by Holly Smale
Ooooh, a Fendi wallet!
‘So how did it go?’ I ask as airily as possible, cramming all seven bags safely under my chair. ‘Was it lots of fun?’
Mercy and Faith glance at each other.
Oh, come on. I’d have noticed that even if I wasn’t already fully aware of the situation. I might be easily distracted sometimes, but I’m not literally blind.
‘It was a bit boring, to be honest,’ Faith says sweetly, sipping her orange juice. ‘And the DJ was terrible.’
Mercy lifts one eyebrow. ‘Just didn’t know when to shut up.’
‘Never does.’
They snigger and I’m starting to wonder just how much of an ordinary conversation between my siblings I normally miss, given how many in-jokes, lies and codes there are that would normally go straight over my head. Have my siblings always been speaking another language?
And, if so, do I even want to understand it?
‘That’s nice.’ I smile vaguely as the left side of my chest suddenly vibrates twice: dzz-dzz. For a second, I assume I’m having a mini heart attack, but then I remember I put my phone in my MAKE LAVA NOT WAR T-shirt pocket.
Quickly, I reach a hand under my jumper and grab it.
Thought about you all the way home last night. Can’t wait to see you again. Jamie x
My entire body just melted.
This is what movies are written about: exactly the way I’m feeling right now. An entire multibillion-pound industry has been built on this moment. The warmth, the giddiness, the soaring happiness, the way I’m smiling all over my body until I’m beaming with my toes.
Furtively, under the table, I write back:
You too. What are you thinking? x
Three waving dots:
I’m thinking as soon as possible, please. x
I give a little squeak and bounce in my chair.
‘Who’s that?’ Mercy frowns at me suspiciously. ‘Who are you texting, Poodle? Everyone you know is sitting at this table.’
‘I’m not texting,’ I lie with award-winning conviction. Be the Orange, Hope Valentine. ‘I’m playing an online game, and I just won—’ What do people win online? ‘Three goats. I am so very happy with my goat! Goats are great! Yay, goats!’
Mercy rolls her eyes. ‘Loser.’
Then I look back at my phone, still grinning. I’m not quite ready for anyone else to know about Jamie yet. I don’t want their starred reviews or judgemental critiques on my personal romance.
Right now, this movie is mine.
Lunch? Or is that too soon? x
Immediately!
Never too soon – see you at midday, Waterloo, by the clock. x
I bounce up, shining like a lamp.
Oh, so much to do: hair to style, ‘natural’ First Date make-up to apply – that takes much longer than full glam – a casual-but-flattering outfit to borrow, identity-defining perfume to steal … Ooh, and today’s horoscope to read. At least I’ve already checked our compatibility – I did that on the train home, with huge success.
Now I’ve just got to find today’s newspap—
My phone starts vibrating in my hand, and I look down.
DAD.
I hesitate for a few seconds – I really do want to find out what delayed his return last night – but I’m guessing it was some kind of directoring emergency. I really have to prioritise: there’s only just time for one face mask as it is.
Quickly, I send Dad’s call to voicemail. I’ll ring him when I’m back from my First-ever Date.
Oh my goodness, that is so fun to say.
‘Poodle?’ Max says as I grab the newspaper and head out of the door. It’s particularly full of my family today: Mercy’s DJ pics are on page six, and there’s a tiny photo of Eff and Noah eating dinner with blank faces and IS THIS YEAR’S HOTTEST ROMANCE ON THE ROCKS? written underneath. ‘Wait a minute.’
My brother pulls the kitchen door shut behind him.
‘Is everything OK?’ His voice is low. ‘I got cornered by my agent and by the time I escaped you’d disappeared. Did something happen? I swear if anyone hurt you I’ll—’
Pain flickers but I push it away.
‘Not even a little bit,’ I say brightly, kissing my brother’s cheek. ‘Everything happened just like it was supposed to. I just had to go right then, that’s all. But thank you for letting me in, Max.’
‘As long as you’re OK.’ Max studies my face. ‘I was thinking, Po, I’m free this morning. Do you want to … go shopping or whatever? Hang out together – Little Sis and Big Bro time? I could treat you. Get you out of the house for a change?’
