by Ali McNamara
“Darling, you shouldn’t have—really, there was no need for either. But do come in, won’t you, I can’t wait for you to meet everybody. Do come along, Sean,” Oscar called down the path. “The gang’s all here!”
Once inside, Oscar took our jackets and we followed him through to the lounge. There were five people already sitting on two settees and a chaise longue, drinking wine and chatting.
“Now then, everyone, I’d like to introduce Scarlett,” Oscar announced, clapping his hands to gain their attention. “Oh, you all know Sean, of course,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
“Wish we didn’t sometimes.” A woman with extremely short black hair, and an alarming amount of colored beads strung around her neck, spoke. I was relieved to see she was only joking when everyone laughed.
“We’ll start with you then, Vanessa. Scarlett, this is Vanessa, she owns the shop next door to mine.”
“Hi,” I said. “What does your shop sell—clothes, like Oscar’s?”
“Erotic lesbian fiction mostly,” she replied, looking me up and down. “You should come in and take a look some time.”
I cleared my throat and smiled politely. “Maybe I’ll do that one day.”
“Vanessa, do stop teasing,” Oscar insisted. “Now then, next to Vanessa we have Lucian and Patrick; they own one of the antique shops just off the market.”
“Hi,” they said in unison. Then they giggled at each other like little children.
“Over on the chaise longue we have Brooke. Brooke’s a model.”
Brooke looked like she was a model for appetite suppressants. If she eats anything tonight it will only be the garnish, I thought sourly.
Brooke waved casually.
“And finally next to her we have Ursula—my best and dearest friend.”
Ursula smiled warmly at Oscar, then equally warmly at me. She had sandy-colored shoulder-length hair, pale blue eyes that were just as warm as her smile, and she was wearing a dress covered in daisies that looked like it was from the 1950s. But what really made me take an instant shine to her was the fact that Ursula looked like a delightful combination of a young Emma Thompson and, my all-time favorite, Kate Winslet.
“Hi, how are you?” she asked. “I’m also an interior designer—since everyone else got their full title. Not just a professional friend to Oscar.”
There were a few chuckles around the room, so gratefully I returned her smile while trying not to stare at her too much.
“Well, that’s everyone,” Oscar sang.
“Ahem.” Sean cleared his throat behind us.
“Scarlett’s met you already, hasn’t she? Oh, very well,” Oscar sighed, when Sean silently raised his eyebrows at him. “Scarlett, this is Sean. Sean is only here because he’s Ursula’s brother, and I needed someone at short notice to make up the numbers.”
Sean grinned. “Thank you for that kind introduction, Oscar; the feeling is mutual, as you know.”
Oscar tossed his head and made a “hmph” sort of noise.
I found myself smiling at Sean.
He grinned back as Oscar flounced off into the kitchen calling something about more wine being needed.
***
I had wondered, after I’d been introduced to everyone at the start of the evening, just what I’d let myself in for, having dinner with this eclectic bunch of people. But I needn’t have worried because the evening turned out to be full of thought-provoking conversation, lots of laughter, and extremely good food. (Which Oscar later admitted he’d had catered in, because of the short notice.)
The chocolate brownies were particularly mouth-watering.
“Oh no!” Oscar cried when he noticed they’d all been eaten. “There’s none left; we can’t do it now!”
“Do what, Oscar?” Brooke asked. I’d been quite wrong about Brooke—she ate just like everyone else did, even tucking into the brownies with lashings of vanilla ice cream on top.
Oscar looked at me. “Can I tell them, Scarlett?”
“About the brownies?” I asked, bemused.
“No, about why you’re really here?”
I looked at the others listening expectantly around the table. All except Sean, who lolled back in his chair drinking red wine.
“I don’t see why not.”
My plan to let people think I was house-sitting for a month just didn’t seem to be working out. But after meeting Oscar, and hearing everybody else’s life stories tonight, my little “obsession,” as everyone at home seemed to think it was, seemed quite normal.
