Valentine

by Rebecca Farnworth

  'I need a drink,' she mumbled, getting up from the sofa. She wandered into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of champagne. She didn't particularly want it but neither did she think she was up to sex with Finn sober. But as she walked back into the living room, she suddenly thought, Why am I doing this? Why am I going to have sex with him if I don't want to? It was like a lightbulb turning on in her head: I don't want to have sex with him, and so I am not going to have sex with him. And Lottie is right, the reason I don't want to have sex with him is – now the lightbulb had turned into an enormous flashing neon sign, worthy of Las Vegas – because I DON'T LOVE HIM ANYMORE!

  'Champagne! The good stuff, way to go V,' Finn exclaimed from the sofa. 'I could get used to this lifestyle, and isn't this apartment great? I love the minimalist look.'

  'I don't like it actually,' Valentine replied, putting the champagne down on the replacement glass table.

  'Shall I open the champagne?' Finn asked, not appearing to hear Valentine's comment – but that was Finn all over, he only ever really heard what he wanted to hear.

  'No,' Valentine replied. 'Actually it would be best if you left.' She had his attention now.

  'Why?' he demanded. 'I thought we were going to spend the night together.'

  'Finn, it's over,' she said.

  'What is?'

  'Us.'

  'What, because I said it wouldn't be a bad thing if you lost more weight?' He laughed. 'You've got a great body, but there's always room for improvement.'

  'Not because of that comment, although that is symptomatic of what you think of me, but because . . . She paused for a beat, wondering how best to put it and then decided that being direct was the only possible way. 'I don't love you anymore.' There, she'd said it. She felt suddenly light as a feather, her spirits lifting as if she'd just drunk a glass of bubbly.

  Finn was frowning now. 'Don't piss around V, of course you love me and I love you. We are meant to be together, you know that.'

  She shook her head, 'No we're not, Finn; it's over. I don't love you anymore.'

  Finn's face had gone through shock, disbelief and now anger was taking over. 'Are you seeing him again?' he demanded.

  'I suppose you mean Jack, and no, I'm not. I just don't love you anymore.' Now she couldn't stop saying it; she wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

  'Well who are you fucking seeing then?' Finn clearly couldn't imagine ending a relationship without the replacement already lined up.

  'No one. I don't love you anymore.'

  He stood up. 'I fucking heard you the first time! Well don't fucking come crawling back to me, V. If I go now, that's it.' He stood waiting for her to change her mind and when she didn't say anything, he grabbed his jacket and stormed towards the door. A comical sight it had to be said, as he was wearing the compulsory white cotton slippers and it was hard to have any kind of dignity in them. When he reached the door he suddenly realised he was wearing them and pulled them off and threw them on the ground in disgust. He slammed the door shut behind him.

  Valentine waited to be seized by a storm of emotion, waited for the feelings of regret to envelop her, but there was nothing. She felt completely calm. She opened the bottle of champagne and poured herself a glass.

  15

  Brief Encounter

  The following day she fully expected to regret her actions, but found she felt nothing of the sort. The only sense of loss she had, which had become her familiar companion these last weeks, was entirely to do with losing Jack. Nothing whatsoever to do with Finn. By the end of the week she remained certain that she had made the right decision. Instead of wallowing in an emotional quagmire she was focusing on herself, on catching up with friends, going to the theatre and getting fit. She was actually quite enjoying the personal training sessions, though the temptation to strangle cheerleader Kelly was very strong at times. Food was another matter – the portions had continued to be minuscule and several times Valentine had to supplement them with secret trips to Pret, but on the whole she had stuck to the diet. On the Friday she was feeling particularly proud with herself for having run fifteen kilometres with Kelly. She was sunbathing by the pool and feeling quite OK, until a shadow fell across her face. She opened her eyes to discover toady Saul standing by the lounger, dressed in his regulation chinos.

  'Hello, Valentine. I wondered if I could have a word?'

  'Sure,' Valentine replied, reaching for her robe. She wasn't going to have a conversation with loathsome chinos toad in her bikini. 'Outside or in?'

