Valentine (15 page)

'Is that what you really think?' Jack demanded. 'That
I'm some kind of gigolo rent boy? God, you have a low
opinion of me. I'll tell you what, I'll leave you to your
character assassination.' And with that he got up, grabbed
his leather jacket and marched out of the room.

There was stunned silence round the table. Valentine
couldn't bring herself to look at anyone. Toby cleared his
throat and was the first to speak. 'First nights can be very
emotional events. I'm sure a well-timed apology to Jack
tomorrow will iron everything out.'

'Or paying a pensioner to give him a well-timed blowie!'
Lauren said cheekily. Whenever there was a line, Lauren
always liked to cross it.

Valentine ignored her and turned to Toby. 'I just don't
know what came over me. It was that woman being so
rude and everything and oh my God!' She covered her
face with her hands, mortified by her behaviour. 'I can't
believe I said those things to Jack.'

Toby put his arm round her. 'Come on, you're just
tired and emotional; I'll get you a taxi home, my treat.'

'Thanks Toby,' Valentine replied gratefully. She did
need to get out of there fast.

'When you said older women, just how old did you
mean?' Nathan asked. 'I'm feeling vaguely turned on by
all this talk of pleasuring.'

'Shut up, Nathan!' Lauren replied, punching him on
the arm. 'Or I'll give you pleasuring.'

'Time to go,' Toby said, steering Valentine out of the
bar.

The following day Valentine arrived at the theatre early
in the hope of seeing Jack. She had already texted him
to say sorry, but he hadn't replied. Well, she couldn't
exactly blame him, could she? It was time to eat a large
(hopefully carb-free) slice of humble pie. She hung around
in the corridor outside the boys' dressing room, chatting
to Toby, hoping to see Jack before she had to get changed.
She didn't want to make the apology in nipple tassels.
She needed to get some dignity back. But there was no
sign of Jack and by six forty-five she couldn't delay getting
ready any longer and reluctantly went into the dressing
room.

'No sign of him?' Kitty whispered sympathetically.
Valentine shook her head. A few minutes later Toby
popped in and said that Jack had arrived. Apparently he
wasn't saying very much to anyone. Emily went on one
of her flirting missions and came back looking very petulant,
saying that Jack had snapped at her for no reason.

It wasn't until Valentine was backstage that she finally
saw him. Usually they would have a whispered chat before
their scene. Not this time. He stood as far away from her
as he could in the wings, with his arms folded, staring
straight ahead. Everything about his body language said
leave me alone
. But Valentine couldn't bear to go on stage
without at least saying sorry to his face. She tiptoed over
and lightly touched his arm. He remained looking ahead.

'Sorry Jack,' she whispered. No reaction. 'I'm really,
really sorry, I didn't mean those things.' Still no reaction.

Then just as she thought she was going to have to go
on stage without getting any response, Jack finally turned
to her. 'I had no idea you disliked me that much. I
promise to leave you alone from now on,' he said, face
expressionless.

Valentine was about to protest that on the contrary
she liked him very much, when it was their cue to go on.

For the next three days Jack kept his distance from Valentine.
The play was going well, better than Valentine could have
predicted, but she felt wretched about Jack. Kitty told her
she had to tell him how she felt, but Valentine was convinced
she had completely blown it with him. And suddenly she
realised just how much she wanted him. Really wanted
him, yearned for him, ached for him. She realised that in
spite of her emotional reaction to Finn's engagement, deep
down she'd always suspected it would happen. She thought
about how different Jack was from Finn – how warm and
open he was, how he had made her feel so good about
herself. Oh God, why had she pushed him away?

Finally on the fourth day of presenting a cold front
Jack joined the other actors for a drink in the Orange
Peril. Usually he would have sat next to Valentine on what
had become their sofa, but tonight he sat next to Toby.
He studiously ignored Valentine. He had never looked so
desirable or so unobtainable. Kitty exchanged a sympathetic
glance with Valentine, who sighed and despondently
swirled the vodka and ice around in her glass and
wondered whether to blow her no-carb rule and eat a
bumper bag of Walkers.

