From Notting Hill to New York . . . Actually (20 page)

The bidding goes ridiculously high for this lot, although I’m not quite sure what a weekend stay in a suite at the Waldorf Astoria would actually cost, but Bradley seems quite pleased when his gavel bangs down.

‘And that concludes our auction for this evening,’ he says, flashing the famous Cooper smile at those guests still lapping up his presence. ‘Thank you so much for digging
deeply in your pockets tonight. Sunnyside Children’s Home will be extremely grateful for your generosity.’

‘Wait,’ I hear a shout from the crowd. ‘I’d like to donate some money!’

Bradley looks out into the sea of people. ‘I’m sure we won’t be saying no to an offer like that. If you’d just like to see Maria here,’ he gestures to the canary, ‘I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to accept your kind donation.’

‘No, I’d like to bid on something.’

Here we go
, I think. I bet it’s something to do with Bradley. Watch out, Mr Cooper, or you’ll be auctioned off in your underwear to someone’s wife or girlfriend in minutes.

‘I’d like to know if your assistant will put her dragonfly brooch up for auction. My wife has taken quite a shine to it.’

My brooch? Not Bradley …

‘Yes, I’d bid on that too,’ I hear another shout from the floor. ‘I’ll start you at five hundred dollars, if you will, Scarlett.’

But …

‘I raise that to seven hundred.’

‘Eight hundred!’

‘One thousand.’

‘Ladies, gentlemen,’ I hear Bradley say from his podium. ‘This is a
little unfair on Scarlett, maybe she doesn’t want to donate her brooch!’

I look up at him in a daze. Do I want to donate it to the auction? Dad had said to do what I wanted with it … and making money for a children’s home seems like a very noble way for the dragonfly to end its time with the O’Brien family. But I have to make sure it fetches the several thousand dollars that Harry has said it’s worth.

‘If you offer me enough, it’s yours!’ I shout jubilantly up into the ballroom ceiling. ‘But you haven’t bid anywhere near what this little insect is worth yet. Let me tell you this,’ I say, leaping up to the podium and moving in on Bradley’s mic. ‘No, you can stay, Bradley,’ I insist as he goes to step down. I wrap my arm companionably around his shoulders. ‘I had this brooch valued by none other than one of your trusted experts on the
Antiques Roadshow
just this week at the Met Museum, no less, and she said it was worth in excess of several thousand dollars. So get bidding!’

I quickly unpin the brooch from my dress while the bidding begins, and then proceed to demonstrate the dragonfly’s skills by swooping it along the front of the crowd back and forth so they can all get a closer look at my little blue and green buddy’s beauty. And after the initial hilarity has died down, it seems to work as the bids begin to fly in,
along with the dragonfly, not only from our first two bidders but from others who have joined in.

‘Three thousand five hundred dollars,’ Bradley calls. ‘Do I hear more? Three thousand six hundred. Three thousand seven hundred, eight hundred. Do I see a nine? Thank you, sir. Now who’s going to make it a cool four thousand?’

Four thousand dollars – just for my little brooch!

‘Anyone? Surely someone will finish the evening off nicely for us?’

There’s a sudden hush around the room as we wait to see if anyone else will bid. ‘I’ll give you five thousand dollars,’ a voice at the back of the room calls. ‘But the bidding stops now.’

You can hear the gasps from around the room as people all crane their necks to see who’s bidding.

‘Done!’ Bradley calls, banging his gavel down on the podium with a flourish. ‘The dragonfly is sold to the gentleman at the back of the hall for the final sum of five thousand dollars.’

A huge round of applause breaks out, and Bradley breathes a sigh of relief as he steps down from the podium.

‘Well done,’ he says, coming over to me, before the canary can start flapping her wings. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’

‘I had great fun being your
assistant,’ I grin at him, still euphoric from the dragonfly’s sale. ‘Thanks for asking me to do it.’

‘I meant sell your brooch,’ Bradley smiles back. ‘But if I ever find I need a vase-juggling assistant to help me auction goods again, then I’ll be sure to look you up.’

‘Oh, right … yes, of course.’

‘Although I don’t actually have your number …’

Oh. My. God. Was Bradley Cooper actually asking for my number? Don’t I usually wake up at this point in the dream?

‘Here’s mine,’ he says, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a card. ‘I owe you, Scarlett, after helping me out tonight, so if
you
ever need an auctioneer, or anything else while you’re in New York, give me a call.’

