by Holly Smale
Ping.
Nearly there! Have the ducks arrived? x
A small wave of irritation. You’ve been ‘nearly there’ for over an hour, Noah. And stop calling them ducks – it stopped being funny at least two texts ago.
Yup! It’s the interval! x
Good good! Hope you’re having fun! xx
I glance round at the bustling auditorium, then at my lonely box.
Very much! Thanks! x
The interval bell rings and the audience return to their seats. My eyes keep flicking towards the back curtains of our box. Noah is going to arrive any minute now, and I can drop my stiff-backed, isn’t-this-wonderful! expression and get on with enjoying the ballet without all the pitying glances.
FAITH V – OVERDRESSED
AND ALONE AGAIN!
The lights finally go down, thank goodness. Yet another ball commences, but this time there’s an unexpected guest: the Black Swan. She’s identical to Odette, however (surprise!) she’s dressed entirely in black. Where the White Swan is soft and sweet, the Black Swan is sharp and fiery. Spinning in a series of dizzying circles, she entrances the prince. He immediately marries her.
And – projected on to the back of the stage – is a real white swan, beating her heartbroken wings against a stained-glass window. The curse is fulfilled, the end is coming, get your tissues ready, it’s going to be a corker.
Ping.
Well?
I look up with a lump in my throat. We’re back at the lake. Swans are filling the stage and Odette is performing her stunning, tragic solo: The Dying Swan.
Noah’s not coming. He’s not even on his way, and I think a part of me knew he never really was. My anniversary gift is sitting alone, watching a swan energetically drown herself.
Shut the hell up, Mercy.
Onstage, the mists rise and Siegfried disappears forever with the princess into the blue lake. The End.
Blinking back tears, I swallow and reach into my handbag. I turn my phone off. Then I lean forward over the balcony and clap as hard as I can.
Happy anniversary, Effie.
I’m halfway out of the doors before I spot him. Standing in the foyer in a black suit, holding an enormous bouquet of white roses.
Noah’s driver bows deeply.
‘Faith Valentine? Would you like to come with me?’
Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry—
My heart is lurching against my ribcage.
Was this all part of some bigger romantic plan of Noah’s, and Swan Lake was just something lovely to keep me entertained while he got our real anniversary evening ready?
I cannot believe I let Mercy make me doubt my own boyfriend.
Quickly, I wipe my eyes and straighten up. Collapsing on the floor of a public lobby and bawling in relief isn’t Valentine Behaviour.
‘Mister Anthony has something very special planned for you,’ the driver says as I smile tentatively at him. ‘You’re a very, very lucky girl.’
Then he gently wraps a black scarf over my eyes.
‘Where are we going?’ I laugh. Noah’s always so extra. ‘Surely I don’t have to be blindfolded?’
‘I’ve been given my instructions. Sorry, miss. Hold on.’
I’m led into what I presume is the back seat of a limousine.
The engine starts and we drive in silence as I try to work out what direction we’re going in. I mean, it could be anywhere. A private dining-room restaurant? A members-only art gallery? A yacht? Where?!
Noah and I have spent so little time together recently. I bet he’s taking me somewhere beautiful, just the two of us. And, as an hour ticks by, I feel my spirits lifting even further. With all those headlines circulating, what we really need is us time.
Finally, the limo stops. Gently, I’m helped out of the car and awkwardly led up some steep steps.
A door opens with a click and I hear a noise: quiet at first, then building as we walk towards it. A low rumble, a roar, a clamour, until it’s a giant wall of solid sound. Aeroplanes? A private jet revving up? Except it sounds like …
Screaming?
My hands reach up to my blindfold.
‘Just a few more seconds,’ the driver says cheerfully, taking my hands away. ‘Tell you something, my daughter would kill to be in your shoes.’
Then I’m nudged forward. The air changes, becoming hot, cloying and kind of … smelly. The screaming is so loud my dress is literally shaking. It feels like the whole world is on the brink of exploding. As if somebody’s tapped the edge and now there’s too much vibration and it’s going to shatter like a glass. Then it all abruptly goes silent.
With one smooth movement, my blindfold is removed.
I blink. I’m at the side of an enormous stage, half hidden behind the curtains. Under the spotlights is Noah, his favourite guitar slung across his back. The floor is scattered with flower petals, there are pink fairy lights everywhere and he’s at the centre of it all, wearing a dazzling white shirt and designer blue jeans.
