The Valentines

by Holly Smale

  JAMIE

  (leaning over)

  Hope? I don’t want you to leave.

  HOPE

  (sadly)

  Neither do I.

  JAMIE

  We’ll find a way, won’t we?

  HOPE

  Of course we will.

  She kisses him.

  HOPE (CONTINUED)

  Now shhhh! It’s really rude to talk during a film. We should be respectful.

  I look at my watch.

  ‘Do you fancy seeing a movie?’ I ask with a sudden bolt of optimism. ‘It’s Mum’s and I haven’t seen it yet, but it’s supposed to be amazing. I know you said you don’t really like films, but maybe you just haven’t been watching the right ones.’

  Jamie looks at his phone again, then blows air out through his mouth. ‘Fine.’

  Yessss! Before he can change his mind, I run as fast as I can to the box office and buy two tickets. It’s going to be in 3D and high definition and everything: it’ll be like we’re actually there!

  I grab Jamie’s hand and we walk into the enormous, ancient theatre. Then I hold my breath. It’s like an old Technicolor film, bright and rich and gleaming. Hundreds of deep red velvet seats face the biggest IMAX screen on the planet, shrouded in a red velvet curtain embroidered with golden palm trees. Immense marble columns engraved with trees and shrines and birds and blossoms tower upwards.

  The ceiling is a jewel box: sapphire and ruby and emerald and gold. It’s carved in a round, intricate rose shape and there are tiny dragons chasing herons, and horses cantering around and castles painted in oil above us.

  Around the edges of the theatre, tiny Chinese lanterns glow rosily, like miniature red orbs. The whole room smells of … Hollywood.

  This is where we gather – the famous and the unknown, the wannabes and the nearlies and the one-days – just to be part of something bigger than ourselves; to take a seat in cinematic history, set among the stars.

  I turn to Jamie with lit-up eyes.

  ‘These chairs look uncomfortable,’ he frowns. ‘Do they even tilt back properly? Where am I supposed to put my drink? How long does this film last again?’

  Come on, movie: time to work your magic.

  Grinning, I put my black-rimmed plastic three-dimensional glasses on and hand Jamie his pair. He scowls at me but puts his on too.

  We’re barely seated before the lights go down and music suddenly swells: trumpets and violins, a full orchestra. I’m tingling all over and there’s a lump in my throat.

  Quickly, I grab Jamie’s hand and squeeze.

  Here we go here we go here we go here we—

  With a glorious swish, the red velvet curtains open …

  FADE OUT.

  … FADE IN.

  HOPE stumbles out of the auditorium.

  What the—

  How could she—

  Why did they—

  THAT WAS NOT A ROMANCE.

  Numb, I lean against a marble pillar in the foyer.

  Happy happy stay happy happy happy—

  ‘Well,’ Jamie says, staring at his phone again, ‘that was OK, wasn’t it? Still not my kinda thing, but yeah. Not bad, I guess. Could’ve been worse.’

  Why did nobody warn me?

  ‘I always thought your mom was overrated, but she wasn’t terrible. Though I’m not sure I totally bought the concept, you know?’

  There was no love story in that film at all. Like, nothing.

  I kept looking, but once an hour had passed, and no hot guy of any kind had shown up, I realised I’d been conned.

  ‘So she went all that way and didn’t even find her daughter? What was the point, then? Good special effects, though. That avalanche was awesome.’

  Why would anyone make a film like that? What possessed my mother to take that role in the first place? What’s wrong with girl meets boy, girl loves boy, girl overcomes obstacle, girl ends up with boy? I mean, they’re classics for a reason.

  ‘What happened at the end, though? I was watching my buddy getting totally worked by a wave on my phone so I missed it. Did she get back or not?’

  It’s just a film, Hope. Just a film just a film just a film just a film—

  I blink at Jamie, the foyer still spinning in circles around me.

  ‘I don’t know. I shut my eyes.’

  ‘Oh. Well.’ Jamie grimaces and looks back at his phone. ‘Guess we’ll never know, then. Never mind. Hahaha! Have a look at this wipeout. It’s hilarious.’

