The Valentines

by Holly Smale

  ‘Playing “California Dreamin’” by the Mamas and the Papas.’

  A guitar starts playing.

  Grinning, I swing my legs out of bed and wiggle my toes. ‘Computer, warm the floor up and switch the shower on.’

  There’s the sound of running water.

  Yesterday didn’t go quite as well as hoped: wrong outfit, poorly memorised lines, inappropriate location, no research and my poor co-star wasn’t even prepared for my arrival. So I’ve decided to reshoot the entire scene from the beginning.

  I mean, you can’t expect to get every scene in one take. Editing is all part of the cinematic process. And now I know exactly what I’m doing.

  Singing along, I take a long shower, then carefully select Mer’s black denim shorts and Effie’s neon crop top. From what I saw yesterday, this outfit is typically Californian. With skilled hands, I expertly tie my hair into an I-don’t-care-how-my-hair-looks knot (it takes forty minutes) and apply outdoorsy, glowing make-up, as if I’ve just been swinging from something very recently.

  ‘Computer?’ I say, carefully examining my legs for strength in the mirror. Olivia, Sophia and Madison give me the thumbs up. ‘What’s the horoscope for Cancer today?’

  ‘Here is your horoscope: a Mars and Saturn transit causes an increase in passion, and the Virgo moon in your third house of communication results in easy conversation. Find your happy place and everything will make sense.’

  I beam at the walls. ‘Thank you, that is excellent advice. I really appreciate the support.’

  Then I glance back at the chair in the corner of the bedroom. Mum’s stuff has been washed, ironed and put there in a neat, fragrant pile with the gold necklace carefully placed on top.

  Sighing, I redistribute everything around the house again.

  I was hoping to have a long conversation with Dad last night, but he didn’t get back from the studio until I was asleep. And he’s already gone again this morning. Maybe if I make this place really messy he’ll get fed up and come home to Richmond just to get away from it.

  ‘Computer?’ I frown. ‘What other films starring Juliet Valentine do you have on file?’

  ‘Films featuring Juliet Valentine include The Hurtful Ones, A Thousand Years, A Pair of Blue Eyes …’

  ‘Stop.’ I clap my hands. Mum is so beautiful and young in that last one, even though her eyes are quite clearly grey. ‘Please play A Pair of Blue Eyes this evening at seven pm, just before The Heart of Us.’

  ‘Film is set.’

  Beaming, I unroll a poster of Mum styled as a sixties mod, perched on the back of a scooter in a miniskirt and knee-high boots (she wasn’t born then, but it was a very cute era).

  The more subtle reminders of Mum I leave lying around, the less real work I’ll have to do when I finally talk to Dad. It’s like sending him the script early.

  Then I pick up my phone.

  ‘Hope!’ Roz says after one ring. ‘Are you OK? How did you sleep? Did you get the dinner I left for you? I put some breakfast in the fridge too. Your dad usually grabs something on set so I wanted to make sure you didn’t starve.’

  The food was all green and leaf-based so I feel about ten per cent more Californian already, but also starving. ‘It was delicious, thank you! Can you pick me up in twenty minutes? I need to get to Hollywood.’

  I can now hear my father yelling at me in my head.

  ‘Please,’ I add quickly. ‘Thank you, Roz. Also please. You’re not my personal assistant – I know that. Thank you.’

  ‘Hope,’ Roz says slowly. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m kind of at …’ There’s a pause. ‘You know what? Sure. No problem. It should take me about forty to get to you, but I’ll leave right now.’

  ‘Cool.’

  We’ll have to drive pretty fast. Jamie’s meeting me at ten for our Start Again Date and I don’t want to be too late to record over yesterday’s performance.

  ‘Are you going to be OK on your own again?’ Roz sounds concerned. ‘Because I can always—’

  ‘No, thank you,’ I say quickly.

  HOPE and JAMIE and ROZ stare into the sunset together, eating their ice creams.

  ‘I’ve got plans. More touristing for me. All by myself. No boy-based activities whatsoever.’

  There’s a long silence.

  ‘Sure,’ Roz says finally. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  Jamie’s already at his mark and is waiting for me.