  'Here is fine,' Saul replied, sitting down on the adjacent lounger. He was wearing sunglasses and Valentine couldn't see his eyes – always disconcerting when you were dealing with someone like Saul. She reached for her own dark glasses – two could play at that game. 'I've been asked to run some paperwork by you. It's all very straightforward. You may remember that Piers asked that you keep the matter of his paternity confidential?'

  She nodded, wondering where this was leading.

  'And you said that you had only told your mother, your aunt and your then boyfriend, Jack Hart.'

  'I do remember my ex-boyfriend's name,' Valentine bit back. She was not feeling quite so OK anymore.

  'I'll get to the point. The lawyers have advised that you and anyone else you have told about your relationship with Piers should sign a confidentiality agreement.'

  He handed her a document and with a feeling of disbelief Valentine flicked through the pages. It was written in highly legal language and was hard to follow, but she got the gist. She was to sign, shut up and if she did speak to the press there was the threat of legal action against her. A growing feeling of outrage was building up inside her. Did Piers really expect her to sign this? What about trust and integrity?

  'See, it's all very straightforward isn't it?' Saul pulled out a pen from his jacket and offered it to her.

  Valentine shook her head. 'I'm not signing this; I'll give my reasons to Piers in person.'

  'Oh come on, Piers is very busy; that's why he delegated the task to me. You really don't want to piss him off.' Saul's arrogant drawl thoroughly set her teeth on edge.

  Resisting the temptation to tell him to fuck off, she got up from the lounger with as much dignity as she could muster, wrapping her robe tightly around her. 'If you'll excuse me, I've another appointment.' Dignified, moral high-ground intact, Valentine turned to go.

  'I meant to say Valentine, you're looking really good. The new fitness plan must be really paying off.'

  Valentine wasn't prepared for the compliment; was this Saul's way of wrongfooting her? She turned back round and glared back at him. 'I wondered if you wanted to go out for dinner sometime.'

  Ha! Did the chinos toad really think he was in with a chance? 'Thanks for the offer, Saul, but I'm really busy at the moment and as you know I'm on a diet.'

  Saul's lip curled. Clearly he didn't like being turned down. 'Olivia wants to see you. She's expecting you in the living room.' Olivia had returned two days earlier without Piers and this was the first time she'd asked to see Valentine. Just keep walking, Valentine told herself. It was only when she was inside her apartment that she gave vent to her feelings.

  'It's fucking outrageous!' she shouted, not caring if Ivana had got a hidden CCTV camera trained on her.

  Valentine hated feeling as if she'd been summoned, but nonetheless she quickly changed into a black sun dress and put on a dash of red lipstick to give her confidence. Then she went upstairs, choosing not to wear the white slippers as a small gesture of defiance. Olivia was sitting on the white leather sofa looking effortlessly chic, in a white trouser suit. She gave a smile that did not reach her eyes.

  'Valentine, do come and sit down.' Then she noticed Valentine was barefoot. 'Oh you've forgotten the slippers I see; let me ring Ivana for some more. It's one of the very few house rules.' Her own feet were clad in a pair of pale-gold ballet pumps. Clearly only guests and staff had unhygienic feet. She languidly got up from the sofa and pressed the intercom by
the door, asking Ivana to bring replacement slippers. 'So, how's the fitness regime going?'

  Valentine shrugged. 'OK I suppose.'

  'I know it's only early days, but I am a little surprised you haven't lost more weight.'

  At this point Valentine could only think it was just as well Olivia hadn't had a daughter, as she probably would have been one of those ghastly women who put their daughters on diets from the age of five.

  'I have been working hard with Kelly,' she replied, wondering why she was justifying herself to Olivia. Though she supposed it would be unforgivable to tell her father's wife to fuck off.

  'But not doing quite as well with the diet,' Olivia persisted. 'You've been drinking.'

  'Well there was a bottle of champagne left in the fridge, I didn't think alcohol was banned, so I drank that and the odd glass of wine.' Valentine said defiantly.

