Remember My Name

by Abbey Clancy

  ‘Oh, that’s mean,’ I replied, biting back a giggle. I really, really needed to contact Ruby—I should have invited her to the launch, I should. We’d been through so much together, and she must feel like I’d brushed her off. It wasn’t intentional—everything had just piled up on me, and even having my parents down had been a strain. Talking of which …

  ‘Come and see my lot—they’ll be made up that you’re here. They’ll probably be happier to see you than me, the way things have been going.’

  Daniel glanced over, and smiled as he saw the Malone gang.

  ‘Look at your dad … can’t believe he’s still wearing that Eagles top after all these years. Bit tighter round the beer belly though. They don’t look very relaxed, apart from Luke—have you been having problems?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know … not really. It’s all just, well, a bit crazy. My life has changed so much even I don’t recognise it myself, and theirs hasn’t changed at all—other than being here, at an event like this, surrounded by people they just don’t feel comfy with. I’ve not had much time to spend with them—you know how busy this world is—and … I just want them to be proud of me.’

  Even I noticed how pathetic those last few words sounded, and I squeezed my eyelids shut tight as I felt tears stinging their way out. I’d been working so hard, for them as much as for me, and now I was finally on the verge of success, I felt more distant from them than ever. I’d always been so very close to my family, they’d always been my anchors, and now I didn’t feel like we were even on the same planet. It made me feel a bit disorientated, cut loose, as if I was floating around in outer space.

  Daniel reached out and stroked my hair—which was a mistake, as it was frozen solid with spray. He laughed when he realised, and wiped his fingers on his jeans.

  ‘I do know, Jessy. I’ve been working in this business for a while now, and that’s one of the reasons I keep such a low profile, and prefer to spend time with the dairy cows on the farm than here in London. The pace of life was too fast; the relationships were too fake—it’s hard to keep your feet steady when the world’s rushing around you like a flash-forward scene in a movie. It’s hard for people who haven’t lived it to understand—but I do know how much they love you. And I do know how proud they will be—you were brilliant tonight, absolutely amazing. So forgive them if they don’t get your new life, or if they seem a bit off, or if they feel clingy—and never doubt that they’re proud of you. That, Jess, would just be deliberately daft.’

  ‘Yeah. That makes sense. Is this a new thing, Daniel, or have you always been the voice of reason?’

  ‘Always,’ he said, putting his arm over my shoulders and leading me towards my family. ‘You were just too deliberately daft to listen before now.’

  My dad started waving as soon as he noticed us, and Becky looked as though she was considering standing up, but then thought better of it. Luke, who didn’t remember Daniel as well as the rest of us, gave him a polite nod before turning his attention back to a barely-dressed reality-TV-show star who was gyrating away on the dancefloor. Mum, I noticed, had immediately clocked on to the fact that Daniel had his arm around me, and gave me a sly smile.

  ‘Bloody hell, lad,’ said Dad, shaking Daniel’s hand so hard I thought he might pull his arm off. ‘Where’s all that weight gone? You used to be a right porker, and now you look like a bloody male model!’

  I cringed inside, even though Dad was only saying what I’d been thinking since I saw Daniel again. My mum poked him in the ribs, and Becky was staring at my old pal with undisguised amazement. I’d told her what he looked like now, but seeing really was believing.

  ‘I discovered exercise, Mr Malone,’ replied Daniel, apparently not at all bothered by the conversation—he’d probably expected nothing less from a bunch of gobshite Scousers he knew and loved. ‘And I moved out of my parents’ house, so I wasn’t always getting a fry up for breakfast. That definitely helped.’

  ‘Well, you look wonderful,’ answered my mum, leaning in for a kiss and leaving another lipstick mark on the other side of his poor face. ‘What do you think of our Jessy, then, Daniel? Wasn’t she amazing?’

  ‘I always thought she was amazing, Mrs M, you know that—but tonight was perfect. I’m sure she’s going to be a huge star, and do you all proud.’