'That's fantastic news, Jack!' Toby suddenly exclaimed
and everyone looked over expectantly. 'Jack's just been
offered a part at the Manchester Exchange in
King Lear
,
without even having to audition.'

'You jammy bastard!' Kitty exclaimed then added,
'Congratulations, that's brilliant.' She got up and gave
him a big hug.

'Well done, Jack,' Valentine said, wishing she could do
the same.

'Thanks,' he muttered but he still didn't look at her.
'So when do you start rehearsing?' she continued,
desperate to hold his attention somehow.

Her question earned her a further mutter, 'Two weeks
after we finish.' Then he added, 'Perhaps there'll be a
wizened-faced, lithe-bodied crone I can get off with.'

No one knew whether to laugh. Kitty turned purple
trying to stifle a giggle.

Valentine took a deep breath, sensing it was now or
never to make Jack aware of her feelings. 'I didn't mean
what I said; it was completely out of order. And you're
wrong, I do like you; I like you very much. It was just
something from my past that shook me up and I took
it out on you and I shouldn't have. Please say you
forgive me.'

It was a full-on speech to have to deliver in front of
everyone else. If he ignored her she would be mortified.
But at last he looked at her and the coldness had gone
from his eyes. 'Julia was out of order as well. You're right,
she does still have a thing for me and in the past I did
encourage it, but not anymore. And in answer to your
other comment – there's only been one other older
woman. Hardly a harem, is it? You're the only woman
I'm interested in.'

Valentine suddenly felt very warm and her stomach
did that delicious-scary free-fall thing. 'So why don't you
cheer the fuck up and come and sit on our sofa?' she
demanded.

Needing no further encouragement Jack came and sat
down next to her. The others, who had been listening to
the exchange open-mouthed, suddenly pretended to be
engrossed in conversation. It wasn't subtle but Valentine
appreciated the effort.

'So do you accept my apology?' Valentine asked
tentatively.

'Only if you can guarantee what you just said was
true,' Jack replied.

'I can say it again or I can do this,' Valentine answered
and she leaned forward and kissed him – a sensuous, this-kiss-is-going-places
sort of kiss, a get-a-room sort of kiss.
She pulled away and whispered, 'Do you want to come
back to mine?' Suddenly she wanted him so badly, she
didn't care about anything else.

Jack nodded and his whispered 'Yes,' sent a shiver of
lust through her.

As they got out of the taxi Valentine said, 'We should
have champagne to celebrate your new play.'

Jack took her in his arms. 'How about celebrating us,
here together.'

'Good idea, and also if you're crap in bed the champagne
will help me get through,' Valentine said, winding
her arms round his neck.

'I'm not crap in bed,' Jack whispered.

Valentine's stomach did another lurch; she didn't doubt
it. As soon as she pushed open the off-licence door Robbie
and Tom went into their prisoner routine. 'Miss Fleming,
ma'am, it's so good to see you!' Robbie called out, 'We've
missed you something awful. Is there any news of our
pardon?' Valentine glanced at Jack, who was looking
bemused.

'Boys, I have no news for you,' she replied in her
Southern Belle accent. 'As you can see I have a gentleman
caller and would appreciate you got me my liquor. It's
champagne tonight.'

'Oh,' Robbie stared back at her with a crestfallen
expression, while Tom reached for a bottle of whatever
champagne they had on offer.

'It's just a thing we do,' she explained to Jack in her
normal voice.

'So you're the prison governor and they're your
prisoners?'

'They're on death row,' she replied.

'But Miss Fleming is trying to get us pardoned,' Robbie
put in. He looked seriously put out by Jack's presence.

Jack's mouth twitched as he said, 'And I'm the pervy
one with an older-woman fetish? Whereas you've got two
young men in prison. Who's the pervert now?'

'It's not like that,' Valentine reverted to Southern Belle,
'I've been encouraging these young men in their Bible
studies.'

'Come on, Scarlett O'Hara,' Jack answered, handing
over the money for the champagne and ignoring
Valentine's protests that she should pay.

