Valentine (19 page)

'To the birthday boy!' she called out, holding up a glass
of champagne – vintage, naturally. Valentine had a sudden
pang for that morning when she and Jack had shared the
cheapest she could find in Sainsbury's. Then Tamara
handed Jack an exquisitely wrapped present. Jack looked
slightly awkward as he unwrapped it to reveal a copy of
To Kill a Mockingbird
– one of his favourite books.

'Tamara, this is too much,' he said, sounding embarrassed,
especially when he opened the cover and saw it
was a first edition. 'Really too much.'

Tamara looked like the cat who had got the cream –
fat-free in her case. 'It's just a little thank you for being
so sweet to me and helping me through this difficult time.'

Valentine felt a flash of jealousy at the thought of Jack
giving NTM any attention.

Jack shrugged. 'I really haven't done anything.'

But Tamara lowered her voice, making the exchange
between them intimate, 'You have, Jack, you've been my
rock.' Her voice caught with a sob as she carried on,
'You've been like Atticus Finch standing up to the bullies
who would bring me down.'

The woman was an egomaniac! Fancy comparing her
situation to that of the persecuted African American falsely
accused of rape! She was just a bad actress and she only
had herself to blame for that.

Still, Jack was simply being nice to Tamara because
that was the kind of person he was, Valentine tried to tell
herself. She should be happy that she had such a lovely,
generous, warm-hearted boyfriend. The pep talk didn't
work. Her mood grew darker.

Seb pulled her back from the brink by asking her about
A Midsummer Night's Dream
. 'Jack said you were absolutely
sensational!'

'Not sensational enough, apparently,' she said. 'I've
heard nothing from my agent.' She took another sip of
champagne, but the drink, which had made her feel so
high this morning, was now having the opposite effect.
She just wanted to go. She looked appealingly at Jack,
but he was still being monopolised by Tamara. Valentine
hated to admit it but she felt jealous and insecure. She
was just hours away from getting the train back home,
leaving Jack with Tamara. And Jack's plan to have a quick
drink then leave did not materialise as the director of the
play turned up and ordered more champagne.

At five o'clock – just half an hour before Valentine's train
– they finally left.

'I thought we weren't going to stay long,' Valentine
said, aware that she sounded petulant, but unable to stop.

'I know, I'm sorry.' He put his arm round her. 'I'll
make it up to you next time, I promise.'

'You know NTM really fancies you,' Valentine
continued.

'She doesn't,' Jack protested, but he didn't look
Valentine in the eye. 'I told you she's having a hard time
and she sees me as an ally.'

'Do you have to be her ally?' Valentine persisted.
'Couldn't you just keep a cool and polite distance?'

Jack removed his arm. She'd exasperated him. 'Clive
is bullying her. I hate bullying, that's all.'

'So if the situation was reversed and say it was me and
Finn and he was having a hard time and I was just being
kind and he was buying me expensive presents, you
wouldn't mind?'

'It's completely different! You've got previous with Finn.
Tamara is just a colleague. I really don't know what your
problem is with her. Yes, she can be annoying and she
isn't as talented as you and it is a shame that she's got to
where she has because of her connections, but that's just
the way of the world. She's completely harmless and actually
quite sweet when you get to know her.'

Valentine saw red. 'You've got no idea! She was vile
to me at drama school, never missed an opportunity to
put me down, and she's been like that ever since.'

'She's probably just insecure because she knows that
you're the better actress.'

'Oh yes, that must be it! She's jealous of my glittering
career! Who knows what exciting roles the coming week
has in store for me! Maybe I'll get another booking to be
a party fairy and be groped by some lecherous dad, or I
can help out at the yummy mummy music group again
and be criticised for not putting my all into "The Wheels
on the Fucking Bus"! No wonder NTM is jealous of me;
I mean, how can the role of Cordelia compare with all
of that?' The anger and jealousy was pouring out of her.

There was a pause when they both stood glaring at
each other in the station – a direct contrast to their
romantic meeting two days earlier. Oh God, she couldn't
part like this!

Jack was the first to speak. 'Don't let's argue. It's not
important.' He put his arm round her again. 'Are you
sure you can't stay tonight? I could smuggle you into my
digs. I promise I won't let the bed bugs bite and I'll hide
the pink crocheted lady loo roll cover.'

'Really? That cover would have been one of the highlights
of my stay,' she attempted to joke. 'But no, I can't,
Jack.' It was tempting, but she knew she would feel ten
times worse in the morning when Jack left for his rehearsal
and she had an empty day ahead of her.

'I love you, Valentine,' Jack said as they hugged by
the ticket barrier. She buried her face in his neck, getting
one final hit of Jack and Eau Sauvage. So much more
romantic in the past when lovers could wave each other
off at the platform. 'Love you too,' Valentine said. There
was nothing at all romantic about going through a ticket
barrier on your own.

