From Notting Hill with Love...Actually (27 page)

I looked around Belinda and Harry’s lounge at my guests all enjoying themselves and I felt a sense of great achievement.

Everyone had arrived within ten minutes of the requested time of 7:30, and they were now all standing around with glasses in their hands, chatting amiably to one another.

Ursula arrived looking quirky yet elegant as always, in a lilac and pink 1960s vintage dress from Oscar’s boutique. And Oscar, who was currently looking very bored talking to David, tonight sported a mustard-yellow suit with a black shirt and red tartan tie.

My father had put on his best trousers and a shirt that I bought him last Christmas, and at this moment was surprisingly deep in conversation with Sean.

After Sean had left earlier this afternoon, I had quickly returned to the kitchen to make sure that nothing was burning or boiling over on the stove—but everything appeared to be under control. Luckily Sean had prepared a series of sticky notes to remind me just when I had to start cooking each dish and what gas mark to put them on at.

I watched him now as he chatted with my father. Tonight he was wearing a deep-purple shirt—unbuttoned just far enough for me to make out the beginnings of the fine hair that I knew covered his broad chest. And a pair of black trousers that sat on him so perfectly and fitted him so snugly in all the places they should that they must have been tailor-made.

“When is your mother arriving?” Ursula inquired, appearing by my side and making me jump.

“Hmm? Oh, I…I told her eight o’clock,” I said, looking at my watch. “So she should be here soon.” I had briefed everyone—except Dad, of course—on what was happening tonight, and so far the response hadn’t been exactly enthusiastic.

“Are you nervous about her coming?”

“I wasn’t. But now the moment’s getting closer I am starting to get a bit worried.”

“Finally,” Oscar gasped, breaking free from David and rushing to our side. He took a large gulp of his wine. “Oh sorry, darling, I know he’s with you, but if I have to hear one more word about his wood laminate flooring issues, I think I’ll scream!” Oscar looked from Ursula to me. “So who did I hear you say is arriving at eight?”

“Scarlett’s mother?” Ursula prompted.

“Oh, of course, your mother. Scarlett, I’m so sorry, I almost forgot. My brain’s been quite numbed.” Oscar put his hand to his forehead and took another gulp of his wine. “You know best, darling, but it sounds like a recipe for firework pie if you ask me.”

Ursula shot Oscar a warning glance.

“So,” she said brightly, turning to me. “How have you and your mother been getting on? We’ve hardly seen you since that night at the cinema.”

“Really well, actually,” I said, keen as I always was these days to talk about Mum. “We’ve spent loads of time together and had such fun. Meeting her again has made me face up to quite a few things too.”

“What sorts of things?” Oscar asked, intrigued.

“Just things like how important certain people are to me. To be grateful for what I have in life and not to keep chasing after the unattainable.” I glanced across at Sean.

“We should always be grateful for our nearest and dearest,” Ursula said softly. “But never give up on your dreams, Scarlett.”

I looked at her.

“But what if your dreams never come true, Ursula?”

“If you stop believing in them, how will you ever know if they would have?”

I was about to question her further when the shrill tone of the doorbell interrupted me. Everyone in the room froze except my father. He carried on his conversation with Sean until he realized that everyone else had stopped talking and the room was silent.

“Carry on, everyone,” I said brightly, trying to force a smile. “It’s only the doorbell, for goodness’ sake.”

As I walked out of the lounge a sudden dread about what was going to happen next began to wash over me. And as I reached the front door and slowly swung it open a huge sense of foreboding flooded through my body.

Perhaps everyone
had
been right. I had to try to stop this now, before it went any further.

“Good evening,” my mother said cheerfully, standing on the step in front of me clutching a bottle of wine and some flowers. “How is everything going? I’m not late, am I?” As I stood staring at her, desperately trying to think of a reason for her not to come in, she walked past me into the hall.

“The thing is…it’s…” I stuttered as I closed the door behind her.

“What’s up, Scarlett?” she teased. “Surely cooking for us all hasn’t taken it out of you that badly? Actually you do look a bit pale. Are you all right?”

“Mum, there’s something I have to tell you.”

“Yes?” my mother asked, looking concerned. “What is it?”

