Valentine (8 page)

Valentine suddenly wanted to be anywhere but the
Orange Peril. She did not want Julia Turner picking over
her life, judging her. She looked appealingly at Toby,
hoping he would change the subject. Mercifully he was
quick to react, and asked Julia what she was working on
at the moment.

'Oh I'm in
Street Car
, at the Donmar; we start rehearsals
next month.'

'Blanche Dubois, I presume?' Toby continued, as Julia
nodded while Kitty and Valentine shared looks of complete
jealousy at Julia landing such a fantastic role.

'I'd fucking love a part like that!' Kitty exclaimed while
Julia went to the bar with Jack to buy a round. Julia's
presence seemed to have unsettled all of them; even the
charming Toby seemed rattled. It was as if her glamour
and success were throwing a spotlight on them, showing
up the fact that they were only in a small off-West End
production while she was appearing in a cutting-edge
West End theatre.

'I didn't know Jack was seeing Julia Turner,' Valentine
said, wondering why he had lied and said he didn't have
a girlfriend when Julia seemed to think that she occupied
that role.

'Well,' Toby looked behind him to check the couple
weren't in earshot, 'they were together but I think Jack
broke up with her about three months ago.' Just as he
finished speaking Julia and Jack returned with drinks.

'Cheers, everyone!' Julia declared, holding up her drink.
'Good luck with your play.'

'And good luck with yours,' Toby replied graciously.
Now Julia was with them, much of the pleasure in the
evening had gone for Valentine. She was unsettled by
Julia's comments about Finn, and dreaded her bringing
up the subject again. However, Julia seemed more intent
on monopolising Jack. As Valentine chatted to Toby she
kept hearing snatches of Jack's conversation with Julia –
they seemed to be talking about Julia's daughter, Ruby.

'So where's Ruby tonight?' Jack asked.

'Oh she's at a sleepover,' Julia replied airily, then
lowered her voice still further, but Valentine heard her
say huskily, 'Why don't you come back?'

'No, Julia,' Jack replied, sounding exasperated. 'Please
don't ask.'

'Please don't make me then,' Julia said emotionally, then
lowered her voice still further so Valentine couldn't hear.
She suddenly wanted to go home; she needed to clear her
head. She quickly drained her drink, then stood up.

'Well, I'm off. See you all tomorrow.' She went round
the table kissing everyone good night but simply blew Jack
a kiss. Did he look disappointed that she was leaving? She
couldn't tell. She was in a bad mood all the way home.
Damn Julia Turner and her long silky hair; damn her for
getting such a great role. And from out of nowhere she
thought
damn her for being with Jack
. Now where did that
come from?

'You obviously fancy him,' Lauren told her when she
arrived back home, still seething. 'That's why you've got
the hump.'

'He's got a hairy chest!' Valentine exclaimed.

Lauren frowned. 'What's your problem? I like them –
they're very retro. Sexy. All that back, crack and sack
waxing makes me nauseous. It looks too much like plucked
chicken skin for my liking.'

'That's rich coming from you, Miss Brazil. Is there a
hair left on your fanny by gaslight? And anyway, it's not
about his chest. There's obviously unfinished business
between him and Julia I'm-so-gorgeous-husky-voice
Turner.'

Valentine was surprised how angry she felt. She and
Jack had got into the habit of phoning each other late at
night. When midnight came and went without a call from
him she felt angrier still. He was probably shagging Julia
Bloody Turner right now. Valentine imagined Julia sitting
astride him, her lithe, slender body moving rhythmically,
while Jack had his hands clasped round her waist (her
bloody tiny I-can-fit-into-children's-jeans waist), his dark-brown
eyes darker still with lust, she caressing his hairy
muscular chest, as he groaned with pleasure at every
movement of Julia's supple body and . . . WHAT was she
doing thinking about the pair of them in bed? She was
still angry the next day when she got up and went for
her run. The anger and nipple-tassels fear combined to
make her run faster and further than ever. But it did
nothing to improve her mood. She stomped into the
theatre determined to ignore Jack, but he sought her out
and handed her a skinny latte.

'Thanks,' she muttered; she didn't feel like being
gracious.

'I'm sorry about Julia bringing up the subject of your
ex last night. She can be blindingly insensitive.'

'I'm sure she's told you that I had an affair with him,'
Valentine said defiantly, though she felt anything but. 'I
expect you're going to judge me for it.'

He sighed and ran his fingers through his thick dark-brown
hair. He had black circles under his eyes and looked
knackered. 'I wouldn't do that.'

But that wasn't enough for Valentine and she continued
nastily, 'Kept you up last night did she, your girlfriend?'

'I told you, I don't have a girlfriend.'

'Yeah right.' Valentine felt as spiky as a sea urchin.

'I don't.'

