From Notting Hill with Love...Actually (14 page)

“Nearly there,” I whispered to Sean, as I guided him out of the lift and along the corridor. “Where’s your key?” I asked as we reached his room.

“In my jeans pocket,” came back his muffled reply.

I felt inside his wet denims that I’d been carrying in my arms across the park, pulled out the key card, and let us both into his room.

“Phew,” I said, dropping his damp clothes on the floor. “I didn’t think we’d make it.”

“Do you think anyone noticed?” Sean asked, pulling off Goofy’s head.

I laughed. “Of course they noticed—you’re just lucky no one stopped and asked you for a photo.”

“I mean they didn’t know it was me?”

“I doubt it. But you have to get this costume back to that guy first thing tomorrow or he’ll lose his job.”

“But gain €300!”

“You’re getting €100 of that back on safe return of his costume, that was the deal.”

“Hmm, about that, couldn’t you have found something a bit cooler for me to disguise myself in than a seven-foot Goofy costume?”

“Are you kidding?” I said, flopping on the bed. “It was Goofy or nothing. You’re just lucky he was still on site; all the other characters have gone home.”

“Yeah I know. Thanks for helping me.”

“It’s OK. It was worth it just to see you dressed like that.” I grinned. “Who would have thought it, Mr. Sean ‘I hate movies’ Bond dressed as Goofy! What would your dad say if he knew? After all the stick you gave him at the wedding for dressing as Chewbacca too!”

Sean struggled with the suit. “Are you just going to lie there mocking me all night, or are you going to help unzip me from this thing?”

I tilted my head to one side as if I was considering it. “All right, all right, I’m coming,” I said when Goofy’s paws rested on his hips. I stood up again and undid the hidden zip at the back of the costume. “There you go, free again.”

Sean stepped out of Goofy’s body wearing just his underpants—I’d forgotten he wasn’t wearing anything else. Maurice—who had originally been wearing Goofy when we found him—had been wearing leggings and a T-shirt when he’d stepped out of the suit. I’d been keeping watch outside the men’s toilets while Maurice helped Sean zip himself back inside Goofy before we made our escape across the park.

I looked away—but not before I noticed what an extremely fine body Sean had. I’d realized he wasn’t exactly overweight when I’d seen him wearing T-shirts and jeans. But in the flesh—boy, did he scrub up well. He wasn’t overly muscular, but he was toned, and there were reasonably-sized bulges in all the places there should be.

“So what sort of view do you get from your window?” I hastily asked, going over to it and looking outside.

“Er, probably one much like yours,” Sean said as he went into the bathroom. “I’ll just take a shower to warm me up a bit—that water was bloody freezing.”

“It’s a good job you fell in near Australia, then,” I called, “and not the North Pole!”

“Yes, yes, very funny!”

I turned away from the window now that it was safe to look back in the room again and sat down on the bed. I thought about what had happened tonight. Sean had been lucky; the accident could have been much more serious. He should probably put something cold on his head, or he’d have a huge bump in the morning.

I picked up the phone and called down to reception, asking if we could have either an ice pack or a bowl of ice. The receptionist said she’d see what she could do.

“Calling us some room service?” Sean asked, emerging from the bathroom. This time he had only a white towel wrapped around his middle and his damp skin glistened with tiny droplets of water.

I swallowed hard.

Sean opened up his wardrobe and pulled out a white shirt and blue jeans.

“Well?” he asked, turning to face me.

“Oh…er, no…I was just asking if they had an ice pack we could use. You should put something cold on your head—where you banged it.”

“Are you worried about me, then?” he asked, grinning.

My stomach had long ago given up its gymnastic routine. It had now moved up a gear—to another Olympic sport—and was currently involved in a thrill-providing, super-fast bobsled race.

“You did bang your head pretty hard.”

Sean gently touched the back of his head. “Ouch.” He winced. “Yep, it’s still there.”

“Let me take a look. You didn’t cut it open, did you? I haven’t seen any blood. But you never know.”

I wished I’d waited until after he got dressed to ask him that, as Sean sat down beside me on the bed, still wearing only the towel.

I stood up and very gently moved his damp hair about on the back of his head. A small moan escaped from Sean’s mouth.

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No…no, not at all.” Sean tilted his head back to look up at me. He had that look in his eyes again—the same one he had on the first day we met and sat on the park bench in Notting Hill. The same one he had when he came to ask me to go to the opera with him and found me in my bathrobe. And the same one he had outside Bill’s house, just before he was going to tell me something.

My hand still rested on the top of his head. But it was now stroking, rather than just moving Sean’s hair around.

Sean took hold of my hand—he looked at it for a moment before he gently began to trace the lines along my palm with his finger.

