Valentine (28 page)

Valentine felt in a bad mood for the rest of the day, though
luckily that gave an extra edge to her reading with Jack,
as they were supposed to be wary of and attracted to
each other in equal measure, with plenty of spiky banter,
in one of those ironic art-imitating-life moments. Jamie
just loved their performance, said it was everything he
had hoped it would be.
Well, that was something
, she thought
as she made her way out of the building. Jack was already
in reception waiting for his car; he seemed to have
forgotten something.

'Where are the flowers?' Valentine asked.

Jack rolled his eyes. 'I gave them to Lynsey. As I'm
hardly home at the moment it seemed a waste.'

'I hope Tamara won't be too disappointed when she
sees you later.'

'I'm not seeing her tonight; I'm going for a run, then
I'm going to bed,' Jack said curtly. 'What about you?'

'The same,' Valentine lied, thinking of the glass(es) of
wine she planned on having and getting a lovely image
of Jack's bed with Jack in it.

Jack's lips twitched and for a moment he was back to
being the Jack she used to know. 'You're such a liar,
Fleming. I bet you'll just go home and sink a bottle of
wine with Lauren. Who's she seeing now, by the way?'

'Still Nathan. I swear I won't be surprised if they end
up getting married, though I never thought I would see
that day. If she makes me be a bridesmaid and wear
something vile in violet, I'll hunt her down and kill her!'

Jack held her gaze for a beat before replying, 'Well,
I'm glad it worked out for them.'

All the way home in the taxi Valentine tried to figure
out if there was a subtext to Jack's words. Had he put an
extra emphasis on the word
them
and did he mean therefore
that it was a pity it hadn't worked out for him and
Valentine? Or was he simply happy for Lauren and
Nathan because he was a genuinely nice person? Then
again, he had called her Fleming, as he used to when
they were together. So could that mean he was thawing
towards her? Just a little bit?

The following day however it was back to arctic conditions.
Jack was distant with her, avoiding her when they
weren't working on the script, but at the end of the day
he sought her out. 'Valentine, can we talk?' No hint of
flirtation in his voice.

'Shall we go for coffee?' she asked. He shook his head.

'No time; I have to go in a minute. I just thought
we needed to clear the air and we didn't seem to get a
chance yesterday. So here goes.' He avoided eye-contact
as he spoke. 'I'm sorry for the way I behaved that night
at the premiere. I was a dickhead.'

'Well, you had your reasons I suppose,' Valentine
muttered.

'The fact that you slept with Finn—' they both winced
at the mention of his name – 'didn't give me the right
to behave like that. I just wanted to say that I hope we
can be friends during the filming. We both need this to
go well. So can we be friends?'

Valentine longed for the return of the flirtatious banter.
Jack sounded so formal. She wanted to say, 'I can't be
your friend because I still love you.' But Jack had left her
no room for manoeuvre; there was nothing to indicate
that he still had deeper feelings for her. Self-respect
dictated that she agree they could be friends.

'Good, I'm glad that's sorted,' he replied. 'I'll see you
tomorrow.'

This cool detachment became the pattern of their behaviour
over the next month as they filmed. They were
unfailingly polite to each other; Valentine didn't even make
any more sarky remarks about Tamara. But the strain of
keeping a lid on her feelings was almost unbearable.
Practically every night she would dream about Jack, deeply
erotic dreams of unfulfilled desires. Typical! Even her
dreams conspired against her and every time she was
about to do the deed with him she would wake up.
Sometimes Valentine wished Jack would be horrible to
her, as at least that showed that he cared enough about
her to be angry. But the shutters had well and truly come
down and every day that went by Valentine had the feeling
that he was slipping further and further away from her.

Valentine had thought that they were at least a month away
from filming the love scene; somehow she hoped that she
would have more perspective by then. So it was a shock
when at a production meeting Jamie announced that they'd
be filming it at the end of the week. 'The whole feel of
the series is going to be slick and sexy, and I would like
the love scene between Frankie and Daniel to reflect that.
Basically I'm asking you guys to push the boundaries.'

