the points of view switch, just so you know. It starts off Cheryl's POV <3
Cheryl’s POV
I can’t sleep. I doubt whether I’ll ever be able to sleep again. Every time I close my eyes I see the girl from the signing, the one with the baby. What was she called? Kimberley, that was it. I’m in an expensive hotel room, feeling like I’m drowning in the huge king sized bed, tossing and turning, not able to forget her face. It wasn’t the kind of face that you can forget easily, because she was very, very beautiful. She had long, soft hair and full lips and huge eyes like a baby deer. I wanted to reach out and touch her hair, see if was as soft as I’d imagined it being. I wanted to watch her lips as she talked, as she smiled. And her eyes...there was something in her eyes that made me want to take care of her, hold her close. ‘She looked like a lost angel’ I thought.
And the baby. Something inside of me hurt so badly that I wanted to cry just thinking about her. “Diana, like the princess” I’d said. I suddenly realised that comparing her to a troubled, heartbroken woman who died far too early was a stupid thing to do, to say. She was just so, so perfect. I’d never seen anything so tiny and yet so faultless in every way. For a wild moment I allowed myself to imagine how it would feel if she were my daughter, my baby, not the daughter of some teenage hooker. But then I shook myself, feeling like a terrible, horrible person.
“That poor girl” I muttered aloud, trying to make myself feel more compassionate. Turning over for what felt like the millionth time that night I looked at the tiny card on my bedside table. Propping myself up on my elbows and clicking on the lamp, I picked it up and read the words @Kimmi_W on one side. I looked at her handwriting. It was slanted and confident, and she drew little circles instead of just dotting the ‘i’s. I flipped the card over and yet again read what was printed there. The address of a strip club called ‘Bad’ along with the silhouettes of two girls on poles. It was right here in London. I ran my finger over the word ‘Bad’, trying to imagine a Kimberley there, working. The thought appalled, disgusted me. The thought of her eyes, those angels eyes, seeing those things, the idea of her lips, the same lips that kissed her beautiful baby daughter, doing...I closed my eyes, not wanting to allow those images into my head.
“She’s seventeen” I found myself repeating “she’s seventeen, she’s only seventeen.” The girl with the cute, shy little sister and adorable baby daughter. The girl who had spent the whole day painting my fan’s nails. The girl with the most stunning curves and gorgeous smile that I had ever seen...
I got up, throwing back the covers and slipping into a pair of jeans and a huge hoodie, carefully putting the business card into my pocket. I had no idea what I was going to do, the only thing I knew for sure was that I had to do something, anything. I glanced at the time on my Blackberry, 01:09am it read, before ringing my driver.
Ten minutes later I was in the back of a glossy black BMW outside London’s most exclusive and expensive hotel. Leaning forwards to the driver I said “I want to go to ‘Bad’, the club in Soho. Do you know it?”
He didn’t look at me, but I could tell from his voice that he was smiling. “You bet I do” he replied, starting the engine. I sat back, watching the city fly past, remembering how it felt to be young and alone again.
He pulls up on the opposite side of the road to a small, dingy nightclub, with a huge neon sign reading ‘Bad’ and some flashing lights in the shapes of girls on poles just like the ones on the business card.
“This is it” said the driver, as if I couldn’t tell.
“Can we wait a minute?”
“Yeah” he says, and turns the radio on. I rested my elbow on the door, looking at the club. I could see a group of men, standing outside and smoking. I watched the smoke furl from their lips, collecting and becoming almost solid on the cold night air. They were laughing, slapping each other on the back, and they were surprisingly old. One of them had a bald patch as big as a tea plate on the back of his head. I knew men like them, with their sweaty hands and heavy bodies and breath that smelt of cigarettes and whisky. I didn’t want to think about them with Kimberley, their bodies near to hers.
I watched the lights and the way that they reflected in the puddles on the dark, wet pavement. Pink, red, pink lights reflected all over the street as the sign flashed and flickered. I suddenly realised that it was raining and the fat raindrops were splashing onto the window, blurring my vision as if I were crying. I wound down the window, sure that no-one would notice me, but equally sure that I had to be able to see clearly. I had no plan, no idea of what I should do, maybe just walk into the strip club and ask to see Kimberley...I realised that I didn’t even know her last name. I took the card out of my pocket and read it yet again, turning it over and over in my fingers. ‘@Kimmi_W’ I wondered what the ‘W’ stood for, maybe Williams or Walker.
This was all so stupid. I could just go home, go back to the expensive hotel suite, take a few sleeping pills and go to sleep and forget about the whole fcuking thing. Why should I care anyway? Didn’t she have friends, parents to help her? And even if this was the right place, and I went in and she was there, what would I say ‘Hi, I’m Cheryl Cole, and I know we’ve only met once, but I’d quite like you to stop having sex for money and go back to school. Oh, and you’re an irresponsible mother and I’d do a much better job of bringing up that child than you could ever do.’ Even in my head it sounds stupid. I leant forwards, about to ask the driver if we could go back to the hotel, when I saw her.
The door of the strip club banged open and a man almost fell into the street. At first I thought he’d been chucked out of the club, but then a girl followed him. A girl wearing silver platform stripper heels and a tiny black dress, so short that you could see her suspenders, and a man’s jacket, far too big for her, wrapped around her shoulders. Even though I’d only seen her once, I knew that I’d recognise that body anywhere.
The man looked around for a taxi, swaying drunkenly on the spot, then he said something and laughed. She laughed too. I wondered if I could hear fear in her laugh, I wasn’t quite sure. I wondered if her heart was beating as fast and as loudly as mine, so loud I was sure that she’d hear it. He pulled her close, whispering to her, his hand on her arse. I watched as a taxi came down the street, and he flagged it, his other hand still touching her. I wanted her to pull away, but she didn’t, she waited for him to get into the cab before ducking to follow him.
As she bent her head, her eyes met mine across the dark, wet street. Her beautiful eyes, horribly dilated, (though through fear or something else, I couldn’t tell) registered shock, amazement and then shame. Her mouth opened slightly, and she moved her hand towards her head. We seemed to spend forever in that moment, looking at each other as if we could never look enough, before she got into the cab and closed the door, slamming it hard. I watched it drive away, its tyres splashing through puddles and spraying the pavement with water. I listened to my heart hammering inside my chest.
Then I leant forwards to the driver and said shakily “take me home pet.”
Kimberley’s POV
I slumped in the back of the cab. I wondered if you could have a heart attack when you’re seventeen. ‘If you can, this is what it would feel like’ I thought. Cheryl fcuking Cole was outside the club. What the fcuk was she doing there? Looking for me? The idea made me feel sick, sweaty, and I remembered the way I’d written my twitter name on the back of a business card. How could I have been so stupid? How was I meant to know that she’d follow me? I tried to calm my breathing.
The man, I even couldn’t remember his name, edged closer, his breath on my neck hot and stale. “Babes” he slurred. I looked at him, his eyes out of focus, his mouth slightly open like a panting dog. ‘He’ll pay you’ I tell myself, trying to be calm. And I try not to think about Cheryl as I let him touch me.