And then the canary and her flock of feathered friends descend upon him and he’s engulfed in their flapping and tweeting once again.

I look down at the card in my hand; the ink hasn’t faded away to leave a blank sheet of paper like it did once before in one of my dreams about Bradley, nor has a phoenix suddenly swooped in and carried it off to its fiery cave like it did in another. No, the number is still there in simple black ink, alongside that of his agent and manager.

‘Impressive,’ Peter says, standing alongside me now, looking
down at the card too. ‘You’re a fast worker, Scarlett.’

‘What, this? Oh, it’s nothing.’ I hurriedly grab my bag, that I’ve slid under the podium, and shove the card inside. ‘I … I mean, it
means
nothing.’

‘I’ve known Bradley a fair while now, and he doesn’t give his number out to just anyone, you know. Especially not his private number.’

‘I guess I’m just one of the lucky ones, then,’ I shrug. ‘I won’t be using it, anyway, not in the way you’re suggesting. I already have a boyfriend.’

‘Then he’s a lucky fellow,’ Peter says, smiling. ‘I can imagine most of the women here tonight would forget all about their boyfriends, and even their husbands, if Bradley Cooper gave them his number.’

‘Not me,’ I throw my shoulders back defiantly. ‘I love Sean, and I wouldn’t swap him for anyone. Not even a movie star.’

‘Good for you! There’re still
some
decent people left in this world.’

‘Yes, of course there are.’

‘I really appreciate you giving up your brooch tonight, too. It was very kind and generous of you to do that. The children’s home will be so grateful for all the donations, but that added amount will really boost our total.’

‘I’m more than happy for
it to go to a good cause. Who bought it in the end, do you know?’

‘One of our benefactors, I believe, for his wife.’

‘Ah, well, I hope she enjoys wearing it.’ I hand the brooch over to Peter.

‘Are you absolutely certain about this, Scarlett?’ he says, taking the dragonfly and holding it up to the light to inspect it. ‘It wasn’t a family heirloom or anything, was it?’

‘Yes and no. But really, it’s fine. It will do much more good this way than gathering dust in some old jewellery box at home.’

‘Then thank you again.’ Peter rests his hand on my shoulder. ‘You’re a very generous and loyal young woman, Scarlett, and it’s my pleasure to have bumped into you so randomly in my city this week. You know what they say …’

‘
Everything happens for a reason
,’ we both say in unison, laughing.

‘Here’s my number, Scarlett,’ Peter says, handing me a card now. ‘If there’s anything you ever need while you’re in New York, then you let me know. And just for the record, that’s not a come-on, OK?’ He winks. ‘I know about Sean.’

I blush. ‘Thank you, Peter, here’s mine.’ For once I remember to hand over one of the business cards I always carry with me
and never remember to hand out. ‘It has my mobile, sorry, cellphone number on there too.’

‘Thank you.’ Peter puts the card firmly inside his jacket pocket. ‘I’d best let you get back down there to your friends.’ He gestures to Oscar, Jamie, Max and Jennifer.

‘Oh they’re not
all
my friends. One of them isn’t, definitely.’

‘Do I sense tension?’

‘No. No, it’ll be fine.’ I turn to him. ‘Thank you again, and thanks for setting up that meeting with Bradley, earlier …’

‘You knew about that?’ Peter looks surprised.

‘Peter, I may look, and sometimes act, like a dippy female. But I’m not stupid.’

‘You’re certainly not that. You’re one sharp cookie, Miss Scarlett. If you wanted, you could do anything if you put your mind to it. I don’t know exactly what you do back in the UK, but if you ever want a job with me, there’s a desk with your name on it.’

I smile at him again, not sure if he’s joking, and then, like Bradley before him, Peter too is swept up in a throng of people needing his attention and he’s gone.

I return to the others.

‘Now you,’ Oscar says, grabbing me and thrusting his arm through mine, ‘you aren’t going anywhere until you tell me exactly how you ended
up onstage with Mr Sex On Legs!’

‘And,’ Max says, mimicking Oscar’s voice and mannerisms by linking his arm through mine on the other side, ‘you’re not going anywhere either until you tell
me
just how you know Peter Butler, the head of TVA!’

‘Jamie? Anything you want to know?’ I ask, looking between him and Jennifer.

‘Yes, only how on earth this lovely lady can be in any way related to the person hanging onto your left arm right now?’

