'OK, yes, unaccustomed as I am to alcohol I will do my best to force it down,' Valentine said dryly.
'You weren't unaccustomed the other night when you drank all those tequila shots,' Jack put in. Valentine turned briefly in his direction, then quickly turned back. She couldn't stop the pang of jealousy at seeing Julia next to him and the I-told-you-so feeling. Julia looked stunning in a black figure-hugging Roland Mouret Pigalle dress.
'Come and sit down,' Toby said, shuffling up to make room for her on the wooden bench.
'I'm loving the look, V. Are you channelling Prisoner Cell Block H as your style guru?' Lauren said sarcastically.
Valentine shrugged, 'I just wanted to wear something comfortable.'
'Next time why not go the whole hog and wear a sack?' Lauren replied. 'It's press night, V! You should have worn your red silk dress.'
'You look adorable as you are, Valentine,' Toby said chivalrously.
Valentine smiled and took a sip of her drink, and as she did so she caught Jack's eye. 'Are you OK?' he mouthed to her. She nodded and looked away. If anyone was too kind to her she was likely to lose it completely.
'Well, we should have a toast,' Julia declared, holding up her glass. 'To a great first night!' Everyone held up their glasses and Valentine heard Julia murmur, 'And to a fabulous Bottom,' as she leaned over and kissed Jack on the cheek. Even though Jack didn't look as if he was relishing her attention, Valentine couldn't help feeling crushed. He probably still had feelings for Julia and why wouldn't he? Julia might be possessive and neurotic, but she was still beautiful and successful. Valentine sipped her drink morosely.
Then Jack took up the toast and declared, 'To a wonderful Titania!' Julia looked sulky. Valentine then toasted Toby and so it went on round the table. Julia snapped open her chic black velvet clutch bag for a cigarette and was about to light up when Jack said, 'Julia, it's no smoking.'
'Bugger! I always forget. Will you come outside with me, darling?' she asked, stroking his arm. Jack shook his head. Julia did a double-take – clearly not used to being turned down. She narrowed her beautiful blue eyes, looking at Jack and then at Valentine. Then she spoke. 'So Valentine, that was quite something you had to do on stage, baring so much flesh and being surrounded by such ravishing creatures as the Twirlies.' Valentine waited for the sting in the tail and here it came: 'I was so impressed that you hadn't gone on an extreme diet and that you had all your curves. It was so very brave of you.'
Bitch. 'I'm a size ten to twelve, Julia. Last time I checked that wasn't on the morbidly obese spectrum. And yes I do look different from the dancers, but that's the point,' Valentine replied, aware that her cheeks were flushing with anger and embarrassment. Maybe everyone else had been lying when they said how good she had looked; maybe she had looked like a golden porker all along. She was probably a laughing stock.
'Oh I didn't mean it as a criticism! As I said, it was very brave of you!' Julia continued, tapping her zippo lighter on the table in what seemed like a deliberately irritating way.
'So, Julia, where do you stand on the face/body dilemma?' Lauren was quick to leap to her friend's defence.
'What do you mean?' Julia asked warily.
'You know, when a woman gets over a certain age, let's say forty? She needs to decide whether she keeps a skinny body but ends up with a wizened face or goes for a more relaxed approach, and has a fuller figure but with plumper younger-looking skin on her face. Though it's a cruel twist of fate that whatever she does, even if she has work done, the hands and neck always give it away, don't they?' Lauren looked meaningfully at Julia's hands, which actually still looked pretty good.
Julia gave a forced laugh. 'I'm wondering if I should be offended that you think I'm over forty.'
Lauren rolled her eyes. 'Julia, I know you're over forty, so you can cut the denial crap with me.'
'Well, so much for female solidarity,' Julia hissed, all pretence at being charming abandoned. 'Do you know how hard it is keeping this body?' she gestured at her lithe figure, then held up her arms and savagely tugged at the taut skin on the underside. 'Working out every single bloody day to make sure you don't get bingo wings; the hundreds of sit-ups just to keep a flat stomach; the constant dieting. Trying to keep age at bay at all costs because while society seems to think men improve with age – look at Anthony Head, a sex symbol in his fifties, or Harrison Ford, still supposed to be hot at sixty-four.' She took a swig of her wine and then continued her tirade. 'Forty-year-old women are rarely considered sex symbols or even sexual beings! We're character actors or we're someone's mother! And why should I be someone's mother just because I'm forty? Why can't I be someone's lover!' Julia was raising her voice now; she'd lost the husky tone and sounded positively screechy.