It was a miserable journey back to London. The train
was packed. The air-conditioning had broken and it was
sweltering. 'We should be able to get our money back,'
the large man opposite her kept repeating at regular intervals.
The heat didn't seem to have suppressed his appetite
and Valentine watched him put away a Big Mac, fries
and an apple pie. In the heat of the carriage the smell
of the fast food seemed to linger. Valentine had brought
one of Jack's T-shirts back to snuggle up with in bed
because it carried his scent, but at this rate all it was going
to smell of was bloody McDonald's – hardly the Proustian
memory she had hoped for. Her iPod battery had gone
flat, but she put the headphones in anyway, hoping to
protect herself from any more comments from fast-food
man, and shut her eyes for good measure. She was already
missing Jack and hating the fact that they had nearly quarrelled
as she left. Had she been in the wrong to be so
negative about Tamara? She didn't want to seem like a
bitch, but she really couldn't stand her. Just thinking about
her again and about the way she had hijacked Jack's
birthday made Valentine feel angry, irrational and very
insecure.

'Does this say "daughter of famous film director" to you?'
Valentine demanded, walking into the living room where
Nathan was doing sit-ups (proper Army-style hardcore
ones, she noticed in some awe) while Lauren lay on the sofa
languidly eating Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia from the
tub.

Valentine was off to meet Piers and his wife Olivia for
lunch at Nobu in Mayfair. It was to be her second meeting
with Piers and her first with Olivia. Since she'd met Piers
in Hampstead they had been sending each other emails
regularly. And Valentine had found herself warming more
to Piers. She discovered he had a very dry sense of humour
– but it still felt strange every time she remembered who
he was. She was nervous about Olivia, certain that she
would be a force to be reckoned with, and she wanted to
make a good impression. All her dresses, a mixture of
Vintage and Top Shop, appeared a little shabby by
daylight. In the end she'd chosen a green halterneck with
a fitted waist and full skirt, with a little black cardigan
over the top. She'd spent ages taming her hair so it hung
in soft forties-style waves and not in a mad frizz. The
question was, would she do?

'V, you look great, but I don't know what a daughter
of a famous film director is supposed to look like, except
Sophia Coppola. And you don't look like her, sweetie.'

'Because she's so slim,' Valentine said gloomily.

'No! Because you have a completely different look,
birdbrain!'

'You look gorgeous V,' Nathan panted, now doing press-ups.

'I don't mean to witter on,' Valentine sighed, perching
on the end of the sofa. 'It's just that I really want Piers
to like me.'

'Do you like him?' Lauren demanded.

'I don't know him yet. But he is my father. I'm still
hoping for some kind of connection.' Valentine couldn't
bring herself to say "dad". She'd already had a dad –
Chris. Piers could never replace him.

Lauren put down the empty tub of Cherry Garcia. 'V,
if he doesn't like you then he is some fucked up
motherfucker.'

'
Lauren
!' Nathan and Valentine chorused. Nathan fully
supported Valentine's campaign to get Lauren to stop
saying "motherfucker".

'Oh shut up American Boy and get on with your press-ups.
I thought your abs seemed a little slack this morning,'
Lauren shot back.

'Nothing to what yours will be if you keep mainlining
ice-cream,' Nathan replied, but they were smiling at each
other. It was definitely love, Valentine thought as she
headed out of the house.

'So Valentine, isn't that a boy's name?' That original
question came from Olivia. She was several years older
than Piers, in her late fifties, but still intimidatingly
beautiful in an ice-blonde sort of way, with cheekbones
to die for. She had not been giving off especially friendly
vibes. Valentine had tried to see things from Olivia's
point of view. It was understandable that she would be
wary of her husband's daughter suddenly appearing on
the scene. All the same, her cool manner had been
disconcerting.

Valentine nodded and launched into her usual explanation,
all the while aware of Olivia observing her, and
not just Olivia. Piers had also brought along Saul Morrison,
one of the screenwriters he worked with, explaining that
he wanted Valentine to get to know the people he was
closest to. Valentine would have preferred one-to-one time
with Piers. She hadn't warmed to Saul one little bit.
Alongside Olivia, he had interrogated Valentine about
her acting CV and the looks he gave her made it clear
that he thought she was a loser. He seemed to be dissecting
her every move and every expression, as if storing them
for future use. No doubt people were just source material
to him. If that wasn't enough he was wearing the
loathsome chinos. She felt supremely awkward. Piers was
making an effort with her, but Saul and Olivia were so
aloof. No one was drinking alcohol and in Olivia's case,
not eating anything either. Valentine had long wanted to
taste black cod in miso, but she was too aware of Olivia
monitoring her mouthfuls to enjoy it.