“Oh, are you some sort of secret agent?” Ursula asked excitedly.
I laughed. “No.”
“Ooh, ooh, I like guessing games,” Brooke said. “An undercover police officer?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“On the run from gangsters then?” Patrick called from across the table.
“They’re not drugs barons, are they?” Lucian added eagerly.
“Er no, look, I really don’t think you—”
“You’re a Martian from outer space?” Vanessa mocked.
“Look, it’s really not that exciting,” I said, feeling a little embarrassed now.
“Oh it is—it is!” Oscar enthused. “Well, I think it is anyway. It’s a shame more people don’t stand up for what they believe in. Do let me tell, Scarlett?”
“Sure, go ahead,” I said, more out of relief than anything else now Oscar had made me sound like some sort of saint.
“Well,” Oscar began, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. “Scarlett is really here under false pretenses…”
I glanced around the table while Oscar eagerly explained everything. Everyone listened intently to what he was saying—he was a born storyteller and made it sound much more interesting than I would have done. Even Sean seemed to be taking it all in. He glanced across at me while I was watching him, and I quickly averted my gaze.
“…so that is why Scarlett has moved in across the road—why I’m holding this dinner party—and why I wanted the last brownie!” Oscar finished triumphantly.
“Oh, like in Notting Hill?’ Ursula said. “I love that movie.”
“Me too,” Patrick agreed. “Hugh Grant is divine in it.”
A conversation then followed about the joys of Notting Hill, and this quickly moved on to a rather heated debate about the rest of Hugh Grant’s films. Sean was strangely silent throughout all of this.
“What’s up, Sean—nothing to contribute to our conversation?” Oscar teased. “That makes a change.”
“I can’t talk about something I know nothing about,” Sean responded coolly.
“You’ve never seen Notting Hill?” Brooke asked in astonishment.
“Nope, nor any other of this Grant fella’s films.”
“You must have seen Four Weddings?” Vanessa asked. “Everyone’s seen that one.”
“Nope.”
“But why not?”
“Sean hates the cinema,” Ursula answered for him. “Don’t you, Sean?”
“I don’t hate it—just can’t see the point. I’d rather read a good book or go to the theater.”
“But a good movie is just another extension to the art of storytelling,” I suggested, joining in. “If you like both of the mediums you mentioned, why not the cinema too?”
Sean shrugged.
“It’s Dad,” Ursula said, nodding matter-of-factly. “He’s put him off it.”
“But why?” I was enjoying the apparently self-assured and confident Sean becoming decidedly uncomfortable for once.
Sean shrugged again.
Ursula tutted. “Oh, he can be so rude sometimes, Scarlett. Dad’s crazy about James Bond, always has been since before we were born. Drove our mother mad—that’s one of the reasons they got divorced in the end. But our stepmother, Diana, she’s different, absolutely adores movies like Dad. We sometimes laugh that the only reason Dad married her was because of her name.”
We all looked blankly at Ursula.
“Oh s
orry, when you’ve lived with James Bond as long as we have, you assume everyone knows the history. Diana Rigg played the only Bond girl 007 ever married.”
“Oh I remember that one,” Lucian piped up. “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, right?”
Ursula nodded. “So that is why Sean hates movies, because we’ve had to live with them as part of the family since we were small. Well, he says he does. Knowing all about 007 didn’t do him any harm when he was younger though, eh, Sean? Go on, tell them your chat-up line.”
“This,” said Sean, rolling his eyes, “is just why you don’t go out for dinner with your sister in tow.”
“Oh, do tell us, Ursula,” Oscar insisted. He was obviously enjoying Sean’s embarrassment as much as me.
Sean fired an I’ll get you for this later look at Ursula, but she happily ignored him.
“When Sean was just beginning to find out about the joys of the opposite sex,” Ursula said, looking gleefully around the table, “he used to try chatting up girls by using this line.” Ursula put on her best Sean Connery voice: “‘My name is Bond…’ and then the girl was supposed to say, ‘What, James Bond?’ and Sean would say, ‘No, I’m Sean, but you can be my Bond girl any time.’”
