviction. ‘That’s why she ended up here. I know she can get better. She just needs help.’ She suddenly remembered something her gran, her dad’s mum, had been fond of saying.
There’s a light that shines in the darkest place
. Hope. There was hope. Tanya had taken the first step. She wanted to go to rehab, she wanted to change her life. And Tiffany was going to help her.

*

When she returned home she called Angel to give her the news, hoping that she would want to go and see Tanya in hospital. ‘She had pictures of us,’ she told her sister. ‘It was obvious that they were her most important possessions.’ And it looks like we’ve got a half-brother. He’s called Matthew.’

‘I’ve always said God knows how many children that woman gave away. And a picture is hardly a substitute for the real thing, is it?’ Angel snapped back, surprising Tiffany by her cold tone.

‘I know, but she wants to try and get off the drugs now.’

‘Bit late in the day, isn’t it? She must think you’re going to give her money. I told you what would happen.’

‘No, I think she’s serious about rehab.’

‘Even if she does manage it, which I doubt very much, does she seriously think I want to see her, or that I would let her within a hundred miles of Honey?’

Angel was usually so easy-going and warm it was a shock to hear her speaking like this.

‘I don’t think she expects anything,’ Tiffany said quietly. ‘Look, I don’t want us to fall out about this, so I won’t talk to you about her any more.’

‘That’s probably for the best,’ Angel replied. ‘I don’t have room in my life for Tanya and that’s her fault, not mine. In fact, I don’t want to hear anything more about her. I’ll see you at the studio tomorrow.’ And she put the phone down.

Whoah! Tiffany hadn’t been expecting that reaction. But it didn’t lessen her determination to help her mum.

IN THE WEEKS
that followed, Tiffany stuck to her resolution to get on with her life and not allow herself to waste time thinking about Sean. Easier said than done, of course. She was very disciplined at work, but at home when she was alone it was harder and she had moments of intense longing for him and definitely not as a friend … But she was busier than ever, with filming the show and writing her column. And on top of that she and Angel had come up with the idea of launching their own clothing and jewellery range online and she was working on plans for that, as well as sourcing suppliers.

Tanya went into rehab and was due to stay there for at least four months. Tiffany exchanged emails with her mum, as Tanya had asked her not to visit until she had completed the programme, and through the emails she was starting to gain an insight into her mum and her life. She’d been abandoned by her own mother when she was five and been taken into care. By the time she was fifteen she’d had thirty different foster carers; it was all too easy to see how drugs became her escape. She had always wanted to keep her children but had never managed it. Matthew had been taken away from her by social services when he was just hours
old.
He had never got in touch with her. Tiffany said nothing of this to Angel, and her sister never mentioned Tanya.

After a mild autumn, winter had arrived and London looked like a scene from a snow globe. Tiffany adored the snow. Sure, it made getting around difficult, but it was so pretty and she felt like a big kid every time she went outside and saw the frozen white layer on the flash cars parked on her street. She couldn’t resist scooping it off and making snowballs. She loved the change in seasons, loved being in the capital city at this time of year, seeing the lights go up and the festive window displays. She went ice-skating with Kara and Jez on the picturesque ice rink outside Somerset House; took Lily-Rose to the Winter Wonderland at Hyde Park; actually enjoyed Christmas shopping as she finally had some money. And Angel was right, she did get invited to some great parties.

Take tonight when she was due at the TV channel’s Christmas party at a West End club. It was fancy dress and she and Jez were getting ready at her flat and having a blast. They were dancing around her bedroom to The Black Eyed Peas’, ‘I Gotta a Feeling’ and making inroads into a bottle of champagne. Tiffany was going as a Christmas angel in a white tutu and silver glittery wings. She wasn’t at all sure about the outfit; the skirt was very short and the bodice very low-cut.

‘I’m meant to be a Christmas angel, not a porno angel,’ she grumbled to Jez as she tried to tug the skirt over her bum, then realised that had the effect of giving her even more cleavage.

‘Oh, shut up! At least you’re not wearing what I am!’ Jez was going as an elf and wearing the most extraordinary skimpy green velvet playsuit, teamed with red tights and pointy green shoes, which made Tiffany want to giggle every time she looked at him.

‘It’s just as well I’m not on the pull,’ he added. ‘It would be practically impossible to get lucky in this.’

‘Unless you met someone with an elf fetish.’

‘Whereas you look hot to trot in that outfit. It’s not too late to get yourself a boyfriend for Christmas …’

Tiffany ignored him, and carefully glued on her silver false eyelashes. There was no point in being subtle; she may as well go for it.

‘We’re going to have such a good time at Angel’s at Christmas, I cannot wait! I’m so glad you’re coming. I’m really hoping we get snowed in,’ Jez declared, flopping down on the bed. Tiffany was definitely spending Christmas with Angel as Marie and Chris were going to Marie’s mum.

‘I don’t mind being snowed in for a day, but any longer and don’t you think we might all go a bit mad? Haven’t you seen
The Shining
?’

Jez dismissed her comment. ‘We can play charades and watch films, Cal can cook, Rufus could do some workouts with us, I can try out some new hairstyles on you girls … what’s not to love?’ He looked at his watch. ‘Come along, Tiff, hurry up and get ready! We’ve got to get this party started!’

Tiffany was in the mood for letting her hair down at the club. She knew all the people working on the show now, and happily chatted away to everyone from Tammy the PA to Jessica and Matthew the presenters. And then she and Jez hit the dance floor and danced wildly to a succession of Christmas hits: ‘Fairy Tale of New York’, ‘Merry Christmas, Everybody’, ‘I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day’ … the cheesier the better. Every now and then she’d catch a glimpse of Angel, looking radiant. The morning sickness had finally ended and now she had a glow about her and the tiniest of baby bumps.

After a marathon dancing session Tiffany and Jez headed back to their table. ‘Ouch, my feet are killing me!’ Tiffany complained, kicking off her heels and reaching for her champagne glass. She’d lost track of how much she’d had to drink. But, hey, it was Christmas and she just about felt in control. It wasn’t as if she was going to break into the office and photocopy her bum, and there was no one she wanted to snog and would then regret snogging in the morning. No one here anyway.

Suddenly Jez grabbed her arm. ‘At last he’s back!’ he shouted over ‘All I want for Christmas Is You’.

Tiffany looked at him blankly.

‘My boy with the dragon tattoo!’

Did he mean who she thought he did?
Instantly butterflies and champagne clashed … and Tiffany didn’t know which was the most intoxicating …

‘Come on, let’s go and welcome back Mr LA!’

No way. Tiffany wasn’t ready to come face to face with Sean. She needed to compose herself, sober up, get a grip …

‘I’m going to the Ladies.’ Tiffany shook off Jez’s hand and picked up her shoes.

What a sight she looked in the mirror! Her bra strap had slipped halfway down her arm, her tights were laddered, and her mascara had smudged. The silver eye make-up that Jez assured her was great now made her look like a drag queen, and one false eyelash was hanging off. Quickly Tiffany worked to get her act together, brushed her hair, removed the fake lashes, re-did her make-up. Then she suddenly felt giddy and leaned against the basin. Say Erin was here as well? As far as she knew the two of them were still an item. Seeing them together would ruin Tiffany’s night … and her Christmas.