'Valentine was at drama school with Tamara Moore,'
Piers told Olivia when there was a lull in the
conversation.

'Such a lovely girl!' Finally the ice queen looked
animated. 'And isn't she in
Lear
at the moment? We'll
have to go, Piers. Though,' and here she seemed to
shudder slightly, 'isn't it in Manchester?'

'Not a fan of the North?' Valentine asked teasingly. 'I
love it myself.'

'Of course I like the North; what are you suggesting?'
Olivia demanded, her grey eyes bulging slightly, a vein
pulsing in her lovely long neck. 'One of my horse sanctuaries
is in Cheshire; I'm always going up there.'

'Nothing at all,' Valentine mumbled. Maybe Olivia just
had no sense of humour and preferred horses to people.
Valentine had long been wary of horse people since her
days as a horse-mad ten-year-old and having to deal with
Mrs Trimmer, the fearsome owner of the stables. Mrs
Trimmer strode around in mud-caked boots, a filthy
Barbour, fag hanging out of her mouth and woe betide
you if you hadn't groomed or mucked out her horses to
her satisfaction. In fairness she adored her horses – it was
just the people she didn't care for. Maybe Olivia was like
Mrs Trimmer – except a beautiful, non-smoking version.

'And Valentine's boyfriend is in the play too,' Piers
carried on, oblivious to any discord. 'So we can all go
together. It's Jack Hart, isn't it? Great name for a movie
actor.'

'Jack Hart?' Olivia said, 'That name sounds familiar.
Yes, I remember. I saw a picture of him in some magazine
with Tamara.'

'Did you?' Valentine asked, slightly rattled. 'Was it
about the play?' Jack hadn't mentioned that he'd been
interviewed.

'Actually I've got it on me.' She reached into her pink
Hermès Birkin bag, which Valentine knew cost thousands,
and pulled out a copy of
Grazia
.

Valentine froze as she took in one of the headlines on
the cover: 'Does Tamara have a new leading man?' She
suddenly felt sick. There was a whole article devoted to
Tamara's stage appearance. That didn't concern
Valentine, though ordinarily it would have got right up
her nose. It was the picture that was holding her attention
right now. The picture of Tamara and Jack sitting
outside a cafe, laughing together and looking intimate.
The strapline underneath it named Jack and there was a
quote from Tamara's agent saying there was a new man
in her life but it was early days and she was not prepared
to name him. However the juxtaposition of the photograph
and the comment made it clear what conclusion
people were supposed to draw. How stupid she'd been to
trust him. She was a complete and utter idiot. She should
have realised there was something going on when he started
defending Tamara. With some effort she dragged her eyes
away from the magazine. Olivia and Saul were watching
her intently to gauge her reaction. Self-preservation
kicked in; she wasn't going to let these two know how this
really made her feel.

'Oh, Jack's been helping her out with the play. Apparently
the actor playing Lear has been giving her a hard time
because she hasn't done much stage work and has been
saying that she can't act.'

'Oh,' Olivia replied. And it was interesting just how
much meaning could be conveyed in that tiny word.
Olivia's 'oh' read like
You silly, stupid girl, he's shagging her.
You're history.

'If you'll excuse me, I'm going to find the bathroom,'
Valentine said as calmly as she could.

As soon as she was out of sight she practically sprinted
to the ladies', where she locked herself in the cubicle and
promptly threw up her lunch. Probably this was the only
thing she had done so far that Olivia would approve of.
She scrambled in her bag for her phone and called Jack.
No answer. He was either rehearsing or shagging Tamara
Moore in her penthouse apartment. Silly, stupid Valentine.
Of course he was going to be interested in Tamara, with
her glittering career and beauty. Men didn't care about
massive arses if the rest of the package was so slim. Hadn't
he said that he loved Valentine's backside? And that was
more of a J-Lo than a Li-Lo. She left a garbled message
about seeing the magazine and needing to speak to him
urgently. She closed her eyes and tried to chant Lauren's
core-of-steel mantra. No good. She felt crushed. But
somehow – the lack of steel notwithstanding, she managed
to pull herself together. She went through the motions of
repairing her make-up, then slowly walked back to the
table.

'Are you OK Valentine?' Piers asked, sounding concerned.

'I expect she had a phone call to make,' Saul put in.
God, he was horrible. A chinos-wearing poisonous toad.

'Actually my agent rang; I've got an audition tomorrow.
Would you mind if I left now, so I can prepare?'

'What's it for?' Olivia asked.

'Just a small role in a new Jane Austen TV drama.'
Oh God, they'd all been done, hadn't they? Why did she
say that?

'And who's directing it?' Olivia carried on.

Valentine shook her head. 'I didn't ask, actually.'

