The Footballer's Wife by Kerry Katona Page B

see,
that’s
nice.’
    â€˜That’s my dad, that’s not me!’ Charly shouted.
    â€˜Yeah, well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,’ Joel said, turning away from her.
    â€˜What’s that supposed to mean? What have I done? What is wrong with you?’ She didn’t understand his moods.
    â€˜Just fuck off, Charly, yeah? You’re doing my head in and I don’t need it.’
    â€˜God, this is so typical. You start a fight then you twist things and make
me
out to look like the bad person then you won’t even talk about it!’
    â€˜There’s nothing to fucking say!’ Joel spat angrily.The veins on the side of his neck were bulging. He went to march off and walked straight onto a shard of glass that was sticking out of the carpet. He leapt in the air like a wounded animal. Charly’s immediate reaction was to jump up after him. She grabbed his foot to inspect it. The cut was deep and the glass was protruding out at a right angle. Charly put her finger near the entrance of the wound. Suddenly she was knocked backwards with such force that she fell from the bed, narrowly missing the other pieces of glass that were scattered on the floor. She put her hand to her head in shock. This wasn’t the first time Joel had hit her, but it was the first time he had used such force.
    â€˜Call a fucking ambulance – this could be my career over!’ Joel screamed and to Charly’s surprise she did exactly as she was told. She didn’t scream and protest as she had in the past when he’d hit her, she calmly went over to the phone and dialled 999, trying to work out what she had done to deserve to be hit but thinking to herself that there must be some reason. It must be her fault in some way, otherwise why would her sometimes loving and caring boyfriend do such a thing? She looked at him as he rolled around the bed in agony. He didn’t meet her eye once.
    â€˜Is he going to be OK?’ Charly begged as she ran alongside Joel as he was wheeled through A & E. She knew they were drawing stares; any injury to Joel Baldy’s foot was potentially big news.
    â€˜The consultant will be here any minute. Then we’ll have a better idea. If you could take a seat in the waiting area, Ms Metcalfe, that would be a big help.’
    Charly looked at Joel, who managed a smile through his obvious discomfort. ‘Go on, babe, I’ll be alright.’ He winked at her. If Charly had been told about this situation before she had found herself sliding into it, she would have wondered why anyone would put up with such Jekyll and Hyde behaviour. But as it was, she clung to this display of positive attention like a sinking man to a life raft. ‘But I don’t want to leave you,’ she said, grabbing Joel’s arm.
    â€˜I’ll be alright, babe. Go sit in the waiting room; see if we’re in
Hello!
this week,’ he joked. The orderly pushing the football star along the hospital corridors laughed at this self-deprecating joke. Charly smiled; the Joel that she loved was back.
    â€˜If you go to the counter you can give the receptionist your details,’ the orderly informed Charly.She quickly grabbed Joel’s hand and mouthed
I love you
to him before setting off for the reception area of the casualty department. Joel winked at her.
    Standing in line, Charly realised that the receptionist recognised her. ‘Charly Metcalfe, isn’t it?’ The receptionist smiled.
    â€˜That’s right,’ Charly said, putting her hand to her head as she suddenly noticed the searing pain that was coming from the lump on her forehead. She hadn’t had time to think about herself; she had been too busy trying to get Joel to the hospital.
    â€˜That looks nasty, what have you done?’ the woman asked, poised to fill out a form to pass to a triage nurse.
    â€˜Oh,’ Charly said, shocked, ‘nothing. This? I banged my head. Really