Everyone laughed. Sean drained the last of his glass of wine and lifted the bottle to pour himself some more.
“May I just point out that I was at school then,” he protested. “I was hardly going to use a Shakespeare sonnet!”
“Perhaps ‘You’ve left me feeling shaken and stirred’ would have gone down better with the girls?” I suggested, lifting my own glass and trying not to grin as I held it out for him to refill.
Sean glanced at me and narrowed his eyes. But then the corners of his supposedly angry mouth twitched in amusement as he finished pouring the wine, and I was relieved.
“So you are actually a Bond then?” I asked him.
Sean nodded. “Yeah, it’s Dad’s real surname. Lucky for him, eh? Not so lucky for us, though. I was named after Sean Connery, Dad’s favorite 007, and Ursula—”
“After Ursula Andress?” I guessed.
“Yep, you got it—Dad’s favorite Bond girl. Mum once told me Dad had really wanted to call me James. Thank the Lord she talked him out of that one!”
I smiled, and his eyes held mine for a moment.
“I think that’s quite enough of the Bond family history for now,” Ursula said, glancing between the two of us. “I bet we all wish we’d stood up for something we believe in at some point in our lives. Let’s have a think for you, Scarlett; we must be able to come up with something to help. You’ve already done a couple of bits from Notting Hill thanks to Oscar…so how about Four Weddings and a Funeral, you must be able to find a few weddings to go to?”
“My best friend is getting married this month, but that’s the only one. I can’t just gatecrash three other weddings.”
“You could become a priest,” Lucian suggested helpfully. “But I guess you don’t have time for that,” he added, when everyone looked at him incredulously.
“Join the Women’s Institute,” Brooke suggested, waving her cigarette casually in the air.
“What?” Oscar asked impatiently. “And just how is that supposed to help?”
“My mum is in the WI, and they are always doing the flowers in our local church. At least it would get you inside.”
“Thanks, Brooke.” I smiled gratefully at her. “But I don’t think I’m the WI type really.”
Sean sniggered.
I glared at him across the table.
“Oh my God, I’ve got it!” Ursula exclaimed. “Sean, cousin Rachel’s wedding this weekend!”
“What?” Sean asked, looking confused.
“Rachel, Aunt Hilary and Uncle Jonathan’s daughter, she’s getting married this weekend, up near Dad.”
“Is she?”
“You had an invite, Sean. We both did. I can’t go because I’m exhibiting at an interior design fair and you said you just didn’t want to go so I sent a With Regret card from both of us.”
“Ah right—that was good of you.”
“Yes—wasn’t it?” Ursula shot Sean a look, which he again ignored. “Anyway, why don’t you take Scarlett this weekend instead—it could be one of her weddings!”
Sean and I nearly spat our wine at each other in our haste to reject Ursula’s idea. We both gabbled various polite excuses, all with the true meaning of, “Not bloody likely.”
But Ursula carried on unperturbed. “Oh, go on, it’ll be fine. You’ve not been up to see Dad in ages, Sean. And you, Scarlett, you’ve got to have a bit more pioneering spirit or you’ll never prove your family wrong, will you?”
“But we’ve said we can’t go now,” Sean protested. “We’ll mess their numbers up.”
Phew, nice one, Sean, I thought, relieved.
“That won’t matter,” Ursula said cheerily. “It’s going to be a buffet reception, I remember from the invite. They’re quite free spirits, Rachel and Julian,” Ursula explained, turning to me. “I think they even said we didn’t need to reply to the invite, just see how we felt on the day. If we wanted to come, we should; if not, no bother. But I always like to do things properly, so I sent them a card.”
I nodded. “Well, it is good manners.”
“Exactly. So what do the pair of you say? Come on, Sean, you can introduce Scarlett to Dad. I’m sure with their love of films they’d have loads in common; he might even be able to suggest some things for Scarlett to do.”
