I'll Be Home For Christmas. Abbey Clancy
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Born in Liverpool, ABBEY CLANCY balances her home life with her career as a model and TV presenter. She is an ambassador for many of the UK’s top brands and has designed her own clothing and jewellery lines as well as launching a range of baby products. Abbey is married to Premiership footballer Peter Crouch and has three small children. I’ll Be Home for Christmas is her second novel.
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018
Copyright © Abbey Clancy 2018
Abbey Clancy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © November 2018 ISBN: 9781474050753
Version: 2020-03-02
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For you, Mum.
Love you loads. Don’t know what
I would do without you.
Contents
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Acknowledgements
About the Publisher
There are many aspects to the world of social media that I find confusing. Embarrassing. Overwhelming, even.
Like when someone snaps a picture of me the morning after the night before, and sticks it up on Instagram without even a measly Willow filter. I mean, we’ve all been there, right? Your mouth feels like it’s been vacuum packed with a decomposing ferret, and your hair has gone full-on Walking Dead, and you know you’re just going to die unless you get immediate access to a paper bag full of McDonald’s hash browns?
Yeah. Well, imagine in that precise moment, someone incredibly chipper bounces over, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of you, and wants nothing more than to snap a picture of you together, no matter how grey your skin is or how far down your face your mascara’s slipped. Not good.
But – and I get this, I really do – it’s all part of my job. My job isn’t an ordinary job. It’s being a pop star – Jessika – to the world at large. Not very long ago at all I was the person who would have been bouncing over and asking for the pic, so I can’t complain. Not very long ago, I was scraping a living singing Disney covers at kids’ birthday parties, working as an intern at a record label, and filling in my lonely nights waitressing at glamorous showbiz events I wasn’t good enough to actually get invited to.
So I get it. I understand that it’s all part of my brave, weird new world – and that I have a responsibility to suck it up, smile for the camera, even if I really, really don’t want to.
I also understand that people will comment about me, and to me – posting everything from sweet compliments on my music through to borderline-stalker psycho abuse. I know everything I say and do will be analysed, twisted, churned up, chewed up, and spat back out by the media. I have help with that, in the form of my scary PR manager Patty, and I’m sensible enough not to take the nasty stuff seriously. I’ve worked hard on developing a thick skin, and coping with the demands of being famous.
One thing, though, I don’t think I will ever get used to is this: my mother is currently trending on Twitter.
To put this in context, my mother is a tiny Scouse powerhouse in her fifties, with dyed black hair, strong opinions and endless energy. I’d say she has zero per cent body fat, 200 per cent work ethic, and loves nothing more than her family, which includes my nan, who is officially ancient, my dad Phil, my older sister Becky, me and my little brother Luke (or The Knobhead, as he’s known to everyone who’s ever met him).