Love Me Not, page 21
‘Oh, Elijah,’ I say in monotone. ‘I cannot resist you any longer. Please, dissolve my identity by becoming my boyfriend. Conquer me. Destroy me. You can’t deny our incredible chemistry.’
Eli pats me. ‘I think it might just be you, babe.’
Finn gives me a long look, then his face hardens and he abruptly walks away.
I close my eyes: smash.
‘Right,’ Verity snaps, taking her glasses off and rubbing them on her sleeve. ‘Unless Eli wants to make a formal complaint, which he is well within his rights to do, we’re actually on Act Two, Mercy, and you’ve relinquished this morning’s rehearsal through tardiness so take a seat.’
I take a seat.
‘Not on the floor of the stage.’
I shuffle on my bottom until I slip off the edge of it.
‘Not there either.’
On all fours, I crawl over to one of the seats at the front, flop into it and glare at the cast ensemble, standing silently on the stage in their stupid, frilled period dress. ‘Friar Francis’ smiles at me tentatively, and Piper lifts her eyebrows sympathetically. I pull a mocking face – copying her expression exactly – and she flushes in embarrassment and looks away.
Then I look at Daisy, waiting with tangible happiness for her turn on stage.
Correction: my turn.
‘Boy!’ Eli calls, waving a hand at an extra.
‘Signior—’
‘What is she wearing?’ I interrupt loudly, pointing at Daisy. ‘Is that my costume?’
‘Yes,’ Verity grunts through gritted teeth. ‘You weren’t here, Mercy. Remember? Continue.’
Eli nods. ‘In my chamber-window lies a book – bring it hither to me in the orch—’
‘Take it off,’ I say abruptly, standing up.
‘What?’ Daisy blinks. ‘Right now?’
‘OFF!’ I scream as my anger blazes into an inferno. ‘Take my flaming dress off right now, you talentless nobody. It was not made for you!’
Daisy looks down, bursts into tears and runs off stage.
Smash.
‘Mercy,’ my director starts furiously. ‘How dare you? I will absolutely not allow you to—’
Sitting down, I wave my arm at the cast: continue.
‘Uh.’ Eli scratches his head. ‘Gosh. Okay. Where was I?’ He clears his throat. ‘I do much wonder that one man – seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love—’
I snort loudly.
‘Will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others …’
‘Hear, hear!’ I shout.
‘… become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love.’
I clap, slowly. Clap, clap, clap.
‘Mercy,’ Verity hisses, ‘I swear to God, if you don’t—’
‘This is a terrible play.’ Standing up again, I hold my arms out. ‘Romantic love is a trick, a temporary madness to make us feel less alone. But guess what? It’s just a placebo. We are alone. Even if we’re not born alone, we die alone. So freaking deal with it and stop telling these moronic made-up stories.’
With a nasty laugh, I turn to the irritated cast.
‘Also, you think you can act? I’ve seen better acting in my own front room, performed by children.’
Their mouths drop open and Verity takes a few quick steps forward, as if she’s going to tackle me like a rugby ball.
‘My baby sister is fifteen years old.’ I spin viciously towards her. ‘And she can still direct a play with more imagination than I’ve seen thus far from you, Verity Ramirez.’
I feel a rush of giddiness, a loosening, a darkness untethering.
Burn it all down.
‘How long do we have until opening night?’ I finish, smiling like a cat. ‘Five nights? Six? Won’t be enough.’
And … SMASH.
‘That’s it!’ My director throws her script on the floor. ‘I don’t care who you are, Mercy! I don’t care who your grandmother is, or how many times she calls the theatre’s artistic director to apologise on your behalf! Casting you was the worst mistake of my career!’
Nodding, I pick up my handbag from the side of the stage.
‘This is not who I am!’ Verity continues to shriek as I sling it over my shoulder. ‘I am not a shouter! You are toxic. You are poison. You have turned me into somebody I do not like!’
‘Yes,’ I say flatly. ‘I do that. Welcome to the gang.’
There’s a silence while I watch the flames lick at my career, as my dreams begin cracking, as everything I’ve ever wanted turns black and hollow and starts crashing down.
Then my director turns to Eli. ‘Get Daisy. Now.’