“Scarlett,” he whispered, his voice husky and low. “Oh, Scarlett,” he sighed. Then he looked up at me again, his eyes telling me everything his voice could not.

There was a knock at the door and we both jumped. “That will be your ice!” I said in an overly bright voice, quickly pulling my hand away.

I don’t think the night porter had ever seen anyone quite so pleased to hear him knocking at their door, as I grinned inanely at him like a bizarre mix of Jack Nicholson in
Batman
and the Cheshire Cat on speed.

“Your ice pack, madam,” he said.

“Thank you…” I looked at Sean; he was already up and producing a note from his wallet.

“Much obliged, Joseph,” he said, handing the porter the money.

“If there’s anything else, sir…madam, don’t hesitate to call, will you?” He glanced briefly at the bed, and I realized Goofy’s head was still lying there. Quickly I moved in front of it.

“We will,” Sean said. “Thank you again, Joseph. Good night.”

“Good evening, Sir.”

Sean closed the door and turned to look at me. “I guess I’d better use this,” he said, holding up the ice pack. “It’s suddenly got extremely hot in here—I could do with cooling off a bit.”

You’re not the only one, Sean
, I thought as I tried to steady my breathing again.
Believe
me, you’re not the only one
.

By the time Sean had held the ice pack on his head for a while and had finally put on some clothes, it was 9 p.m. and time to meet up with the others again. There had been no mention of what had nearly happened on the bed earlier, and I was relieved.

We split up into two parties and departed to our allotted venues to spend the rest of the night participating in activities deemed suitable only for persons of our own gender.

I was happily sitting at a table alone downing the last of a bottle of champagne while the other girls were doing some sort of boat dance on the floor, when Maddie swayed over in my direction. She was wearing Minnie Mouse ears, a veil, and L-plates pinned to her front and back.

“Why are you sitting on your own up here?” she asked, slurring her words slightly.

“Because I’ve seen enough boats for one night.”

Maddie furrowed her brow. “What do you mean? I didn’t go on any boats. Oh, the paddle steamer wasn’t running, was it? Did they start it up and I missed it?”

“No, not the paddle steamer, don’t worry about it, Mad—it’s nothing.”

Maddie draped her arm around me. “I can’t be having my chief bridesmaid sitting up here all alone moping, can I? Now tell me how you’re getting on house-sitting for Belinda—I’ve barely heard from you since you left for London.”

I told Maddie as much as I thought her sozzled brain could take on board about what I’d been up to since I arrived in Notting Hill. I was deliberately selective in what I chose to tell her—mainly about the new friends I’d met, and how “coincidentally” and “maybe it was something to do with living in Notting Hill,” things that happened in movies just seemed to keep happening to me. I left out the part about my mother—that was too complicated to explain to someone who’d had as much to drink as Maddie had tonight. I was glad the wedding wasn’t until Saturday evening—at least she would have enough time to sleep off her hangover tomorrow.

When I’d finished, Maddie was strangely quiet while she took another long drink from her glass of…just what
was
in that purple concoction she was drinking?

I watched the girls on the dance floor who were now trying to do the Macarena while Maddie apparently gathered her thoughts.

“Sean seems nice,” she suddenly said after a few minutes, as she casually stirred the umbrella around in her cocktail.

I looked hard at Maddie. What did she mean by that comment? Nice in regard to what? Or was it just a throwaway observation? The state Maddie was in it could mean anything. It was hard to tell.

I decided to play it cool. “Yeah, he’s OK.”

“Remind me again—just why
is
he here with you this weekend?”

“I told you, he’s Belinda and Harry’s neighbor in Notting Hill, he’s been helping me get to know the area—and stuff.”

“I wouldn’t mind him helping me out with my
stuff
any day!” Maddie cackled, then she winked at me. “There’s a definite look of Brad Pitt about him.”

“Maddie! You’re getting married tomorrow!”

“And you are getting married in April, Scarlett, but you’ve still brought another man to my wedding!”

I looked at Maddie again. Was she as drunk as she was making out? She was making some very telling observations for one so under the influence of alcohol.

“No, I haven’t,” I said defensively. “David arrives tomorrow morning, as you well know.”

“Yes, that’s right, so he does.” Maddie thought for a moment. “That’s good because tomorrow at the wedding, I’m going to try and set Danielle up with Sean. You met her earlier—she said she was sitting next to you on the Phantom Manor ride. Anyway, Sean is single, isn’t he? Because Danielle was asking about him. Danielle has been single far too long, and I reckon Sean looks the type who wouldn’t mind a quick shag after the ceremony tomorrow.”

“Maddie, no! Don’t you dare!”