Jennifer gives a high-pitched cackle. It’s probably more of a squealy giggle, but to my ears she sounds like a pantomime witch screeching away as I see her wrap her bony arm around Jamie’s shoulder. I suddenly feel incredibly protective and want to steer him away at once from her spells and potions.

‘Of course, the two of you haven’t met, have you?’ Oscar suddenly realises. ‘Scarlett, this is my elusive sister, Jen. Jen, this is my beautiful best buddy, Scarlett.’

The two of us smile at each other. Actually it’s more of a snarl, but we disguise it as smiling for the sake of the others.

‘Scarlett, we meet at last. How is Sean? Not with you in New York, I hear … I do hope everything is OK.’

Hmm …

‘Yes, everything
is just fine, thank you, Jennifer. He’s very busy with work at the moment, so sadly couldn’t come over with me this week. But luckily Oscar agreed to accompany me. He thought it would be a good chance to see his only sister, since he never gets to see her otherwise …’

Touché!

Jennifer’s eyes narrow, but she still keeps the fixed smile plastered on her bright red lips. ‘Well … I wouldn’t want to keep you from your tales of how you tricked your way onto the stage with Bradley Cooper, now would I? Or indeed, how you know Peter Butler. How
do
you know him, anyway?’

She seems more keen to get this information than she is to find out about Bradley Cooper.
Interesting.

‘Long story, Jennifer. Long story.’

‘Then don’t let me hold you up any further, Scarlett. I’m sure Jamie here will keep me company for now. Won’t you, Jamie?’

‘Sure,’ Jamie nods. ‘If you’d like me to.’

‘Hoorah!’ Oscar cries. ‘Right then, let’s hit that bar, it’s cocktails all round!’

And as I’m escorted away by Oscar and Max, I can’t help but look back to see Jennifer leading Jamie towards a chaise longue in the corner of the room.

I knock back far more cocktails
than I should, given the amount of champagne I’ve already had, and soon the whole room starts to have a very pretty, hazy quality about it, as if I’m seeing it through one of those soft-focus lenses. So it’s not only the band that’s in full swing by the time they’ve played a few songs of the evening’s set, but me too.

‘Scarlett, are you OK?’ Max asks me as I wrap my arm around his shoulder. ‘You’re not balancing too well at the moment.’

‘It’s these damn heels,’ I say, reaching down towards my feet and pulling the green silk shoes off. I hold them above my head. ‘Be free, feet!’ I declare. ‘Go forth and do what you’re supposed to do; use your whole self for walking, not just your toes!’

I wave my shoes at a
couple passing us at the bar. ‘You, madam, do your feet a favour and release them from the shackles that your expensive and …’ I take a closer look at her feet, almost falling over in the process ‘… if I may say so, very lovely shoes are imprisoning them in.’

The couple hurry on past.

‘Philistines,’ I mutter, grabbing my empty glass.

‘What
has
got into you this evening, darling?’ Oscar asks, leaning forward on his bar stool to peer at me. ‘You never drink this much. Even when we went to that wine-tasting evening at that French bistro in Notting Hill you were able to walk in a straight line on the way home. Unlike me, who found myself sitting in the lap of that exchange student outside a restaurant on the Portobello Road when I accidentally toppled into his table.’

I roll my eyes. ‘There was nothing accidental about that, and you know it. And talking of laps,
she
might as well be sitting in Jamie’s if she gets any closer to him.’

Max and Oscar look over to where Jamie and Jennifer are still sitting at a table together.

‘Oh, don’t pay any heed to them, darling.’ Oscar gives a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘That’s just Jen’s way. She’s always a bit over-friendly.’

‘I wish she’d be over-friendly like that with me,’ Max says, gawping in their direction. ‘Especially in a dress with as little fabric as the one she’s wearing tonight.’

I’ve seen and
heard enough. ‘I’m going to get some fresh air,’ I announce. ‘I feel a bit … I … I just need some … OK.’

I stagger towards the doors of the ballroom, trying to avoid colliding with the other guests, and feeling like I’m in one of those computer games where you have to jump over obstacles and collect objects to rack up the points. I gain fifty for avoiding a woman with a massive diamond tiara in her hair, and another bonus of one hundred when I swerve to prevent myself crashing into one of the waiters carrying a full tray of drinks.

Finally, I see light at the end of the game tunnel when I spy the French windows to the hotel garden. I pull them open and stagger outside onto some decking.