My phone buzzes again.
PS I literally cannot wait J xxx
‘Hmm?’ I smile distractedly, bouncing on my toes again. ‘Oh, I’m actually busy today. Sorry, Max.’
Then I send:
Me neither. x
And it suddenly feels like I’m a movie star, lit by my very own spotlight.
Warm and bright and seen.
Cancer: June 21–July 22
Cancer, Venus has now moved into your eighth house of regeneration and transformation, leading to a very passionate encounter. It’s also the turning point of the first lunar cycle, so as a key moon sign it’s time for a new beginning.
And HERE. WE. GO.
Skipping through the barriers of Waterloo station, I see Jamie immediately; he’s standing in the middle of the crowd, under the ornate clock, with his hands thrust in his jeans pockets, turquoise eyes scanning the exit.
Then he sees me and his whole face lights up.
All the extras – security guards, commuters, families on a Saturday day trip, couples – are abruptly thrown into darkness. The rest of the world is just background.
‘Hope,’ Jamie beams as the blurred crowd parts and I surge forward, stomach fluttering. ‘Great timing. I got here early so I could work out the best way to stand with my hands casually in my pockets, as if I’m not overexcited about seeing you. How’d I do?’
I laugh. ‘Amazing. It’s like you don’t care in the slightest.’
Impossibly, he’s even more beautiful than he was twelve hours ago.
‘Then I’m amazed at myself too,’ Jamie laughs. ‘Because 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. Which leads me to—’
Smiling, he reaches under his jacket and hands me a branded paper bag. ‘There’s a shop over there and I couldn’t help myself.’
Inside is a small book with the title BRITISH TRAINS. There’s a picture of an old black steam train on the front and in biro Jamie has added (messily):
AND HOW TO NEGOTIATE THEIR EVIL DEMON DOORS.
I burst into delighted laughter.
‘This is so thoughtful.’ I glow at him as we push through the station doors into the spring sunshine. ‘Thank you, Jamie. I … didn’t bring you anything. I was in such a rush, and there are no shops near my house, and—’
‘You did bring something, Hope.’ Jamie crooks his arm so I can hold it. ‘You brought you, and that’s plenty.’
My heart just tripped and fell over.
‘So,’ he adds as we start wandering towards the river, ‘all my plans are going to seem super touristy to you. But whatever – do you want to explore this magical capital with me?’
He could have just asked me to eat spiders with him and I’d have said, Yes, please, one leg at a time to make it last longer.
‘Of course.’ I grin happily. ‘Super cheesy touristy sounds fun to me.’
‘I mean, I’m talking Camembert cheesy, Hope. Swiss cheese cheesy.’
‘Parmesan cheesy?’
‘Monterey Jack cheesy.’
We laugh together. My hand is resting on his arm and my shoulder is just touching his chest. My stomach is dancing so hard it feels like it’s about to trip over too.
‘But don’t google Romantic Things To Do in London,’ Jamie adds with a wry grin. ‘Because then you’ll see my plans
for all our other dates too.’
A giddy little wave of surprise.
Nine minutes in, and he’s already making future plans to see me? I’m so good at this dating thing. Not that I’m surprised – I’ve been practising in my head for a very long time.
‘What I can promise,’ Jamie continues, ‘is that we’re not challenging another couple to a pedalo race in Hyde Park or visiting London Zoo for a selfie with lions.’
‘Awwww,’ I laugh. ‘We’re not boating down the Thames and feeding the swans?’
‘No, and we’re not seeing an opera or a ballet or a horse race or going on a Ghost Tour bus – mainly because it’s daytime on Saturday and the ghouls are probably having a lie-in.’
I giggle, although those dates sound perfect. Especially because I could have brought out my very best ‘scared acting’. I could’ve jumped and slipped my hand into his – (‘Oh my goodness! What was that?’) – so it’s a sadly missed dramatic opportunity.
‘There’s a restaurant in Clerkenwell that’s pitch-black,’ I suggest optimistically. ‘It’s called Dan’s Lenwah and you can’t even see your food.’