  I stare at the video of roiling waves without seeing anything.

  No wonder Mum’s exhausted. Making that film must have completely drained her. My father really must go home right now. Juliet Valentine needs all the love and affection she can get. And I’m her hope so it’s time for me to focus.

  ‘I was thinking,’ Jamie continues, finally putting his phone away. ‘The personal profit from a movie of that scale must be immense. You guys must be loaded. Does your family do much charity work? You really should. You know, I’ve started up a new sea conservation project because the ones already running just weren’t doing enough. What do you think?’

  He points and I blink at his SAVE THE WHALES T-shirt. Next time I see a film, I am getting a written guarantee that it’s not heartbreaking before I buy a ticket.

  With an effort, I pull myself together. I am Hope Valentine – movie star in the making – and sadness is not in my narrative.

  ‘Ch-charity?’ I shake my head hard. ‘Wh-what do you mean? Oh. Well. Mum and Dad built a school in Nepal about a decade ago. They go out most years, I think.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Jamie nods. ‘But what about you? What are you doing? Personally?’

  I stare at the floor, flushing. ‘Not … that much.’

  ‘Well.’ He stretches his arms out and cricks his neck. ‘That’s not ideal, is it? I could show you some projects you could get involved in, maybe get a donation from your—’

  I’m trying to listen, really I am, but my eyes start to drift round the foyer.

  It’s very similar to the auditorium – ornate and carved and red and gold, like another smaller jewellery box – and there’s an old-fashioned popcorn counter and large glass display boxes filled with memorabilia. Oooh! There’s the green curtain dress from Gone With the Wind, Marilyn Monroe’s gold dress from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Dorothy’s apron from The Wizard of Oz—

  I inhale quickly. Is that—

  ‘Mum?’ I take a few quick steps forward. ‘Oh my gosh. Jamie, that’s my mum.’

  She’s on the other side of the room, soft rosy lights glinting off her platinum hair, skin flawless, eyes huge and grey. The famous Valentine nose – the one Mercy inherited – is large and noble, her wide mouth is crooked in a smile, and she’s a lot curvier than the last time I saw her. She looks haughty and imperious in long grey satin.

  She also looks about ten years younger. The fine lines round her forehead and mouth are completely gone, and there are no dark shadows under her eyes.

  It’s freaky how real she looks. In many ways I can’t quite put my finger on, this waxwork looks a lot more alive than my mum did last week.

  ‘Wow,’ Jamie murmurs as we reach her, leaning right into her face with narrowed eyes. ‘That is creepy. You don’t look much like her after all.’

  Honestly, it’s overwhelming. I know she’s basically a giant candle, but all I want to do after seeing that film is tell Jamie to give my mother some personal space and then wrap my arms round her tightly.

  ‘Umm,’ I say instead, holding out a hand with an awkward laugh. ‘Is it too soon to introduce you to my parents? Jamie, meet my mum. Mum, meet Jamie.’

  Jamie stares at me. ‘That’s just weird, Hope.’

  ‘… I was joking.’

  ‘You’re not even vaguely funny.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Anyway …’ He starts walking towards the exit, phone in hand once more. ‘So some of my other friends are having a beach barbecue later.’

  I nod, p
leased Jamie hasn’t missed out on everything because of me.

  Then I give Mum’s waxwork one last glance before turning to the doors. I’ve really got to talk to Dad as soon as possible. Maybe if I get up super early tomorrow I can drop a few more subtle hints, casually bring up the topic of the Olden Days, maybe low-key place a few photos of Mum on the—

  ‘Hope? Are you listening?’

  ‘Course I am!’ We push back into the bright sunshine and I smile. ‘So barbecues … actually, I know how to make really delicious halloumi kebabs. Maybe I could bring some with the—’

  ‘Well …’ Jamie taps on his phone. ‘This has been fun.’

  ‘Oh.’ I frown. ‘Am I not … coming with you?’

  I swear it’s as if his face has just been bricked up like an abandoned house. His jaw goes stiff, his mouth hard and flat. ‘We can’t spend all our time together,’ he hisses. ‘Is that what you want, Hope? To be with me constantly? Do you want to glue yourself to my side or something?’