'Oh, I get it. You don't
call
her your girlfriend, you just
see her every now and then for sex. Ha! So fucking
predictable.' Valentine was aware that her anger at Jack
was out of proportion. Maybe he was just like Finn –
why had she allowed herself to get even slightly close to
him? At least with Finn she knew where she stood, knew
what to expect.

'You're wrong; I don't treat women like that.'

'Oh really? Well, whatever you say doesn't matter; I've
learnt not to trust any man.' Now she was sounding like
the blurb on the back of a chick-lit novel –
Valentine Fleming
can't trust any man, but will Jack Hart break down her defences?
She was being ridiculous, but she couldn't help it. Any
minute now she'd flick back her hair and stamp her foot.

'He really messed you up, didn't he?' He didn't wait
for her answer but moved closer to her, so close she got
a hit of his musky, delicious aftershave. 'Well Valentine,
I'm not like that.' A beat. 'And I would never have let
you go.'

Valentine was saved from having to reply by Vince
calling a start to the rehearsal.

But much as she lost herself in her role, every time
there was a break she'd think of Jack and his words. She
treasured them as if she was holding up a diamond necklace
and watching the jewels sparkle. He must like her to
have said something like that.
It's just lust
, she told herself
sternly,
nothing more
. Maybe she should have a no-strings
shag with him? Just one, to get him out of her system.
They could have sex all night, in a variety of positions;
do everything to each other – well not quite everything;
there were some things Valentine drew the line at. Then
she snapped out of it. She was not a one-night-stand sort
of girl. She knew herself too well and if she slept with
him, she'd end up obsessing over him for the next six
months, convinced she was in love with him – no way
was she going down that route. It was a one-way street
to Loserville, a place she'd visited too many times in the
past. But not this time.

Valentine had hardly spoken to her mum since the Piers
revelation and she could only partly blame the hectic
rehearsal schedule for that. The truth was that she did
feel confused and shaken up by the news. Her mum had
left several messages and Valentine felt slightly guilty for
not returning them. Since Chris had died she had got in
the habit of phoning her mum every other day and going
to see her once a fortnight. When rehearsals finished unexpectedly
early that day she took the opportunity to go
and see her mum in East Sheen.

Sarah still lived in the terraced Edwardian house that
she and Chris had bought when three-bedroomed houses
in nice areas were affordable to people who worked in
nursing. Every time Valentine went round she still half-expected
to see Chris working on his mountain bike in
the back garden, smoking the inevitable roll-up and
drinking endless cups of tea, bantering with Sarah. They'd
had such a good relationship, still in love after twenty
years, still the best of friends. His death had left such a
hole in all their lives. Matt, her brother, or rather her
half-brother as she supposed she now had to think
of him, had gone completely off the rails for a time,
taking shedloads of drugs and dropping out of college,
driving Sarah nearly out of her mind with worry. He was
OK now, thank goodness and was back in college and
off the drugs. Valentine rang the bell and Matt opened
the door to her. He gave a mock bow and said, 'Welcome,
my lady! To what do we owe the pleasure?' They were
always teasing each other. Matt took the piss out of her
for being an actress, and in his view pretentious; she took
the piss out of him for being her annoying younger brother.

'I suppose Mum's told you the big news,' she replied,
walking into the house.

'I always suspected there was something different about
you, V,' he replied. 'It explains all your delusions of
grandeur.'

She punched him affectionately on the arm and
followed him into the kitchen. Matt's jeans were so low-slung
it was frankly a mystery to Valentine why he was
bothering to wear any at all – practically the whole of
his boxers were on display. She instantly reverted to older
sister mode. 'Pull your trousers up, Matt! No one wants
to see your arse.'

'Actually, several people do,' he replied, giving her the
finger.

Lottie and Sarah were sitting at the kitchen table, an
open bottle of red wine between them. Clearly they had
made up. Valentine kissed both of them and sat down.
Lottie immediately poured her a large glass.

'Sorry about your birthday, V, I didn't mean to drop
that bombshell on you and your mum like that,' Lottie
said. 'I got a bit carried away; you know me.'

'It's OK Lottie,' Valentine replied. 'I think it had to
happen sometime.' She looked at her mum, trying to
gauge her feelings. She hated to think of Sarah worrying
about her.

Sarah sighed. 'It was a bit of a clusterfuck though,
wasn't it?'

Valentine and Matt rolled their eyes. Sarah grinned
sheepishly.

'Sorry, when I was round at yours the other week I
heard Lauren say it and I've been dying to use it ever
since.' Lauren had a lot to answer for. Sarah rarely used
to swear until she met her.

'It was, it is, Mum,' Valentine replied. 'I thought I
should let you know that I wrote to Piers.'

The smile went from Sarah's face and she was back
to looking anxious. 'And have you heard anything?'

Valentine shook her head.

