Holly Smale - The Valentines - Happy Girl Lucky

My brother’s left eye twitches. ‘It’s good. I mean, I’m dead before the curtain goes up. That’s the dream, right?’

Mum ignores him and turns to Mercy.

‘Those leather trousers are glorious on you, darling. But have you considered a size fourteen? They look uncomfortable in a twelve.’

A muscle in Mer’s jaw goes ping . ‘They fit perfectly , thanks . ’

‘Of course they do.’ Mum smiles wanly. ‘I’m only thinking of you , darling.’

‘Are you? That makes a nice change.’

There’s a silence.

‘Mum,’ Faith says, stepping abruptly forward. ‘You might want to move away from the window. Max brought the paps and they’ve got long lenses.’

Mum’s back straightens immediately.

‘Ah,’ she nods, gliding nearer to the window and opening the curtains wide. ‘Such vultures . Is there no privacy any more? No respect for our personal space? Do these coyotes do nothing but take, take, take while we give, give, give?’

Mercy, Faith and Max glance at each other with lifted eyebrows.

‘Yeah,’ Mercy snaps. ‘Weird, that.’

Mum angles her beautiful high cheekbones towards the light, then stares bleakly into the far distance, silvery eyes shimmering. ‘Did you, perchance, happen to see anyone from the LA Times out there?’

‘Nope,’ Max grins. ‘But I did see the Telegraph. Wait, Grandma reads that, doesn’t she?’

Mum abruptly closes the curtains and steps away.

‘How … is she?’

‘She wants to know why you’re living here instead of at home with your children,’ Mer says, looking at her blood-red nails. ‘It’s a question we’re all quite eager to have answered, when you get a spare moment. ’

‘Oh, my darlings,’ Mum says with a soft smile. ‘You are so sweet to worry about me. I will triumph, I promise you that.’ She perches neatly on the chaise longue, legs crossed elegantly at the ankle. ‘Although I’m afraid I’m feeling terribly tired. I have a two o’clock appointment with a very well-respected herbologist, so …’

There’s a silence while Mercy looks pointedly at her watch. It’s not quite ten in the morning yet.

‘Sure,’ Effie says, chewing on her bottom lip. ‘You must be wiped, Mum. We’ll see you next Sunday, yeah?’

Impulsively, I fling myself at Mum again.

‘Neptune is in retrograde,’ I whisper into her neck as she steadies herself on the plumped cushions behind her. ‘Which explains everything . So get lots of fresh air, stay away from the colour red and put this inside your pillowcase . ’

Before my mother can respond, I sneak a little pouch of lavender into her hand, kiss her cheek and flit out of the room.

Exiting the scene beautifully.

LOCATION SETTING:REHAB RECEPTION

‘Well,’ Max says as my siblings and I stare at each other blankly. ‘That was quite a lot worse than I thought it would be.’

Faith nods. ‘What are we going to do?’

‘Does she have no shame at all?’ Mercy screws up her nose. ‘It’s pathetic. Tragic. Sad .’

We’re reading from exactly the same page of the same script at the same time, like a seamless run-through of a Tony Award-winning sitcom.

‘So tragic,’ I agree emphatically, trying to grab all six of their hands at once in comfort. ‘ So sad. Mum’s last big romantic film was so intense and so all-consuming that, to wall intensive purposes, it has totally worn her out . I think it’s time for Dad to hurry up and come back from LA as soon as possible.’

Max abruptly glances at me.

‘Hope,’ he says, studying my face carefully. ‘It’s for all intents and purposes . Mum’s not in rehab for bricks. And you do understand what’s going on, don’t you? You don’t actually believe—’

‘Effie,’ I burst out cheerfully. ‘That’s a good question. What are we going to do? We should compile our brainpower and find a way to stay positive. We need to keep Mum happy until Dad arrives home, because happiness is the most important thing there is. Apart from love, obviously. Any ideas?’

Max, Mercy and Faith stare at me.

‘I don’t have any,’ I say quickly, because they look very expectant. ‘You’re going to have to think too. I can’t do it all on my own.’

‘ Blime-y ,’ Max exhales. ‘How were you even made , Po? Were you put together in a doll factory, wrapped in pink tissue paper and left randomly on our doorstep?’

‘Are you trying to tell me I’m adopted?’ I reply in amazement. ‘Because, if so, your sense of dramatic timing is truly terrible.’

There’s a light cough and I jump. An incredibly hot blond boy with deep brown eyes is hovering behind us.

You see? This is what happens when you take your eye off the ball: The One can sneak up while you’re not even pushing your chest out properly. Quickly, I flick my hair, open my eyes wide and bite the inside of my cheeks so my cheekbones look sharper.

Too hard. Ow.

Max laughs loudly. ‘I don’t think they put in enough bubblewrap, Fluff-pot.’

You know what? In my next life, I’m coming back as the oldest sibling and giving Max stupid nicknames in front of his soulmates too.

‘May I assist with transport?’ my new The One asks politely with a subtle dip of his head. ‘There are a range of options we could organise: a Bentley, motorbikes, a …’

Wow, he’s so powerful and efficient. I bet he’d know how to call me a rescue helicopter if I fainted subtly in his arms and everything.

Mer snarls. ‘Do you think we swam here?’

‘We have a car waiting,’ Effie says quickly, giving him a devastatingly gorgeous smile. ‘But thank you.’

My One goes red and blinks at my middle sister as if she’s suddenly spotlit – even though she’s wearing no make-up, a shapeless orange hoodie and neon-yellow leggings – and I immediately send him to my reject pile.

He failed the audition.

Next.

‘VALENTINES!’ the crowd shouts as the metal gates swing open again. ‘What happened? How’s Juliet? When’s she coming out? Can you tell us anything? Anything at all?’

There’s a nanosecond for me to give them my most enigmatic movie-star smile before Mercy’s jumper goes over my head again.

‘Is it exhaustion?’ I hear a journalist yell through the fluff. ‘Depression? Insanity? Total mental collapse?’

‘Have divorce papers been issued? What about reports that your dad’s engaged to another actress already?’

‘Will Juliet be at her film premiere next weekend?’

‘Where are those boots from?’

That last question must be aimed at Mer because Max, Effie and I are all wearing trainers covered in Nike ticks. Mercy has stiffened, so – curious – I rummage around inside her jumper until I can peer out of an armhole.

Slowly, eyes blazing, my big sister turns to face the crowd.

‘This,’ Mer says coldly into a sudden silence, ‘is an intensely private matter. While the three of us may live our lives in the spotlight, it is not a spotlight of our choosing. We owe you nothing and you do not own us. Please try to remember that …’ She pauses for a fraction. ‘We are just teenagers, trying to … hold on to our mum.’

There’s a tender crack in her voice and Mer’s chin quivers as her eyes fill with tears. The journalists are completely still, Dictaphones frozen in the air.