“Scarlett, where’s your corkscrew?” my father said, appearing from the lounge. “We need to open…” His voice trailed off as he saw the newest guest to join the dinner party. The bottle he was carrying slipped from his hand and crashed onto the tiled floor. The green glass smashed into what looked like a thousand tiny pieces, and the red wine inside flowed out around his feet, making him look as if he was standing in a huge pool of blood.

The crash brought everyone running from the lounge to see what had happened. But my father didn’t appear to notice; he just stood staring at my mother. His face had drained of color, just as the bottle had been of its wine.

“Hello, Tom,” Mum said, recovering from the shock much quicker than Dad. I quickly grabbed the bottle of wine from her hands—just in case. “It’s been a long time.”

My father opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a goldfish gasping for air.

“Dad, let’s get this cleaned up,” I said, moving toward him to pick up the pieces of broken glass. “Then maybe we—”

“What is
she
doing here?” my father boomed, finding his voice at last.

I stopped dead in my tracks. Dad had rarely shouted at me, even when I was little.

“I can assure you I had no idea
you
were going to be here either, Tom,” my mother replied calmly. “Or I definitely wouldn’t have come and upset everyone’s evening like this.”

“
You
wouldn’t have come?” my father bellowed again. “When did
you
ever care about anyone else but yourself? You certainly didn’t care twenty years ago when you walked out on us, did you, Rose?”

My mother looked around at everyone staring in shock at the situation unfolding in front of them.

“If you’ll just let me get this wine cleaned up,” I said, trying to move toward Dad again, “then I can explain—”

“Stay right there, Scarlett,” he said, holding up his hand. “I think
you’ve
done enough already.”

I turned back toward my mother.

“Mum?”

“Perhaps I’d better just go, Scarlett. I don’t want to ruin your evening further.” She glanced back at my father. “It’s quite obvious I’m not welcome here.” She made a move toward the door.

“But…” I didn’t know what to do. What to say. I’d messed up big time and I was scuppered whatever I did next. Whichever parent I tried to appease it would look as if I was taking sides.

“Mum, please don’t go.”

She turned around, her hand still on the doorknob. “Scarlett, I must. It really won’t be pleasant for anyone if I stay. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can talk about this then.”

I just nodded at her.

She gave a quick glance back into the hall. “I’m so sorry. I do hope I haven’t ruined your evening too much. Good night, everyone.”

And then she was gone.

I felt my heart wrench as the door closed behind her. Slowly I turned back to the waiting guests.

Among the emotions on the row of faces that greeted me, the strongest by far was anger on that of my father. He still stood in the pool of spilt wine, his face even paler than it had been before.

“Dad?” I said in a small voice. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”

Dad still didn’t speak. He just stood there. So I moved toward him.

“No!” he said, finding not only his own voice now but those often others at the same time. “No, don’t
you
come anywhere near me.”

“But, Dad…”

“How could you, Scarlett? How could you after everything we’ve been through together? Everything I’ve told you about her? How could you do this to me?”

I stood in the middle of the hallway feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes upon me. My father’s were full of anger, Oscar’s shock, Ursula’s sorrow, and David’s pity. When my eyes made contact with Sean’s, I felt myself begin to shake.

“That’s enough,” Sean said immediately, stepping in between my father and me. “This stops now. You two need to sort this out later, quietly and in private when you’ve calmed down.” He looked about the room. “Ursula, can you get something to clean this red wine up with, please. And Oscar, could you take Mr. O’Brien into the lounge again and pour him a large whiskey?”

Oscar opened his eyes wide at the thought of trying to take my angered father anywhere.

“Scarlett,” Sean said, coming over to me and putting his arm around my shoulders. “You’re shaking. Are you OK?”

“And
this
stops now!” I heard yet another angry voice say, as David marched over to Sean. “She’s my fiancée, and I’ll be the one to comfort her if she’s shaking.”

“Why didn’t you do something just now, then?” Sean asked, his arm dropping away from my shoulders as he turned on David. “If you care so much about her, why was I the one who had to step in to rescue her in her hour of need yet again?”

I stood silently watching them all: Ursula trying to mop up a bottle of red wine from the floor around my father’s feet; Oscar trying to persuade my father to move away from the wine and go through to the lounge for a drink; and Sean and David arguing over me once again.

And very slowly I felt myself backing away from them. I lifted my jacket that was hanging on the coat stand and gently pulled open the front door. As I did an icy wind blew through my body and back into the house.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned toward the opened door.