'Try not to think about it,' Sarah urged her. 'Maybe
he's away filming.' She used the exact same excuse that
Valentine had to herself.

'Maybe he just doesn't want to know, Mum,' Valentine
replied, and to hide how hurt she felt, took a large sip of
wine.

'Oh Christ! Why didn't I keep my big fat mouth shut!'
Lottie said with feeling. 'I'm sorry you two, I thought I
was doing the right thing and now I've exposed you both
to a world of pain. Can you ever forgive me?'

'She's off on one,' Matt said dryly, reaching into the
fridge for the orange juice and drinking it straight from
the carton.

'Matt!' the three women chorused.

He shrugged. 'I'm going to leave you three ladies to
it; I'm seeing Daisy.' He paused and looked momentarily
serious. 'V, don't stress about Piers. Chris was your dad
and he loved us just the same; nothing's changed. You're
still my sister and I love you.' Wow, emotional engagement
from her brother; that was unexpected. She actually
felt tears prickle her eyes. Matt snapped out of it. 'And
don't drink all the wine, V, no one wants to see a bloated
lush of an actress.'

'No one wants to see the crack of your hairy bum,'
she shouted after him.

'It's not hairy anymore, Daisy waxed it,' he shot back.

'That was an over-share!' Valentine exclaimed as Matt
slammed the door.

'He could wax his entire body so long as he isn't taking
drugs anymore,' Sarah replied. She reached out and put
her hand over Valentine's. 'We're OK V, aren't we?'

Valentine nodded. She couldn't bear to think of her
mum agonising over whether she had made the right
decision all those years ago.

Back home there was still neither letter nor email from
Piers. He clearly wasn't interested in having a long-lost
daughter. Valentine tried not to let it get to her. Lauren
was in the living room cursing for England as she
attempted unsuccessfully to light the fire, fag hanging
out of her mouth, a super-sized glass of red wine next
to her.

'Fuck, shit, piss, wank! Have you read this bollocky,
sycophantic interview with Tamara Fucking Moore? All
the crap about luminous skin this, wildly talented
that, stylish, beautiful and wait for it – intelligent! Instead
of what she's really like – a talentless, mean-natured,
fat-arsed, botoxed stupid cow!' She picked up the
magazine and hurled it across the room in disgust. 'Just
once I want to read an honest interview with an actress,
just once! Why do these magazines all conspire to make
out that all successful actresses are perfect?'

Valentine shrugged. 'Because otherwise the actress
would never do an interview with them again,' she
suggested. 'Any wine left?' She definitely needed a drink
after seeing her mum.

Lauren poured her a large glass, then retrieved the
magazine and began colouring black spots on to Tamara's
perfectly airbrushed skin, like a woman possessed. It was
a little scary to watch, but then Tamara aroused strong
feelings in both of them. 'Would it make you feel better
to do the role play?' Valentine asked, realising that she
was never going to be able to have a sensible conversation
until Lauren had calmed down.

Lauren made Tamara's eyebrows meet in the middle
and blackened out one of her teeth. 'Yes,' she said
emphatically. 'You be the actress, I'll be the journalist.'
The role play was something they did every now and
then when they wanted to get certain issues about the
acting world out of their system. Lauren always said it
was cathartic, while Valentine wondered if it actually
wound them up further. None the less she got into character
as an internationally renowned movie star
promoting her latest film. She sat up straighter and
tucked her legs under her, and adopted a coy, dreamy
expression, while Lauren spoke. 'When you – Valentine
Fleming – agreed to do this interview, I was so thrilled.
I mean, you are one of the leading, or rather
the
leading
young actress of the day. Not only are you beautiful
and talented, you also have the most amazing social
conscience. Valentine, how many children have you
adopted so far?'

'Three,' Valentine replied. 'Two girls and a boy.' She
paused. 'I think.'

'And how on earth do you manage to juggle motherhood
with your amazing acting career?' Lauren asked
eagerly.

'I believe that being a mother is the most awesome
role any woman can play.' Valentine put on an earnest
voice. 'I just want to be there for my kids. I love seeing
them at bedtime, when they've had their bath and I can
tuck them up and read them a story. Well, of course I'd
like to read them a story, but often my commitments mean
that the nanny has to. But my picture is on all their walls,
so they can look up at night and know that Mummy is
watching over them.'

'But I suppose you're out somewhere incredibly glamorous,
with other A-listers,' Lauren said sycophantically.

'I will not talk about my private life,' Valentine snapped,
losing the coy expression and instead looking sulky.
'That was supposed to be one of the conditions of the
interview. That, and copy approval.'

'Of course, of course, I'm
so
sorry,' Lauren said soothingly,
and dutifully changed the subject. 'I have to say
that you look incredible. I'll be saying in my piece that
your skin is luminous and that you're not wearing a scrap
of make-up.'