  I felt a warm and fuzzy sensation begin to build up inside me, and realised again how lucky I was and that maybe it was going to be all right after all. Of course my parents loved me. Of course they were proud of me. We were just hitting a few bumps in the road because everything was moving so fast—and we would get through it. It would all settle down, once we all adapted. Nothing was so broken we couldn’t fix it.

  I don’t think I’d realised how stressed out about them I’d been until then. For some bizarre reason, I’d been subconsciously worried that choosing my career would mean leaving them behind—but just then, hearing my mum’s words and seeing my dad’s proud grin, all those worries floated away. My family were proud of me, my oldest friend in the world was by my side, and I’d just been featured on a single that was likely to be a huge international hit. I shouldn’t be worrying—I should be feeling frigging fantastic.

  Relieved as I was, my body was still exhausted and felt like quitting on me. Seeing Daniel had given me a momentary boost, but I still couldn’t stop my hands from trembling, and I felt unsteady on my stupidly high heels. I felt myself sway and wobble, and leaned in to Daniel for support. Part of my brain registered how very nice and firm his body felt next to mine, and part of it started to crackle and fuzz like an old radio.

  I was so tired my eyes were blurring. I needed to sit down, get some food, and rest. If I didn’t, I had the sneaking suspicion that I was going to throw a whitey, without even having had the drugs.

  ‘Are you all right, hon?’ my dad asked immediately, stepping forward to hold my shoulders and stare at my face. Whatever he saw there didn’t seem to please him a great deal, and I watched his expression change from pride and pleasure to something like horror.

  ‘You’ve not taken anything, have you, love?’ he asked, and I felt my mum’s gaze sharpen in response.

  ‘No!’ I said, a bit too loudly. ‘Of course I haven’t!’

  ‘Just tell me if you have,’ Dad said, not at all bothered by the fact that I was annoyed with him, ‘because I can see that most of the tossers in this place have. You don’t drive a cab round Liverpool on a Saturday night for as many years as me without knowing the signs.’

  I shook him off, stood up straight, and prayed I stayed upright. The anger helped. Anger not just with him for doubting me, but with myself—because only a few minutes ago I had been tempted. I had almost given in. But, well, like a good girl, in the end, I’d Just Said No. That had been hard, and now my reward was getting quizzed by my own Doubting Thomas of a father. The first words out of his mouth hadn’t been about how proud he was, but to ask me if I was drugged up.

  ‘I. Am. Not. On. Drugs. But I might as well be, for all the good saying no seems to do! I’m just knackered Dad—knackered and now a bit disappointed. I need to … go. I need some food. I need some air. I need a break …’

  I don’t think I’ve ever managed a good storming off before—I’m the sort of person who trips over their own feet as they try, or walks into a lamp post—but I must admit I managed it that time. I turned my back on my own family and stormed back into the mass of bodies and the hive of noise and the swell of strangers. I didn’t really know where I was going, and I didn’t really care—something inside me had snapped.

  Maybe it was seeing Daniel, and believing his little pep talk. Maybe it was the contrast between my short-lived hope that everything was going to be all right and realising just how tired and stressed I was. I couldn’t do it any more—stand there with them, pretending everything was great, when it really wasn’t great at all.

  ‘Jess!’ said Daniel, grabbing hold of my shoulder as I strode away. I whirled around to face him, and realised that
I’d lost the battle against the tears. The anger had finally pushed them over the edge, and I swiped at my own face, irritated with my own weakness.

  ‘What?’ I snapped, unfairly. None of this was his fault—Daniel had never been anything but a force for good in my life—and I immediately regretted my waspish tone.

  ‘Sorry!’ I said, straight away, reaching out and patting his arm in apology. ‘Nothing to do with you—I’m just sick of it. I’m working my backside off, and I’m finally on the verge of making all my dreams come true. But I’m so tired I just snapped. It wasn’t about what my dad said about the drugs. It’s just they’re always nagging me about visiting and phoning, and nothing I do seems to be enough. I’ve worked for this—I deserve it, Daniel! I’m doing it as much for them as me, and they’re treating me like a naughty little girl who needs to fall into line!’