If it had been any other forty-year-old actress railing against the unfairness of it all, Valentine would have been totally on their side. She really did think it was outrageous how actresses became sidelined when they reached a certain age and how fifty-something actors on screen ended up with women often half their age. However, she felt decidedly unsympathetic towards Julia and her barbed comment about her figure.
Julia pointed an accusing finger at Lauren, Kitty and Valentine in turn. 'One day you'll be forty and then you'll discover the painful truth. You won't keep that peachy-looking skin for ever, you know. Your tits will sag, you'll get lines and you'll have to fight to keep the weight off.' She paused to survey their faces, her eyes flashing with anger. Hell hath no fury like a forty-something actress under threat. 'I really had expected more from my fellow actors.' She abruptly got up. 'Come on Jack, we're leaving.'
Jack remained sitting, 'I'm staying. This is press night, remember?'
Clearly struggling to keep her composure, Julia tossed back her long black hair and stormed out of the bar, killer heels clicking reproachfully on the wooden floor. There was a pause.
'Aren't you going to go after your girlfriend?' Valentine asked snidely.
'She's not my girlfriend. That situation's vacant, remember? I split up with her over three months ago. We're just friends.'
'Yeah right, friends that fuck, according to Julia,' Valentine shot back. Suddenly she was directing at Jack all the anger and hurt that had been building up inside her because of Finn. Jack looked furious.
'Whooah!' Toby put his hand up. 'I think that's enough! Who wants another drink? We don't need a public dissection of Jack's private life, do we?'
'No, we haven't got nearly enough time,' Valentine replied. 'God knows how many other older women he's got in his closet, lining up to pleasure him with their lithe bodies, wizened faces and monkey paws. Oh so grateful for a bit of young cock inside them! There's probably a queue of them waiting outside right now to suck your dick! And you probably wouldn't mind, would you, because a blow job's a blow job isn't it!' She knew she had crossed a line – the combination of depression mixed with jealousy was causing her to say terrible things.
'Is that what you really think?' Jack demanded. 'That I'm some kind of gigolo rent boy? God, you have a low opinion of me. I'll tell you what, I'll leave you to your character assassination.' And with that he got up, grabbed his leather jacket and marched out of the room.
There was stunned silence round the table. Valentine couldn't bring herself to look at anyone. Toby cleared his throat and was the first to speak. 'First nights can be very emotional events. I'm sure a well-timed apology to Jack tomorrow will iron everything out.'
'Or paying a pensioner to give him a well-timed blowie!' Lauren said cheekily. Whenever there was a line, Lauren always liked to cross it.
Valentine ignored her and turned to Toby. 'I just don't know what came over me. It was that woman being so rude and everything and oh my God!' She covered her face with her hands, mortified by her behaviour. 'I can't believe I said those things to Jack.'
Toby put his arm round her. 'Come on, you're just tired and emotional; I'll get you a taxi home, my treat.'
'Thanks Toby,' Valentine replied grat
efully. She did need to get out of there fast.
'When you said older women, just how old did you mean?' Nathan asked. 'I'm feeling vaguely turned on by all this talk of pleasuring.'
'Shut up, Nathan!' Lauren replied, punching him on the arm. 'Or I'll give you pleasuring.'
'Time to go,' Toby said, steering Valentine out of the bar.
The following day Valentine arrived at the theatre early in the hope of seeing Jack. She had already texted him to say sorry, but he hadn't replied. Well, she couldn't exactly blame him, could she? It was time to eat a large (hopefully carb-free) slice of humble pie. She hung around in the corridor outside the boys' dressing room, chatting to Toby, hoping to see Jack before she had to get changed. She didn't want to make the apology in nipple tassels. She needed to get some dignity back. But there was no sign of Jack and by six forty-five she couldn't delay getting ready any longer and reluctantly went into the dressing room.