Eli scurries off and within seconds Daiiiiiiiisssssyyyy has returned to the stage, dressed in jeans and a red jumper, composure strangely regained. She has clearly been watching everything from the wings and knows what’s coming as well as I do.
The grand finale.
‘Congratulations,’ my director says with more authority than I’ve ever heard from her. ‘Daisy, you are now playing Beatrice.’
She nods.
‘Mercy Valentine.’ Verity turns back to me. ‘You’re fired.’
Oh, I’m not done.
I grab a taxi straight home – I’ve got a dinner party to attend.
With a bang, I slam back into the house.
‘There you are,’ I hiss at Maggie as she bustles through the hallway in her grey frock, the exact same one she wore last time. ‘Nice of you to finally rock up to work, Margaret, I assumed you’d—’
Nope, she’s gone.
‘Mum?’ Ben appears from the kitchen, carrying flowers and wearing a suit that’s slightly too small for him. ‘Hang on, I’ve found a better vase, just let me—’
‘Well,’ I sneer, ‘if it isn’t Mister Second Choice himself.’
Nope, he’s gone too.
With a snarl, I spin in a frustrated circle, looking for somebody else to cross my path.
‘Max!’ Dad yells from upstairs. ‘Can you come and get extra chairs?!’
A voice from the garden: ‘Bit busy!’
‘BOY,’ my father booms, ‘I don’t care if you’re preparing for the next space landing, you wanna sit in a chair, you get in here and help with the flaming chairs!’
Camera trained on himself, Max comes in from the garden wearing a brand-new tuxedo.
‘Oh,’ I snip, ‘here he comes, the least talented of the—’
‘NOW, MAXIMUS!’
‘Coming, Father! Blimey, anyone would think we don’t have staff,’ my brother grumbles, jogging straight past me. ‘Just wait until I’m a TV star. They won’t be bossing me around then.’
He bounces lankily up the stairs, three at a time.
‘Get dressed, Mercy,’ my grandmother says curtly, gliding into the hallway in a long lilac gown. ‘Something with a little colour, please. That’s quite enough of all this black. It’s simply morbid.’
I go to growl at her.
‘Excuse me,’ she interrupts, tapping her stick at a passing waiter. ‘Where do you think you are taking those bread rolls, young man? What is the point in freshly baked rolls if they are placed on the table before we are all present? Put them back in the oven.’
She follows him into the kitchen, tutting.
‘Eff!’ Po hops out of the library in an orange dress, tugging on a green shoe. ‘Effie, I can’t find the other one. Can I wear two different colours, do you think?’
‘Here.’ Faith pokes her head out of the laundry room. ‘Catch.’
She lobs a green heel across the hallway.
‘Oh,’ I snort, ‘how very—’
Nope: they’ve both disappeared.
For the love of God, will somebody in this family just stay still long enough for me to destroy them?
There’s a knock on the door and I run towards it in relief.
Oh yes, this will do perfectly.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ Roz smiles, wearing a horrendous pink ombre shift dress and holding an enormous lasagne in one arm, a brown anorak in another. ‘British recipes are so confusing, I got all the measurements wrong and then I wasn’t sure if it was Fahrenheit or Celsius so—’
I open my mouth—
‘Oh, how kind,’ my mother says, sweeping forward in blue silk. ‘We always forget to feed the staff.’
She takes the lasagne away from the American.
‘Please, do come in.’ Mum gives her a formal, distant smile. ‘Such a pleasure to have you in my home, Roseanne. It is Roseanne, isn’t it? Don’t feel bad that Michael didn’t tell you about the dress code, my soon-to-be ex-husband can be so forgetful sometimes.’
‘It’s actually Rosaline,’ Roz says with a muted smile.
‘Bit ironic,’ I snort as derisively as I can. ‘Because we all know that Rosaline gets dumped for—’
‘Don’t be rude, Mercy,’ Mum interrupts sharply, turning towards the dining room. ‘Please, do let me take your coat to the cloakroom, Roz, or whatever it is you call that thing you’re holding.’
With a catty little Hollywood smile, my mother leads Roz away.
She just stole all my lines.
‘ARRRGGHHH!’ I shout at the top of my voice, throwing my handbag hard on the floor. ‘CAN ANYONE EVEN SEE ME ANY MORE?!’
