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Chapter Twenty-Three

My new house is incredible. I keep wandering around it just letting it sink in that this is my home.

It has this big sweeping staircase, as you enter, that leads you up to the bedrooms. It reminds me of a fairy-tale tower or something, I can just imagine gliding down the stairs in a butter-yellow ballgown, a prince waiting for me at the bottom.

That’s what I keep reiterating to the press, “My Prince Charming is out there, I know it,” and with this house I can definitely believe it.

Although do I really want a man in here, ruining the vibe and leaving wet towels and balled up socks all over my perfect palace?

The living room has floor to ceiling windows that open out onto this huge garden that stretches so far I can’t even see where my “land” ends and the neighbour’s “land” begins.

I love calling my garden my “land,” it makes me feel posher than anyone on Born In Buckinghamshire !

My kitchen has one of those ‘islands’ – I’d said to the builder I wanted one of those things that you see on crime dramas, where the wronged woman pours herself a huge glass of wine, dramatically wraps her cardigan around herself and ponders who’s really doing the murders.

He’s definitely delivered on that. I even have a wine fridge, which, at the moment, is full of sugar-free Red Bulls.

It’s been work non-stop since Sebastian was caught with his cock out.

Fliss was right (she always is) – sometimes the way to stop worrying about other people and what they think or what they’re saying is just to keep busy.

I’ve done so many different magazine shoots and interviews, I have been invited to so many parties and have been up-and-down to London more than ever.

I’ve been papped flirting with a male model, an up-and-coming actor and four of the Carry on Chelmsford lads.

The best thing is none of these have been set-ups, I actually was flirting with them all.

It’s like I have this glow radiating off me, or maybe even a sexy scent, men just can’t keep away.

It’s just a pity I’m only existing on the Red Bulls at the moment, and they may give you wings but I still don’t have enough energy for any actual shagging.

The press are absolutely loving it too, they’re calling me Queen of Revenge:

Angelica’s on a one-woman mission to prove that the best revenge truly is never looking back.

After her Born In Buckinghamshire scoundrel boyfriend, Sebastian, was caught in a filthy ten-woman orgy in one of the UK’s seediest (and priciest) dungeons, Angelica has been showing us all how to handle a break-up in style.

Everyone’s keen to work with her and her thriving in the face of heartbreak has even been dubbed by girls all across social media as “doing an Angelica” with them posting themselves looking hot, in the wake of splitting up.

Meanwhile, the others aren’t all thriving so well.

Samantha was secretly filmed being a cow to a shop assistant and since then she’s been laying low, apparently Ben said she’s not to say yes to any party invites for the next two months.

Which is great for me as I won’t bump into her anytime soon, and also, I think she got what she deserved.

Samantha’s always acted like people who work in hospitality are beneath her, she rarely says “thank you” when ordering a drink or even looks at the waiting staff when ordering at a restaurant, I’ve always hated it.

As for Damon, it’s not that he’s been caught doing anything particularly bad, it’s just he’s mostly only mentioned in conjunction with me, with some papers speculating that, now Sebastian’s out the way, the pair of us might reconcile.

I have, and I’m sorry to admit this, snipped those clippings out as souvenirs.

I’m beginning to lose sight of my original mission, was it to get revenge on Damon by being this hot, unattainable girl?

Or was it to get him back? I just don’t know.

What I do know is that most of the time I’m too hungry to properly think about it.

The other night, to stop me from ordering a McDonalds I indulged in one of my other vices: him.

I messaged Damon and invited him to the housewarming tonight.

He replied straight away, and said he “wouldn’t miss it for the world. ”

I’ve invited Leo too, who says he’ll be there but his message had no kiss at the end.

Does this mean I should tell him to bring Molly along too?

I’d toyed with the idea the party might be the chance to finally show Leo that I’m over Damon and that, if he still thinks about that time we spent together at the Angel of the North, maybe we could take a chance on us.

But for the first time since I was crying my heart out over Robbie Thompson, there’s a voice inside that’s telling me not to rush into anything new; that maybe, for a while, I should be OK with just being me, not half of a couple.

Either way, I will enjoy flaunting this gorgeous house.

Not that it’s quite the reveal I’d intended.

Alongside all the usual appearances and pap shots the papers run, other tidbits keep making their way into the press too.

None of them are necessarily bad things or anything very controversial, but I don’t understand how they’re leaking out.

The cost of my house, for example, and how much I’ve spent on the redecoration.

Or the fact that I’ve hired magicians for the party tonight.

The thing is, neither me, nor Fliss, are the ones giving these little nuggets to the press, as they’re always things that make me look like some spoilt princess or as if I’m losing touch with reality. One article even said that…

As reports come in that Angelica has dropped a whopping ￡10,000 on her housewarming party, including hiring three magicians who will perform tricks, alongside a litter of puppies who will entertain guests in cute outfits, insiders are saying that the once-down-to-earth North Stars fave is losing touch with her audience.

Animal charities have questioned her decision to use “puppies as props” and say that Angelica should be setting an example that puppies are for life, and not party favours.

It’s all hugely over-exaggerated, I have hired a magician for the party, but just one and he’s my cousin.

He wanted to practise his new hobby. And the closest I’ve been to puppies is meeting my mum’s newly-adopted dog, Frankie, and she’s definitely not a party favour!

Mam won’t even bring her over to mine in case she chews my new furniture.

The thing that’s confusing me is I’ve been trying to keep all of this stuff a secret, as I wanted it to be a surprise for my guests.

So how did the papers get hold of it? I will get to the bottom of this.

I’m trying to rise above it all but I don’t like the slightly malicious tone creeping into the articles.

Whoever is leaking these stories to the press doesn’t have much to go off now, but what happens when they do?

I know I signed up for fame but I didn’t think it would involve having to second guess the closest people in my life and whom I share my secrets with.

The only people who knew about the magician were Leo, Madison and Layla.

I know it can’t be those three. When anyone dropped stories on me before the obvious suspect was Samantha.

She has, as they say in my crime dramas, a motive.

She wants to come out victorious and win Reality TV Star Of The Year and so sabotaging me with unflattering stories would be the perfect crime.

But these latest things she definitely didn’t know and would have no access to.

I down one more Red Bull, then begin to assess how I’m going to prepare for the house party.

Fliss said I should have hired party planners, considering it’s going to be such a big press moment for me, but that felt far too indulgent.

We threw parties, well mostly after-parties, in the North Stars house all the time, I can do it alone.

See! Sell that to the press! But they wouldn’t run that as it makes me look far too chill and laid back and doesn’t fit with this diva Angelica image they’re clearly trying to push.

I’ve not got fancy caterers in, just the same local firm that did the vol au vent buffet at all our family occasions growing up, and there’s a big supermarket order arriving any minute, with plenty of emergency booze, multipack crisps and the ingredients for a lethal punch I found online.

It’s not like I’m going to touch the food anyway – eating is cheating, I remind myself when my stomach rumbles.

And the house speaks for itself, I don’t need fancy food and drink on top of this pad to impress people.

Everyone is going to get a shot of tequila rose on arrival and then they can just help themselves to the buffet.

We can always order pizzas later if people seem too hammered.

I’m mostly hoping that everyone strips off and piles into the swimming pool.

And I texted Madison and Layla some strict instructions earlier:

Be ready to cause chaos, girls. It’s not a party without gossip.

It’s officially off again with Marc so I hope you’ve provided some fit lads for me to climb like a tree. Mxx

I’ve made 300 vodka jelly shots, reckon that’s enough? Lx

Layla, 40 people have been invited.

You’re right. I’ll make 100 more.