by Holly Smale
She kicks my bedroom door hard.
‘Time to face the music, Poodle McDoodle. Out you come. And wear a padded pair of knickers, you little thief, because I’m gonna kick your butt.’
‘Mercy,’ I say, shaking my head, ‘squirrels don’t have can-openers so you’re just being dramatic. And I don’t own padded knickers because I don’t need them. There’s a spare key in the vase on the hall table so go have a look yourself.’
Faith immediately runs off, grabs the key and opens my bedroom door. Through my phone I watch as they walk in, bewildered.
‘The cupboard?’ Mercy says less certainly. ‘Bathroom?’
‘I’m not hiding under a pile of towels, I’m in Los Angeles.’ A triumphant grin lights up my face. ‘With Dad. In Beverly Hills. We have a turquoise pool and a computer that runs the whole house and marble floors and an amazing hilltop view and a mini-spa.’ I hold my phone up so they can see it. ‘A mini-spa, Mercy. With black earbuds, which, as we all know, are the swankiest type.’
Max laughs loudly. ‘She’s got a point, Mer. Look at you and your basic ear cleaning.’
I’ve never seen Mercy speechless before: it is deeply satisfying.
‘No,’ my oldest sister says finally, crossing her arms. ‘Nuh-uh. You can’t be in Los Angeles. No way. If anyone in this family deserves to go to Hollywood, it’s me.’
‘Because you’re The Talent,’ Effie sighs loudly. ‘We know, Mer. We get it. Repeatedly.’ Then she leans towards the screen. ‘That’s so cool, though, Po! Is Dad looking after you?’
‘Yes!’ Which reminds me: ‘Is Mum OK? Have you seen her? How’s she doing? Is she holding up all right?’
‘She’s fine,’ Faith smiles. ‘Another feature came out in the papers yesterday, but I’m sure she didn’t see it. Pretty sure anyway. At least, I … hope not. It was feral. But you’re having a great time, Po?’
Now I just feel guilty. Here’s me, living the Hollywood dream in glorious sunshine, but Mum’s still in rehab being ripped apart by the media.
I need to speak to Dad asap and get him out of here.
‘Erm, well, California’s unbelievable,’ I nod enthusiastically. ‘It’s sunny all day and everyone smiles all the time. It’s the happiest place in the world, scientific fact.’
My siblings look at each other.
‘That’s actually Norway,’ Max points out. ‘Or Disney World, depending on which posters you believe. But what we’re really asking is how’s the boy? You know, the Californian one who just so happens to live in the same city you’re in now, by complete coincidence?’
‘Jamie is … great,’ I confirm, even though I’m pretty sure Max is being sarcastic. ‘I’ve actually met some of his best friends already, and they’re all lovely too.’
‘Stalker,’ my eldest sister says, leaning towards the screen. ‘On which note, Poodle, you won’t believe who rocked up at the house yesterday looking like a total—’
‘Let’s focus on Hope’s adventure, shall we?’ Faith pokes Mercy in the arm. ‘Everything good? Jamie everything you hoped for?’
‘Eff, we’re like the perfect romance. We even had our first fight!’ Faith frowns so I quickly reassure her. ‘Don’t worry, the making-up was great too.’ I clench my fists to my chest. ‘Nothing can pull apart what is supposed to be together. Love is all that really matters. It’s what lies at the heart of us.’
My siblings look at each other again.
‘Will you stop doing that, please?’ I say in frustration. ‘I can see you! You’re not doing secret, invisible face code.’
‘Hope,’ Faith says gently. ‘It’s just … they’re Mum’s lines. From her film. What’s going on, baby?’
‘She’s probably screwing everything up by being too keen,’ Mercy snarks, lifting a pot off my dressing table. ‘Is this my best moisturiser, Sticky Fingers? And where is the lid, you grubby little—’
I flush. ‘I am not too keen.’
‘Sure you are.’ Mer nods. ‘You probably told him he was your leading man.’
My cheeks are on fire. ‘No, I did not.’
