Valentine

by Rebecca Farnworth

  '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.

  'Very nice, very white,' Valentine answered, struggling not to giggle.

  Nathan shut his mouth. 'I don't know what the big deal is. I prefer your teeth,' he told Lauren. 'They've got character.'

  Lauren had a face like thunder and she narrowed her eyes. 'You mean like someone out of a Dickens story! All crooked and yellow, like a fucking hag's!' she hissed. Then added 'Motherfucker!' for good measure in her American accent.

  Nathan laughed. 'I can't decide what's worse – you saying motherfucker, or that accent which is so bad.'

  'See, I told you,' Valentine put in. 'Only Americans can say motherfucker; Nathan said it much better than you and he's not even a drug dealer.' She glanced at him again; surely he was too wholesome-looking. 'You're not, are you?'

  Now it was Nathan's turn to roll his eyes.

  'Anyway, please don't mention the teeth,' Valentine appealed to Nathan. She didn't think she could stand another night of Lauren's teeth fixation.

  He shrugged and muttered, 'Whatever.'

  'So what time are we due at Fi-fi's?' Lauren asked. For a split second Valentine hadn't got a clue what she was on about, then she twigged. This was the routine Lauren always used when she wanted out of a situation. Fi-fi didn't exist except in Lauren's imagination, which was just as well given her wanky name, and she was very useful when Lauren needed to rid get of some man sharpish. Valentine made a show of looking at her watch. 'We should leave in ten minutes.'

  Nathan folded his arms across his chest. 'So am I invited?'

  'Darling, I'm sorry but Fi-fi is very fragile. She's just split up with her husband. Well, he left her and now he's demanding that she move out of the house. She's in an appalling state, crying hysterically.'

  'Well maybe I could help,' Nathan said calmly. What was going on? Valentine wondered. This never happened. It was surely time for Lauren's masterstroke.

  'Oh, that's so sweet of you, but she's really off men at the moment and there are her th
ree children – all under five – to look after. It could get very . . .' – she paused for dramatic emphasis – 'emotional.'

  'I used to work at a summer camp for inner-city kids; I'm pretty much not phased by shit like that.'

  Lauren looked at Valentine in dismay and Valentine shrugged helplessly. Lauren's routine had always worked in the past; men hated the thought of raw emotion on show. Throw in the children and it was a dead cert that they would scarper.

  'But if you don't want me to come, that's cool. Can I have your digits?' Nathan asked.

  'My what?' Lauren exclaimed. 'I thought we'd just done all that.'

  'He means your number,' Valentine interpreted.

  'Nathan, you've so got to stop talking like a Lily Allen song. You're American, right?'

  Now it was Nathan's turn to roll his eyes. 'And you're British, so quit saying so like some high-school bimbo. And the motherfucker has gotta go.'

  Lauren pursed her lips, she so hated to be criticised. 'I've just lost my mobile. Give me your digits and I'll call you.' Another regularly deployed tactic of hers when she didn't want to be in contact with someone again. She hadn't lost her mobile.

  'OK.' And wandering over to the table he picked up a felt pen, walked back over to Lauren, took her arm and wrote down his name and number on her bare skin. 'Don't forget to call me.'

  'Couldn't you have found some paper?' Lauren said in outrage. 'I think that was my CD marker pen; it's never going to come off !'

  'Well, you'll have no excuse not to call me then,' Nathan replied.

  'Sure, I'll call you,' Lauren answered, crossing her fingers behind her back so that only Valentine could see them. And with that Nathan turned and took his beautiful body out of the room. Valentine gave a what the fuck look to Lauren, who sniffed dismissively. Nathan had seemed like a genuinely nice guy – a first for Lauren. Lauren shrugged, had another sip of wine and poked ineffectually at the fire. Nathan returned to the living room dressed in jeans and a blue sweater, the exact colour of his eyes. He looked adorable and any other woman would have been clinging on to him like a limpet. 'I thought you guys had to be somewhere.'

  Lauren looked faintly guilty. 'We do,' she insisted. 'We're just having a drink to give us strength; it's going to be a tough night.' Then she blew him a kiss. 'I'll call you.'

  Nathan looked sceptical and said, 'Well if you don't, I know where you live, and when I next come round let me make the fire. Motherfucker! This flat is cold!' Then he left.

  Valentine waited a few minutes until she heard the downstairs door click shut, then spoke. 'Lauren, he seemed really nice – why didn't you want him to stay?'

  'How long have you got? He's a model, so he'll be vain, self-centred and boring. I can't be arsed.'

  'He didn't come across like that.'

  'No, he just came all over me!' Lauren laughed loudly at her own joke.

  'You're evil! You're going to end up a bitter and twisted old woman, living on her own, with just her memories and cats for company,' Valentine teased her.

  'And the wine, don't forget the wine; I could bear anything so long as I had the wine! And you have to scrap the cats, because I'm allergic. Can't I have a horse instead? A lovely palamino?'

  'In your tiny bedsit, lit by the single-barred electric fire, which you can't afford to have on, with the flocked wallpaper and garishly patterned carpet? I don't think so, sunshine. You can have a poodle.'

  'No!' Lauren exclaimed dramatically, then snapped out it. 'Forget it, I'm only twenty-fucking-seven; I've got years of this ahead of me.' She stretched her slim arms over her head and yawned adding, 'Actually, Nathan was very good. I might have to see him again. In fact I might even ask him to Tamara's – he's so good-looking she's bound to be jealous. And his teeth were sublime. Gods among teeth.'

  'I can't believe you can base a relationship on the state of someone's teeth!'