Jamie laughs. ‘I’m sorry, it’s called what?’
‘Dan’s Lenwah,’ I repeat a little less certainly. ‘I think it probably belongs to a man called Dan and Lenwah is, like, Portuguese or Russian for restaurant.’
‘It’s Dans le Noir,’ Jamie chuckles, squeezing my arm. ‘Which is French for In the Dark. Hope, you are hilarious.’
I beam. I wasn’t joking, but I’ll take it.
‘But no,’ Jamie continues as we walk up the steps. ‘I have this weird thing where I like to see the face of the girl I’m dating. Especially when that girl has a face as lovely as yours.’ Then he grimaces. ‘Ugh, it’s me that’s the cheeseball. Can we please forget I said that?’
Literally never gonna happen.
A meteor will be heading towards earth and fires will rage and the zombies will finally arrive and I’ll still be here, hanging on to a lamp post and shouting, HE SAID I HAVE A LOVELY FACE!
‘I don’t mind,’ I flush. ‘Not even a little bit.’
‘Good.’ Jamie squeezes my arm and pulls me gently to a stop. ‘Because I don’t think I can play it cool with you, Hope. I don’t like girls very often, so when I do …’ He grins shyly. ‘Sometimes I get carried away. I guess I’m just an old-fashioned romantic.’
I stare at him in wonder.
He’s me.
This beautiful boy, standing by the River Thames, is me – only taller and Gemini and fully American and male.
And as we gaze at each other – bright blue eyes to dark brown – I feel a little warm click. As if something deep inside us has just recognised each other and waved.
Oh hello, I know you.
‘I’m the same,’ I tell him, so excited I’m struggling to get the words out. ‘Exactly the same. I try to play it cool, but then I—’ I throw my arms out. ‘Kapow. I burst out everywhere. Everything’s too … beautiful. It’s like life is one big film, and I want it to be the most lovely, romantic, happy film it can possibly be.’
Jamie smiles and tucks a curl behind my ear.
‘We’re the same, you and me.’ He grabs my hands and I can feel the warmth abruptly spreading through my fingers, up my arms, into my shoulders. ‘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?’
I’m trying to breathe steadily, but it’s impossible.
In my Director’s Cut, I would infinitely extend this scene so I could keep it running forever.
‘Deal,’ I whisper.
And all the bits of life I don’t like – the sad bits and the painful bits and the bits that should never have happened – I would cut without even looking at them. So I could spend all that extra screen time here, with him.
‘Now.’ Jamie spins me round until we’re facing the London Eye. ‘This is the start of our epic first date. It may or may not be number one on the London Tourist Guide to Romantic Dates. What do you think?’
Honestly, it doesn’t matter where we are.
The soundtrack in my head has already started: lilting piano, violins, the romantic ping of some kind of percussion instrument. The sun is shining, my heart is swelling and the whole world is my movie set.
‘I love it,’ I beam at him.
‘Good,’ Jamie grins, taking my hand. ‘Because this is just the beginning.’
HOPE and JAMIE stand in the queue for the London Eye. The sun shines, the water flickers with light. JAMIE is devastatingly handsome, in jeans and a T-shirt with a forest logo on it. HOPE is also ridiculously beautiful, in a black Chloé jumpsuit that is hers and fits perfectly.
A ROMANTIC SOUNDTRACK continues to play.
Every time the queue moves forward, JAMIE and HOPE get pushed together and his hand brushes hers and/or her shoulder touches his chest and the music gets louder.
HOPE’s cheeks are warm. Her heart is pounding. Her stomach is fluttering. Every time she takes a breath, she can smell him: minty and sweet and somehow blue—
‘… it was so weird, he just fell in out of nowhere. I was in the house, but some primal instinct kicked in. I ran out and jumped in and hauled him on to the grass—’
Another jostle. HOPE is pushed into JAMIE again.
His freckles are so cute, her head is dizzy, her breathing is getting faster—
‘… but it was close. I mean, real close. Lucky I was there, you know? They think it was a heart attack.’
