Valentine

by Rebecca Farnworth

  'Did Piers line this up for me?' Valentine asked suspiciously.

  'Who, darling? No, the director saw you in A Midsummer Night's Dream and in that film you did yonks ago and thought you were wonderful – very powerful, very sexy, just the qualities he's looking for. The audition's tomorrow.'

  They finished the call with Sylvia telling her the script would be with her in the next half-hour as she was biking it over. Valentine had told Sylvia she was staying with friends in Hampstead. How ironic that she'd got this audition at an all-time low. She was bound to fuck it up. Just then Kelly knocked at her door. 'Hiya!' she said perkily. Kelly had two tones – perky or bossy. Valentine didn't know which one she loathed more.

  'Kelly, there is no way I can go running just now. I'm horribly hungover. I'm going out to a cafe for a fry up. It's the only cure.'

  Kelly's perfectly glossed lips formed an O of shock. 'A fry up?' She could barely get the words out. 'What are you going to have?'

  'Scrambled eggs, bacon, grilled tomatoes, mushrooms, baked beans and toast,' Valentine replied.

  'White or brown bread?'

  Valentine considered. 'Brown, I think.'

  'Butter, or marg?'

  What was this? The Spanish Inquisition? She'd never known Kelly ask so many questions.

  'Butter, definitely.'

  A battle seemed to be being waged inside Kelly. Then she spoke. 'I'd fucking love a fry up. I haven't had one for years. I always have a grapefruit and hot water for breakfast.'

  'Come with me then,' Valentine replied.

  Kelly looked behind her furtively and whispered, 'Promise you won't tell anyone, especially not Olivia.'

  Valentine nodded.

  'Can we at least run to the cafe?' Kelly asked.

  Valentine shook her head and looked stern. 'Absolutely no running of any kind.'

  'Power walking?' Kelly persisted. 'It can burn just as many calories as a run, if you do it fast enough.'

  'If you do that I'll tell Olivia.'

  'We'll walk,' Kelly replied.

  Kelly ate her traditional English breakfast with enormous relish, finishing by mopping up the egg yolk with at least five pieces of white bread toast, slathered in butter. Her face took on a dreamy expression. 'That was fucking lovely.'

  'Kelly! That's twice I heard you swear,' Valentine replied in mock outrage.

  'I swear all the fucking time when I'm not at the Hunters'. Mustn't ever do it near Mrs Hunter. She sacked the last trainer for saying "bloody".'

  'God, she's harsh.'

  'Miserable cow. It's Piers I feel sorry for. She's always telling him to lose weight and train more, when the truth is he looks bloody amazing for a man his age. You look good as well Valentine, by the way. I know I've been hard on you, but Mrs Hunter's had me on performance-related pay for my work with you, and me and Dex, my fiancé, really want to get a deposit together for a flat.' Now Kelly had shed her cheerleader persona she was coming across as a really down-to-earth, nice girl.

  'D'you really think that?' Valentine asked.

  'Yeah really. Though I don't think you should lose any more weight. In fact I think you should put some on – you look better curvy, well-toned curvy. Get that balance right and you'll look fucking ace.'

  'That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in ages. But it has been lovely getting slimmer – well the result, not the process. Wearing jeans with no muffin top, being able to try on a size ten in a store and then calling out to the assistant for a size eight because the ten is just too big! I've loved it.'

  'Yeah, but it's fucking hard work isn't it?' Kelly replied with feeling, adding wistfully, 'Sometimes I wonder what it would be like just to let it all go and eat whatever I like.'

  'But what about your gorgeous pert bum? And your abs of steel?'

  'Would I be any less of a person if I didn't have them? Do they define me? Am I a better person because I'm slim? Aren't we, as a society, outrageously discriminating against fat people? I mean, we're all for sexual and racial equality and outlawing discrimination against people with disabilities, but what about the way we treat people who happen to be overweight, often through no fault of their own!' God, Kelly was getting a bit deep. Valentine had never seen this side of her when Kelly was urging her to push herself harder. She would never judge a person by their pert bum again.

