'So much for waiting until April,' Jack said when they were finally lying in each other's arms, enveloped in a blissful post-sex haze. 'I knew you wouldn't.'
'Yeah well, I only did it with you tonight to keep warm,' Valentine said teasingly, while thinking what a truly delicious experience it had been. Making love with Jack had none of the awkwardness she usually associated with having sex with someone for the first time. Instead everything had felt so right and for once Valentine hadn't felt self-conscious about her body. Usually she was paranoid about being completely naked with a man. Whenever she was with Finn she always kept her skirt or a camisole on, certain that he would be comparing her to Eva. But Jack had freed something in her and in his arms she had felt beautiful and sexy. When he had unbuttoned her red silk dress he had done it gently, reverently, as if he was unwrapping a beautiful present and wanted to appreciate every second.
'So you didn't find that a mindblowing, bone-melting sexual experience, up there as one of the best ever?' Jack demanded and when Valentine didn't answer he whipped off the duvet and exposed her to the freezing air.
'Put it back on,' she squealed. 'All right I admit it, it was very good.'
'Just good?' Jack replied, still withholding the cover.
'Fantastic!' Valentine confessed and Jack wrapped her up in the duvet.
'Fantastic is the right answer,' he replied, pulling her on top of him.
'But,' she murmured, kissing his neck, 'there's always room for improvement. And what did you mean "one of the best"?'
'Fleming, that was just the start.'
9
Last Night
Valentine's prediction that Jack was a player was proved way off the mark. He made no secret of their romance, to the obvious dismay of Emily who became even more petulant in the dressing room, and to the delight of the rest of the cast, who were pleased for them and also relished the chance for a good gossip. Being with Jack was a revelation. She felt as if she'd gone from winter to summer emotionally. He made her feel as if anything was possible. She loved the fact that everything with him was straightforward and clear-cut. When he said he could meet her, he met her, and when she texted him, he replied. There was no skulking around in the middle of the night, no furtive secret encounters, no lies to be told or to be lived with. She felt cherished, desired, good about herself. She was discovering that love didn't have to hurt. And although she had vowed not to tell anyone apart from Lauren about Piers, she found herself confiding in Jack.
'I can't believe you've had so much going on,' Jack exclaimed when she told him the whole story late one night as they lay in bed together. 'You've handled it so well.'
'I haven't really; I just haven't been allowing myself to think about it and the play has been a great distraction.'
And it was true Valentine had been so caught up with acting and with Jack it was as if she had put her feelings about Piers on ice. 'But I know I'll obsess about it when the play ends.'
Jack held her tighter. 'Don't obsess; you can always tell me how you feel. I don't want us to have any secrets.'
Valentine didn't want them to have any secrets either. But while she had opened up about her father, there was one area of her life where she couldn't bear to let Jack in. Jack knew she'd had an affair with Finn, but she couldn't bring herself to reveal the hold he'd had over her for so long, or tell him about their clandestine meetings. Finn was her guilty secret.
'I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I think I'm really going to miss the Orange Peril.' Jack was speaking as he and Valentine and the rest of their gang were out drinking on the play's penultimate night. Valentine nodded and looked round the table, which was crammed with glasses and empty crisp packets, at the people she'd grown so close to over the last two months; she was going to miss them. She would probably even miss Emily, who had finally loosened up and got off with Xander, which had put a smile on her face, though probably not for long according to Kitty, who revealed that a friend of hers had had a fling with Xander on another play and ended up with an STD.
'Hey, why the sad face?' Jack asked, putting his arm round her. She leaned back against him.
'I hate things coming to an end,' she replied. 'I hate not knowing what, if anything, I am going to be doing next.'
'Something will turn up. And there's a couple of weeks before I go to Manchester. We can hang out together loads – but only if you promise to keep wearing the nipple tassels, just for me – my private show,' Jack replied.
'I am going to be burning those things!' Valentine shot back. 'Never again and I mean never. They have chafed my breasts and humiliated me!'
'You've always got me to kiss them better and as for humiliation – no way – you were magnificent.'
Valentine appreciated the compliment but that didn't stop her coming out with her next comment. 'I bet you'll forget all about me when you go to Manchester.' There, she'd come out with it – the thought that kept sneaking into her mind ever since their first night together.