Sean looked over at me. His look suggested he’d given it his best shot with the numbers objection and now it was my turn.
“But…I don’t have anything to wear to a wedding,” I said, thinking hurriedly. “I only brought casual things with me.”
Sean nodded approvingly.
“That’s not a problem,” Oscar said, joining in. “I’m certain I can find you something from my boutique.”
“There you go. Now no more excuses, the pair of you. I’ll call Dad to tell him you’re both coming.” Ursula rubbed her hands together in glee. “Oh, I love it when a plan comes together!”
***
Sean and I left Oscar’s house together that night, feeling like children whose parents were forcing them to do something they didn’t want to, with the excuse, “It will do you good!”
“I’m sorry about Ursula,” Sean said when the door was safely closed behind us and our lives could be organized no more. “She gets a bit carried away sometimes.”
“That’s OK,” I said, smiling up at him while we walked. “Her heart is in the right place.”
“Shame her head isn’t!”
I laughed. But inside I felt deeply grateful to Ursula, Oscar, and the others. I’d opened up more today to Oscar, and tonight to a bunch of strangers I’d only just met, than I ever did at home to my so-called family.
I’d even ended up telling them about Dad bringing me up alone, and what I’d only learned recently myself, about Mum sharing my love of the cinema when my father didn’t.
“You don’t mind too much, then, about the wedding?” Sean asked, breaking into my thoughts. “I mean you don’t really have to come with me if you don’t want to. I’ll still have to go now Ursula’s phoned Dad, but I quite understand if you want to back out.”
I stopped walking as we passed one of the communal gardens that sat in the middle of this part of Notting Hill.
I peeped between the black railings that surrounded the garden. Then I turned back to Sean.
“So it’s your call, really,” he continued.
“Give me a leg up,” I said.
“What?”
“A leg up—put your hand out and help me up, so I can get inside.”
“No.”
“Why not? You’re not scared, are you?”
“No, of course I’m not,” Sean said defensively. “Why would I be?”
“No reason.” I turned back toward the railings. “Fine, I’ll do it myself then.”
It wasn’t e
asy, but I managed to get a part hold on the railings and a part hold on a tree that overhung the top of them, and unceremoniously I hauled myself up. I wobbled a bit at the top, but I then managed to jump—well, I guess it was more of a fall—down the other side and into the little garden.
“See, I didn’t need you after all.” I peered back at Sean through the railings. “Bet you feel a bit silly standing there on your own now!”
“Not as silly as you’re going to feel when I do this.” Sean pulled some keys from his pocket and held them under the streetlight to select one. Then he walked along the railings to the gate, calmly placed the key in the lock, and turned it so the gate swung open. Closing it securely behind him, he walked over to where I stood.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a key to get in here?” I demanded.
“You never asked.”
In frustration, I turned and marched away from him, but I stopped abruptly when I saw a bench. It was only visible in the darkened park because the moon that sat high in the clear night sky cast a luminescent glow over it.
Sean caught up with me. “What is it?” he asked. “What have you seen?”
I walked silently over to the bench. I ran my hand gently along its back before slowly and purposefully sitting down on it.
Sean followed me.
“What on earth are you doing? First you break into private property and now, on a cold February evening, you’re going to sit outside on a park bench?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” I replied, dreamily thinking of Hugh and Julia sitting on this bench together. It could have been the same one for all I knew.
“Try me,” Sean challenged, sitting down beside me.
I wondered whether I should try to explain it all to him. He would probably just mock me again.
The answer you give now, Sean, will decide whether I go with you to the wedding on Saturday.
“It’s from the movie Notting Hill.”
“I should have known.” But Sean must have seen irritation flicker across my face because he added, “OK…which part?”
“One of the most romantic parts,” I said warily. “This is one of the most memorable scenes from the film, when Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts sit on a bench together in a park just like this one. The song that is sung at that point is beautiful too—it’s one of my favorites.”