  'Well, you probably wouldn't be able to work as a personal trainer anymore.' Valentine didn't want to be responsible for Kelly losing her job and any chance of owning a flat with her fiancé just because she'd had a fry up.

  'You're right.' Kelly snapped out of it. 'Fuck it! I'm going to have to work out extra hard to make up for this.' She looked down at her now completely clean plate. 'Still, it was worth it.'

  Valentine would have liked to stay chatting to Kelly, but the script was on its way and even though she felt she didn't have a chance in hell of landing such a fantastic part, she may as well go through the motions.

  She left, swearing eternal secrecy on the fry-up front to Kelly. As she walked slowly back to the mansion she had flashbacks to the night before – memories of kissing Jack, jarring painfully against the look on his face when he said he didn't even know her anymore. But surely, the tiny flicker of hope tried to speak up – very persistent that flicker of hope – he couldn't have kissed her like that if he didn't still have feelings for her, whatever he may have said? Valentine hadn't thought she was even remotely close to getting over Jack, but she'd made small progress: she hadn't woken up in tears for a while and she had stopped reading his old text messages, but now she was back to square one, of the wanting, aching, longing, hopeless feeling for him. It was like that man in mythology whom the Gods punished for giving fire to humans by chaining him to a rock and having his liver pecked out by vultures for all eternity, and just to make sure it really did go on for all eternity every night his liver would grow back ready for the bird to peck out in the morning. Well, obviously her situation was not exactly like that, but seeing Jack again had blasted any hopes she had that she was getting over him and the pain was repeated on a loop. Mind you, at least the guy in the myth got a new liver and frankly after the amount of champagne she'd drunk the night before that wouldn't be such a bad thing, if you could just get rid of the chains and birds of prey. Oh God, she must be still drunk to be wittering on like this.

  She had just let herself into her apartment when there was a knock at the door. It was Olivia and Saul. The ice queen and the toad.

  'Piers had to go out, so sends his apologies about break-fast,' Olivia said, wrinkling her nose as if she could smell the fry up, even though Valentine had just sprayed herself with practically a whole bottle of Coco Mademoiselle on the way home. A reprieve for Valentine for having to come up with a comment about the elusive Bergman influence. 'And this came for you,' Olivia said, walking down the stairs, followed by Saul even though Valentine hadn't invited them in. She handed Valentine the package and looked meaningfully at her feet. Valentine was still in her gladiator sandals. She chose to ignore the look and took the package, muttering, 'thank you.'

  'You were seen, by the way.' Olivia said.

  'What do you mean?' Valentine demanded. Surely Ivana hadn't tracked her and Kelly down to the greasy spoon?

  'Last night – you and the ex, going at it some.' The chinos toad spoke.

  Valentine and her hangover saw red. 'Shut up you motherfucking chinos-wearing toad!'

  'It's rather unseemly, don't you think, Valentine?' Ice queen now. 'Piers is going to offer you a film role, even though frankly, I just don't think you're ready. He's getting ready to introduce you as his daughter and you're running around with someone else's boyfriend. A someone else who is a close family friend.'

  'He was my boyfriend first, if you remember!' Valentine shot back. 'But whatever, this is absolutely none of your business.'

  'Anything that affects Piers is my business! It's not enough that you burst unannounced into our lives and upset Piers!' She was losing her cool now, the ice que
en in meltdown. 'We were perfectly happy until you came along and now you've ruined everything!'

  Valentine was getting pretty wound up herself. 'What's your problem? All I want is a relationship with my father, and I think he wants one with me! Why can't you let us get on with it?' She realised she'd reached the point of no return in her dealings with Olivia; she simply couldn't stay at the house another minute. It was hopeless to imagine that she would get closer to Piers this way. 'I've had enough; I'm leaving right now. Don't worry, Olivia, I don't want any part of your world.' And with that she marched past the duo, into her bedroom and began throwing her possessions into a suitcase, running on anger and adrenalin. And if she could have she would have high-fived herself for finally telling the toad what she thought of him. Maybe Lauren had been on to something with that word. It had sure felt powerful saying it.