‘Oh, Jamie,’ my big sister simpers, fluttering her eyelashes and clasping her hands together. ‘My hero, my knight in shining armour, my Californian dreamboat—’
‘That’s not—’
‘My life would be nothing without you. Why don’t I follow you across the world like a total loser—’
‘I didn’t—’
‘I’ll take anyone, as long as they show me the tiniest bit of attention—’
‘I wouldn’t—’
‘Love me, love me, somebody please love me—’
Something explodes in my chest.
‘SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP, MERCY! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT! YOU’RE A STUPID COW! I WILL NOT BE UNDERMINDED CONSTANTLY BY YOU ANY LONGER.’
Bang bang.
‘YOU KNOW WHAT? IF I’M TOO DUMB TO HAVE A SINGLE THOUGHT IN MY WHOLE FLUFFY EMPTY HEAD – IF I’M A WALKING CLICHÉ – THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD GET THE HELL OUT OF MY BIMBO FANTASY WORLD AND JUST LEAVE ME TO IT.’
Faith’s face has gone a funny colour. Even Mercy has frozen.
‘AFTER ALL.’ Why are my hands shaking? ‘Maybe I don’t pass the Bechamel test as a human being, but if that means being like you lot then maybe I don’t WANT TO.’
‘Wait,’ Max says in confusion. ‘Are you yelling, Po? I’ve literally never heard you yell before. What the shizzle is going on? Why are you comparing yourself to a lasagne?’
‘Po.’ Effie grabs her phone back off Mercy. ‘I don’t know how you … where you heard that. But it isn’t true; none of it is true. We love you, you’re our baby sister …’
‘Hope,’ Mercy says in a low voice, snatching the phone back. ‘I’m sorry. I was being a cow. I can’t help it. I can’t … control myself. But I didn’t mean any of it.’
I shake my head, blocking them out. Because I’m in a lovely place and I’m having a lovely time. And I’m going to keep having a lovely time no matter what anyone says or does to try and stop me.
‘I’m in Hollywood,’ I finish, cheeks blazing. ‘And you guys are not. And you know how we’re all just biding our time until we can go our separate ways? Well, I got there first, so …’
‘What?’ my sisters say.
‘BITE ME.’
Cancer: June 21–July 22
Cancer is one of the zodiac’s key ‘fixers’, and your nurturing needs are on high alert today. As the sun in Capricorn clashes with Uranus, you’re going to feel a new burst of energy!
Enjoy the wave of enthusiasm and make sure you point it in the right direction!
Good morning Jamie! How did you sleep? Thanks for yesterday, I had a lovely d
Delete.
Good morning! I had a nice day yesterday. Thank y
Delete.
Hi! Yesterday was fun! :) What are you up to? x
Biting my lip, I delete the kiss and search for a suitable emoji instead. Maybe an … avocado. They’re officially funny, right?
‘Computer?’ I say, pouring two glasses of orange juice and putting them next to each other on the outdoor dining table by the pool. ‘What’s the most popular emoji right now?’
‘The most popular emoji worldwide is the face with tears of joy, expressing an emotion between sobbing and laughing.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, adding it, then sprinkling granola into two bowls. ‘Computer, what’s the best text to send a boy that is not needy or annoying and doesn’t make them mad at you?’
‘I’m not quite sure how to help you with that.’
Carefully, I put a cafetière of coffee down too, then a plate of egg whites I’d burnt and covered with ketchup.
‘Computer, how do you make a boy ask you out officially?’
‘I’m not quite sure how to help you with that.’
Ugh. Useless technology.
I turn to Olivia, Madison and Sophia, lying on sunloungers on the far side of the swimming pool.
I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but they’ve basically been lying there since they arrived. Sometimes it feels as if they’re treating this place like some kind of hotel.
‘Any advice, guys?’
Olivia lowers her sunglasses, looks at me over the top of them and shrugs. Then she goes back to sunbathing.
‘Helpful, thanks so much.’
Giving up, I add a balloon emoji – that seems suitably Gemini air-like – and press SEND.
I finish my preparations for today by putting two towels, two sets of headphones and two books (OK, one book and one fashion magazine) on the nearest sunloungers. I then run through my most subtle conversation starters about how to make a marriage work.
Then I sit down to patiently wait.
And wait.