Jack looked at her, surprised. 'Valentine, I want you and I'll want you even more when I'm away. Why don't you come up and stay for a couple of months?'
'Because you'll be wanting to bond with the other actors and I don't want to be the saddo out-of-work actor girl-friend,' Valentine said slightly bitterly.
'There's only one actor I want to bond with right now, and that's you. Take me back to your place and I'll show you how much.'
* * *
After Jack had proved not once, but twice how much he wanted to bond with her, they lay curled up together. 'I've got something to tell you, Valentine Fleming. I've wanted to say it practically from the moment I met you,' Jack whispered.
Valentine almost held her breath, and traced her finger round his dragon tattoo. Was he talking about what she thought he was? Lauren had told her never ever to say I love you before the man. It was one of her many commandments, along with, 'Sleep with a man once and he doesn't make you come, shame on him; sleep with him twice and still no result shame on you.'
'I love you.' There, he said it.
Valentine's heart gave a cartwheel and backflip of sheer joy, while the judges held up cards with perfect tens. Jack looked at her expectantly and Valentine left it as long as she dared before replying, 'I love you too.'
'You bastard!' he exclaimed. 'I thought you weren't going to say it!'
Valentine softly kissed his lips. 'I was always going to say it.' Later, when she thought he was asleep, she whispered, 'So would you come back for me?' She was referring to their film, The English Patient, to the scene where Katharine is lying, injured in the Cave of Swimmers and Almásy her lover has to leave her and cross the desert for help.
'Yes, I would come back for you. I would never leave you.' He curled his body around her so she was encircled by his warmth. In contrast to Finn, Jack held her all night, and never let her go.
* * *
The final show went fantastically well – one of those nights where everything came together and the action felt fluid and seamless. Valentine was left on a high. She would keep the demons away, tonight at least. There was still silence on the Piers front. Maybe he hadn't got her letter; she would write again. Tonight was for celebrating and living in the moment, forgetting that there was uncertainty about tomorrow.
But that all changed when she walked into the bar at the end of the show, and there sitting in the corner were Finn and Tamara. What the fuck were they doing here? She was strongly tempted to leave, but just at that moment Finn noticed her. Immediately he walked over and kissed her. 'V, that was a brilliant performance.' Then he whispered, 'Tell me you're keeping the costume; I have got to get you alone with those nipple tassels.'
'What the hell are you doing here?' Valentine demanded, pulling out of his embrace.
'Seeing the show, of course! I've been wanting to see it for ages. This is the first chance I got. I'm so proud of you V, you really were great. Come and join Tamara and me for a drink.'
'Dragged yourself a
way from your fiancée, did you?' Valentine was determined not to be taken in by him again.
Finn pulled his hurt expression, 'I feel just awful about that, V. It was wrong of me not to tell you. I'm so confused about everything. Please come and have a drink. I can't bear for us not to be talking.'
Part of Valentine wanted to turn round and walk out of the bar, but she was so programmed to doing what Finn asked that she muttered about just having one drink and trailed after him. How ironic that he should come now. The number of times she had wanted him to see her in a show! This was not one of them.
'Hello Tamara,' she said, giving the obligatory air kisses, 'I didn't think this was your kind of thing.'
Tamara smiled. She looked every inch the star in a Missoni maxi-dress and stood out a mile in the shabby-round-the-edges theatre bar. 'But I absolutely adore Shakespeare, Valentine! In fact I'm going to be in a Shakespeare myself.' She paused, just long enough for Valentine to think smug cow, before she continued, 'I'm in Lear in Manchester; I'm playing Cordelia. Didn't Jack tell you?' Inside Valentine felt as if she'd been punched, she shrugged, trying to keep her face as expressionless as possible, aware of Tamara staring at her and weighing up her reaction. Fortunately at that moment one of the audience came over and asked Tamara for her autograph. Tamara gave a coy smile and signed with an extravagant flourish on the programme the man handed her.
'You really should ask Valentine; she was actually in the show!' Tamara trilled, but the man said, 'Oh thank you but no, I just want your autograph.' Trust Tamara to make her feel bad. But then she was a master in the art of self-esteem crushing. Really she should run classes on it.