Valentine had a sudden wish that she had one of those
ejector chairs and she could press the button right now
and eject out of there and straight into a production
meeting for a lovely classic drama, say
Pride and Prejudice
,
where there would be no talk of pushing the boundaries
on sex scenes and only a heaving of well-covered bosom
or extra clenching of male jaw to indicate arousal. She
looked down at her script as if the answers would magically
appear there, but all it said was Frankie and Daniel
'kiss and then make love'. There wasn't even an adjective
– not a passionately, wildly, frenziedly to be seen.
Valentine could only hope for a 'quickly' right now and
'in the dark' would also be good.

'So can we rehearse after we finish filming today? To
map out the moves and get a feel for how the scene will
roll?' Jamie again.

'It will be hard having sex with you at the end of the
week as it's totally out of sequence,' Valentine tried to
banter with Jack as they walked out of the meeting.
'Frankie still mistrusts you.'

'Won't that give the scene an extra frisson?' Jack replied,
moving closer to her in the corridor to let someone get
by. Just having him near was giving her an extra frisson;
God knows how she would cope with simulating sex with
him. She'd probably combust with suppressed longing.

'I suppose so,' she answered, aware that her voice
sounded slightly higher-pitched than usual.

'It'll be OK, Valentine. It's just a scene like any other
and they'll cut it up so it looks all moody and arty and
nothing much will be on show. It's not going to be
Last Tango
in Paris.
' Valentine had never cared for the infamous pack-of-butter
sex scene but were Jack to be involved in such an
act, she realised she just might change her mind . . .

'Or
Don't Look Now
,' she squeaked, appealing in vain
to her vocal cords to be husky.

He frowned. 'Have you got a sore throat?'

She shook her head. 'I'm just nervous Jack, aren't you?'
Really his I'm-not-bothered act was getting too much to
bear.

Finally he nodded. 'What do you think?'

* * *

'Cut! Jamie called out. Frankie/Valentine was lying on
the bed, Daniel/Jack had just been kissing her breast.
Valentine remembered reading somewhere that they
sometimes needed to fake erect nipples on set with a judicious
application of cold water or blast of cold air. Her
nipples didn't need any help in that department right now.

Daniel/Jack rolled off her and turned to face Jamie,
while Valentine folded her arms across her chest. 'I'm
sorry to do this to you, but can we go from the top? I
promise I won't stop you again. I just need the first kiss
to go on for longer.'

After one more take they were done. She had kissed
and caressed her ex-lover, felt his body on hers, had been
practically naked, had sat astride him, had felt him on
top of her, had felt quite a bit of him actually – she was
sure that didn't happen in other love scenes – had faked
an orgasm (now that had never happened in real life with
Jack). The one thing she didn't have to fake was the
moment when they gazed into each other's eyes and
Daniel/Jack said, 'I love you.'

'I love you too,' Frankie/Valentine replied, willing Jack
to mean his lines. And Valentine longed to add, 'I've never
stopped.' But Jamie called out, 'Cut.'

'Are you going to Lily and Frank's party?' Valentine
asked as they sat up in bed and she did up her shirt –
now this really did feel weird.

'Yes, I said I would, so I'll see you later,' Jack replied,
pulling on his T-shirt. He stood up and looked back at
her, a definite warmth in his brown eyes. 'So how was
that for you, Fleming?'

Finally there was a flirtatious edge to his voice; she
decided to play along. 'Good.'

'Just good?' Jack replied. 'So you didn't find that a
mindblowing, bone-melting sexual experience, up there
as one of the best ever?'

Oh God, he was using the same words he had when
they'd first made love all those months ago.

'OK, fantastic then,' Valentine replied, in an echo of her
own words. Now the memory was in full high-definition
and surround-sound in her mind – she and Jack were lying
wrapped up in each other's arms after the most mindblowing,
bone-melting, sexual experience ever. Jack was teasing her,
holding the duvet off her and she was freezing. They were
both laughing, knowing they were at the start of something
wonderful.