My beautiful boyfriend turns to smile at me.
My eyes fill. My heart glows and rockets straight through the ceiling.
I smile back at him: Hello, you.
Then he turns to the arena crowd and holds one hand up like a conductor.
‘FAITH!’ they screech-chant. ‘FAITH! FAITH! FAITH! FAITH! FAITH! FAITH FAITH FAITH FAITH FAITH FAITH FAITH!’
All of the light abruptly drains out of me.
No. No. No—
‘Wh-what—’ I stammer, but strong hands are on my shoulders and I’m being pushed on to the stage, into the spotlights. ‘Please, no— I don’t want to—’
‘AND HERE SHE IS!’ Noah beams again and holds out his hand. ‘THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL IN THE WHOLE WORLD! EVERYONE, GIVE A HUUUUUGE WELCOME TO MY INSPIRATION, MY SOULMATE AND THE LOVE OF MY LIFE, FAITH VALENTINE!’
I can’t breathe. Instinctively, I turn to run, but I can’t in this stupid dress.
The screams get louder and an orchestra starts up and a neon light pulsing FAITH VALENTINE has been switched on and I’m being pushed pushed pushed pushed pushed—
‘Go on, love!’ The huge hands firmly shove me to centre stage. ‘Don’t be shy, sweetheart! Get out there and enjoy it!’
Stiffly, I turn.
Ninety thousand people have broken into raucous cheers.
That’s 90,000.
Nine, four zeros and a comma.
‘GUYS!’ Noah calls over the top of the screams. ‘GUYS, GUYS! WAIT A MINUTE! I’VE GOT SOMETHING TO SAY! COME OVER HERE, BABE! COME ON!’
Drowning in screams, my boyfriend grabs my hand, pulls me towards him and spins me round like a trophy. Then he picks me up and puts me on a narrow high chair, the kind boy bands step off when they have to change octave.
My entire body is shaking, like I’m a tapped glass too.
Noah faces the audience again.
‘TODAY!’ My boyfriend holds a hand up and there’s sudden silence. ‘TODAY IS OUR ONE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY! ONE YEAR SINCE I MET THIS GODDESS AT AN AWARDS PARTY! ISN’T THAT RIGHT, EFF?’
He turns to me, radiant in his spotlight. Trembling, I swallow and nod.
‘GET THIS!’ Noah turns to the sea of tiny faces. ‘THIS STUNNER WAS ON THE FLOOR, CLEANING UP WITH THE WAITERS! WHAT A TOTAL SWEETHEART, HUH?’
I open my mouth.
‘AND, FROM THE VERY FIRST SECOND, I KNEW.’ Noah puts an arm round me. ‘I KNEW THIS GIRL WAS EVERYTHING I HAD BEEN LOOKING FOR. YOU ALL KNOW SHE WAS THE INSPIRATION FOR MY SMASH HIT, “FOR YOU I WAS WAITING”, BUT TONIGHT I WANT TO PLAY HER SOMETHING VERY SPECIAL.’
With a slight nod from Noah, they all start roaring: ‘WE LOVE YOU, NOAH, YOU’RE SO ROMANTIC, NOAH!’
My boyfriend takes my hand, kisses it, then grabs his guitar and plays an opening A minor chord.
My stomach knots tightly.
‘THIS IS CALLED “FAITH IN ME”.’ Noah grins at me, then at them. ‘IT’S THE FIRST TRACK OF MY BRAND-NEW ALBUM, ON THE RISE! OUT TOMORROW! HOPE YOU LIKE IT!’<
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My mouth opens—
‘Mmmmmm,’ he hums earnestly into his microphone. ‘Ooooh. Do-do-do. Mmmmm.’ Chord. ‘You’re state of the art/The song in my heart/You’ve read some Descartes/It sets you apart …’
And this is it.
The Big Dream.
The Grand Romantic Gesture.
The Moment I Will Remember For The Rest Of My Life.
I am on an enormous stage in a glittering designer dress, being serenaded by my famous, gorgeous boyfriend with my very own song, my name being screamed by thousands, the luckiest, most cherished girl in the entire world.
So why do I want to run away so badly? What’s wrong with me?
‘Mmmmmmm … You’re the joy in my soul/The fish in my shoal/I’d meet you in Seoul …’
My nose abruptly twitches – Noah’s been at the Online Rhyming Dictionary again – and I dip my head so he can’t see my expression.