At that moment Jack walked into the bar. He looked more than a little surprised by Valentine's company. She smiled ruefully at him and he walked over.
'Jack – what a great Bottom you were,' Finn said, reaching out and shaking his hand.
'And you are?' Jack asked, but Valentine had a feeling he already knew exactly who he was.
'Finn Steele. And you know Tamara Moore, don't you?'
'Hi again Jack. I can only second what Finn said; you were marvellous. I can't wait for us to be on stage together.'
Valentine seethed inside. God, how she loathed Tamara.
'I don't think Edmund is ever actually on stage with Cordelia,' Jack replied abruptly.
'Anyway, let me get you both a drink; your usual I presume, V?' Finn sounded so possessive, so knowing and at any other time in the last year Valentine would have loved it. Now she wanted him to shut up. She nodded. 'And for you, Jack?'
'Just a bottle of Becks, thanks.' Jack's answer was barely audible.
'And Tamara, please don't ask for Veuve as I'm completely broke,' Finn continued.
'Don't be silly, Finn! I'll have a vodka and tonic – slimline.'
Tamara talked at Jack while Finn was getting the drinks in. 'I am nervous of course; it's been so long since I've done stage, but Alan, the director, has been absolutely lovely.' She was clearly expecting Jack to gush that she would be wonderful blah blah blah; instead he replied, 'I can see why you would be nervous – shooting a film and being on stage night after night, when you've only got yourself, no special effects, no editing, just you, doesn't really compare does it?'
Tamara gave one of her annoying tinkly laughs, but looked slightly peeved that Jack hadn't come out with the sycophantic comments she was used to.
Another fan approached the table at that moment and Tamara signed another autograph, leaving Valentine free to tackle Jack.
'Why the fuck didn't you tell me?' she whispered.
Jack sighed. 'I didn't want to put you on a downer for your last show – I only found out today.'
'She's got her eye on you,' Valentine said gloomily, imagining how eager Tamara would be to get her talons into Jack. And as she was so beautiful and so skinny, who was to say that Jack wouldn't be tempted? 'And I've only got eyes for you,' Jack replied, leaning over and kissing her.
Finn returned at that moment with the drinks, lightly touching Valentine on the shoulder as he handed out the glasses.
So there they were – the boyfriend, the girlfriend, her ex and the woman who was giving out signals that she would so like to step into Valentine's shoes where Jack was concerned. It made for a supremely awkward ten minutes. Finn was looking at Valentine with his I-want-you eyes; Jack was glaring at Finn; Tamara was gazing at Jack and Valentine was trying to give Jack reassuring I-am-your-girlfriend vibes.
'So what else have you been in?' Finn asked Jack, the two of them sizing each other up in that Alpha male sort of way, which Valentine would have found funny if she hadn't known both of them.
'This is only my second play,' Jack replied. Was it her imagination or was he suddenly sounding more Norf London? And less RP?
'I see,' Finn answered, raising an eyebrow as if to say loser.
'Jack has only just started acting,' Valentine put in. 'He's a trained barrister.'
'Oh right, couldn't hack it?' Finn replied.
'No, I could hack it,' Jack said in low voice, almost a growl, 'I just didn't want to.'
Any minute now they'd be squaring up to each other. In fact maybe it would be better if they had a fight and got it out of their systems. There was so much testosterone swirling around (mainly from Jack) that Valentine could almost smell it.
'Anyway,' Valentine cut across their macho fest, 'Jack and I have to go now. Thanks for the drink; see you later,' and she got up and practically dragged Jack from the bar. At the doorway he paused and pulled her to him and kissed her hard. Kissing Jack was always a gorgeous experience, but this felt too much like he had something to prove, that he was putting his mark on her.
'Jack,' she said, breathless, when he had finished, 'I'm with you.'
'Are you sure you don't still have feelings for him?' he demanded. 'I saw the way he was looking at you. And why the fuck did he turn up anyway?'
'I've no idea, I didn't ask him. And I'm with you,' she repeated. 'Now, come on, let's go to the Orange Peril. I want to get away from those people.'
