The Footballer's Wife by Kerry Katona Page A

across the floor again, his arms raised in the air, and as the last beat of the song played he thrust his head and arms forward onto the floor as if praying to the audience. Everyone in the club was out of their seats, cheering and shouting.
    â€˜Bloody hell!’ Markie shouted to his mum over the cheers and applause. ‘He’s a dark horse.’
    Tracy nodded in agreement. ‘Isn’t he?’ she said in wonder.
    When Len Metcalfe came on stage and announced that Kent was the winner and would be going through to the Blackpool semi-finals to win a place in the Memphis grand final, everyone in the room stood up and cheered again. It made a nice change for Tracy to see Kent do something he was actually good at. In the four years they’d been together she had begun to have her doubts that he was good at anything. But something really didn’t sit well with Tracy. Even though all her family were there and she was proud of Kent for the first time in living memory, the only thing that she couldreally think about was Len Metcalfe. And the fact that he and Kent were shaking hands on the stage and being all pally pally made Tracy feel sick all over again.

chapter four
    â€˜SHIT!’ CHARLY SAID as she burned the toast for the third time. It was their maid’s day off and she was trying to make breakfast in bed for Joel. She put two more slices in the toaster and stood over it diligently until they popped out a golden brown colour rather than the blackened carcinogenic offerings she’d had to put in the bin.
    She buttered the toast and cut it into triangles before neatly arranging it on the Alessi tray, next to the orange juice, tea and poached eggs she’d managed to make. Cooking wasn’t Charly’s strong point but today she had promised herself that she was going to surprise Joel. He’d been in a foul mood all week; since the whole debacle with her dad both at the football and the restaurant. She knew her dad could be an oaf; she didn’t need her boyfriend constantly reminding her. But this week itlooked like it was going to have to be her that held out the olive branch, as it often seemed to be these days.
    Charly shimmied through into their bedroom. The view from the penthouse looked all the way across the city over to the hills near Oldham. To the other side the view stretched as far as Bradington, but Charly didn’t look that way too often.
    â€˜Here you go,’ she said chirpily. Joel threw the covers back and looked at his girlfriend and the tray she was carrying.
    â€˜I’m not hungry,’ he said, burrowing back under the covers.
    â€˜But I’ve made it especially for you.’
    â€˜You’ve made it?’ he sneered.
    â€˜It’s Monika’s day off,’ Charly said, looking forlornly at the tray.
    â€˜Well, if you’ve made it, I’m definitely not eating it. Don’t need food poisoning,’ Joel said from beneath the sheets.
    Charly felt wounded. She looked down at the small but lovingly made meal and then at the big lump in the bed. ‘Well, I’ve put a lot of time and effort into this. The least you could do is say thank you,’ she said, trying not to lose her temper.
    Joel had turned and smashed the tray out ofCharly’s hand before she realised what was happening. She looked down at the spilt orange juice and broken glass as Joel shouted, ‘I didn’t ask for any fucking breakfast, did I?’
    Charly leapt up angrily. ‘No, you didn’t, but I thought I’d make you some because it’s a nice gesture, not that you can even remember the meaning of the word
nice
.’
    â€˜Nice? I’ll tell you what nice is, shall I?’ Joel jumped out of bed. ‘
Nice
is putting up with your scumbag dad all night while he talks shit and badmouths me,
that’s
nice.
Nice
is not losing my rag when your dad gets booted out of the match for all to