And wait.
And—
‘Dad!’ A full fifty minutes later, my father finally appears on the terrace, urgently patting his jeans. ‘Come! Sit down! We haven’t spent any real time together since I got here. But we’ve got a whole day of chatting ahead of us, hurray! Just, you know, talking about life, how great Richmond is, people in England we might miss or—’
‘Po,’ Dad says, frowning and scratching his head. ‘There’s a problem with one of the scenes, some kind of continuity issue. It’s difficult to fix post-production – in fact, it’s a total disaster. Baby girl, I’ve got to head back in.’
‘Now?’
‘Fifteen minutes ago.’ He scowls and pats his jeans pockets again. ‘Car keys, car keys … Where’s my bag? I need those script notes. Did Roz move them? Where the heck did I—’
Then he looks up and sees my expression.
‘Oh, sweetheart.’ Dad rubs his face guiltily. ‘I’m so sorry. Why don’t I take us out for dinner tonight? We could get all dressed up, head to Chateau Marmont, do a bit of celeb-spotting …’
I brighten considerably. ‘Can I take my autograph book?’
‘Mmm-hmm.’ Dad picks his car keys out from under a beautiful photo of Mum that I intentionally dropped over them. ‘Sure.’
‘Although …’ I stand behind him, excitement building. ‘Could I come with you now? To the studio? I promise I’ll be really helpful with all the props and—’
Oh my gosh, this is such a good idea.
Imagine it: me, on a real-life Hollywood movie set. Maybe the star of the movie quits just as we arrive, there’s a huge panic – the film is ruined! – but then—
HOLLYWOOD PRODUCER
My God, that’s her.
HOPE
Me?
HOLLYWOOD PRODUCER
Our new leading lady. You have an indescribable film-star quality. I can’t explain it.
HOPE
But I’m only fifteen and I have to go back to England soon … I’m not trained. I’ve never acted before—
HOLLYWOOD PRODUCER
It doesn’t matter! We’ll make it work! I know star quality when I see—
‘No,’ Dad says, grabbing his bag from the corner. ‘Sorry, Hope, but I can’t get you past security at this late notice. I’ll be back before you know it. Promise.’ Then he yawns widely.
‘It’s the weirdest thing,’ he adds, rubbing his left eye. ‘The house computer must be broken. I keep being woken up by Elton John. It’s like being in my twenties again. Man, I hated that song then.’
Quickly, I stare into the distant hills. ‘Oh my goodness. Wow. That is so weird. What a crazy thing to randomly happen to you, Dad. You should call in a professionalist to look into it.’
Dad pauses, hand on his wallet. ‘Hope?’
‘Mmmm?’ I stare at the pool. ‘Dad?’
‘Hope?’
Now at the decking. ‘Dad?’
‘Hope. Look at me.’ I reluctantly look at him. ‘Do you happen to know anything about reappropriated seventies piano ballads being blasted into my bedroom at six in the morning?’
‘Absolutely not.’ I look him straight in the eyes. Be the Orange, Hope. ‘Maybe your subconscious remembers that pacific music and you’re programming it in your sleep?’
‘Right.’ Dad’s nose twitches. ‘One more time, Po, it’s specific. The Pacific is an ocean. And the only memory I have of Candle in the Wind is your mom screaming MARILYN IS ROLLING IN HER GRAVE at the radio.’
I beam at him. Not quite the romantic image I was aiming for, but I’ll take it.
‘1997,’ I nod wisely. ‘The year you and Mum met. Must have been a pretty memorable occasion, even though it was so very long ago, huh?’
‘It’s not that long ago.’ Dad frowns, looking through his bag. ‘And we met in 1990. At the studio I’m working at now, as it happens. Where are my sunglasses?’
Oh, for the love of—
‘Hey, Bimbo.’ Mercy’s inside my head again. ‘Haha, you put all that musical effort in for literally no reason.’
‘And, Hope?’ Dad adds, fishing out his sunglasses and heading towards the sedan. ‘Will you please clean your stuff up after yourself? I keep finding your clothes and jewellery scattered in every room of this house. It is not a hotel.’
He leaves and I run inside to my bedroom.