I must have looked quite dramatic silhouetted in the doorway with the wind billowing my hair all around my face, so I took up a theatrical stance.

“You all warned me that tonight would be a disaster. And it was, of epic proportions. And I didn’t listen to any of you, did I? I never do. I just carry on blindly, assuming everything will work out and hoping everyone will have a happy ending. Well, congratulations—you were all right, and I got it all spectacularly wrong. Just like I always do.”

The wind blew another icy cold blast around my back. I didn’t really want to go out into the cold February evening at all—but I couldn’t go back now, could I? Not when I’d just made that dramatic speech. Oh, why did this sort of thing always work in the movies and not in real life?

“Now before I cause any of you any more trouble, I’m going out. To somewhere I can’t cause any problems.”

Then I turned and, without looking back, ran down the steps outside, slamming the door behind me.

Now where can I disappear to for a while in Notting Hill? I asked myself as I ran quickly down the street, pulling on my coat as I went.

I knew the answer straight away.

I hurried down the road until I came to the black railings that surrounded the gardens, and after checking quickly around me, I hoisted myself up and over the bars in exactly the same place I had the night I’d met Sean.

I was grateful I hadn’t worn the dress I’d been thinking about wearing earlier tonight, and had plumped instead for a pair of smart black trousers and a sparkly top, otherwise the maneuver could have been a lot trickier.

I landed on the other side with a thud and toppled sideways into a bush—luckily for me one of the non-thorny varieties; my stiletto heels were not an ideal platform for landing on soft ground. “Damn,” I mumbled, as I scrambled to my feet again and brushed my trousers down. “If only I’d had my keys with me I could have saved myself all this mountaineering lark.” I had found out after my first visit here with Sean that Belinda and Harry too had a key to this little park. But of course my diva-like exit from the house tonight hadn’t allowed me the luxury of collecting keys. I was lucky to have a coat on.

So now I was in here, what was I going to do?

I found the wooden bench that Sean and I had rested on a few weeks earlier and sat down. I was starting to feel very guilty at just storming out and leaving everyone to sort out the trouble I’d caused. But it was too late to go back now; I’d acted on the spur of the moment, and now I would have to suffer the consequences.

I wondered what was happening back at the house.

I
hope
Sean
remembers
to
take
the
meat
out
of
the
oven
, I thought, suddenly panicking about the carefully prepared dinner. But it was hardly likely that anyone would be tasting it tonight after what had just gone on, so I suppose it didn’t really matter…as long as it didn’t set light to the house…

“Stop it, Scarlett,” I admonished myself. “You’ve got more than a burned dinner to worry about now.”

I was right for once. What I’d done tonight was unforgivable. I’d put everyone at the dinner party in an awkward position, and I wouldn’t blame any of them if they never wanted to speak to me again—particularly my parents.

“Oh, poor Mum.” I buried my face in my hands as I recalled the expression on her face as she’d looked around at everyone in the hallway staring at her.

And Dad. How was I ever going to explain all this to him?

I rested my head on the back of the bench and looked up at the sky. It was a clear night and I could see the stars twinkling above me. It was just like the evening I’d sat out here with Sean—the only difference was, that night I’d felt excited and optimistic about the days that lay ahead of me. Now I only felt sadness that my time here was so rapidly coming to an end and I seemed to have caused so much pain and achieved so little.

I sat on the bench for quite a while just thinking, until my feet began to feel like they were encased in ice, and my hands, even though they were shoved in my pockets, would have sat well on the end of Jack Frost’s arms.

When I’d left the house earlier I’d secretly hoped that someone might come after me. Or that by now I might at least have heard the faraway call of my name floating down the street. But instead I saw no one and heard nothing.

If this had been a movie, the hero would have known right away where to come looking for me. He’d have found me sitting here all alone on my little bench and come along and comforted me in his big strong arms. While everyone else had no idea where I’d gone, my hero would have known straight away.

Perhaps everyone was right? Maybe life never did happen the same way it did in the cinema. I thought about all of the movie scenes I’d added to my list so far. Every time I’d tried to orchestrate one of those scenes myself something had gone wrong. I’d been lucky enough to pick up some coincidental ones along the way, but even those weren’t quite the same as the originals. Had I just been imagining the similarities for my own benefit? And now, I’d just made a wonderfully dramatic exit from my house in the dead of the night—in a scene that would have made any director proud—and yet not one person had come looking for me. I’d have thought at least Sean might have guessed where I was and come to my rescue.