  I stare at him, suddenly cold.

  ‘N-no, of course not! It’s just that you said we’d spend the day together so I assumed that—’

  ‘The day’s basically over now. My entire life isn’t about you, you know. Why are you so needy?’

  What on earth is happening?

  ‘Sorry. I’m sorry!’ Erase erase erase. ‘It’s just that … I love spending time with you, that’s all.’

  There’s a long silence.

  ‘You know, Hope,’ Jamie’s eyes are like hard blue marbles, ‘when you say things like that, it’s really unattractive.’

  ‘S-sorry.’

  ‘Stop saying sorry all the time,’ Jamie sighs. ‘It’s getting annoying.’

  I stare at the floor. What did I do? And, once I know, how do I fix it?

  ‘Look.’ My forehead is unexpectedly being kissed and a golden arm goes round my shoulder and squeezes it. ‘I’ve gotta go to this barbecue because it’s all arranged and I’m busy tomorrow. But I’ll call you, OK? We can work something out.’

  I nod. ‘O-kay.’

  Then I look at my watch. It’s only two pm, which means Roz isn’t due to pick me up for another four hours. I suppose I could go watch Mum’s film another couple of times, but it would have to be on my own.

  “Umm,” I say instead. “Is there a bus I could maybe catch back?”

  “A bus?” Jamie shakes his head and smiles brightly. “We don’t really do public transport in LA, Hope. I’ll drop you home on the way. It’s not safe out here on your own. There are way too many weirdos.’

  You see the problem, right?

  It’s all well and good ad-libbing on set, but too much improvisation and the narrative arc gets confused. And this script is now starting to veer off course dramatically and needs recalibrating.

  I glance over at Jamie.

  He’s driving with his eyes narrowed. He hasn’t said a single word in twenty-five minutes. It is definitely time for me to step in and get this story back in the right lane.

  Giving my head a quick shake, I clear my throat.

  And lights, cameras –

  ‘You know,’ I say casually, leaning against the car door, ‘Gemini is ruled by Mercury, which is the planet of communication. While Cancer is led by the moon, which is all about emotions.’

  Jamie continues driving.

  ‘So Gemini tend to be more go-go-go, hopping from one new thing to another, while Cancer is much more of a homebody, into familiarity and creature comforts.’

  Still driving.

  ‘Cancerians often struggle to … uh … express themselves, while Geminis really don’t.’ I turn towards him slightly. ‘We Crabs are more intuitive, you see, more sensitive and kind of instinctual, while you guys like clear verbal connection. It’s a really good combination, because we totally balance each other out. Air and water. Water and air. Which, everyone knows, make … bubbles.’

  More silence.

  ‘But bubbles need to be looked after, otherwise too much water and too much air and the—’

  ‘Do you have a point?’ Jamie snaps tiredly. ‘Or are you just chattering again?’

  I flinch. ‘Please tell me if something’s wrong.’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong.’

  ‘Are you sure? Because … The sign of Gemini is twins, after all, so it’s completely normal that there are two sides of you. It’s just … is everything OK? Are you stressed about something at school? What can I do to help?’

  ‘I don’t need help,’ Jamie snaps, still focused on the road. ‘I’m not the one who believes in horoscopes. Next you’ll be telling me you believe in unicorns too.’

  My cheeks go very hot. He was supposed to tell me he’s got a lot on at the moment – an overdue project or something – and I’d ease his mind, offer a solution and make everything better again.

  ‘Of course not!’ I laugh, shaking my head. ‘But why wouldn’t the planets affect us? The moon causes tides and periods and everyone knows that’s actual science. So maybe the location of the entire universe affects us all just a little bit?’

  ‘No.’ Jamie’s still staring at the road. ‘It doesn’t.’

  ‘Maybe?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘But … if fruits and vegetables are seasonal, couldn’t humans be seasonal too?’

  ‘Jeez,’ Jamie says, glancing to the side. ‘You really are something else, you know that?’