  'Bottle, I think,' Olivia corrected her. She sighed as if Valentine had let her down. 'Piers would never say this to your face, but he does think you need to get into better shape if you're to have any chance in movies. And he really does want to help you, but he has his own reputation to think of.' Another sigh. 'I'm sorry, but I do believe that in our profession brutal honesty is the best course. The bottom line is you have to lose more weight. Look at someone like Tamara. Her figure is really what you should be aiming for.'

  Valentine was struggling to remember if she had ever been so insulted in her life. 'Tamara is a completely different build from me! I'm never going to look like her unless I get dysentery and don't treat it, and I'm sure we'd both agree that isn't a good look!' But it was hard to stay strong in the face of Olivia's assault on her self-esteem.

  'I'm just being honest,' Olivia repeated, as if that excused everything. 'So let's talk about the premiere of Piers's film next week. It will be your first red-carpet event I presume?'

  Valentine nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  'Greta will take you shopping for a dress. Piers wants to treat you to something special. So just work a little harder on the dieting; I am sure you want to make Piers proud when he sees you at the premiere.'

  'Well I'm not going to show him up, if that's what you mean! Even though no one actually knows that I am his daughter. I hadn't realised that Piers was ashamed to acknowledge me! But with the confidentiality agreements and our little chat I'm beginning to wonder!' Valentine said with feeling.

  For the first time in their conversation Olivia looked a little rattled. 'I'm sorry if I upset you – please don't mention any of this to Piers. He really can't have any conflict in the run up to his premiere. He's under a huge amount of pressure.'

  'Of course I don't want to upset him!' Valentine exclaimed, getting up from her seat – as far as she was concerned the meeting was over and she wasn't going to wait for Olivia to dismiss her. She paused at the door, 'I will persevere with the training programme and cut down on the alcohol, but I will do that for myself and not to fit in with someone else's perception of what I should look like.' And without waiting for Olivia's reply she left the room.

  Even though she was furious with Olivia she made a conscious effort in the week before the premiere to stick to a strict exercise regime and diet. The premiere would be the first time she would actually see Piers since she had moved in, as he'd been tied up with some budget meeting in LA. So much for father/daughter bonding. On top of the dieting and the exercise, she had a facial, manicure, pedicure, waxing, highlights and a subtle spray tan. The extensive preparations had been like having a full-time job – it was just as well she wasn't acting at the moment. The afternoon of the premiere itself was completely given over to hair and make-up – she and Olivia both had their personal team. They had avoided each other since the meeting. It was probably better that way.

  Valentine actually enjoyed getting ready; it was like dressing up for a part in a play. She'd managed to book Dixie as her make-up artist and the two girls had a great gossip as Dixie worked on her face. Nicky, the hairdresser, was a sweetie who achieved an amazing up do with her hair, but as it took him at least two hours it was not something Valentine planned on repeating. Then it was time to get into the Spanx and put on the dress. And oh my God, what a dress! It was a red evening gown by Valentino, simply stunning. Valentine had never worn anything so expensive before. She half-expected the heavens to open and for a booming voice to declare, 'Valentine Fleming, remove that dress at once! You are not worthy!' Dixie helped zip her in and was generous in her compliments. 'Are you sure it looks OK?' Valentine asked, anxiously surveying herself in the mirror, experiencing a sudden pang for Lauren.

  'Fab. You look totally A-list. You've got star quality, Valentine.'

  Valentine laughed. It was an outrageous compliment and only to be expected from a make-up artist. Just then there was a knock at the door and after she'd called out 'Come in,' Piers and Olivia walked in the room. Piers looked very handsome in his black tie. It was the first time they had seen each other for several weeks and Valentine was feeling quite nervous. Olivia was playing her ice-queen role to perfection in white silk. Valentine's heart sank at the thought of their verdict. She breathed in an extra notch and thanked God for Spanx. 'So will I do?' she asked, sounding more confident than she felt.

  'Valentine, you look beautiful!' Piers had finally given her a compliment.