Outside they both burst out laughing and Valentine
said, 'Now you must think I'm a complete mentalist.'

'No, just a pervert. And you do know that poor Robbie
fancies the arse off you, don't you? I thought he was
going to hit me. I was relieved the glass was there to
protect me.'

'Well, unlike your ladies, I'm not into younger men,'
Valentine replied as they crossed the road and walked up
the steps to the house. Inside the flat the banter deserted
her and nerves took over. Lauren was round at Nathan's,
so Valentine had the place to herself and while she
grabbed the wine glasses Jack wandered into the living
room. There was a loud expression of pain as he sat down
on the sofa.

'Sorry!' Valentine called out, 'I meant to warn you
about the springs.' She walked into the living room to
discover Jack ruefully rubbing his thigh.

'Interesting sofa you've got, sort of like an instrument
of torture. And it's fucking freezing in here!' His voice
became softer. 'I need warming up. Come here.' He held
out his hand.

For a moment she hesitated, then she took it and he
pulled her towards him. And then in spite of the wickedly
uncomfortable sofa they kissed, and kissed, and kissed. And
Valentine gave in to her desire for him, exploring his beautiful
body. Then she knew what she wanted to do; she was
going to show him that there were blow jobs and blow jobs.
She got down to business and enjoying the whole activity
far more than she did ordinarily. In fact, she felt very turned
on. He really did have the most magnificent . . .

Jack groaned, 'It's no good.' Immediately she sat up,
offended; she'd always been complimented on her technique.
Jack caught sight of the look on her face and said,
'No, no, it's not you! It's the spring! It's like I'm having
a lumbar puncture. It's like being tortured and going to
heaven at the same time.'

Ha, so he did like her technique. 'OK, let's move to
the bedroom,' Valentine said, trying to put on a husky
voice like Julia and getting up from the sofa. 'And don't
lose that.' She pointed to his impressive erection.

'Is there something wrong with your throat?' Jack asked,
pulling up his jeans and following her out of the room.

'No,' Valentine replied. 'Be quiet and get on the bed.
And don't look like that,' she continued, seeing the dubious
glance Jack gave her double futon. 'Futons are very good
for the back.'

'I never realised you were a sadist, Valentine Fleming,'
Jack said, obeying her. They lay down together and as
Jack leaned over her to kiss her he took his T-shirt off
with one hand, in one fluid move – revealing his toned
chest. And yes it was hairy, but actually it was sexy hairy,
not repulsive hairy, and his back had none. But oh God,
who cared about all that now, because Jack's chest and
back, in fact his whole body was a thing of beauty . . .

'So much for waiting until April,' Jack said when they
were finally lying in each other's arms, enveloped in a
blissful post-sex haze. 'I knew you wouldn't.'

'Yeah well, I only did it with you tonight to keep warm,'
Valentine said teasingly, while thinking what a truly delicious
experience it had been. Making love with Jack had
none of the awkwardness she usually associated with
having sex with someone for the first time. Instead everything
had felt so right and for once Valentine hadn't felt
self-conscious about her body. Usually she was paranoid
about being completely naked with a man. Whenever she
was with Finn she always kept her skirt or a camisole on,
certain that he would be comparing her to Eva. But Jack
had freed something in her and in his arms she had felt
beautiful and sexy. When he had unbuttoned her red silk
dress he had done it gently, reverently, as if he was
unwrapping a beautiful present and wanted to appreciate
every second.

'So you didn't find that a mindblowing, bone-melting
sexual experience, up there as one of the best ever?' Jack
demanded and when Valentine didn't answer he whipped
off the duvet and exposed her to the freezing air.

'Put it back on,' she squealed. 'All right I admit it, it
was very good.'

'Just good?' Jack replied, still withholding the cover.

'Fantastic!' Valentine confessed and Jack wrapped her
up in the duvet.

'Fantastic is the right answer,' he replied, pulling her
on top of him.

'But,' she murmured, kissing his neck, 'there's always
room for improvement. And what did you mean "one of
the best"?'

'Fleming, that was just the start.'