'Well you should find out. It's important, isn't it, Piers?
Now Valentine is associated with you.'

Piers shrugged. He seemed embarrassed by Olivia's
comment.

'I probably won't even get it,' Valentine replied,
desperate to get out of there.

'Well, with that attitude you won't!' Saul put in. A
chinos-wearing poisonous motherfucker of a toad.
Valentine ignored him.

'Thanks for lunch, Piers,' she said, putting out her
hand to shake his. 'Lovely to meet you, Olivia, and you,
Saul.'

She scuttled out of Nobu at high speed, but just outside
walked straight into Julia Turner arm in arm with a very
good-looking young male companion. Jack Mark Two.
Were there no other restaurants in London that a
successful stage actress could have gone to with her latest
arm candy? Bloody Julia husky Turner! She was all set
to ignore her but Julia had seen her. She waved a copy
of
Grazia
at Valentine. 'Interesting reading, Valentine.'

'I'm in a rush actually, Julia.'

'A word of advice – I've known Jack far longer than
you and one thing you might not be aware of is just how
ambitious he is. He probably kept that side of himself
under wraps as he was in an off-West End play. But he
wants to make it. And I think he'll do whatever it takes
to get there. I was useful to him for a while, you were a
diversion and now he's got Tamara. You have to agree
it's a perfect match.'

Valentine so wanted to make a cutting remark, but she
was too hurt. All she could do was repeat that she had
to go and walk away from Julia as quickly as she could.
She was in complete turmoil. She couldn't face going
home to an empty flat and she knew Lauren was at a
casting. As soon as she was far enough away from Nobu,
she phoned Jack again. No reply. Now on top of the hurt
she was starting to feel angry. She stormed through
Mayfair, cried all the way down Oxford Street and ended
up in Soho Square. The bright sunshine, the people lying
on the grass, chatting and having lunch, seemed to mock
her. She phoned Kitty, Rufus and Toby and got their
voicemails. She phoned three more friends, also on voicemail.
And finally she called Finn. 'Can I see you?'

On the journey to Richmond she kept hoping that Jack
would ring. He didn't. It was five in the afternoon –
Jack must have had a break from rehearsals by now; he
must have got her messages. There could only be one
possible reason for him not replying to her. He was Tamara
Moore's new leading man. He just didn't have the guts
to tell her. Valentine's self-esteem plummeted to an all-time
low. Jack didn't want her anymore. It was such a
beautiful June evening, the horse chestnuts in full bloom,
the gardens backing on to the river a riot of colourful
flowers, the river glinting in the last rays of the sun. But
Valentine was blind to the scenery.

Finn was already sitting at a table outside the pub by
the river. As soon as he saw her he took her in his arms
and held her tight. 'Poor V, sit down and tell me all about
it. I've got you a double vodka. I thought you might
need it.'

Valentine slumped next to him. 'I just can't believe
Jack would do this to me. He made such a big deal about
how I could trust him and it was all fucking lies!' She
rapidly drank the vodka and Finn went to get more drinks.
Right now, self-medication with alcohol seemed like the
only option. She kept checking her mobile. No message
from Jack. She tried texting –
Saw the magazine. Have to
speak to you.
She was well on the way to becoming drunk,
a dangerous thing to be around Finn, but she couldn't
stop. She felt as if there was a demon of rage and hurt
inside her waiting to explode.

'And with Tamara fucking Moore of all people!' she
exclaimed as soon as Finn returned from the bar.

'Don't let it get to you V, he's not worth it,' Finn said
soothingly.

Valentine was in no mood to be pacified. 'I mean, I
expect that behaviour from someone like you!'

'Oh, you mean a gutless bastard who nearly destroyed
you,' Finn said dryly. Lauren had told Finn that to
his face. 'I am sorry about what I did, V. Truly.' He
put his arm round her. 'And if you let me get a word in
edgeways I can tell you my big news. I've split up with
Eva.' He paused for extra effect. 'The engagement's off.
Forget about Jack. We're meant to be together. I won't
let you down again, I swear. I want you, V, always have
done, always will.'

'Really?' Valentine struggled to take on board what
Finn was saying.

'I love you, V.' And he kissed her.

Valentine let him make all the moves and then she
kissed him back. Jack was probably kissing Tamara and
the rest. He didn't want Valentine any more; she had just
been a distraction easily discarded when someone better
came along. Valentine was beyond being rational and
reflecting that of course Julia would say anything to make
her feel bad. More drinks followed, then more drunken
snogging. And when Finn suggested that they went back
to his flat, she hesitated only long enough to check her
phone, still hanging on to the fragile hope that Jack would
have left a message saying it was all a horrible mistake.
There was nothing. By now it was last orders. Well, fuck
him. She wasn't going to sit around being a victim. She
switched her phone off.