Cheeks flaming, I run up the stairs and into my bedroom. My hands are shaking, my heart racing, all control has completely disappeared.
‘Charity?’ I say hoarsely. ‘If you come back, I swear I’ll stop. I’ll try to be happy again.’
With a wave of dizziness, I walk to my mirror.
‘Charity? Stop being so selfish!’
But it’s just me.
My face, my rage, my destruction, my pain, my darkness.
Desperate now, I race to my closet. I pull everything out and haul it into a pile in the middle of my room. Tugging off my black leggings and jumper, I rifle through it until I find what I’m looking for. Then I tug the tiny grey flapper dress on. It’s too tight, far too short, it smells of dust and makeup smears and memories.
With most of the buttons still undone, I return to the mirror.
‘Tee,’ I whisper as the room tilts. ‘Please.’
‘Yo yo yo,’ Max calls from the hallway behind me. ‘Mermaid? So the big dinner’s in five and Grandma wants me to check you’re actually getting changed—’
I freeze, then turn round.
‘Umm, dude.’ My brother stops in the open doorway, eyes wide. ‘DUDE. What are you wearing?’
Horrified, my mouth opens.
‘Hahahahahahaha!’ Max snorts, bursting into laughter. ‘That is a hideous dress, Mermaid. Where did you get that from? Creepy Dolls R Us?’ He laughs even harder. ‘And no offence, but it looks a little on the snug—’
‘GET OUT!’ I scream, hurtling towards my brother and shoving him as hard as I can. ‘OUT! GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!’
He falls onto the hallway carpet with an oof.
‘I was joking!’ Blinking, Max scratches his head. ‘Blimey! Obviously somebody’s got their period.’ I kick him until he scrambles up with his hands in the air. ‘Okay! Okay! I’ll go downstairs and tell them you’re nearly ready! Keep your wig on.’
My brother disappears and with a howling brain I storm out into the hallway. Max’s bedroom is at the end of the corridor. Without pausing, I march straight into the messy, stale chaos and look around.
His laptop is on his desk, still open.
I guess his password in four seconds, move the MY BIG BREAK!!! file onto a memory stick and pull it out. Then I run down the stairs and kick the dining-room door open with a loud BANG.
Everything is glittery, warm, golden, just as it used to be.
‘Mercy!’ Grandma says, glancing up from her champagne glass. ‘That is an entirely unnecessary—’
She falls silent, seeing the expression on my face.
‘Leave the room,’ Grandma says to the waiters, hovering round the edges. ‘Quickly, please.’
The staff empties out as my family stares at me in shock.
‘What’s happened?’ Effie asks gently. ‘Mer, what is it? Why are you wearing the ghost dress?’
‘Well,’ I sneer, ignoring her. ‘How delightful that we’ve started gathering in here again. A quaint little heart-warming family celebration, I see! Exactly like the old days!’
I glance around the twinkling room at Grandma, Mum, Dad, Faith, Hope, Max, Maggie, Ben, Roz.
‘Except, it’s not, is it?’ I laugh brutally. ‘Because someone is missing. Not that you’d be able to tell, because pretending is what Valentines do.’
Deliberately, I walk over to the table, pick up a crystal champagne glass and drop it on the solid oak floor.
Smash.
‘We fake it.’
Another glass: smash.
‘We fake happiness.’ Smash.
‘We fake perfection.’ Smash.
‘We fake closeness.’ Smash.
‘Do you know why the Valentines are the most famous acting family on the planet? Because faking it is all we do.’
With one arm, I sweep the rest of the glasses off the side table.
SMAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSH.
‘Mercy!’ Grandma cries.
‘Oh, go to hell,’ I hiss at her, whipping round. ‘If it wasn’t for you and your pride, Charity and I wouldn’t have been on that television set in the first place.’
She blinks in astonishment and her mouth snaps shut.
‘MERCY,’ Dad booms, slamming his fist on the table. ‘Don’t you dare speak to your grandmother like that!’
‘And where were you?’ I spin like a striking snake towards my father. ‘When Charity was lying in hospital, where were you? In an editing suite? Making a film? In America? Anywhere but here? Putting yourself first again?’