‘… Because, babe, you’re my goal …’
Torch apps are being turned on all round the stadium and waved in the air, twinkling like techno stars.
Love this, Faith. Please, just be normal and love it. Love it love it love it love it love it love it love it love it—
Out of the shadows steps a young violinist, walking towards the front of the stage, long blonde hair shining. With a flourish, she starts playing.
‘IIIIIIIIIIII HAVE FAITH IN YOU.’ Noah turns towards me. I’m guessing it’s the chorus. ‘AND YOUUUUUU’RE THE FAITH IN MEEEEEEEEE.’
I have no idea where to look.
‘THAAAATTTT’S HOW THIS LOVE GRREEEWWWWW, AND, BABY, YOU’RE MY KEYYYYYY.’ A grand piano is being wheeled on. Noah smiles, hands his guitar to a crew member and then sits down at the keys. ‘You’re the light in my chest/Above all the rest/I think you’re the best/I’ll see you in …’
Budapest.
‘Bucharest.’
A tiny bubble of snot pops out of my nose and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. This is so sweet, so special, so huge.
But all I wanted was for Noah to be there when he said he would, and not say he was on his way when he wasn’t. For him to come and see a boring ballet just once because he knows I’d love it.
Instead, I smile as hard as I can, hold a hand to my chest and make my eyes shiny.
Blessed, guys. So blessed.
He keeps singing – a verse of life/knife/strife/wildlife and another chorus – then Noah bursts into a long high note and finally stops, breathless.
I open my mouth.
‘GIVE FAITH VALENTINE ANOTHER BIG CHEER!’ he shouts, jumping up from the piano, pulling me off my seat and spinning me yet again in an elaborate, sparkling white circle. My dress/gift suddenly makes a hell of a lot more sense. ‘LOVE YOU SO MUCH, BABY! HAPPY ONE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY!’
Noah tilts me backwards and kisses me.
With a loud bang, silver glitter and pink petals fill the air, shooting from every direction, straight into my face. The crowd erupts.
I open my mouth again—
‘OK, that’s done now, babe,’ my boyfriend whispers in my ear, straightening me up again. ‘Stay for the after-party, yeah? It’s going to be good.’
And I’m ushered back offstage.
SHE’S HIS VALENTINE
Last night, Noah Anthony delighted a packed-out Wembley crowd with his new Number One single, ‘Faith in Me’, dedicated to girlfriend, Faith Valentine. Heart-throb Noah serenaded his lucky lady, who remained composed throughout, dressed for the limelight in sparkling Valentino (left).
I wake up alone.
Honestly, I would have put money on Mercy rocking up at 5am purely to mock me – a YouTube video of last night’s show has gone viral and my sister could live off the chest/Bucharest rhyme for days – but the next morning it’s just me.
I stare at the ceiling for a few seconds. Last night was …
Quickly, I roll over, grab my phone and send Noah his daily wake-up text:
Good morning! Last night was REALLY SOMETHING. Thank you for an amazing evening, sorry I couldn’t stay, LOVED it! See you tonight so I can give you YOUR gift! Eff xx
My doodled-on travel-agent’s envelope just isn’t going to cut it any more. Jay-Z bought Beyoncé a twenty-million-dollar desert island off the coast of Florida; maybe I could find a cheaper beach hut somewhere in Scotland?
I get dressed in my Grandma-approved audition outfit, dutifully post the image of Noah’s gig Genevieve sent me last night with a ‘to-copy-and-paste quote’ – Luckiest girlfriend ever!!! – and grab the papers from the front doormat. Then I go back upstairs and quietly tiptoe down the corridor to Mer’s bedroom.
My sister’s in her own bed for the first time in months, sleeping on her back, arms either side, face perfectly still, duvet tucked neatly under her armpits. It’s both creepy and endearing, like a hospitalised vampire.
I resist checking for blood-drained victims under her bed and instead leave a full-page tabloid article next to her so she’ll see Noah’s big romantic gesture as soon as she wakes up.
Take that, Mercy Valentine.
I pop my head into Hope’s room, but then I remember that she was planning to leave at the crack of dawn to shop for school supplies with the mysterious Roz.
So I clomp down the stairs in my teetering audition heels, yawning widely. I did try to wait for Noah at the end of his show, but there were so many paps and fans surging towards the stage I ended up sneaking back home to learn my lines for today’s audition instead.
They’re not really difficult … as long as you know how to behave like a normal human being. Which – given last night – apparently I do not.