  As we pull up, he’s sitting on a little metal barrier outside a convenience store in a car park just off Sunset Boulevard. Today he’s wearing a white T-shirt with SAVE THE WHALES written on it in huge letters, and blue jeans. He’s texting on his phone and his hair is shining in a scruffy white-gold quiff. He’s so beautiful a bright happy light whooshes through me until it hits my face with a wallop. I can literally feel my face glowing.

  ‘Do you know that blond boy?’ Roz asks abruptly as she puts her car into park. ‘Hope, is this where I’m dropping you?’

  ‘No,’ I say, averting my eyes seamlessly. ‘Huh? What? Why would you ask me that? That is such a weird question to ask a teenager in a strange country in a strange town full of strange strangers she’s never met before. And um … yes, here’s good.’

  Flawlessly done, Hope. Bravo.

  ‘You know.’ Roz thoughtfully nudges her glasses. ‘I’m pretty easy to talk to, Hope. So, if you wanted to tell me anything, I wouldn’t necessarily pass the information on to your father. It would be just between us. I mean, that’s kinda my job, right?’

  Umm, her job is to literally tell my father everything. And I do not like the word ‘necessarily’ there, thank you.

  My eyes flicker impatiently to Jamie again.

  ‘It’s much more important that you’re safe and happy,’ Roz continues slowly. ‘And … dating can be complicated at any age. I mean,’ she screws up her mouth, ‘I guess I’d know, right?’

  Smiling, I pat her shoulder in sympathy.

  It must be so hard to find The One once you’re old and all the decent ones have been taken. Maybe if I get some extra time this week I’ll give her a makeover and set her up on an online dating site for those who’ve lost hope.

  ‘True love isn’t complicated,’ I explain gently, opening the car door. ‘Trust me, finding The One is the hard bit. Once you’ve tracked him down, the rest is easy.’

  Jamie’s got his head lowered – texting again – so I grab my phone out of my pocket in case any of them are heading in my direction. None as yet.

  ‘Well,’ Roz says as I step carefully out on to the pavement: back straight, posture excellent. ‘I’m still here if you need me. Six o’clock pick-up, OK?’

  ‘Eight?’

  ‘Six.’

  ‘Seven forty-five?’

  ‘Six, Hope,’ Roz laughs. ‘We don’t get to negotiate on what time the sun goes down. That’s kinda determined by a rotating earth.’

  Stupid planetary curfews.

  Impatiently, I wave goodbye as Roz slowly putters away with sporadic bangs. Once she’s finally gone, I flex my neck and give my knuckles a tiny crack. Then I frown, click all the spotlights in my head on, cue my intro music and focus the cameras.

  Research: done.

  Script: learnt.

  Co-star: ready.

  And – shoot.

  As the yellow Lamborghini zooms away, HOPE strolls across the car park, strong legs toned and clearly powerful, even from a distance.

  JAMIE pauses from texting.

  SOMETHING makes him stop and look up.

  Jamie pauses from texting and looks up.

  HOPE and JAMIE stare at each other in silence, cheeks flushing, hearts beating loudly.

  We stare at each other, cheeks flushing, hearts thumping.

  Then JAMIE’S FACE LIGHTS UP.

  Jamie’s face breaks into a grin.

  Wordlessly, she runs towards him.

  I run.

  HOPE JUMPS AND JAMIE CATCHES HER, swinging her into the air as she laughs, sun sparkli
ng in her hair.

  I jump, laughing, and he catches me and spins me round.

  Then he puts her down, slowly.

  Slowly, Jamie puts me down.

  ‘Good morning, beautiful,’ he says with a bright smile. ‘How about we start again?’

  Then he leans towards me.

  THEY KISS.

  And that’s more like it.

  We kiss until the world fades out.

  Until the car park blurs into soft focus and it’s just me and Jamie, wrapped round each other in a cloud of technicolour. And, for a brief moment, I kind of want the credits to roll.

  That’s it – you can go home now.

  The End.

  ‘So.’ We finally pull apart, lips tingling. ‘Hope, what’s the big plan? What are we doing here? Because I have to tell you –’ Jamie grins – ‘a convenience store in downtown Hollywood is not the heady height of what California has to offer.’

  Laughing in excitement, I grab his hand.