'No sign of him?' Kitty whispered sympathetically. Valentine shook her head. A few minutes later Toby popped in and said that Jack had arrived. Apparently he wasn't saying very much to anyone. Emily went on one of her flirting missions and came back looking very petulant, saying that Jack had snapped at her for no reason.
It wasn't until Valentine was backstage that she finally saw him. Usually they would have a whispered chat before their scene. Not this time. He stood as far away from her as he could in the wings, with his arms folded, staring straight ahead. Everything about his body language said leave me alone. But Valentine couldn't bear to go on stage without at least saying sorry to his face. She tiptoed over and lightly touched his arm. He remained looking ahead.
'Sorry Jack,' she whispered. No reaction. 'I'm really, really sorry, I didn't mean those things.' Still no reaction.
Then just as she thought she was going to have to go on stage without getting any response, Jack finally turned to her. 'I had no idea you disliked me that much. I promise to leave you alone from now on,' he said, face expressionless.
Valentine was about to protest that on the contrary she liked him very much, when it was their cue to go on.
For the next three days Jack kept his distance from Valentine. The play was going well, better than Valentine could have predicted, but she felt wretched about Jack. Kitty told her she had to tell him how she felt, but Valentine was convinced she had completely blown it with him. And suddenly she realised just how much she wanted him. Really wanted him, yearned for him, ached for him. She realised that in spite of her emotional reaction to Finn's engagement, deep down she'd always suspected it would happen. She thought about how different Jack was from Finn – how warm and open he was, how he had made her feel so good about herself. Oh God, why had she pushed him away?
Finally on the fourth day of presenting a cold front Jack joined the other actors for a drink in the Orange Peril. Usually he would have sat next to Valentine on what had become their sofa, but tonight he sat next to Toby. He studiously ignored Valentine. He had never looked so desirable or so unobtainable. Kitty exchanged a sympathetic glance with Valentine, who sighed and despondently swirled the vodka and ice around in her glass and wondered whether to blow her no-carb rule and eat a bumper bag of Walkers.
'That's fantastic news, Jack!' Toby suddenly exclaimed and everyone looked over expectantly. 'Jack's just been offered a part at the Manchester Exchange in King Lear, without even having to audition.'
'You jammy bastard!' Kitty exclaimed then added, 'Congratulations, that's brilliant.' She got up and gave him a big hug.
'Well done, Jack,' Valentine said, wishing she could do the same.
'Thanks,' he muttered but he still didn't look at her. 'So when do you start rehearsing?' she continued, desperate to hold his attention somehow.
Her question earned her a further mutter, 'Two weeks after we finish.' Then he added, 'Perhaps there'll be a wizened-faced, lithe-bodied crone I can get off with.'
No one knew whether to laugh. Kitty turned purple trying to stifle a giggle.
Valentine took a deep breath, sensing it was now or never to make Jack aware of her feelings. 'I didn't mean what I said; it was completely out of order. And you're wrong, I do like you; I like you very much. It was just something from my past that shook me up and I took it out on you and I shouldn't have. Please say you forgive me.'
It was a full-on speech to have to deliver in front of everyone else. If he ignored her she would be mortified. But at last he looked at her and the coldness had gone from his eyes. 'Julia was out of order as well. You're right, she does still have a thing for me and in the past I did encourage it, but not anymore. And in answer to your other comment – there's only been one other older woman. Hardly a harem, is it? You're the only woman I'm interested in.'
Valentine suddenly felt very warm and her stomach did that delicious-scary free-fall thing. 'So why don't you cheer the fuck up and come and sit on our sofa?' she demanded.
Needing no further encouragement Jack came and sat down next to her. The others, who had been listening to the exchange open-mouthed, suddenly pretended to be engrossed in conversation. It wasn't subtle but Valentine appreciated the effort.
'So do you accept my apology?' Valentine asked tentatively.
'Only if you can guarantee what you just said was true,' Jack replied.
'I can say it again or I can do this,' Valentine answered and she leaned forward and kissed him – a sensuous, this-kiss-is-going-places sort of kiss, a get-a-room sort of kiss. She pulled away and whispered, 'Do you want to come back to mine?' Suddenly she wanted him so badly, she didn't care about anything else.