  Back home – and never had the patches of damp, the bright yellow kitchen walls and the uncomfortable sofa seemed so welcoming – she settled down to read the script. For once Sylvia had not been exaggerating. It was an absolute peach of a role. A funny, sexy, feisty, strong female lead. Just the best part Valentine had ever been up for. A part that really could be the making of her. In contrast to other auditions where she was gripped by nerves and insecurities, she felt strangely calm. What would be would be. The worst thing had already happened. Jack had left her. If she didn't get the part it wouldn't matter, it wasn't the end of the world, because the end of her world had already happened.

  'Valentine? Isn't that a boy's name?' Jamie, the director asked the following morning after Valentine had given her read-through. He was in his thirties, Scottish, very groomed, fantastic shaped eyebrows, she noted – he must get them waxed. The read-through had gone surprisingly well; she had a devil-may-care attitude about her this morning, not her usual air of being desperate to please.

  She rolled her eyes at the comment. Usually she would have given her bright little laugh and launched into her explanation, but today she just shrugged and said, 'Yeah. And isn't Jamie a bit of a girl's name?'

  Jamie laughed, 'Yeah. Anyway, Valentine, it was good to meet you. We'll be in touch.'

  Usually post-audition Valentine would have analysed her every word and expression, tormenting herself by speculating how she could have performed better, but today she was calm. She decided to go and see her mum. The last couple of days had been an emotional rollercoaster, what with seeing Jack again, then the row with Olivia. She'd left a message with Piers, wanting to set the record straight on why she had left the Hampstead house, but had heard nothing from him. She hoped Olivia hadn't poisoned him against her. She badly needed the reassurance that only her mum could give.

  'Do you think I'm a bad person for not staying in Hampstead?' She was sitting in the kitchen drinking tea with Sarah.

  'Of course not! But I'm sorry it didn't work out. It's obvious to me that Olivia found your presence very threatening,' Sarah sighed. 'But I do sympathise; I've been feeling quite threatened myself since Piers came into your life.'

  Valentine frowned. 'Why?' She didn't like to think of her mum experiencing any kind of emotional turmoil.

  'Because I've been wondering if Chris and me did the right thing by not telling you sooner about Piers.'

  'Mum, you just did what you thought was right. If anything, I've been feeling guilty about Piers because every time we shared a moment where it looked as if we might have a connection I felt guilty about Chris. I'll always see Chris as my dad. Piers might be my father, but Chris is my dad. And I'm really glad he was, because if I'd been brought up with Piers I can't imagine how many hangups I would have.'

  'There's something I want you to see,' Sarah said, getting up from the table and walking over to the dresser, where she opened a drawer and picked up a letter. 'I found this the other day when I was going through some of Chris's papers. I never realised he wrote it.' She walked back to the table and handed Valentine the letter.

  Dear V,

  It's odd writing this and knowing that you'll be reading it when I'm not around – I hope I had a bloody good send off ! I just wanted to let you know that I always thought of you as my own. Always. I couldn't have loved you more even if you'd been my own daughter. And I'm so proud of you: you're such a beautiful, wonderful person and so talented. I don't know much about your world, but I always loved to see you act. It seemed like it was what you were born to do. So I hope you don't judge me and your mum too harshly for not telling you the truth right from the beginning. We did it because we didn't want you to get hurt and if we were wrong then I hope you can forgive us.

  Love always, Dad xxxx

  Valentine was completely overcome when she read the letter. She felt as if she'd been blind to so many things lately – Piers, Finn, Jack . . . She didn't go back to the flat that night, preferring to stay in her old home – her old, unconditioned, cosy, slightly shabby home. She watched Spooks with her mum and Matt, had an Indian takeaway and then had the best night's sleep she'd had for a long time.

  'Are you sitting down, Valentine?' It was Sylvia, on the phone three days after the audition. As Valentine had heard nothing straight away she had convinced herself that she hadn't got the part. 'It's OK, Sylvia, I know I haven't got it,' she replied glumly. It really would have been a lovely role for her, a career-changing moment.

  'You got it!' Sylvia shrieked, almost deafening Valentine.

  'I did!' she shrieked back. 'Oh my God! Oh my God, Oh my God!'