Jack held her gaze. 'Fantastic is the right answer.'

It was time to step out from the past and into her
present. 'It always was, Jack,' she said softly.

His 'Yes,' was barely audible as he turned to go. 'See
you at the party.'

'I don't bloody believe it, V! He's given you a hickey!'
Lauren exclaimed as she examined the purplish-red
bruise on Valentine's neck later that evening as they
got ready for Lily and Frank's party. 'I bet that was
because he was so full of suppressed longing and he
had to let it out somehow, without getting jissum on
your leg.'

'Nathan! Can't you do something with her? She gets
worse.'

Nathan held up his hands. 'Apparently not.'

'Honestly! The face of an angel, the mind of a sewer
rat!' Valentine exclaimed again, watching Lauren perform
a twirl in her silver beaded flapper-style dress.

'So, do you want me to cover up your love bite?' Lauren
asked, holding up a jar of concealer.

Valentine considered the mark in the mirror, 'No, I'll
leave it as it is. It's the only thing Jack's given me in a
while, so it can be my badge of honour.'

'So did he have a massive hard-on in the sex scene?'
Lauren persisted.

'I would never kiss and tell,' Valentine replied coyly,
but when Nathan's back was turned she made an appropriate
hand gesture and mouthed 'massive' to Lauren.
Ah well, she'd had to bare her soul and most of her body
to a roomful of strangers and simulate sex with her ex;
she was allowed to see the funny side of it.

While Nathan and Lauren went on ahead to the party
to check everything was in place for Frank and Lily's big
night, Valentine travelled in with Lily and Frank. Lily
insisted on the taxi dropping them off at Piccadilly even
though it was a fifteen-minute walk to Ronnie Scott's and
she didn't seem up to walking any distance at all.

'I've got something to show you,' Lily said mysteriously
as the taxi pulled over and they got out. 'Look up there,'
she urged Valentine, pointing to the top of a building on
the corner of Piccadilly and Haymarket. Valentine looked
up and saw an entrancing art deco sculpture – three sleek,
gold, female figures diving from the roof. 'That is one of
my favourite sights,' Lily told her. 'Whenever I feel down
I hop on the number seventy-three and gaze at my
beautiful divers. They always pick me up. I think they're
telling me that life is full of possibilities and you must
dive in it. Don't you feel that too, V?'

The trio stood in silence for a few minutes looking up,
while all around them people hurried on their way, oblivious
to the beauty above them. Valentine took a deep
breath.
I am going to be golden and lithe of spirit
, she told
herself. Lily is right; life is to be dived into. And then
it came to her. She had to tell Jack she still loved him. It
came to her so clearly – a perfectly formed thought from
nowhere – as if it had been hovering somewhere in space
and only now had shape to it. It didn't matter if he didn't
give her the chance – she had to make that chance. It
was now or never.

Valentine was thrilled for Lily and Frank when she saw
how many people had turned up to their party. It was
touching to see so many old timers, all decked out in their
best clothes. Lily and Frank of course looked the most
stylish: Lily, channelling a fifties starlet in a long gold
dress, matching silk gloves that went up to her elbow and
a white fur stole; Frank in a pinstripe suit and trilby hat
looking like he was auditioning for a part in
GoodFellas
. A
jazz band was playing and it promised to be a brilliant
party. But there was no sign of Jack.

'He'll be here, Valentine, don't you worry,' Lily reassured
her, doing one of her mind-reading acts. 'Didn't I
tell you that tonight was a celebration of love?' Lily seemed
better than she had in a while, but there also seemed
something feverish and desperate about her as if she
couldn't wait for Valentine and Jack to get together.
Valentine put it down to Lily's incorrigible romanticism.