* * *
But that night in bed after they'd drunk long into the night with the cast, saying their emotional goodbyes, after she'd made love with Jack and he lay sleeping next to her, Valentine couldn't sleep. Her mind felt as if it was on overdrive. There was the unresolved matter of her father and there was Finn. Now he couldn't have her, it seemed he wanted her. It was both bitterly ironic and entirely predictable. Well, he could carry on wanting her; he was never going to have her. And Valentine tried to hold on to that thought, even when he texted her at four in the morning: Want you Fx. For the first time ever she didn't reply.
10
First Contact
For the two weeks before Jack left for Manchester Valentine tried not to think too much about anything – not her father, not Finn, not Tamara, not the fact that she didn't have any work lined up – she just wanted to enjoy the time with Jack. And they made the most of it, spending every minute together, mostly in bed, as if they could store up the memories for the time they were apart.
'You know I would never be unfaithful to you,' he told her as she sat cross-legged on his lovely bed watching him pack his clothes. 'You can trust me. I'm not attracted to Tamara Moore one little bit; you've got nothing to worry about on that score, I swear.'
Valentine was relieved. She hadn't wanted to bring up the subject, as she didn't want to sound paranoid and jealous, but it had of course been preying on her mind.
'So can I trust you here in London? Finn still seems very interested.'
Valentine hadn't replied to his text, but she hadn't deleted it, and there had been several times when she had sneaked a look at it – even imagining a scenario where she met Finn. In her fantasy her plan was to humiliate him in a restaurant as he had her. She would be looking particularly sexy in a green silk dress and black sky-high Christian Dior heels, as worn by Carrie Bradshaw in the Sex and the City movie – all right she didn't have any, she was never like
ly to have any, and even if she did she would never to able to walk in them, but this was her fantasy; she was allowed them. He would say something like, 'God, I want you so much V, I love you,' and she would pause for a beat, letting him have one last look at her before she replied, 'But I don't love you anymore.' It was so tempting – she could even hear her heels clicking emphatically on the pavement as she walked away from him, while he called her name in vain.
'You can trust me,' Valentine replied, silencing any further questions with a kiss and pulling him back down on the bed with her.
When Jack left for Manchester she was determined not to go on the downward spiral. She would give herself three weeks off before she resorted to temping. Her plan was simple – she would keep busy. She would exercise every morning, then she would read a play for the rest of the day and write to directors she wanted to work with – not that this tactic had ever yielded any results in the past, but you never knew. It was vital to be optimistic. She would also write to Piers again. There was going to be no lying in bed, obsessing about being a failure and stuffing her face with peanut butter, no incidents of self-loathing, no drinking too much. She had one day following this pattern, which nearly finished her off, and then she got an urgent call from one of her friends who had sprained her ankle and begged Valentine to take her place at the yummy-mummy toddler music group she worked for in Hampstead.
It was a week of pure, undiluted hell. The group was run by Maria, a scary ballet-teacher type who was in fear of the yummies defecting to another music group. 'It's dog eat dog in the world of children's music groups, take it from me.' She told Valentine, 'If we don't put on a show, they'll go elsewhere. Tiny Tigers round the corner is proving very popular, as they perform songs in Chinese to reflect the growing Asian economy. Do you speak Chinese, by the way? Maybe we could do a quick Chinese number to show that we're on the case? I expect you to give your all!
Maria's fervour came as a bit of a shock. Valentine had imagined singing a couple of verses of 'Old Macdonald', 'The Wheels on the Bus' and 'Row Row Row your Boat' and if things got really wild shaking some maracas. The reality was four forty-five-minute carefully choreographed shows a day, complete with costume changes, where Valentine was indeed expected to give her all. After each performance Maria actually gave her notes. She told Valentine that her Queen of Hearts lacked conviction and accused her of relishing her bottle of rum too much in the pirate song. When Valentine retorted that she was simply getting into the role of the pirate à la Stanislavsy method, Maria replied, 'We don't want to give out the message that alcohol dependency is a good thing.' Alcohol was just about the only thing that got Valentine through the week. She got her revenge by playing 'Old Macdonald' as an Old Queen, giving him a faraway wistful look in his eye, as if secretly he longed to be vegetarian and wear a dress; by giving the yummies full-fat milk in their coffees and by eating Maria's entire supply of chocolate digestives.
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