His face collapses and I smile viciously at Mum.
‘What about you, Mother dearest? Why didn’t you look after us? Why didn’t you stop us from turning into you? You knew what it was like, being thrust into the limelight so early. We should have been at school with a normal life and normal friends, not on a television set with chaperones and drivers. We were children. We needed our parents.’
Mum physically crumples and I spin towards my sisters.
‘Run away again, Hope,’ I sneer. ‘Run away again, Faith. Just leave me here on my own.’
My sisters flinch and I glance dismissively at Maggie, Ben, Roz.
‘Leeches.’
Finally, I turn to Max. He’s watching me carefully, his handsome face pinched and anxious. Grinning, I pull the memory stick out of my dress pocket and stick it into the overhead projector.
‘Hey,’ I say with a poisonous little laugh. ‘We like a show in this family, don’t we? Why break with tradition now?’
‘Mercy,’ my brother breathes. ‘Please … don’t.’
I smile widely at him.
And I hit PLAY.
[Heartbeat sounds]
Max
Think you know the Valentines?
A rapid montage of glossy magazines featuring the Valentines land one on top of the other.
Max
You don’t.
Montage footage:
Hope sobbing on her bed; Faith climbing down fire escape of family mansion with shaved head; Mercy screaming abuse at housekeeper; Michael and Roz kissing in London park; Dame Sylvia refusing to talk to paparazzi; dishevelled Juliet wandering down a hallway, hair knotty and expression lost; Max calling his father, but call is rejected.
Max
Lies. Secrets. Grief. A family in pieces.
THE VALENTINES flashes in black and gold
Max [direct to camera, close up]
I’m Max Valentine, and I’m gonna show you … everything.
Dead silence.
Max stands up so abruptly his chair falls over.
‘Guys,’ he says desperately, holding his hands out like a self-help guru to a crowd of sceptics. ‘Don’t look at me like that, it’s still in the works. I’m prepared to accept editing notes … Really, when you think about it, it could be healthy for us, to show we’re not—’
‘You ass-hat,’ Faith says clearly.
Everyone turns to stare at her instead.
‘Max, you complete and utter ass-hat.’ My sweet sister rises from her seat, visibly shaking with anger. ‘How could you do this? All this time, you were secretly filming us? It has taken everything I have to get out of the limelight, and now you’re just going to … push me back into it again?’
My brother flinches. ‘Eff, that’s not the way it—’
‘You’re putting my heartbreak on television?’ Hope jumps up with flushed cheeks, her fists squeezed shut. ‘But the whole world will see me crying!’
‘LIKE HELL HE IS,’ Dad booms, lurching up and bashing his fist on the table so hard the cutlery clatters. ‘MAXIMUS LAURENCE VALENTINE, YOU ARE CANCELLING THIS PROJECT.’
‘I …’ Mum says weakly, staring at the flickering projector screen. ‘I didn’t realise … I had no idea … I …’
‘Never!’ Grandma yelps, leaning on her stick to propel herself forward. ‘Never in my entire life have I been so appalled by a member of this family!’
‘Look,’ Roz starts quietly, ‘I think it’s important that we all—’
My grandmother turns on her. ‘Pipe down, missy! You are not a part of this family, regardless of how hard you are clearly trying to be!’
‘SYLVIA!’ Dad yells. ‘DO NOT SPEAK TO ROZ LIKE THAT!’
‘Except—’ Hope frowns, deep in thought. ‘I do look cute, right? I’m a pretty crier, hashtag blessed. And this could be my chance! Plus, if we show how it ends –’ she grabs Ben’s hand and smiles at him – ‘then really it’s a very beautiful story.’
Ben frowns. ‘Hope, I’m not comfortable being on television.’
‘Me neither,’ Maggie interrupts. ‘For the record.’
‘AND YOU’RE NOT GOING ON TV, HOPE, YOU ARE STILL FIFTEEN.’
‘But, Dad,’ Hope complains. ‘Charity and Mercy were only fourteen when they did that ghost show, so it’s totally unfair that—’
‘WHY DO YOU THINK WE MADE THE RULES IN THE FIRST PLACE? HOPE VALENTINE, YOU ARE NOT GOING ON TELEVISION AND THAT IS FINAL!’