  ‘I know. It’s hard. But Jess—to them, you are still a little girl. And they’re worried about you. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t say those things. They’re more concerned with you as a person than you as a cash cow and—believe me—you’ll see some vile things in this business, and eventually, you’ll realise how lucky you are that your family don’t care how much money you make.’

  I let out a huge breath, and stayed silent for a moment, letting his words sink in and trying to calm myself down.

  ‘Yeah. Okay. I know you’re probably right—you usually are. And maybe we can get through all of this. But right now? I just can’t do it any more. I need to get away from here. Just … tell them I’m leaving, will you? Tell them I’m all right, but I’m leaving, and I’ll speak to them tomorrow.’

  He nodded, and I stretched up to kiss him goodbye. On the lips this time, as we’d run out of places to leave make-up marks. An unexpected tingle surged through me as I did it, and the contact lasted longer than I’d planned. I felt his hands on the small of my back, pulling me closer, and for a second I wondered what the hell was about to happen, but just as quickly he broke away, running his fingers through his hair and looking slightly flustered.

  We stared at each other for a few more seconds, the music and the chatter and the haze of the party seeming to retreat into somebody else’s reality as we did. Had I imagined it, or had we just had a ‘moment’?

  Before I could wonder any further, he mumbled, ‘Take care of yourself, Jess,’ turned around, and left—heading right back towards my parents.

  I stood there for a bit, arms dangling by my sides, probably looking as vacant as your average shop window mannequin, before shrugging and walking away. Men. They were a complete mystery to me, and I was never very good at puzzles.

  I scanned the crowd and spotted Jack, deep in conversation with Vogue next to the bar. I’d had this crazy idea that I’d find him, persuade him to take me away from all this, and go back to his flat for a takeaway and sex. That would have been the perfect distraction from my familial woes, and the perfect antidote to what had just almost happened with Daniel—that thing that might have almost happened with Daniel, but I might also have just completely imagined. I wasn’t exactly stable just then.

  The problem was, I couldn’t think of a way to make my intentions known to Jack without revealing our super-secret relationship to Vogue. They showed no signs of slowing up or walking away from each other, and I couldn’t hang around there all night.

  My phone was with the rest of my stuff back in the dressing room, so I headed in that direction. I decided I could get my bag, indulge in a bit of textual intercourse with Jack, and if I was lucky scrounge up a few snacks from the backstage staff while I was at it. Win win.

  I made my way through the crowd, stopping to chat, smile, and pose for photos—eyes and teeth darling, eyes and teeth—all the way. Eventually, I burst through the door into the dressing room, and lay down on the floor.

  The venue itself was very posh, very glam, and very perfect for a single launch. The floor of the dressing room, though, I have to say, was not very posh or very glam or very perfect for anything at all—unless your thing was snorting dirty carpet fibres through one nostril.

  Still, it was flat, and it allowed the whole of my body to stretch out, without having to fight gravity and my own physical exhaustion in a losing battle to stay standing. I reached up with one boot and managed to nudge my bag off the chair, happy to see it crash land right by my hand. I’d have been gutted if I’d had to move and crawl across the minging carpet to get at it.

  I scooped out my phone, and a two-bar KitKat I’d stashed in there earlier for emergencies. I decided this qualified as an emergency, and slit open the foil wrapper, biting a big chunk off both fingers at once. The chocolate hit my tastebuds so hard I thought my mouth was going to explode, and I rolled around on the floor for a moment, moaning in ecstasy as I chewed. Good, that was good.

  Once I’d climaxed and all the KitKat was gone, I messaged Jack: ‘Back to yours for a curry and a shag?’ it said. I’ll admit it wasn’t subtle, but as chat up lines went, it had worked for me before. I stayed there on the ground, holding my phone up above my head as though I was taking the world’s grungiest selfie—lying on a grotty rug covered in KitKat smears.

  I heard the door slam open again, and Neale walked through it, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw me, and looking on in horror.

  ‘Don’t do it!’ he shouted. ‘Don’t take a picture—one of your boobs has made a break for freedom!’

  I glanced down and, sure enough, all that chocolate-based orgasming and rolling round on the floor had dismantled one half of Neale’s tit-tape masterpiece. I held the phone in one hand, and shoved the booby back in with the other. At least it hadn’t happened while I’d been talking with Daniel—that whole scene had been confusing enough as it was without accidentally flashing him.