'Not a scrap,' Valentine agreed.

'And I'll be saying that you're so much smaller than I
had realised, so fragile and ethereal-looking. I'll be writing
that you've got a tiny, almost birdlike frame. How do you
achieve that?'

'Well obviously I eat very healthily,' Valentine said
defensively. 'I do some exercise, but I suppose I can
keep the weight off because I'm always running after
the children.'

'But I thought you said you only saw them at night?'
Lauren put in.

Valentine wrinkled her forehead, trying to frown, then
put a hand to her head in consternation. 'I see them
as much as my busy filming schedule allows! And please
don't make me pull a facial expression. The surgeon
said not to make any sudden moves for a while—' She
stopped as if regretting her words. 'Don't quote me on
that.'

'So you'd say you had a normal attitude to food?'
Lauren persisted. 'Can I offer you one of these pastries?'

Valentine gave a tinkly little laugh. 'Of course, I'd love
one!' Her hand hovered over the imaginary plate of
pastries as if a battle was being waged inside her. Should
she or shouldn't she? Should won and she mimed picking
up a pastry and stuffing it into her mouth, an expression
of near-ecstasy on her face, and said, 'As you can see, my
attitude to food is completely normal. Completely normal.'
Ecstasy was then replaced by sheer horror. Valentine put
a hand over her mouth, mumbled 'Excuse me,' shot out
of the room and into the bathroom, where she made loud
retching noises. Looking pained and studiously avoiding
eye contact with Lauren she returned to her position on
the sofa.

'Is everything OK, Ms Fleming?' Lauren asked, wincing
as if she could smell something bad.

'Absolutely.' Valentine furtively mimed squirting breath
freshener into her mouth.

'And what do your parents think of you acting? Were
they pleased that you chose to follow in their famous
footsteps?'

'They were both really cool about it, but I've made
my own way in this profession; it had nothing to do with
them.'

'Of course, so if I can get this clear . . . the fact that
your mum is a famous Oscar-nominated actor and your
dad is also a famous actor really had nothing to do with
your success?'

'Nothing at all. I've worked so hard for my success. I
haven't had a leg up at all.'

'Valentine Fleming, it really has been such a pleasure
to meet you, truly one of the highlights of my journalistic
career. Can I kiss your arse now?'

'No, but you can send your article to my publicist – I've
got copy approval, remember?' Valentine flicked back her
hair dismissively.

Lauren sighed and was out of character, 'And now I've
got that out of my system, let us pray to our patron saint.'
Both girls turned to the mantelpiece and made the sign
of the cross, where a picture of Kate Winslet occupied
pride of place, surrounded by flickering tealights. 'Dear
Kate, help us to be more like you in your transcendent
acting ability, but grant that we never make embarrassing
award speeches. Amen. So do you want to hear the really
bad news?' Without waiting for a reply, Lauren ploughed
on, 'NTM has invited us to one of her parties tomorrow
night,' she said, holding up a fancy cream card with silver
writing on it. 'How short notice is that? She's probably
had nos from her A-list "friends" and so she's had to
resort to asking us. I swear she only does it so she can
feel superior when she asks what we've been in lately,'
Lauren grumbled.

Suddenly both girls looked up as a stunningly handsome
twenty-something man appeared in the doorway,
flaunting an incredibly toned and tanned torso, dressed
only in a small white towel around his waist.

The gorgeous one spoke in an American accent. 'Hi
there.' He strolled over to Lauren, draped his arms round
her possessively and kissed her neck. 'Had you forgotten
about me, Lauren?'

Lauren rolled her eyes; she hated displays of affection
outside the bedroom. 'This is Mitchell, he's a model. And
she's Valentine.'

The model looked annoyed. 'No, it's Nathan,' he
replied abruptly and shivered. Lauren turned the charm
up, 'Sorry darling, I'm crap with names. Isn't Nathan
lovely, Valentine? And he's got the most gorgeous—'
Lauren hesitated, and Valentine winced in anticipation.
Not the cock conversation again, or at least not in front
of the guy! Lauren carried on, '. . . teeth. Go on, show
them to Valentine.'

Nathan shook his head. 'What am I, a fucking horse?'
Ah
, Valentine thought,
This one's got spirit
. Usually Lauren's
men did exactly what she wanted.

'Just for me, baby,' Lauren turned on the charm, kissing
his neck and running her hands over his chest. Reluctantly
Nathan opened his mouth, showing off his dazzling,
perfectly straight white teeth. 'And they are all his own!
God bless American orthodontists! Why wasn't I born
there? Then I'd have teeth like that!' Lauren had a thing
about teeth. There was nothing wrong with hers – they
were very white because she was always bleaching them
– but she had several ever-so-slightly crooked teeth on the
bottom row, which she moaned about constantly.