Holly Smale - The Valentines - Happy Girl Lucky

I stare at my sister in amazement.

‘Please,’ Mercy continues, her voice hoarse. ‘Let us deal with our heartbreak in peace. Let us be, for a moment, the normal family we are. ’

She blinks quickly, then turns, but not before we all see a tear trailing down her left cheek. ‘Gucci,’ she adds quietly. ‘My boots are Gucci, although I don’t see why on earth it matters.’

And she disappears into the limousine.

Stunned, the rest of us climb in after her.

The second the doors lock, I rip the jumper off my head and wrap myself round my sister’s neck.

‘Oh, Mercy ,’ I whisper, patting her left ear awkwardly in an outpouring of compassion. ‘Don’t you worry – Mum’s going to be fine . She’ll be home any day now. They’re just horrible rumours. But we’re here for each other. I love you so much and—’

There’s a shout of laughter.

‘You total cow,’ Max chuckles, taking his sunglasses off and rubbing his eyes. ‘You almost had me there for a second, Mermaid. God, you’re good. ’

I pull away, feeling slightly sick.

Mercy wipes the single tear off her face with a red nail and flicks it away. ‘Runs in the family,’ she shrugs, smiling tightly. ‘We’re very skilled at pretending to be something we’re not.’

She stares out of the darkened window.

‘Well, what are we waiting for? Drive the hell on.’

Mars and Saturn send thunderbolts today, leaving you feeling slightly restless. But a pleasurable surprise is on its way, so harness that energy and put your best foot forward!

The next morning, it’s all over the papers:

HEARTBREAK FOR THE VALENTINES

There’s a large photo of Faith’s face – luminous in its orange hood – much smaller photos of Mercy and Max, and a blurry insert of Mum staring wistfully out of the window.

And – ooh! – there’s my left arm peeking out in the corner!

Elbow looking good, if I do say so myself.

‘Seems like you had quite the day yesterday.’

Our housekeeper, Maggie, dropped off the papers first thing, then made us all a large breakfast. Now she’s drinking a coffee and leaning against the Aga, calmly watching us stuff our faces.

‘Right? Listen to this.’ Max piles egg into his mouth and waves a full-page article in the air. ‘Wait –’

He stands on a chair and flings his arms out.

‘After months of silence , following a brutal dumping by prominent African-American film director husband, Michael Rivers, the full mental breakdown of now single and lonely Juliet Valentine , one of Britain’s most beloved stars of stage and screen , has been confirmed — ’

I roll my eyes and Maggie frowns at him. ‘Max …’

‘Wait, Mags, it gets better. Mercy Valentine, Up-and-Coming It Girl and Professional Big Nose , whose eyes filled with eloquent tears yesterday—’

‘It’s not my fault you’re not quoted,’ Mer shrugs, savagely pulling apart a croissant. ‘If you didn’t want to be outshone, you probably shouldn’t have invited the media in the first place.’

‘You invited the media?’ Maggie frowns and puts more eggs on the table. ‘Why on earth would you do that?’

‘They were writing about Mum anyway,’ Max declares defensively. ‘I figured they might as well hear it from us.’

‘From you , you mean,’ Mercy corrects.

‘It’s such nonsense,’ I pipe up through a mouthful of toast, shaking my head humorously. ‘Where do they get this crazy gossip from? And they call themselves professionalists!’

‘No, they don’t, because that’s not a word, Po.’ Max looks back at the article. ‘What else have we got? Natural beauty, Faith Valentine, girlfriend of pop sensation Noah Anthony, said everything without saying anything .’

‘Please stop,’ Effie says, sipping orange juice. ‘They’re toxic.’

‘And yet they still like you the best,’ Max laughs. ‘Looks like you’re going to need that nose job if you want the main shot, Mermaid.’ He nudges Mercy with his foot and then hops to another chair so her punch doesn’t reach him. ‘Let’s see how online feels about the Valentines today, shall we?’

He picks up his iPad and clears his throat.

‘Grandmother, no comment … diva posho Mum’s finally lost it … Dad’s upgraded … the kids are talentless nonentities …’

‘Max.’

‘A century of privilege … entitled brats, living off their parents’ money …’

‘ Max .’

‘Who do these people even think they—’

‘THAT IS ENOUGH , MAX!’ barks Maggie.

Max sits down abruptly. ‘Apologies, Mags. At least Dad told them to – direct quote – kiss my American butt , so you can take some comfort in that.’

‘Of course he did,’ I say cheerfully, licking blackcurrant jam off my fingers. ‘I mean, I’ve never heard such trash in my entire life . Always jumping to ridiculous conclusions! Hahaha – journa lists or journo-nots , am I right?’

I look triumphantly at everyone, but they’re busy eating.

‘ Anyway ,’ Maggie says smoothly, cleaning the top of the Aga, ‘I’m afraid I’m not around this evening. Ben’s back for a holiday so I’m taking the rest of the week off.’

Max, Mercy and I swivel immediately towards Faith.

Ben is Maggie’s son and has been madly in love with Effie since they were both six years old: he used to follow her around the grounds, giving her caterpillars to eat as a sign of his eternal devotion. I thought it was very romantic, but she never ate them.

‘He is?’ Faith flushes and avoids our eyes. ‘How’s he finding school up north? You must miss him so much.’

‘I do.’ Maggie nods and wipes her hands on a tea towel. ‘But he loves living with his father in Edinburgh so I try not to show it. And I know I’m biased, but he’s turning into a bit of a heartbreaker. Every girl in sixth-form chess club seems absolutely besotted . ’

Max and Mercy start sniggering.

‘How proud you must be,’ Faith says, flashing them warning eyes.

‘ How proud,’ Mercy agrees, snorting. ‘Is he still obsessed with Scrabble too? Do you remember when he used to meaningfully play words like beguile and ardour all the time, Eff?’

I should probably mention here that Ben is short and skinny with crispy mouse-coloured hair in a side parting. The last time I saw him he had a spidery moustache that he stroked every now and then as if for luck.

‘Umm,’ Faith says, fiddling with her spoon. ‘I don’t really remember. It was such a long time ago.’

Mercy and Max are twiddling air-moustaches and pretending to play the bagpipes until Maggie quirks her eyebrows at them. ‘You want to make your own dinner tonight, Downton Abbey?’

That shuts them up: none of us know how to cook.

‘I can’t wait until I’m famous , ’ I sigh with starry eyes, gazing at the newspapers. ‘I wonder what nonsense they’ll make up about me . Right now, I could get attacked by zombies and there’d only be a picture of my elbow, slightly nibbled on.’

‘Oh, please.’ Mer’s nose twitches slightly. ‘If zombies ever invaded England, you’d just fall in love with the most rotten one, Poodle.’