Maddie looked at me innocently with wide eyes. “Why not? After all if he’s
only
your temporary neighbor, what’s it to you?”

“OK, what’s in that drink?” I demanded.

“What—this?” Maddie held up her glass.

“Yes, that. It’s not alcoholic, is it?”

Maddie leaned in toward me. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to get hammered the night before my own wedding? It’s the biggest day of my life—and I’m damned if I’m walking down the aisle looking like death warmed up.”

“Have you had
any
alcohol tonight?”

“A couple of glasses of champagne at the start of the evening, that’s all. This is just blackcurrant and lemonade. The others think it’s vodka Zulu, but I’ve had an arrangement with the barman all night—under no circumstances is he to put any alcohol in my drinks. Everyone thinks I’m pissed—but sadly, on this occasion, no.”

I grinned at Maddie. “You are one crafty cookie, madam.”

“And you are one very mixed-up chief bridesmaid.” Maddie put down her drink and looked at me seriously. “I did
see
you and Sean together earlier, Scarlett.”

“So?”

“So, I saw you laugh more times with Sean tonight than I think I’ve ever seen you laugh in all your time with David.”

“But I love David.”

“I know you do. So be careful, Scarlett. Don’t let this timeout, house-sitting thing—if that’s what you’re really doing in London—completely screw your life up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you love David and you want to marry David—but you’ve been having a few doubts, you told me as much. Then just when you’re in the middle of this carefree, living-in-a-movie-type lifestyle that you’ve always wanted, Sean comes along. He’s like this big, handsome movie hero you’ve always dreamed about meeting, but while you’re away living your perfect fantasy life, you’re forgetting about the people left behind.”

“No, I’m not.” I didn’t know how Maddie could even think that. “I just want to be happy, that’s all, and to prove Dad, David, and you, for that matter, wrong about the movies.” I clapped my hand over my mouth.
Damn
it
.

“Oh, so that’s what you’re really up to, is it?” Maddie said, raising an eyebrow. “I knew there was something else going on.”

“Maddie, that’s not important now,” I said, quickly trying to gloss over my blunder. Plus I had to clear up this other misunderstanding first. “I don’t see Sean as a movie star—that’s just silly.” Maybe I had in the past, but I wasn’t lying to Maddie now; it was ages since I’d imagined Sean as anything but himself. I found it virtually impossible to do that now. “He’s just a bit different to David, that’s all. Sean’s…..” A smile crept across my face as I thought about him. “He’s fun and spontaneous and generous, and, well—he’s everything David isn’t.”

“Including
yours
,” Maddie finished for me. “Scarlett, you don’t want to be in love—not in the conventional sense anyway. You want to be in love in the movies.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” I started to say, and then I stopped. “Wait a minute, that’s familiar.”

“What is?”

“What you just said. Say it again.”

“Which bit—you don’t want to be in love, you want to be in love in the movies?”

“Yeah, that bit.” I rested my head in my hands. “Oh, it’s on the tip of my tongue…”

“What on earth are you doing?” Maddie asked, watching me.

“
Sleepless
in
Seattle
!” I exclaimed, hitting the palm of my hand on the table. “It’s from
Sleepless
in
Seattle
. Meg Ryan’s best friend says it to her when they’re watching
An
Affair
to
Remember
on TV.”

“Wait, is that the one with Cary Grant and…” Maddie paused. “Oh, who’s the woman?”

“Deborah Kerr.”

“That’s it, and he asks her to meet him on top of the Empire State Building on Valentine’s Day, and she can’t get there because she’s ill or something?”

“Disabled,” I said, thinking about the movie. “
Sleepless
in
Seattle
is a similar story. I love both of them.”

Maddie shook her head. “You’ve got
me
at it now! What was I saying before you went off into one of your movie rants?”

“That I only want to be in love in a movie?”

“Yes, yes, that’s right. But what I’m really saying, Scarlett, is don’t ruin what you’ve got back home in the real world with some pipe dream that you
really
can live your life like it’s a movie—because you can’t. This house-sitting in Notting Hill was just a bit of fun, really—I suggested it because I thought it might do you good to get away for a while, to clear your head, that kind of thing. But now I’m beginning to wonder if I did the right thing…” She paused as she took my hand in hers. “Scarlett, please be careful. People get hurt in
real
life; in a movie they just exit stage left.”

“Thanks for your concern, Maddie,” I said, part of me knowing she was right. I did need to be more careful about Sean. “I appreciate it, really I do. But I’m not intending to let anyone exit from my life—stage left or any other way.” I drew my hand away from hers. “But as for me not living my life in a movie, I beg to differ with you—and Dad and David too—because since I’ve been away, I’m already proving that I can, quite easily, and no one is getting hurt.”