WAGatha Christie. See you in court?
Last week, it seems Rebekah Vardy decided her feud with fellow WAG Coleen Rooney over those infamous Twitter claims was far from over…
It’s been nine months since Coleen Rooney typed those now iconic words, ‘It’s… Rebekah Vardy’s account’ – thus beginning perhaps the most-talked about scandal involving British WAGs in history.
In the epic fall-out, now known as ‘ WAGatha Christie’, the footballers’ wives found themselves at war. Mum-of-four Coleen, 34, memorably pointed the finger at then-pregnant Rebekah’s social media for leaking stories to the press.
Yet Rebekah was adamant that she was not responsible. So adamant, she has now launched a £1m High Court lawsuit against her nemesis.
It’s a bold and risky move but it will no doubt make people stop and think about their position if they ever did think she was guilty.
This Whodunnit began to unravel last October when, in a historic spot of detective work, Wayne Rooney’s wife explained that she’d posted various false Instagram stories to a private account, to see if anything made it to the media.
When it did, Coleen claimed on Twitter that the only name listed as watching was... Rebekah Vardy.
‘It’s been tough keeping it to myself and not making any comment at all, especially when the stories have been leaked, however I had to,’ explained Coleen. ‘Now
I know for certain which account/individual it’s come from… I have saved and screenshotted all the original stories which clearly show just one person has viewed them. It’s.......... Rebekah Vardy’s account.”
A furious Rebekah, 38, vehemently denied all the claims. So if the battle gets as far as a courtroom it would presumably be for the sake of reinforcing or reinstating Vardy’s personal reputation.
At the time, Rebekah expressed shock, saying: ‘Can’t believe I’m even having to write this. I’m pregnant and on holiday and am at a loss to why she would do this. I’m now having to take legal advice as I can’t deal with this stress myself when I’m this pregnant... I’m not being funny, but I don’t need the money, what would I gain from selling stories on you?
‘I liked you a lot, Coleen, and I’m so upset that you have chosen to do this, especially when I’m heavily pregnant. I’m disgusted that I’m even having to deny this. You should have called me the first time this happened.’
Rebekah’s statement ended with a broken heart emoji.
Fans of both women went crazy. ‘This is the juiciest tweet I’ve read in years. I’m sorry this happened to you, but you should be in charge of Interpol.’
‘Does this mean Wayne and Jamie will have a charity boxing match?!’ asked one.
Who knows how this will end? In the words of Agatha Christie herself, ‘very few of us are what we seem’. Let’s see what the ladies – or the courts – decide to do next...
‘Would you like to dance?’ asked the tall, handsome stranger with twinkly eyes. I smiled and accepted. It was November 1988 and I was a widow in my 40s, having lost my husband, Peter, two years earlier to lymph node cancer.
That night, I was out with girlfriends at a singles club. In those days, there was no online dating. But for a £1 entrance fee, we could enjoy dancing and meeting others – if we splurged an extra
£1, there were free drinks and a buffet!
I was still grieving for Peter and raising our son, Robert, then 19, was my priority.
But I missed having a man to go out with. ‘Just a spot of male companionship,’ I’d think wistfully.
Now bopping around on the dance floor, my new dance partner shouted over the music that his name was Ken.
I also learnt he was going through a divorce. ‘Can I have your number?’ he asked, twirling me around.
Ken seemed like a nice guy. He was cheerful and easy to talk to. We started meeting up. Just a drink or a meal once a week at first.
But the more I got to know him, the more I liked him. Even so, we both wanted to take things slowly – I had my son to think about, and Ken
had his sons living with him.
But over time… our friendship flourished.
We became best of friends and slowly, that grew into love.
Before we knew it, we’d been a partnership for five years. Albeit one that didn’t live together! We were still raising our children, and were happy in our separate properties – Ken in Essex and me in East Ham before moving to Essex.
I even started helping Ken with his one-man drainage survey business. Of course, we holidayed together but, after flying back, we went to our separate homes.
Ken would stay with me on Wednesday and Thursday nights, then I’d stay at his on Fridays and Saturdays. There were advantages to doing things that way. Spending days apart, we always had plenty to talk about when we met up. It gave me a chance to see my girlfriends and catch up on the period dramas I enjoyed.
And we always called each other before bed to say goodnight… it worked.
Soon, our 10th anniversary came and went. We loved dancing, so together we signed up for some weekly jive and dance classes, where we made a lot of new friends.
Over the next 15 years, we carried on as we were: happy, in love and committed – but living in our own homes.
It just worked for us. Of course, my girlfriends thought I was crazy when I admitted to doing Ken’s housework. ‘Two lots of housework?’ they’d tease.
In 2012, our happy life was turned upside-down.
By then Ken was 69, retired, and seemingly fit and healthy. But after we lost a friend to prostate cancer, he decided to get checked and was diagnosed with the same disease.
Investigations found 14 cancerous samples in his prostate. It was a dreadful shock.
Telling family and friends was tough. For me, it felt like history might be repeating itself… I’d already lost one partner to cancer.
And we got through it together. I made him stay with me while he was getting treatment. And we were lucky, the outcome was good.
When he was fit and well again, I waved him off back to his three-bed house.
Five years later, in 2017, our happiness was shattered again. Ken was passing blood and was diagnosed with bladder cancer.
We cried and hugged. I told him: ‘ You’ve beaten it once; you can do it again.’
Ken had intensive chemo treatment and eventually was given the all-clear.
That same year, after our
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