HOPE wonders what his lips taste like. Soft, sweet, like ice cream, or mango, or—
‘What?’ I blink. ‘Who had a heart attack?’
‘My boss.’ Jamie smiles easily. ‘I help out with this charity, building houses for disadvantaged people. The CEO – great guy, so inspirational – he fell in the pool without warning, so I …’ He shrugs. ‘Fate, you know? It puts us where we need to be.’
I stare at him, super impressed. Charity work. Disadvantaged people. Building houses. Saving lives. I was probably liking photos of dogs on Instagram when it happened. ‘You’re an actual hero.’
‘Just in the right place at the right time,’ he laughs. ‘Although he was pretty grateful. Nobody tells you this but drowning people are kinda heavy.’
The crowd moves forward a few metres. Hope bumps into JAMIE’s chest again and now backing singers have started the official JAMIE theme: JAMIE da-da-da-da JAMIE ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh JAMIE la-la—
HOPE’s breathing is getting even shorter. Her heart is pounding, her hands are trembling slightly. They’re very nearly at the front of the queue.
JAMIE
I can’t wait any longer. For some reason, I feel a desperate desire to kiss y—
‘Any brothers or sisters?’ Jamie asks.
‘Umm.’ I drop my pucker. ‘There’s f-four of us. Two sisters, one brother. All older than me. You?’
‘Only child.’
With a sudden wave of sadness, I squeeze Jamie’s arm: imagine being just you.
The crowd moves forward once more and JAMIE hands over two tickets. HOPE realises he must have bought them online and is OVERWHELMED by his romantic forward planning.
TICKET INSPECTOR
You two make such a lovely couple. I can see that you are on a first and very pivotal date, so let me give you a private VIP pod all to yourselves.
‘Get a move on,’ the ticket inspector snaps, wiping her nose on her coat sleeve. ‘I don’t ’ave all day.’
OK, this woman is fired.
‘You’re not scared of heights, are you?’ asks Jamie. The pod opens up, the rope barrier is lifted and we’re immediately swallowed by a mass of people crushing forward: kids, couples, old people, parents, tourists with neon backpacks. ‘I never thought to ask.’
‘Not at all.’ I grin as an old man shoves me with his elbow to get to a window. ‘I love heights. Little ones, big ones. Many sorts of tallnesses, and also widths depending on which
way you’re looking at them.’
JAMIE and HOPE easily make their way to the other side of the pod for the best view. They are completely and totally ALONE.
‘MUM!’ a little kid shrieks, stepping on my toe in her race to the pod door. ‘LET ME OFF LET ME OFF I NEED TO PEEEEEE!’
OK, she’s fired too.
The doors slide shut. Slowly, the wheel turns and the capsule begins to lift into the air.
Around them, LONDON expands and shrinks, flashing into miniature. Tiny boats chug silently down the winding river, the trees are tiny, the buildings are compact, and HOPE has run out of words for ‘small’ so everything is basically really little.
To the right, HOPE can see Regent’s Park Theatre and the Globe and the Barbican and the West End and Leicester Square. To the left is Richmond, aka HOME.
Next to her is JAMIE. He takes a step closer to her and from the way he’s looking at her somehow she just knows …
It’s KISSING TIME.
Heart pounding, I hold my breath. When do I pop my foot out? Before, during or after the kiss? Do both my hands go in his hair, or just one of them? Will he put his hands on either side of my face? Do I need to bend backwards a little bit, but if I do will it topple us over?
Jamie takes another step towards me.
‘I don’t do this often,’ he says softly, clear blue eyes matching the bright sky behind him. ‘Dating, I mean. But I’m so stoked I took a chance with you.’
‘Really?’ The wheel moves steadily upwards and I’m starting to float with it. ‘No offence, but you look like the kind of boy who dates loads. Like, all the time.’
He shrugs, obviously embarrassed. ‘It’s rare that I meet someone I like enough. And, every time I’m really into a girl, they turn out …’ His face twists. ‘I won’t say crazy … But I seem to have really bad luck. Maybe I’m just drawn to broken people or something.’