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sitcom.

      ‘So tragic,’ I agree emphatically, trying to grab all six of their hands at once in comfort. ‘So sad. Mum’s last big romantic film was so intense and so all-consuming that, to wall intensive purposes, it has totally worn her out. I think it’s time for Dad to hurry up and come back from LA as soon as possible.’

      Max abruptly glances at me.

      ‘Hope,’ he says, studying my face carefully. ‘It’s for all intents and purposes. Mum’s not in rehab for bricks. And you do understand what’s going on, don’t you? You don’t actually believe—’

      ‘Effie,’ I burst out cheerfully. ‘That’s a good question. What are we going to do? We should compile our brainpower and find a way to stay positive. We need to keep Mum happy until Dad arrives home, because happiness is the most important thing there is. Apart from love, obviously. Any ideas?’

      Max, Mercy and Faith stare at me.

      ‘I don’t have any,’ I say quickly, because they look very expectant. ‘You’re going to have to think too. I can’t do it all on my own.’

      ‘Blime-y,’ Max exhales. ‘How were you even made, Po? Were you put together in a doll factory, wrapped in pink tissue paper and left randomly on our doorstep?’

      ‘Are you trying to tell me I’m adopted?’ I reply in amazement. ‘Because, if so, your sense of dramatic timing is truly terrible.’

      There’s a light cough and I jump. An incredibly hot blond boy with deep brown eyes is hovering behind us.

      You see? This is what happens when you take your eye off the ball: The One can sneak up while you’re not even pushing your chest out properly. Quickly, I flick my hair, open my eyes wide and bite the inside of my cheeks so my cheekbones look sharper.

      Too hard. Ow.

      Max laughs loudly. ‘I don’t think they put in enough bubblewrap, Fluff-pot.’

      You know what? In my next life, I’m coming back as the oldest sibling and giving Max stupid nicknames in front of his soulmates too.

      ‘May 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.’

      

       Cancer: June 21–July 22

       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

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