Valentine's prediction that Jack was a player was proved
way off the mark. He made no secret of their romance,
to the obvious dismay of Emily who became even more
petulant in the dressing room, and to the delight of the
rest of the cast, who were pleased for them and also
relished the chance for a good gossip. Being with Jack
was a revelation. She felt as if she'd gone from winter
to summer emotionally. He made her feel as if anything
was possible. She loved the fact that everything with him
was straightforward and clear-cut. When he said he
could meet her, he met her, and when she texted him,
he replied. There was no skulking around in the middle
of the night, no furtive secret encounters, no lies to be
told or to be lived with. She felt cherished, desired, good
about herself. She was discovering that love didn't have
to hurt. And although she had vowed not to tell anyone
apart from Lauren about Piers, she found herself
confiding in Jack.

'I can't believe you've had so much going on,' Jack
exclaimed when she told him the whole story late one
night as they lay in bed together. 'You've handled it so
well.'

'I haven't really; I just haven't been allowing myself to
think about it and the play has been a great distraction.'

And it was true Valentine had been so caught up with
acting and with Jack it was as if she had put her feelings
about Piers on ice. 'But I know I'll obsess about it when
the play ends.'

Jack held her tighter. 'Don't obsess; you can always tell
me how you feel. I don't want us to have any secrets.'

Valentine didn't want them to have any secrets either.
But while she had opened up about her father, there was
one area of her life where she couldn't bear to let Jack
in. Jack knew she'd had an affair with Finn, but she
couldn't bring herself to reveal the hold he'd had over
her for so long, or tell him about their clandestine
meetings. Finn was her guilty secret.

'I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I think I'm
really going to miss the Orange Peril.' Jack was speaking
as he and Valentine and the rest of their gang were out
drinking on the play's penultimate night. Valentine
nodded and looked round the table, which was crammed
with glasses and empty crisp packets, at the people she'd
grown so close to over the last two months; she was going
to miss them. She would probably even miss Emily, who
had finally loosened up and got off with Xander, which
had put a smile on her face, though probably not for
long according to Kitty, who revealed that a friend of
hers had had a fling with Xander on another play and
ended up with an STD.

'Hey, why the sad face?' Jack asked, putting his arm
round her. She leaned back against him.

'I hate things coming to an end,' she replied. 'I hate not
knowing what, if anything, I am going to be doing next.'

'Something will turn up. And there's a couple of weeks
before I go to Manchester. We can hang out together
loads – but only if you promise to keep wearing the nipple
tassels, just for me – my private show,' Jack replied.

'I am going to be burning those things!' Valentine shot
back. 'Never again and I mean
never
. They have chafed
my breasts and humiliated me!'

'You've always got me to kiss them better and as for
humiliation – no way – you were magnificent.'

Valentine appreciated the compliment but that didn't
stop her coming out with her next comment. 'I bet you'll
forget all about me when you go to Manchester.' There,
she'd come out with it – the thought that kept sneaking
into her mind ever since their first night together.

Jack looked at her, surprised. 'Valentine, I want you
and I'll want you even more when I'm away. Why don't
you come up and stay for a couple of months?'

'Because you'll be wanting to bond with the other actors
and I don't want to be the saddo out-of-work actor girl-friend,'
Valentine said slightly bitterly.

'There's only one actor I want to bond with right now,
and that's you. Take me back to your place and I'll show
you how much.'

* * *

After Jack had proved not once, but twice how much he
wanted to bond with her, they lay curled up together. 'I've
got something to tell you, Valentine Fleming. I've wanted
to say it practically from the moment I met you,' Jack
whispered.

Valentine almost held her breath, and traced her finger
round his dragon tattoo. Was he talking about what she
thought he was? Lauren had told her never ever to say
I
love you
before the man. It was one of her many commandments,
along with, 'Sleep with a man once and he doesn't
make you come, shame on him; sleep with him twice and
still no result shame on you.'

'I love you.' There, he said it.