Mum’s kimono, her shirt, her necklace, her scarf, a pair of her monogrammed slippers, her silk gloves … all folded and neatly piled on top of the chair again. Which means literally nothing I’ve done since I got here has worked. I’m still not Jamie’s girlfriend, Dad’s still here and Mum’s still in rehab. I might as well have stayed in my bedroom in London.
Blinking, I sit down abruptly on top of Mum’s stuff.
Am I being … too low-key?
Are my famously delicate performance skills actually working against me this time? Maybe I need to be more obvious. Less artful. Oh, this is so typical of my star sign: we’re always tackling things sideways instead of head-on, like the little Crabs we are.
And now I can hear Jamie’s words from our very first date.
I usually can’t stand casual people. Why pretend you don’t care if you do? It’s like living your whole life with the volume turned down.
And …
Sometimes I get carried away. I guess I’m just an old-fashioned romantic.
And …
So no holding back, OK? There’s no right and no wrong. No rules. We’ll be ourselves, as much as we want to be. Living life at full volume. Deal?
Suddenly, I know how to Fix. It. All.
‘Computer,’ I say, jumping up and clapping my hands. ‘Call me a car to Melrose Avenue immediately.’
‘Completed. Your car will arrive in ten minutes.’
‘Computer? Find me the phone number for a car-insurance company in Beverly Hills.’ Then I grin widely. ‘One that specialises in yellow Lamborghinis.’
Dressed in a black catsuit, HOPE carefully surveys the massive walls of PARAMOUNT STUDIOS. It looks easy, but only because her breaking-in skills have been honed through many years of borrowing stuff from her sister.
Pulling a mask down over her face, HOPE starts to quickly scale the boundary wall. She is startlingly flexible, agile and determined. Also her legs are very strong and her posture is excellent.
HOPE
(to herself)
All I need to do now is drop behind that security guard and jump/roll behind that bush.
Falling nine metres, she lands silently and elegantly behind him.
SECURITY GUARD
(turning)
Wow. That was impressive. I am now under your spell and will do whatever you ask of me.
HOPE
Your first mistake was turning round.
She hits him in the stomach with her hand.
HOPE
Your second mistake was being under my spell.
With the speed of lightning, she puts him in a headlock.
HOPE
And your THIRD mistake was—
‘You here for the two o’clock tour?’
I stare at the uniformed man standing next to the massive wall I’ve been surveying carefully. ‘Sorry?’
&
nbsp; ‘The Studio Tour. We’ve got one starting in ten minutes. You here for it? Because you’re gonna get mighty hot dressed like that – just saying.’
I look down in exasperation at Mercy’s black catsuit.
It’s not quite as invisible as I’d hoped, given that it’s the middle of the day and thus we’re in blazing sunshine. Also, the wall outside Paramount Studios is a pale peach colour.
Maybe the leather gloves and skullcap are slightly unnecessary, but they just make the outfit look more put together.
‘This tour of which you speak.’ I’m deliberating thoughtfully. ‘Does it get me into the studio?’
‘Yeah. Because, as I said, it’s the Studio Tour.’
‘Where I might perhaps see movies being filmed and prominent directors fixing last-minute set-continuity problems?’
‘Probably not, because it’s Sunday, but … sure.’
I now have two options: scale the impossibly high peach wall, hit the security guard in the stomach, headlock him, shout and then jump-roll behind a bush.
Or—
‘There’s a little cart,’ the guard adds.
‘Like a golf buggy?’
‘Yeah. It makes a wheeeee sound when it drives.’
‘Done. Please lead the way.’
I’ve finally learnt my lesson.
I fired my old assistant (me) and got a new one (also me). On the drive over here, we did all the necessary research: scouring IMDb and Wikipedia for any films in 1990 that might have involved both my mum and my dad.
And I found it: The First Butterfly. It has a two-star rating, my mum is listed as ‘frowning New Yorker girl’ and Dad was an unpaid movie-runner.
I’ve been freaking out about it ever since. Because it means that not only did my parents not meet on The Heart of Us – so watching it five billion times was unnecessary – but they actually met when they were teenagers, which is even more romantic.