Jack nodded and his whispered 'Yes,' sent a shiver of lust through her.
As they got out of the taxi Valentine said, 'We should have champagne to celebrate your new play.'
Jack took her in his arms. 'How about celebrating us, here together.'
'Good idea, and also if you're crap in bed the champagne will help me get through,' Valentine said, winding her arms round his neck.
'I'm not crap in bed,' Jack whispered.
Valentine's stomach did another lurch; she didn't doubt it. As soon as she pushed open the off-licence door Robbie and Tom went into their prisoner routine. 'Miss Fleming, ma'am, it's so good to see you!' Robbie called out, 'We've missed you something awful. Is there any news of our pardon?' Valentine glanced at Jack, who was looking bemused.
'Boys, I have no news for you,' she replied in her Southern Belle accent. 'As you can see I have a gentleman caller and would appreciate you got me my liquor. It's champagne tonight.'
'Oh,' Robbie stared back at her with a crestfallen expression, while Tom reached for a bottle of whatever champagne they had on offer.
'It's just a thing we do,' she explained to Jack in her normal voice.
'So you're the prison governor and they're your prisoners?'
'They're on death row,' she replied.
'But Miss Fleming is trying to get us pardoned,' Robbie put in. He looked seriously put out by Jack's presence.
Jack's mouth twitched as he said, 'And I'm the pervy one with an older-woman fetish? Whereas you've got two young men in prison. Who's the pervert now?'
'It's not like that,' Valentine reverted to Southern Belle, 'I've been encouraging these young men in their Bible studies.'
'Come on, Scarlett O'Hara,' Jack answered, handing over the money for the champagne and ignoring Valentine's protests that she should pay.
Outside they both burst out laughing and Valentine said, 'Now you must think I'm a complete mentalist.'
'No, just a pervert. And you do know that poor Robbie fancies the arse off you, don't you? I thought he was going to hit me. I was relieved the glass was there to protect me.'
'Well, unlike your ladies, I'm not into younger men,' Valentine replied as they crossed the road and walked up the steps to the house. Inside the flat the banter deserted her and nerves took over. Lauren was round at Nathan's, so Valentine had the place to herself and while she grabbed the wine glasses Jack w
andered into the living room. There was a loud expression of pain as he sat down on the sofa.
'Sorry!' Valentine called out, 'I meant to warn you about the springs.' She walked into the living room to discover Jack ruefully rubbing his thigh.
'Interesting sofa you've got, sort of like an instrument of torture. And it's fucking freezing in here!' His voice became softer. 'I need warming up. Come here.' He held out his hand.
For a moment she hesitated, then she took it and he pulled her towards him. And then in spite of the wickedly uncomfortable sofa they kissed, and kissed, and kissed. And Valentine gave in to her desire for him, exploring his beautiful body. Then she knew what she wanted to do; she was going to show him that there were blow jobs and blow jobs. She got down to business and enjoying the whole activity far more than she did ordinarily. In fact, she felt very turned on. He really did have the most magnificent . . .
Jack groaned, 'It's no good.' Immediately she sat up, offended; she'd always been complimented on her technique. Jack caught sight of the look on her face and said, 'No, no, it's not you! It's the spring! It's like I'm having a lumbar puncture. It's like being tortured and going to heaven at the same time.'
Ha, so he did like her technique. 'OK, let's move to the bedroom,' Valentine said, trying to put on a husky voice like Julia and getting up from the sofa. 'And don't lose that.' She pointed to his impressive erection.
'Is there something wrong with your throat?' Jack asked, pulling up his jeans and following her out of the room.
'No,' Valentine replied. 'Be quiet and get on the bed. And don't look like that,' she continued, seeing the dubious glance Jack gave her double futon. 'Futons are very good for the back.'
'I never realised you were a sadist, Valentine Fleming,' Jack said, obeying her. They lay down together and as Jack leaned over her to kiss her he took his T-shirt off with one hand, in one fluid move – revealing his toned chest. And yes it was hairy, but actually it was sexy hairy, not repulsive hairy, and his back had none. But oh God, who cared about all that now, because Jack's chest and back, in fact his whole body was a thing of beauty . . .
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