‘No!’ I murmur as I quickly scan online for stars I could buy and name after Noah. ‘Stop the car! This is madness.’
An acre of the moon? Is that romantic?
‘I don’t care that we’re in the middle of nowhere—’
I mean, who owns the moon in the first place?
The front doorbell rings.
‘I don’t care that we’re in the middle of nowhere,’ I read from my script, opening the door. ‘I want you to let me go. Something just doesn’t feel right about—’
Genevieve nods curtly. Grandma’s filming something in Devon – a small cameo role that’ll no doubt win her another Oscar for narrowing her eyes – but she’s still making sure I’m arriving on time and without candle grease smeared on me.
‘Morning!’ I try to beam confidently.
‘Where are you going, darling? Anywhere nice?’
I spin round in amazement.
My mother is standing at the bottom of the stairs in pale blue trousers and a navy silk blouse, light hair pulled tightly into a low bun. Her thin face is drawn, her bare feet bony, but she’s dressed and downstairs.
It’s like catching sight of a mermaid, the Loch Ness monster or maybe an errant Tooth Fairy.
I glance at Genevieve to check she can see her too. She subtly nods.
‘Mum!’ I spin back with a fixed smile. ‘How are you feeling? You certainly look –’ exhausted, drained, devoid of essential life force – ‘glowingly beautiful as always!’
Her usually bright grey eyes are sliding dully round the hallway, too smoothly, like they’re on rails.
‘Oh,’ my mother says politely, not listening. ‘How very kind of you to say so, sweetheart.’
She frowns absently at the sheaf of papers I’m stuffing into my handbag.
‘Scripts, darling? For me? I distinctly remember telling Persephone to pass on any offers for the time being. Pinnacle is doing so well at the box office there’s really no need to—’
‘Umm.’ I cough. ‘Actually … they’re mine.’
Her cool gaze flickers momentarily towards Genevieve as if she’s only just noticed her still standing on the doorstep. ‘Yours?’ Pause. ‘In what way?’
‘Roles. For me.’ I can feel my cheeks getting hot. ‘To audition for. Persephone … emailed them. I’m actually … on my way to a callback. It’s a … b
ig TV show. Everyone’s really … excited.’
Mum frowns. ‘But, darling, you’re far too young.’
What? ‘I’m sixteen, Mum. Remember? The rule is we can act after we turn sixteen. You’re thinking of Hope.’
She gazes into space again.
‘Mum?’
Up at the hall window.
‘Mum.’
‘Hmm?’ She switches a sliver of attention back to me. ‘Oh yes, darling. You’re probably right. Well. You always were the beauty of the family. Are you using that expensive cream I gave you? Those high-definition cameras will capture every flaw.’
I blink. ‘Yes, Mu—’
‘Where’s your sister?’ she interrupts abruptly. ‘I can’t find her. She’s not in her room. She’s never in her room any more.’
‘Mercy’s asleep.’ My stomach twists. ‘And Hope’s gone out shopping for a new school satchel with Dad and … Roz.’
My mother stares at me.
‘Well.’ Her face empties, and she brushes her lips gently over my cheek. It’s like being kissed by a dandelion seed. ‘I think I’ll go back to bed now. Goodbye.’
She slowly makes her formal way up the stairs, thin back straight, chin held high. Genevieve and I watch her go.
For a second, I can see other versions of my beautiful mother flickering like a candle: tossing Hope in the air, tickling a giggling Mercy, giving Max a piggyback, stroking my hair, snorting with laughter at a dumb joke with a hand over her mouth.
Then the candle goes out, and there’s just a closed door.
‘Right.’ Genevieve is brisk and businesslike. ‘Faith, we can update your social media in the car. I’m thinking Positive Mind, Positive Vibes, Positive Life with a silhouette yoga photo. Hashtag Bhujangasana, hashtag livingmybestlife, hashtag sunlightinmysoul. Off we go.’
I stare at my grandmother’s assistant, tapping impatiently at her phone.
Where is she even getting these photos? It’s weird to think Genevieve is out there, living my fake life or trawling the internet for pictures of it.
I’m not even sure I remember what Bhujangasana is. Tree pose? A bridge? Eagle? Some kind of kettle? Oh, who cares?
Grabbing my phone, I text:
Off to my second audition! Soooo nervous! Wish me luck! See you tonight for GIFT TIME! Love you! xxx