Valentine's heart gave a cartwheel and backflip of sheer
joy, while the judges held up cards with perfect tens. Jack
looked at her expectantly and Valentine left it as long as
she dared before replying, 'I love you too.'

'You bastard!' he exclaimed. 'I thought you weren't
going to say it!'

Valentine softly kissed his lips. 'I was always going to say
it.' Later, when she thought he was asleep, she whispered,
'So would you come back for me?' She was referring to
their film,
The English Patient,
to the scene where Katharine
is lying, injured in the Cave of Swimmers and Almásy her
lover has to leave her and cross the desert for help.

'Yes, I would come back for you. I would never
leave you.' He curled his body around her so she was
encircled by his warmth. In contrast to Finn, Jack held
her all night, and never let her go.

* * *

The final show went fantastically well – one of those
nights where everything came together and the action felt
fluid and seamless. Valentine was left on a high. She would
keep the demons away, tonight at least. There was still
silence on the Piers front. Maybe he hadn't got her letter;
she would write again. Tonight was for celebrating and
living in the moment, forgetting that there was uncertainty
about tomorrow.

But that all changed when she walked into the bar at
the end of the show, and there sitting in the corner were
Finn and Tamara. What the fuck were they doing here?
She was strongly tempted to leave, but just at that moment
Finn noticed her. Immediately he walked over and kissed
her. 'V, that was a brilliant performance.' Then he whispered,
'Tell me you're keeping the costume; I have got
to get you alone with those nipple tassels.'

'What the hell are you doing here?' Valentine
demanded, pulling out of his embrace.

'Seeing the show, of course! I've been wanting to see
it for ages. This is the first chance I got. I'm so proud of
you V, you really were great. Come and join Tamara and
me for a drink.'

'Dragged yourself away from your fiancée, did you?'
Valentine was determined not to be taken in by him again.

Finn pulled his hurt expression, 'I feel just awful about
that, V. It was wrong of me not to tell you. I'm so confused
about everything. Please come and have a drink. I can't
bear for us not to be talking.'

Part of Valentine wanted to turn round and walk out
of the bar, but she was so programmed to doing what
Finn asked that she muttered about just having one drink
and trailed after him. How ironic that he should come
now. The number of times she had wanted him to see
her in a show! This was not one of them.

'Hello Tamara,' she said, giving the obligatory air kisses,
'I didn't think this was your kind of thing.'

Tamara smiled. She looked every inch the star in a
Missoni maxi-dress and stood out a mile in the shabby-round-the-edges
theatre bar. 'But I absolutely adore
Shakespeare, Valentine! In fact I'm going to be in
a Shakespeare myself.' She paused, just long enough for
Valentine to think
smug cow
, before she continued, 'I'm in
Lear
in Manchester; I'm playing Cordelia. Didn't Jack tell
you?' Inside Valentine felt as if she'd been punched, she
shrugged, trying to keep her face as expressionless as
possible, aware of Tamara staring at her and weighing
up her reaction. Fortunately at that moment one of the
audience came over and asked Tamara for her autograph.
Tamara gave a coy smile and signed with an extravagant
flourish on the programme the man handed her.

'You really should ask Valentine; she was actually in the
show!' Tamara trilled, but the man said, 'Oh thank you
but no, I just want
your
autograph.' Trust Tamara to make
her feel bad. But then she was a master in the art of self-esteem
crushing. Really she should run classes on it.

At that moment Jack walked into the bar. He looked
more than a little surprised by Valentine's company. She
smiled ruefully at him and he walked over.

'Jack – what a great Bottom you were,' Finn said,
reaching out and shaking his hand.

'And you are?' Jack asked, but Valentine had a feeling
he already knew exactly who he was.

'Finn Steele. And you know Tamara Moore, don't you?'

'Hi again Jack. I can only second what Finn said; you
were marvellous. I can't wait for us to be on stage together.'

Valentine seethed inside. God, how she loathed
Tamara.

'I don't think Edmund is ever actually on stage with
Cordelia,' Jack replied abruptly.

'Anyway, let me get you both a drink; your usual I
presume, V?' Finn sounded so possessive, so knowing and
at any other time in the last year Valentine would have
loved it. Now she wanted him to shut up. She nodded.
'And for you, Jack?'