I looked toward the gate hopefully, in case he might be there desperately searching through the railings for me. But sadly he wasn’t. Instead, a bright white light shone through the bars, almost blinding me.

I held my arm up over my eyes.

“Are you OK, miss?” I heard a voice call.

The spotlight was aimed at the ground now, so at least I could see again. I blinked at the railings and saw a young police officer peering through them.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thanks, officer.”

“What are you doing sitting all alone there in the dark?” he asked, shining his flashlight around the surrounding area.

“Nothing really, officer,” I said, racking my brains for a reason to be here.

The policeman rattled on the gate. “This gate appears to be locked, miss. You do have a key for this park, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” I said, telling the truth. OK, I might not have it on me just now…

“Would you mind coming over here and showing me?” the officer asked. “Only we get quite a few reports of vandals trying to get in these gardens, so I have to check, you see. It’s all because of that film they made here a few years ago. I don’t know if you know it at all—
Notting
Hill
, it was called.”

“Er yes, I do know it.” I got up from the bench and made my way slowly across to the railings. I tried to make small talk while I felt around in my pockets, praying I’d find a key. “It’s a good film, have you seen it?”

“Yeah, several times, my girlfriend loves it. Loves old Hughie boy, more like. We have to go and see every bloody film he’s in.”

“But you must have enjoyed watching Julia Roberts,” I said, stalling for time.

“Yeah, she’s OK. Prefer blondes myself. Cameron Diaz—now she’s much more my cup of tea.”

My hand struck on something hard—hoorah!

“Here’s my key,” I said, confidently holding up the key to Belinda’s jewelry box. I’d been having a nose about the house on one of my “down” days a while ago, and had bent the tiny key while trying to get it into the lock on the box. I’d put it in my pocket to remind me to get a new one cut while I was out. But then everything had kicked off with my mother, and I’d never got around to it.

The police officer looked doubtfully at the key. “It looks a bit small, miss.”

“No, this is the key. How else would I have got in here otherwise?”

“Perhaps you’d like to open the gate for me then, miss. Then I can leave you be and carry on my way.”

“Er…right then.” Hopefully I tried the tiny key in the lock, praying that it might just “pick” the mechanism and open it. Well, stranger things had happened.

But unfortunately they weren’t going to happen to me tonight.

“Ah, it appears to be stuck,” I said, rattling the key about in the oversized lock.

The police officer raised his eyebrows at me. “I think both of us know that key has never opened up this gate, don’t we, miss?”

I looked down at the ground and made patterns in the dust with my toe.

“I’ll ask you my earlier question again, miss. Just what are you doing in that garden?”

“I do have a key, honestly, Officer. It’s just I came out in a rush—and forgot it.”

“In that case, Miss, just how
did
you get into the garden tonight?”

“I climbed over the top,” I mumbled.

“I beg your pardon, miss?”

“I said I climbed over the railings.”

“I think you’d better wait right there, miss.” The officer bent down to his lapel and spoke into his radio. “Bravo One to Charlie Four—I require some assistance at the gardens just off Rosmead.”

“Roger, Bravo One, right with you,” came back the crackly reply.

“Look, I’m not a hooligan or anything like that,” I protested, imagining myself being handcuffed and carted away in the back of a police van. “I really do have a key—I live in Lansdowne Road.”

“Could I see some ID then, please, miss?”

“Yes, of cour—” I reached for my missing bag. “No, I don’t actually have any on me right now.”

“I thought not. If you could just wait there, please, miss.”

I leaned my head against the railings. Could tonight get any worse?

Charlie Four quickly showed up. He was a fair bit older than Bravo One, and although he didn’t quite say, ’ello, ’ello, ’ello, what ’ave we ’ere then?” he might as well have, as he inspected me standing miserably behind the bars. Oh my God, it was like being in prison already!

“What’s all this then, Constable?” he asked Bravo One.

“Well, Sarge, this lady claims she has a key for this park, but she admits to entering it earlier by climbing over the top of the railings.”

“I see. Is this right, miss?”

“Yes, but—”

“One moment, Miss,” he said, holding up his hand. “Your turn will come. What else, Constable?”

“She also claims to live in Lansdowne Road but doesn’t have any ID on her to prove it.”