  I spent all night thinking about it, and suddenly remembered – romantic films always have a kind of circular plotline. They reference themselves and loop backwards constantly. The beginning is the end, the end is the beginning and so on. Everyone knows love goes round and round in circles.

  And that’s what I’m going to do with us too.

  ‘Now,’ I beam as I start leading us to the left, ‘I’m afraid all of my plans are going to seem super touristy to you. But do you want to explore this magical capital with me?’

  Jamie blinks. ‘Los Angeles isn’t our capital, Hope.’

  ‘No,’ I say quickly. ‘I know it’s New York.’

  His eyes widen. ‘The capital of America is Washington DC.’

  ‘Oh.’ I giggle. ‘Yeah, I knew that. Obviously. I was joking.’ Although New York is cooler and prettier so maybe they could take a vote and transfer it over or something. ‘It was just that was what you said on our first date.’

  Jamie’s staring at me blankly, so I try again.

  ‘What I’m saying is Camembert cheesy,’ I say pointedly, then pause for a few seconds. ‘Swiss cheese cheesy.’ Another pause. ‘Parmesan cheesy. Uh—’ Some of these are his lines. ‘Manta Ray Jack cheesy?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Jamie frowns. ‘What are we doing today? Going to a farmers’ market?’

  Oh, forget it. Instead, I beam again and open my hands.

  ‘Ta-da!’

  In front of us – two doors away from the convenience store – is a little office with a dozen people milling around outside it. Above it is an enormous red, white and blue sign that says:

  Spontaneously, I start clapping.

  ‘Do you see?’ I’m hopping up and down, that’s how proud of myself I am. ‘We’re going to do all the Los Angeles touristy stuff, just like we did in London! It’ll be exactly like our romantic British montage, except we’ve shifted it across the Atlantic Ocean! How cute and heart-eyes is that?’

  Also – not gonna lie – I’m so up for this.

  I’ve finally made it to Hollywood. And yes, I know it’s only for a quick preview before I have to go home again, but while I’m here I want to see everything the movie capital of the world has to offer.

  I want to stick a straw in and suck this city dry.

  ‘Hey there, lovebirds,’ a cheerful man says, emerging from the office. ‘Are you coming on the ten forty-five with us?’

  ‘Oh yes, please.’ I’m so exhilarated my mouth has stuck together. ‘I booked online last night! And I’ve brought water to keep hydrated and a few snacks and my phone and my camera and another camera just in case!’

  ‘We can’t promise you’ll see anyone you recognise,’ he laughs. ‘But, fingers crossed, we’ll spot a celeb. There’s quite a few milling about this town, haha! Can’t get rid of ’em!’ Then he hands over a pair of neon-red baseball caps that say MEGA HOLLYWOOD TOURS and matching T-shirts. ‘These are yours, kids! We’ll be leaving any minute so get yourselves kitted out!’

  Thrilled, I take my topknot down, pop my cap on and wedge it with some difficulty over my tight curls. Then I throw the enormous T-shirt over my crop top and shorts, thus transforming it into a Mega Hollywood Dress.

  Beaming, I hold out Jamie’s cap and tee for him. And it’s only then I see his face: cold, stiff and completely shut down.

  My smile drops. ‘What? What’s wrong?’

  ‘You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding me.’ His voice is weirdly flat. ‘I am from Los Angeles, Hope. I was born here. I grew up here. This is my home. Why the hell would you bring me on this … clichéd tourist tat?’

  I stare at him in bewilderment. ‘Because … erm … that’s kind of … the point.’

  Like riding a red double-decker bus without a destination, and going on the London Eye, and visiting the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace. And illegally feeding pigeons in Trafalgar Square, and eating fish and chips, and riding a unicycle in Covent Garden, and wearing I HEART LONDON sweatshirts and taking photos of ducks in Hyde Park, and enjoying a long, rainy boat trip down the Thames.

  The cliché is what makes it romantic.

  Otherwise – let’s be honest – it’s just a really expensive way to spend a week in London. Does Jamie think we Brits do that on a daily basis? That British people are all wizards who live in castles and make calls from red phone boxes? That we wear top hats and monocles, and read Shakespeare every morning, and say ‘blimey’ every three minutes?

  OK, that last one’s true but still.