  'Obviously he's got a massive cock as well,' Lauren retorted, then cackled with laughter. 'So you'd better take someone – you don't want Tamara thinking you're a saddo single on top of being a struggling actress – what about that Jack? I really want to meet him.'

  Now it was Valentine's turn to try and look nonchalant. 'I expect he'll be out with Julia husky Turner, or another of his lovely ladies. He is catnip to the female population, I swear, especially the older ones.'

  'Well, text him now and ask him,' Lauren demanded.

  Valentine stubbornly shook her head, not wanting to admit that Lauren's idea was a good one. The truth was she would be mortified if he said no. 'Anyway, I'm going to Tesco. Do you want anything?' Valentine asked, keen to deflect Lauren.

  'Just tobacco and I fancy some chocolate eclairs.'

  Valentine tutted, thinking of her own virtuous planned purchases of spinach, carrots, cucumber and houmous. 'You so deserve to be fat,' were her parting words.

  On her way out she checked if Lily and Frank needed anything but Lily informed her, a little smugly, Valentine thought, that she'd just done an online shop. 'Honestly Valentine, you should do it; it's so much easier! Gives you time to concentrate on other things.'

  Valentine couldn't help noticing that as she said it Lily gave Frank a flirtatious little smile, and Frank winked back. Surely she didn't mean that they'd been up to anything this afternoon? Valentine wondered as she walked round Tesco Metro on Portabello Road. She adored Frank and Lily, but really didn't want to think of them at it at their ages. Then again, she thought as she sifted through the cucumbers in the fruit and veg section, good on them.

  'What the fuck did you do that for?' she said aghast, when Lauren revealed that in her absence she had texted Jack from Valentine's phone to invite him to the party and he had replied that he would love to come.

  Lauren rolled her eyes. 'Keep your knickers on; you're only inviting him to a party, that's all.'

  And the thought popped into Valentine's head that maybe she didn't want that to be all.

  'Anyway, just think of the expression on NTM's face when she sees him – if he really is as gorgeous as you say, she'll be so jealous. You know how much she hates it if anyone has anything or anyone prettier than she does.'

  'You're right,' Valentine admitted. 'It would be worth it for that alone.'

  7

  Primrose Hill Poison

  God, I loathe North London,' Lauren grumbled as she, Valentine, Nathan and Jack got off the Tube at Chalk Farm station. 'It's so right that the Northern line is black on the map, because that's what North London is like: gloomy, depressing, with too many houses too close together.'

  'You should really learn to have an opinion,' Nathan teased in his Californian drawl.

  Lauren insisted on walking up the stairs as she had a phobia of lifts, and Nathan went with her, so Valentine and Jack waited for the lift together. Jack had his hands shoved into the pockets of his battered black leather jacket with the collar turned up. He looked so sexy and Valentine got a thrill every time she sneaked a glance at him.

  'I'm glad you asked me tonight,' he said. 'I was going to ask you out, but you beat me to it.'

  'You make it sound like a date,' Valentine replied, 'And this is not a "date" date.'

  'I thought that was exactly what this was,' Jack replied.

  Valentine was on a mission to play it cool, and side-stepped the comment. 'Oh look, the lift's here.'

  As the steel lift door closed, Jack moved closer and said, 'You look beautiful in that dress.' Valentine was sure it wasn't just the speed of the lift that made her stomach flip so deliciously.

  Lauren and Nathan had already climbed the stairs and were waiting outside the station. Lauren was lighting up one of her roll-ups while Nathan looked on with an expression of disgust. 'You know you really should think about giving up,' he said. 'Hypnotherapy might help.' Lauren blew out one of her perfect smoke rings and said, 'I like smoking. When I don't, I'll give up. If you don't like it, well . . .' She shrugged, leaving Nathan in no doubt what he could do.

  'Whoah, you're harsh!' Jack e
xclaimed.

  'She's a pussy cat really,' Valentine hastily put in, fearing the evening was about to go spectacularly tits up. Lauren did not take kindly to criticism.

  'She's no pussy cat,' Nathan said dryly. 'But I like her anyway,' and he put his arm round Lauren. Valentine was waiting for Lauren to push him away, but she didn't. She must like him.

  'So what's Tamara like? I hope you don't think I'm being rude, as she's a friend of yours, but she's not a great actress, is she?'

  Valentine liked Jack all the more for recognising Tamara's talent bypass. 'I can't stand her actually, but Lauren thinks we might meet someone useful there. I know that sounds shallow, but frankly she deserves it. She's probably only asked us so she can feel better about herself. We needn't stay long; we can just see if there are any people worth talking to, down the champagne and then split.'

  They walked slowly through the elegant, wealthy streets of Primrose Hill. Valentine wished they weren't going to the party; she was enjoying being alone with Jack far too much. But within ten minutes they had arrived at Tamara's three-storey house. Lauren and Nathan had got there first and the four of them stood outside for a minute, taking in the view of the stunning white Georgian building. The party had already started and they could see the guests milling around the vast, elegant living room, while waiters circulated with trays of champagne and canapés. It was a scene of such wealth and opulence. Valentine suddenly felt conscious of how shabby her second-hand black fake fur coat from Portabello market must seem and how her red suede heels had really seen better days. She shivered.

  'You cold?' Jack asked. 'I can warm you up.' And he raised her hand to his lips and softly kissed it.

  'Smoothie!' Valentine shot back, but she didn't pull her hand away and after Jack had kissed it he continued to hold it as they walked up the stone stairs to the imposing front door.

  Moments later one of the waiting staff had taken their coats and had ushered them into the palatial living room. It was lit by two dazzling chandeliers, flickering Jo Malone candles on the white marble fireplace filling the room with their heady scent. Tamara was holding court with some well-known actors. She spotted them and waved, but carried on talking.