I hurried back through the crowd, searching for Sacha. Just as I arrived, two huge security guards opened the doors and people began to file forwards, nervous but excited, some of them crying. I took the baby from my sister who looked so happy that I was worried that she might cry too. I crouched down to her eye level.
“Are you okay babe?”
She nodded furiously and whispered “am I actually going to meet her? Really?”
“See them doors over there?” I said, pointing to the entrance of the sop. Sacha nodded again. “She’s just through there. Not long to wait now kiddo.”
Soon people started to leave the shop, all either grinning ear to ear or in floods of tears, all clutching signed books and CDs. The queue started to get smaller, and we begun to edge towards the doors. Sacha went very quiet and clung around my legs, whispering “she’s just through there, she’s really just through there” to herself every few moments. The baby cried feebly, and I rocked her gently, praying that she would go back to sleep. And still the queue got shorter. I could feel the heat radiating from the open doors of the shop, the lights ablaze inside illuminating Sacha’s face, making her blink furiously. Time seemed to be moving in bursts, one moment I felt as though we would never get any closer, and the next, the grim faced security guards were drawing back the tape in front of the doors and we were suddenly inside the shop.
Sacha had got her well read copy of ‘Through My Eyes’ from her rucksack and was holding it so tightly it seemed to restrict her breathing, which seemed to come in excited little gasps. The baby stopped crying, confused by the sudden bright light, and I sung quietly to her. The only thing between us and where Cheryl was sat was another huge poster, blocking our view. We could hear voices though, and I could tell that Sacha was listening intently, trying to identify Cheryl’s voice.
“Kimberley” Sacha whispered. I looked down at her.
“Yeah?”
“I’m scared” she muttered. I tried not to laugh at her serious dark eyes and her pouting lips. What did she have to be scared of? I wanted to hug her, but I was holding the baby, so instead I awkwardly pulled her to me in a one armed hug with the baby between us.
Yet another security guard, built like a brick wall said “you can go”
“Where?” I said stupidly, before realising that we were at the front of the queue, and he was motioning us forwards. It was our turn. Breaking away from Sacha, I pulled her forwards. “Come on” I said to her. She clung to my legs, half tripping me up. I felt sick, tired, but tried to walk as normally as possible behind the poster, towards the table.
There were surprisingly many people around, security and management, I thought. But my eyes were instinctively drawn to Cheryl, sitting confidently alone at the centre of the table. The first thing she said to me was “I’ve been hearing about you”
“What?” I said, feeling as though the bottom of my stomach had been ripped out. She knew. Oh fcuk, she knew...
“You’ve been painting nails! I hope you’ve been charging them!”
I could breathe again. “It’s okay. I was bored, it was no trouble.”
“Where are you from?”
“Bradford. Im Kimberley, by the way.”
“And what’s your name babes?” she says, smiling at Sacha. Her accent was stronger than I remembered it on the TV.
“Sacha” my little sister into my leg, not making eye contact
“She’s a bit shy suddenly” I say, smiling down at her
“That’s a beautiful name! Are these your sisters pet?” Cheryl asked, nodding towards me and the baby. Sacha shook her head.
“No, I’m her sister, but this is my daughter” I explain. I saw Cheryl’s big, dark eyes glance over my body, trying to work out my age. She blinked
“How old are you pet?”
“Seventeen” her eyes widened. I wondered if she was shocked.
“Can I hold her?” she held her arms out to me, across the table. I hesitated, but beside me Sacha finally found her tongue.
“Yes” she said, so I said nothing, carefully passing the baby to Cheryl, who held her, cuddling her close.
“What’s her name?” she asked, looking at me
“Diana” I replied
“Diana” she repeated “Hello Diana. That’s a beautiful name, like the princess. How old is she? She’s tiny!”
I wondered if she always asked so many questions. “3 weeks”
“Look at her little fingers!” I saw her eyes glance over my baby just the way she’d glanced at me, taking in every detail, her dark curls, her long, dark eyelashes, her light brown skin, the colour of milky coffee. “She’s so beautiful. You’re so lucky.”
“Thank you” I smiled “I know”
“So do you go to school?” She asks
I laugh, and Sacha says “No, Kimberley’s a dancer!”
Cheryl’s eyes dart to me, full of genuine interest now “really? What type?” her eyes linger on my trainers “I’m guessing not ballet?”
Again Sacha replies before I get chance “clubs, she dances in clubs!” Mentally I swear. Why couldn’t Sacha keep her mouth shut?
“I work in bars too...” I say hurriedly, not sure whether I’m making myself appear better or worse. If Sacha wasn’t there I would have just said ‘I’m a hooker’ and not cared what Cheryl thought about me, but I couldn’t say that in front of my eight year old sister. Cheryl seemed to be thinking along the same lines, dark eyes now flitting from Sacha to my cap. I could see words in her eyes, ‘hooker, whore, prostitute, call girl’ all in her head. I suddenly wish it didn’t say ‘PIMP’ in such huge letters on the front of my cap.
“So you’re like...a call girl...”
“Yes”
“Oh.”
I looked at her, waiting for something in those beautiful dark eyes to shut down, waiting for her face to go blank, waiting for her to ask the security guards to get us to leave. I almost want her to hate me, but she doesn’t. “Oh” she repeats, and I realise that she looks upset. She’s still holding Diana, my daughter. She looks at me, and says, her voice slightly higher than normal, “are you on twitter?”
I’m shocked “ummm, yeah”
“What’s your name on there?”
“I’ll write it down for you” she passes me a pen, and I pull a business card from my pocket, writing my twitter name on the blank side. I pass it to her.
“Thank you” she says
“Please, can you please sign my book please?” asks Sacha, shyly pushing it across the table. Cheryl gently kisses Diana’s forehead before passing her back to me, so carefully that she could have been as fragile as a butterfly’s wing. Cheryl signed the book whilst Sacha chattered away. Cheryl was very beautiful, surprisingly beautiful. Her dark hair was glossy and perfect, falling almost down to her waist. She was thinner than I thought she would be, and her body reminded me of Sacha, her limbs thin like a beautifully toned insect.
“I want to be like you when I grow up” Sacha is saying
“You want to be a singer?”
“No, I want to be beautiful, like you. I love you.”
“I love you too! It’s been lovely to meet you, all of you” Cheryl says, giving the book back to Sacha “I won’t forget you” I hold Sacha’s hand, and mouth ‘thank you’ at Cheryl, who smiles at me, that million dollar smile that could bring an army to its knees. She blows a kiss to Sacha, who is grinning ear to ear. Then we turn away and leave.
I thought I’d never see Cheryl Cole again.
How wrong was I?