  Sylvia let her shriek some more before interjecting, 'Jamie, the director, is thrilled to have you. He just has one little request.'

  'Don't tell me,' Valentine said, her mind racing to conclusions, 'nipple tassels and nudity. Can't I ask for a body double? I just don't know how I feel going nude on primetime TV.'

  'No, no, it's nothing like that!' Sylvia replied. 'Jamie has just asked if you wouldn't mind putting on a little weight, taking you back to a size twelve.'

  'But the TV puts on ten pounds as it is!' Valentine wailed back. 'I thought I was supposed to be playing the femme fatale, not the token fat girl! Do you know how hard I've worked lately to get this slim? And losing weight has been the only good thing to come from having a broken heart!'

  'Darling, I know.' Sylvia went into agent-pacifying-difficult-client mode. 'It is a lot to ask. But think of the bigger picture. This series has the potential to be a massive success.'

  'Just so long as I don't have to get massive!' Valentine retorted.

  'Darling, do calm down. We're not talking morbidly obese, just more of your curves back. I always thought you looked better like that anyway. And one day you'll have to make the choice between your face and your body, anyway. And let me tell you that the people who choose their faces over their bodies always look better than the ones who don't. Although it's a tough call, I admit,' Sylvia said with real feeling. Valentine knew it was a dilemma the fifty-year-old Sylvia battled with daily.

  'So shall I tell Jamie that you are up for gaining a few pounds? He's worried that all the female actresses look the same.'

  'Great, so I will stand out as the fat one,' Valentine said bitterly.

  'No, no! You'll be the curvy, sexy one! So is it a yes?'

  'Yes,' Valentine mumbled. 'And by the way, who's my co-star?'

  Sylvia hesitated. 'I'm not sure, to be honest. I think they've had tremendous difficulty casting it – so hard to get manly actors these days. Too many pretty boys. I'll let you know as soon as they do.' She went on to fill her in on some of the details. They would start filming in a month's time and her fee was fantastic compared to anything she had ever had before. Valentine was almost in a state of shock. This was what she had wanted for so long. But even as she was thrilled a small worm-in-the-bud voice said, and how much better would this be if you had Jack to share the news with?

  'So darling,' Sylvia drew to a close, 'think of Renée Zellweger and all that weight she put on for Bridget Jones. Go and have a doughnut or three. Better still, a fried peanut butter sandwich.'
She put the phone down before Valentine could think of a suitably caustic reply.

  After she'd told her mum and Lottie and texted all her other friends with her big news she called Piers. His phone went straight to voicemail again. Valentine left another message, telling him about the part. At last something for him to be proud of her for. Her relationship with Piers seemed to hang by such a fragile thread. A few times she had glimpses that they might possibly be able to form some kind of bond, but these were few. He was consumed by his world and by Olivia. An hour later she received a call from Greta. 'Piers has asked me to call to offer his congratulations on your TV role.'

  'Couldn't he have called me himself ?' Valentine asked, thinking that this was the phone equivalent of a businessman getting his secretary to buy his wife's Christmas present.

  'Piers was a little taken aback by your leaving the house. I think he feels a period of reflection and distance is needed. And,' Greta paused, 'For now the film role is on ice.'

  'Can't I at least speak to him and tell him what happened?' Valentine asked with feeling.

  'He knows everything from Olivia. Do not put him in the invidious position of having to take sides between his wife and his daughter. He's under a lot of pressure, Valentine. I'm sure he will get in touch when he feels able.'

  Valentine was almost tempted to tell him not to bother, but something stopped her from closing the door entirely. She was hurt, though. It felt worse than when he took so long to contact her. Now he was rejecting her after he knew her. Even with the lead role to buoy her up she might have gone to the dark side, but thankfully Lauren returned from the States. It was so wonderful to have her best friend back, to have someone to confide in and laugh with, someone who knew her so well. Inevitably Jack was one of their main topics of conversation. Lauren could not believe that he was happy with Tamara.

  'It's a total rebound shag. He was hurt and upset and there she was; it could have been anyone. I bet he'll dump her really soon.'