  ‘I wasn’t going to take a picture,’ I said, dragging myself into a seating position. I was aiming for standing, but stalled halfway. ‘I’m waiting for a text … but it doesn’t look like it’s coming. Are you still going out tonight?’

  ‘Yes! Me and some of the dancers and a few of my friends from beauty school. Do you want to come? Have you found your second wind? Do you want me to wrangle your bosoms again?’

  I thought through all his questions, and wondered what I did want to do. Not that long ago, I’d wanted to go home, alone, and drink hot chocolate. Then I’d almost snorted drugs with a journalist in a nightclub toilet. Then I’d fallen out with my parents, and come very close to shagging my oldest childhood friend. Jack wasn’t replying to my message, and a gang of attractive gay male dancers wanted to go clubbing with me. My life had become a very strange place.

  ‘Yes to all of it,’ I said, hauling myself up. ‘But only if you promise me one thing.’

  ‘What’s that, my treasure?’ Neale said, immediately going to work with the magic tape.

  ‘We get to call at a McDonald’s on the way. There are some problems that only a Big Mac meal will cure. ‘

  Chapter 25

  The next morning, I felt so ill I suspected the only thing that would cure me would be decapitation. I’d drunk so much I couldn’t even remember getting home, but as I was in my own bed, I clearly had done. Neale and the boys could really put it away and, for some reason, once we’d arrived at the club, I’d decided that tequila slammers were my friend.

  I was wrong, I realised, rolling around under the duvet, holding my head in my hands and wondering if I could physically tear it off. Tequila was nobody’s friend. Tequila had persuaded me it would be a great idea to go stage-diving into the waiting arms of a few hundred of my closest strangers; tequila had convinced me that recreating the bar-dancing scenes from Coyote Ugly was an even better idea; and tequila had somehow fooled me into thinking that snogging the one non-gay man I could find working behind that bar was equally desirable.

  After that, it was all a blank. Like all those bitchy non-friends we’ve all had, tequila had abandoned me and left me to get home on my own, not caring if I fell down a manhole or got abducted
by aliens on the way. Tequila was rubbish at sticking to the Girls Look After Each Other When They’re Drunk Code.

  At least, though, I was on my own, I thought, kicking my toes around the bed a bit just to make sure there wasn’t someone really small in there with me. I’d been so bladdered, anything could have happened—which was stupid for any woman at the best of times, but especially stupid for someone in my position.

  Neale had assured me that the club was ‘safe’—that celebs went there all the time, even some of the closeted ones, and nobody ever posted pics of them on Instagram or tweeted about seeing them. ‘You’re free to make as much of a twat of yourself as you like, my little petal,’ he’d said, kissing me on the cheek before he dragged me off into a thronging mass of disco-buff bodies.

  By that time I’d snaffled my Big Mac, put the blow-up with my dad to the back of my mind, and decided I was more than capable of forgetting about both Daniel and Jack for at least one evening. What better way to forget about one group of men than by spending the night with a completely different group of men? I think there may also have been a sneaky extra McDonald’s afterwards as well. I was living the dolce vita and no mistake.

  I eventually persuaded my body to co-operate, climbed out of bed, feeling nauseous, tired, and very, very bruised. I paused in front of the mirror, and saw big, dark blue marks forming on my left hip. Ah. Mystery Night Out Injuries. They weren’t the first I’d ever had, and they probably wouldn’t be the last.

  I tried to avoid looking at my face, but caught a glimpse of it by mistake. It was a disaster zone, and I ran straight for the shower to try and scrub it off. First the old make-up, but then the whole face, if necessary.

  Just as I’d managed to strip naked, so hungover I got tangled up in my own legs twice as I tried to climb out of my knickers, I heard the doorbell ringing. I ignored it to start with—the building had a doorman who never let anybody up without permission, and I hoped that if I left it long enough, they’d stop pressing the buzzer. It might just be the postman or a delivery person or a bottle of tequila with arms and legs, popping round to see if I fancied some hair of the dog.