  ‘You want me to wear that?’ Jamie points at the MEGA HOLLYWOOD TOURS cap and T-shirt. His mouth is a thin, straight line. ‘IRL? In public? In front of people I might know? What if I’m seen?’

  ‘What if you are?’ I say in surprise. ‘Who’s going to care?’

  His eyes narrow. ‘Well, that’s very nice, isn’t it? No need to get nasty, Hope.’

  I blink. ‘That’s not what I—’

  ‘But sure. Riding around in a free loser cap and T-shirt while staring at the houses of privileged strangers all day is so much better than going surfing with my mates in Mexico. Hope, driving is my favourite thing. I could have just driven us if you’re this keen on seeing where rich people live.’

  We stare at each other in silence.

  Who did he think lived in Buckingham Palace two weeks ago if not a privileged rich stranger? He took, like, fifty photos.

  ‘IS THIS THINK ON? HELLOOOOO, DARLINKS! I’m goink to be yourrr tour maestrrrro for the day – it’s true! Yes! So strap in and getting your best view because today is going to be the toppest notch day of your lifes. I’m not doubting about it!’

  A woman has pulled up next to us in an open-top MEGA HOLLYWOOD TOURS van. She has long, straightened, bleached hair down to her waist, enormous pillowy lips, voluminous round breasts and brown, crinkly-yet-stretched skin, a bit – and I’m not trying to be rude when I say this – like an old leather car seat that’s been sat on quite a lot.

  She could be thirty or a thousand; she’s obviously immortal.

  ‘Get in, DARLINKS!’ she calls cheerfully, beeping the van horn and waving with a wireless microphone dangling from her left ear. ‘I’m Dominika with a K and we have no time to waste, no, no! These celebs, we’ve got to hunt them like tiger! Careful and quiet and speed! Haha!’

  Jamie and I go back to staring at each other.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ I say finally as my stomach starts twisting. ‘If you’re truly going to hate this, we can do something else. I won’t mind.’

  I will mind very much.

  But I’d much rather waste our tickets and go elsewhere than be scowled at all around Hollywood by my nearly-boyfriend for the next two hours.

  ‘You’re really selfish, you know that?’ Jamie pulls his MEGA cap on and tugs it hard over his forehead so I can’t see his face. ‘Come on. Let’s go tour or whatever.’

  You’re expecting me to freak out around about now, right?

  Wrong.

  Luckily, I’ve seen enoug
h classic romances to know that every couple needs at least one big fight to ultimately bring them closer together. It helps them bond and understand each other better, and also appreciate each other more when it’s all over.

  And hurray! This is our very first one!

  Jamie’s properly mad – he’s got his arms folded, the cap pulled down and his back turned – I can only imagine how gorgeous the make-up scene is going to be. Holy horoscopes! Mars and Saturn are right on cue, as always.

  An Increase of Passion indeed.

  ‘Now, darlinks!’ Dominika calls as the MEGA HOLLYWOOD TOURS van pulls out into the sunny, bustling streets of Hollywood. ‘You know this building? You see it before! You have! Yes! This house is Julia Roberts’s in Pretty Woman! Fire escape right here!’

  What’s my next line, though?

  ‘Here is the super-famous church, you know, you seen it, lots of nuns, singing, haha!! Take all your photos!’

  Honestly, I’m not super skilled at fighting. Everyone knows that Cancerians tend to avoid confrontation whenever possible – we’re nearly as passive as Pisces.

  ‘And over here! We have hotel Janis Joplin died in! You see? They keep room the same. How nice, no?’

  Maybe we can hop straight to the making-up part?

  ‘And yes! You take photos, many, many photos! After, if you want, I give you home address of celeb’s house! You ask, I have list! Anyone you want! You want Leo, I have him, you want Tom, I have him, you want Ryan, I have him …’

  In fact – oh my goodness – this might be a really perfect opportunity to show Jamie what a brilliant, understanding and easy-going girlfriend I’d be.

  I’m a fool if I don’t take it.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say genuinely, grabbing Jamie’s hand. ‘You’re right. It was selfish of me to bring us on this tour. I promise I won’t do anything like it again.’

  ‘Well,’ Jamie sighs, visibly softening, ‘I guess we’re here now. We might as well try and enjoy it, right?’