The Valentines: Happy Girl Lucky. Холли Смейл
Max said, it does seem highly unlikely that there are only twelve personalities on the planet, allocated by the time our parents procreated, but …
That’s also exactly what a Leo would say.
Checking my watch – I’ve still got another hour and a half before I have to leave in time to be perfectly late – I quickly scan Max’s fate for the last few days, then Mercy’s (Aquarius) and Faith’s (Pisces). They’re having quite nice weeks, which is reassuring. Then I cut out my own horoscopes for this week and stick them round the glowing bulbs of my Mirror of Destiny so I can keep track of what’s going on.
It goes without saying that I’m a Cancer, aka the Crab: imaginative, loyal, emotional, sympathetic, intuitive, easily attached and sentimental. There are some other qualities – less attractive ones about scuttling away and hiding – but they don’t seem to match me so they’re not important. I also have Pisces rising – another water sign – which is probably why I officially don’t have a favourite sibling but I do and it’s Effie.
‘Hope?’ There’s a knock on my door. ‘I made you a cup of tea.’
‘Come in!’
I’m flicking through this morning’s paper: I totally forgot to check today’s forecast. Sometimes I get them online, sometimes from the paper – it really depends which prediction I like the best. ‘Thanks!’
Maggie walks into the room and puts my FUTURE OSCAR-WINNING ACTRESS mug down on my dressing table. Then she automatically goes over to smack my long red velvet curtains. Apparently, they collect a lot of dust, but that seemed like a small price to pay for year-round Hollywood glamour.
‘Casablanca’s wonky again,’ Mags sighs, straightening the framed kissing couple on my wall. ‘These two are so unnecessarily passionate that they must keep pushing each other over.’
I cough and nod: that, or I sometimes stick a photo of my face on top of Ingrid Bergman’s to see how I look in an intense make-out session.
Pretty romantic, it has to be said.
Smiling, I keep flicking through the paper, pausing briefly on page six – taken up mostly by Mercy falling out of a taxi – then whizzing past a blurry, long-lens shot of Dad jogging next to a brunette under the headline Rivers Runs Through It.
‘You know,’ Maggie says, gazing at my Marilyn poster, ‘it must be hard when you’re stuck at home on your own like this.’
‘Not really,’ I say cheerfully, scanning through the zodiac: Aries, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius … ‘I’m very happy. There’s lots to keep me busy. And there’s only four months left before I’ll be out all the time so this way I get to build my strength up in preparation.’
Capricorn, Leo, Gemini, Aquarius—
‘Still,’ Mags continues, ‘it must get lonely.’
‘Oh no.’ Taurus, Virgo, Pisces. ‘I mean, there’s always a film to watch or a horoscope to—’
Cancer!
As Venus moves, so your love destiny moves with it. Someone very special is on their way, Cancerian, so keep your eyes open or you’ll miss them. Romance is calling!
My heart just stopped.
Quickly, I scan the horoscope again: someone very special someone very special.
Someone. Very. Special.
Every hair on my arms is standing on end. Deep down, I knew it was coming. I could feel it – the change in the air, the planets aligning, the stars shifting in their course, a build-up of dramatic tension – and I was RIGHT.
This is it.
Because, honestly, who cares about Saturn and Pluto? It’s Venus – the Goddess of Love – I’ve been patiently searching for every morning.
And now she’s finally here.
‘… difficult couple of years … You’ve all been through so much … it’s not surprising that you feel so …’
Clutching the paper, I jump up and run to the window.
Where is he? Who is he? Maybe a floral order is on its way and he’s driving the van? A newspaper or milk delivery? Maybe he saw my elbow in the papers, fell in love instantly and spent the entire week tracking me down. Oooh, I wonder what he’s going to look like, what he’ll be wearing, what he’s going to say, what I’ll say back …
‘… things will get better … your time will come … You’re still so very …’
Except … Of. Course. He’s at the premiere tonight, isn’t he?
Keep your eyes open or you’ll miss them.
Alarmed, I glance at my watch – it’s already nine thirty. All the other Cancers have been out there all day, meeting their Special People and falling in love for hours and hours. What if I’m so cool and late that one of them takes mine?
What if – oh no! – they’ve already taken him?
A wave of panic surges through me. I can’t believe I might miss my soulmate because I was trying to make a dramatic entrance.
‘… so I’ve texted Ben and he said he’d like to pop over in a bit – keep you company. Maybe you can watch a film together …’
Blinking, I stare into my Mirror of Destiny.
We only get one opportunity for true love. What if my soulmate turns up to meet me and I’m not there yet?
What if Venus gets bored and doesn’t come back again until I’m, like, thirty-six and it’s too late?
What if, for the sake of a couple of hours, I get a second-rate boyfriend or – worse – end up single forever?
If you thwart The Stars, they might get really offended and give up permanently. There is no more time to waste.
Quick as a flash, I run into my walk-in wardrobe and slip on the dress Mum wore in the end scene of The Heart of Us, just before she got (spoiler) blown up by a hand grenade. It’s a pretty, vintage, knee-length dress in silvery grey. I tie the satin belt and quickly stick some cotton-wool puffs down my bra.
Then I slick on some lipgloss and head towards the door. I’ll have to do this barefaced. It’s a shame, but my Special Someone is going to think I’m beautiful anyway because that’s how it works.
‘… over in half an hour, after he’s been to the … Hope? Where are you going?’
I spin back to Maggie.
‘Mum’s premiere,’ I say, tugging on some of Effie’s sporty pumps. I’m going to need to run to meet my fate – this is no time for heels. ‘There’s someone I’m supposed to meet.’
Because it’s official: romance is calling.
And I’m going to answer.
HOPE sprints along the banks of the River Thames. The night is warm, the air is fragrant, the stars are shining. A HOT BOY—
OK, I think I might be running the wrong way.
And reshoot.
HOPE sprints along the banks of the River Thames in the opposite direction. A HOT BOY, busy examining the stars because he has a poetic soul, slams into her.
BOY
(blinking in amazement)
I