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.
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