'Just a bottle of Becks, thanks.' Jack's answer was barely
audible.

'And Tamara, please don't ask for Veuve as I'm
completely broke,' Finn continued.

'Don't be silly, Finn! I'll have a vodka and tonic –
slimline.'

Tamara talked at Jack while Finn was getting the drinks
in. 'I am nervous of course; it's been so long since I've
done stage, but Alan, the director, has been absolutely
lovely.' She was clearly expecting Jack to gush that she
would be wonderful blah blah blah; instead he replied, 'I
can see why you would be nervous – shooting a film and
being on stage night after night, when you've only got
yourself, no special effects, no editing, just you, doesn't
really compare does it?'

Tamara gave one of her annoying tinkly laughs, but
looked slightly peeved that Jack hadn't come out with the
sycophantic comments she was used to.

Another fan approached the table at that moment and
Tamara signed another autograph, leaving Valentine free
to tackle Jack.

'Why the fuck didn't you tell me?' she whispered.

Jack sighed. 'I didn't want to put you on a downer for
your last show – I only found out today.'

'She's got her eye on you,' Valentine said gloomily,
imagining how eager Tamara would be to get her talons
into Jack. And as she was so beautiful and so skinny, who
was to say that Jack wouldn't be tempted?
'And I've only got eyes for you,' Jack replied, leaning
over and kissing her.

Finn returned at that moment with the drinks, lightly
touching Valentine on the shoulder as he handed out the
glasses.

So there they were – the boyfriend, the girlfriend, her
ex and the woman who was giving out signals that she
would so like to step into Valentine's shoes where Jack
was concerned. It made for a supremely awkward ten
minutes. Finn was looking at Valentine with his I-want-you
eyes; Jack was glaring at Finn; Tamara was gazing
at Jack and Valentine was trying to give Jack reassuring
I-am-your-girlfriend vibes.

'So what else have you been in?' Finn asked Jack, the
two of them sizing each other up in that Alpha male sort
of way, which Valentine would have found funny if she
hadn't known both of them.

'This is only my second play,' Jack replied. Was it her
imagination or was he suddenly sounding more Norf
London? And less RP?

'I see,' Finn answered, raising an eyebrow as if to say
loser
.

'Jack has only just started acting,' Valentine put in.
'He's a trained barrister.'

'Oh right, couldn't hack it?' Finn replied.

'No, I could hack it,' Jack said in low voice, almost a
growl, 'I just didn't want to.'

Any minute now they'd be squaring up to each other.
In fact maybe it would be better if they had a fight and
got it out of their systems. There was so much testosterone
swirling around (mainly from Jack) that Valentine
could almost smell it.

'Anyway,' Valentine cut across their macho fest, 'Jack
and I have to go now. Thanks for the drink; see you later,'
and she got up and practically dragged Jack from the bar.
At the doorway he paused and pulled her to him and
kissed her hard. Kissing Jack was always a gorgeous
experience, but this felt too much like he had something
to prove, that he was putting his mark on her.

'Jack,' she said, breathless, when he had finished, 'I'm
with you.'

'Are you sure you don't still have feelings for him?' he
demanded. 'I saw the way he was looking at you. And
why the fuck did he turn up anyway?'

'I've no idea, I didn't ask him. And I'm with
you
,' she
repeated. 'Now, come on, let's go to the Orange Peril. I
want to get away from those people.'

* * *

But that night in bed after they'd drunk long into the
night with the cast, saying their emotional goodbyes, after
she'd made love with Jack and he lay sleeping next to her,
Valentine couldn't sleep. Her mind felt as if it was on
overdrive. There was the unresolved matter of her father
and there was Finn. Now he couldn't have her, it seemed
he wanted her. It was both bitterly ironic and entirely
predictable. Well, he could carry on wanting her; he was
never going to have her. And Valentine tried to hold on
to that thought, even when he texted her at four in the
morning:
Want you Fx.
For the first time ever she didn't
reply.