She spent the early part of the party hanging out with
Lauren and Nathan, endlessly scanning the room for Jack
and drinking a lot of champagne. What with the love
scene and then getting ready for the party she'd had no
time to eat and the fizz was going straight to her head.
Every time a tall dark man walked into the club her
heart beat that little bit faster in case it was Jack. But
by eleven she had decided that he definitely wasn't
coming. Disappointment washed over her. They had
finished the champagne and really she'd had enough, but
she had the demon inside her and instead of switching
to water as she knew she should, she headed off to the
bar for vodka. As she wove her way slightly unsteadily
through the partygoers, Robbie, the student from the
off-licence, appeared at her side.

'Hiya,' he said a little shyly. 'Long time no see, ma'am.'

'Well good evening Robbie,' Valentine replied in her
Southern Belle accent, and gave him a quick kiss on the
cheek.

'Can I get you a drink?

'Why yes, even though I don't usually hold with hard
liquor, I could manage a vodka and tonic.' Valentine
swayed and Robbie grabbed her arm. 'Thank you,
Robbie.' She stared at him, trying to focus on his boyishly
cute face; he really wasn't bad-looking at all. True he was
blonde and she didn't ordinarily go for blondes, but he
was very sweet actually, with lovely skin. She would love
skin like that! So what if he was too young for her? He
wouldn't judge her so harshly after one mistake and then
run off with a film star and break her heart. No, he would
be loyal and good and true. Oh God, she really was drunk.
She gave another lurch and Robbie put his arm round
her waist and she leaned against him gratefully.

'Look, why don't you sit at this table and I'll go to the
bar,' Robbie said, steering her towards a chair. Valentine
sat down – she was starting to get that spinny-head feeling
but it was better than obsessing about Jack. Robbie
returned with a double vodka that Valentine found went
down surprisingly quickly and he obligingly went off for
more supplies. He sat down next to her and gazed at her
with undisguised longing and asked all about her new
role. Valentine babbled away. It was so good talking to
someone who seemed interested in her, so nice to see the
longing in Robbie's eyes – or maybe that was her vodka-head
talking; who knew, who cared? Jack clearly didn't.
Bastard! She was very drunk.

'I've really missed seeing you around, Valentine,'
Robbie mumbled. 'I was wondering if we could go out
some time – you know, just you and me. I could take you
for dinner.'

'That would be so sweet!' Valentine exclaimed, reaching
out and stroking Robbie's hair. Really she couldn't resist
it; it looked so shiny and clean. He really was very cute.
Robbie took that as an invitation to latch lips with hers
and then he thrust his tongue eagerly into her mouth. It
was not a good kiss. It was like being assaulted by one of
those fish that are kept in aquariums to keep them clean
by sucking up all the dirt. She managed to pull away and
swore she could hear suction sounds as she disengaged
her tongue. She sat back, wondering if he would notice
if she wiped her mouth.

'That was nice, but d'you know what? I'd love a cigarette.
Have you got any, Robbie?'

He looked flushed with excitement as he shook his
head. 'I've given up. I thought you didn't like being around
people who smoked.' He moved towards her lips, ready
to re-engage.

Valentine moved sideways. 'Oh no! It doesn't bother
me at all. Can you get me one?' She put her hands together
and leaned forward, treating Robbie to a front-row view
of her cleavage – a cheap trick, but she had to get rid of
him.
'Please
.'

Robbie looked as if he'd much rather stay where he
was, but he managed to tear his gaze away and promised
to get her a cigarette. Whoops, what had she got
herself into? Time to take stock and repair the damage
Robbie had inflicted on her face. Out of the corner of
her eye Valentine saw Lauren laughing at her. Valentine
stuck her tongue out (her poor, violated tongue) as she
made her way to the ladies'. The floor seemed to be undulating,
which made walking in her heels tricky. Valentine
felt rather proud of herself when she finally made it to
the bathroom. She'd only fallen over twice – not bad. She
was just squinting at her reflection in the mirror when
Lily accosted her. 'What do you think you're doing with
that young boy!' She sounded outraged.

'Havingadrink,' Valentine replied. 'What'stheproblem?'

'The problem is that you are throwing away your
chance of happiness with Jack. What are you going to
do when he turns up and sees you in the arms of another
man?' Lily had drawn herself up to her full height and
looked extremely formidable.