“I see. Anything else, Constable?”

“No, Sarge. That is the situation as it appears to me.”

“’Right, miss. Do you wish to add anything to the constable’s statement?”

Didn’t I need a lawyer present before making a statement to the police?

“I guess that’s kind of what happened. But you don’t understand. The reason I don’t have a key or any ID is because I had an argument tonight at home, and I had to come out in a hurry. I’m not a criminal.”

“Is that everything, miss?” the sergeant asked, eyeing me up and down through the railings.

I nodded my head sadly. Wasn’t it enough?

“Right then, you leave us no alternative. Constable, go to work.”

Bravo One looked blankly at his sergeant.

“The equipment, Constable?” Charlie Four demanded. “You do have it?”

Bravo One’s cheeks flushed and then he shrugged and shook his head.

Charlie Four rolled his eyes and sighed. “Then I shall have to improvise.” He reached for his handcuffs.

Oh no, were they going to cuff me to the gates until backup was called?

But instead of removing the handcuffs from his belt, he lifted them up and groped about in his pocket. “Nope, I don’t seem to have anything suitable,” he announced. “Constable, empty your pockets, please.”

“Sarge?”

“Your pockets—empty them. I’m looking for something to pick the lock with.”

The constable slowly emptied his pockets. One by one a tissue, a piece of string, a stick of gum, and a condom were placed into the sergeant’s outstretched palm.

The sergeant raised his eyebrows at the condom.

“I was a Boy Scout,” the constable explained. “Be prepared?”

“Indeed, Constable, we’ll discuss that fact later. But none of this is any good for getting the lock undone, now, is it?” He looked at me through the bars again. “I don’t suppose you have a hairpin on you, do you, miss?”

“Er, no,” I said, absentmindedly feeling about in my hair. I had worn it down tonight, so there were no accessories of any kind hidden in there.

“Then I shall have to ask you to remove your hat, Constable,” the sergeant instructed.

“But why, Sarge?”

“Come along now, Constable. I think you know why? Let’s not mess about in front of the lady.”

The constable slowly removed his hat and the sergeant swiftly plucked a hairpin from his head.

“There now, that’s better,” he said, inserting the pin into the lock.

“It was my girlfriend’s idea,” the constable quickly explained to me while the sergeant expertly picked at the lock. “I have an unusually small head for a man, and they didn’t do a hat small enough to fit me properly. The pins help me keep it up above my eyes, see.”

I nodded, thinking how bizarre this was—one policeman picking a lock in front of me while the other explained the benefits of hair accessories.

“There. All done,” Charlie Four announced at last, swinging open the gate. “Now, if you’d like to come this way, miss.”

“Are you taking me down the station?” I asked worriedly.

“You’ve been watching too many episodes of
The
Bill
, miss,” he said, holding out his arm in an “after you” gesture. “We’re just going to walk you safely home, that’s all.”

“But I thought—”

“
Notting
Hill
, right?” the sergeant asked, giving me the onceover again now I wasn’t “behind bars.”

I nodded. “How did you guess?”

“You look the type. All full of romance and nostalgia. We’ve seen it a hundred times since that film came out. They’re not usually on their own though, like you—are they, Constable? We usually find them in pairs.”

The constable nodded.

“Well, I…” My voice trailed off. It was much too long a story to explain why I was there on my own.

“Never mind, miss. We don’t need to know why. Let’s get you home.”

Charlie Four and Bravo One escorted me back to the house.

They may not have been arresting me, but I felt like a criminal being walked home by two policemen. Thank goodness it would probably only be Dad and David there when I got home; everyone else would be long gone by now.

There was still a light on in the hall as I approached the house. I climbed the steps while the sergeant and his constable watched me from the pavement below. I held my hand up to knock gingerly on the door, but it swung open before I had the chance to.

“Scarlett!” Sean exclaimed. He hurriedly crept out on to the step next to me and pulled the door to behind him. “Where the hell have you been?” he asked, lowering his voice. “We’ve all been worried sick.” He looked down at the two policemen standing on the pavement. “Are you all right? Has something happened?”

“I’m assuming you know this lady then, sir?” Charlie Four called to Sean. “And you can confirm she does actually live here?”

“Yes, yes she does, why?”

“That’s all we need to know, sir. We’ll leave her with you now, if we may? But perhaps you can do one thing for us in the future?”