  'So I won't let you down on the red carpet?'

  Piers looked puzzled. 'Of course not! You look incredible, doesn't she Olivia?' It was with some effort that Olivia nodded.

  Valentine was so astonished and pleased at the warmth of Piers's comments that she impulsively kissed his cheek in gratitude.

  'Valentine!' Olivia hissed. 'What did you do that for! She turned to Piers, 'Darling, quickly go to the bathroom.'

  'It's no problem, Olivia,' Piers told her, looking rather embarrassed at Olivia's reaction. He then lowered his voice and said, 'I thought your OCD wasn't so bad lately.' But Olivia was rubbing at the spot Valentine's lips had touched and then practically frogmarched Piers out of the room.

  Valentine's faux pas with the kiss made for a frosty limo ride to the premiere at Leicester Square. Olivia practically ignored Valentine, apart from whispering, 'You know Piers could really have done without that incident.'

  It was just a display of affection, Valentine felt like saying. Remember what that felt like? But her relationship with Olivia was rocky enough at the best of times without her defending herself. She looked away from Olivia and straight into the cold grey shark eyes of Saul, which she was appalled to notice had a lecherous gleam in them as he looked her up and down. Please let the chinos toad not fancy her! They were approaching Leicester Square now and Valentine couldn't believe the crowds pressing against the crash barriers, clamouring to get a glimpse of the stars. She was tempted to shout out, 'Get a life! These people are nothing special, they're just like you. But no doubt Olivia would have had her shot on the spot – Olivia really did not think she was like anyone else.

  Piers was first out of the limo and while he was caught up with talking to one of the stars on the red carpet Olivia whispered, 'Valentine, you'll remember not to make any comment to the media about being Piers's daughter, won't you? And did your mother, aunt and ex-boyfriend sign those confidentiality agreements? We really don't want any stories leaking out to the press.'

  Valentine tried to keep her cool. 'There's no need to get anyone to sign anything, I've asked them to keep it quiet and I trust them.'

  'Hah!' Olivia exclaimed in shocked disbelief. 'You are so naive! Do you know what a big story this would be to the press and how much money they would be prepared to pay for it?'

  'Neither my mum, my aunt or Jack would sell a story to the press,' Valentine insisted quietly. 'They're not those kinds of people.'

  'Oh right, because they're all wildly successful and don't need the money,' Olivia shot back sarcastically.

  'Money isn't everything,' Valentine replied, but now Olivia was getting out of the limo and into a volley of camera cl
icks and flashes.

  'You really must get them to sign the papers,' Saul added. 'It will be easier all round.'

  Easier for who? Valentine felt like saying, knowing that her mum and Lottie would be incredibly hurt if she presented them with such a document, which would be tantamount to saying that she didn't trust them. And she couldn't imagine what Jack's reaction would be. Olivia and Piers were already way ahead of them on the red carpet, pausing every now and then to be photographed. The press weren't interested in screenwriters, even very successful screenwriters like Saul, so Valentine and Saul walked up the red carpet without being photographed. Valentine concentrated on walking as elegantly as possible in the evening dress, wanting to make a good impression, but she couldn't help wondering again why Piers was still so reluctant to name her as his daughter. It wasn't as if she had asked for any of his massive fortune. Maybe it was down to Olivia; perhaps she felt threatened by Valentine? Whatever the reason Valentine wished the situation could be resolved. She felt as if she was in limbo, waiting for something to happen.

  In the star-studded foyer – here a Sienna Miller, there an Orlando Bloom, but alas no George Clooney – Valentine realised that she'd forgotten to get a picture of herself in the dress, and she'd promised her mum. She scrabbled for her phone in her Chanel clutch bag (another gift from Piers, after Olivia had seen the vintage gold bead bag she had planned to take and vetoed it – she probably thought vintage was unhygienic). 'Saul, please could you take a picture of me?'

  Saul looked taken aback at the request. 'This isn't really the place, Valentine,' he replied huffily. 'It makes you look like a tourist, and you're supposed to belong here, remember?'