  Again, that line does not seem to have quite the same positive inflection it did in London. Although I shouldn’t be surprised: Geminis never believe in horoscopes, which is kind of ironic if you think about it.

  Jamie’s small green Toyota finally pulls up outside my gates. There’s a long silence.

  ‘Umm,’ I say, just in case it’s my cue. ‘Thanks for the lift, Jamie. Really appreciate it.’ Then I open the car door.

  Honestly, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be in Los Angeles, but at this rate I won’t be Jamie’s girlfriend for months. Maybe I should drop a hint, bring up the—

  ‘Hope?’

  My heart lurches and I spin round. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Give me a smile?’

  I smile.

  ‘Give me a kiss?’

  I give him a tentative kiss.

  Then Jamie leans his forehead against mine, and stares into my eyes. I can feel it: the tension building, the excitement rising, our souls connecting, it’s happening it’s happening it’s finally happening—

  ‘Hope, I need to ask you something.’

  Happiness rushes through my arms, racing across my chest, warming my face. Finally finally finally yes yes yes yes yes—

  ‘Will you …’

  ‘Oh my gosh, yes!’ I shout, throwing my arms abruptly round Jamie and kissing his cheek. ‘Yes! Yes! Of course I will!’

  ‘… pass me my sunglasses case? I left it in your passenger door.’

  Aaaargh, did I just jump my cue again?

  ‘Umm, of course I will!’

  Move with the direction, Hope.

  ‘Here!’ I reach into the door. ‘Here are your sunglasses! Oh my gosh, yes! Here you go!’

  Then I hand them over and breathe out in relief. Seamlessly done, Hope. Bravo.

  ‘Cool. Laters?’

  Honestly, I have no idea what my next line is.

  HOPE

  See you soon! I’ll miss you.

  Needy.

  HOPE

  Call me!

  Demanding.

  HOPE

  Call me?

  Desperate.

  HOPE

  WHEN AM I GOING TO SEE YOU AGAIN BECAUSE I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT OUR RELATIONSHIP STATUS IS AND WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME.

  Definitely not that.

  My phone starts buzzing, so I grab it.

  ‘Cool,’ I repeat, as breezily as possible. ‘Laters.’

  Three days.

  It took my siblings three whole days to notice I was no longer in the house with them. So much for the telepathic bond between family: paper bunting h
as a stronger connection.

  ‘Po,’ Effie says as I hit the green button on my phone. ‘Baby, what’s going on? Is everything all right?’

  Yeah, my sisters have suffered enough. I turn the camera on.

  Faith’s beautiful face appears – crumpled and anxious – and my stomach twists. Did I really have to put the people I love the most through this drama? The worry they must have felt when they finally realised I was gone, the sleepless nights—

  ‘She’s just sulking,’ Mercy snaps from behind Faith. ‘We can hear you, Poodle. You may have locked the door, but that whiny heartbreak music has been playing on repeat for days. I swear if you don’t give me my stuff back right now I’m going to kick the door down and get it for myself.’

  ‘Shut up, Mer.’ Effie knocks on my Richmond bedroom door, then lightly rests her cheek on the wood. ‘Po, we’re so sorry you’re feeling sad. I should have realised you weren’t really OK even though you said you were. Open the door, baby? Please?’

  I stare at my phone. Three days and they still haven’t noticed?

  OK, I no longer feel guilty.

  If I really was in there, I’d have starved by now and Mercy would have had to rip her precious Gucci handbag out of my skeleton hands.

  ‘For the love of—’ I say in frustration. ‘I accidentally left the music on my computer running on loop. So go ahead, Mercy. Knock yourself out. Neither me nor your clothes are actually in there.’

  ‘Told you,’ Max crows cheerfully, poking his grinning face into the frame. ‘Told you she’d run away. I bet she’s living in an ashram in India. Or under a pile of furs in a cave somewhere in the Arctic. You guys need to start giving me credit for being the visionary I actually am.’

  ‘Oh, please.’ Mercy rolls her eyes. ‘As if. Where would she go? Who would she run to? She’s still in there, hiding out with a week’s worth of canned food like a crazy little squirrel.’