From Notting Hill with Love Actually

by Ali McNamara

  “Indeed.” Sean spoke now. “There’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then, though.”

  “So it would seem.”

  There was a slight pause before Sean spoke hurriedly. “Look, let me find you those brochures I was telling you about. I think they’re in my suitcase.”

  Oh God no, his suitcase was wedged in between my legs at this precise moment.

  “Forget that for now, Sean,” the woman said. “You know what they say about all work.”

  To my relief the wardrobe door didn’t open. But when the room went silent I realized that Sean finding me inside his wardrobe was going to be nothing compared to the embarrassment I might have to endure if what I thought was going on on the other side of the doors right now developed any further.

  Now is really not the time to be living in a movie scene, I thought, recalling Four Weddings and a Funeral, and in particular the scene where Hugh Grant is stuck in the closet while the bride and groom bonk on the bed outside.

  No films, I silently prayed. Not now of all times—please, not now!

  I think someone must have been listening. Because then I heard Sean’s voice—

  “No, I’m sorry, I really can’t do this.”

  “Sean, darling…come on, just for old times’ sake.”

  I heard a sort of scuffling noise.

  “No, Jen! Really, I can’t. There’s someone else now.”

  “Who? You never mentioned anyone else at dinner.”

  Yes, who, Sean? You’ve never mentioned anyone else to me either. But if it means getting rid of this Jen…wait, wasn’t Jen the name of Sean’s contact in New York?

  “Well, there is,” Sean said so quietly I could hardly hear him. “And she’s very important to me.”

  “So what was tonight all about, then?” Jen demanded. “Just dinner?”

  “Yes,” Sean said, sounding apologetic. “That’s exactly what it was—just a thank-you for helping me out.”

  “I see.”

  “I’m sorry if you thought it was more than that, Jen. I can assure you my intention was not to lead you on.”

  There was a brief silence and then Jen spoke again.

  “I haven’t heard from you in years, Sean, and then out of the blue I get a phone call from you asking for help. What am I supposed to think?”

  I’m guessing Sean shrugged then because there was silence once more. Oh, it was so annoying being in this cupboard—I wanted to see what was happening. Then I remembered why I was there, and I calmed down again.

  “Well, you never contacted me either, did you? You ran off with the Yank, and that was the last I knew. I mean Oscar isn’t likely to tell me what you’re up to, is he?”

  Oh my God, Jen is Oscar’s sister…the one who broke Sean’s heart!

  “He was called Rob, as you well know, Sean. After all, he was your best friend.”

  Oh my God, his best friend? Sean said he was just a work colleague.

  “Exactly, Jen, my best friend, and you ran off with him.”

  “That’s ancient history as far as I’m concerned. And anyway, if you were still so sore about it, why did you call me up wanting my help? You knew I’d be here in Paris right now for fashion week. Admit it, Sean, you wanted to see me again.”

  Don’t, Sean—don’t admit anything! I willed from my cupboard.

  “I had no idea you’d be here,” Sean said coolly. “I assumed you were safely back in New York when I called.”

  “So why call?”

  “Because, for the hundredth time, I needed some information, and, unfortunately for me, you were the only person I knew who might be able to help.”

  “So why ask me out to dinner then?”

  “I didn’t; you invited yourself. And because you’d been so unusually helpful, I was too polite to say no.”

  “You used me,” Jen said accusingly.

  “I did not.”

  “So where is she then? This girl you’ve been helping? I’m assuming she’s the someone else you mentioned.”

  Silence.

  “I thought as much,” Jen continued. “If that’s the case, I may as well just go. You’ve humiliated me, Sean, letting me follow you to your hotel room like this. I hope you’re happy.”

  “I promise you it was not my intention, Jen. However, if that’s how you feel, then…”

  There was silence again. Oh how I wished I could see what was happening.

  “Then what, Sean?”

  “Then I’ll look on it as an added bonus. Because now, Jen, you’ve experienced just a tiny percentage of how you made me feel when you ran off with the Yank!”

  Go, Sean! I wanted to yell.

  A door slammed shut and the room fell silent. I felt secretly pleased for Sean—he had definitely won that battle.

  But my euphoria was somewhat short-lived—for it dawned on me I was still stuck in the wardrobe. It was getting hot and stuffy in here now, and my legs were starting to cramp from straddling Sean’s suitcase. How on earth was I going to escape?

  Hmm…I thought hard for a moment. Let’s assume Sean will probably just go straight to bed now, that means I will just have to wait here a little longer until he falls asleep. But what if he hangs his clothes in here before going to bed? I panicked a little. No, that wasn’t likely to happen, men never hung their clothes up. They just left them lying over a chair—or, more likely, in a heap on the floor.

  But if he didn’t visit the wardrobe before bedtime, and I was lucky enough to have him fall asleep without finding me, how on earth would I get back to my room again? I couldn’t go out of the door—even if I did get through it without him stirring, I didn’t have my key with me to get back into my own room again.

  I heard Sean moving about and then I heard him mumble something that sounded like “What’s this?” and there was a rustle of paper.

  Oh no—my note!

  “Meet me at the Eiffel Tower…” His voice trailed off. “Oh, Scarlett,” I heard him say softly.

  I listened intently, my ear pressed up against the wardrobe door, but all I heard next was another door open and close.

  What’s he doing now? I wondered impatiently. Then it dawned on me…

  Quickly I opened the wardrobe door and ran toward the balcony. Through the open windows to my room I could hear Sean knocking hard on my door.

  With any luck he’ll assume I’m asleep when I don’t answer and leave me alone, I silently prayed, as I grabbed hold of the drainpipe again.

  The knocking subsided.

  Phew…I carefully swung my leg over toward my own balcony, got it safely over, and was just about to swing the other one across when I heard Robbie Williams’s “Let Me-ee…Entertain You…” booming from my back pocket.

  Shit, Sean was only calling my mobile now.

  Hastily I swung my other leg across the gap and reached into my back pocket just as Sean appeared on his balcony.

  He looked at his phone and then he looked at me. “What are you doing out here?” he asked. “I was just at your door, knocking. When you didn’t answer I assumed you were still out.”

  “I was out—well, out here taking a call…from David. I didn’t hear the door. I must have just hung up as you called.”

  “Oh, I see. Are you OK, Scarlett? You look a bit…flustered.”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Did you have a good night?”

  Here we go, I thought. Wait for it…

  “It was…all right,” I answered hesitantly.

  “Only, I just found this.” Sean held up my note.

  “Ah…that.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’ve only just got back from…my meeting. I didn’t see it before.”

  “No worries,” I said with a shrug. “It was a bit of a joke really. Just another movie moment for me to add to my list.”

  “Oh.” Sean looked thoughtfully at the piece of paper. “Look, do you want to come over here for a while, or shall I come to you? I feel a bit silly talking to you across our balco
nies.”

  “I’ll come over to you.” I was relieved, yet puzzled as to why Sean hadn’t ribbed me about the Eiffel Tower. Maybe he was saving it until he’d found out for sure I’d spent all night up there alone.

  I grabbed hold of the drainpipe and began to climb back over to Sean’s balcony.

  “Scarlett! What the hell are you doing?”

  “Oh…yeah,” I said, blushing as I quickly pulled my leg back. “Maybe it would be easier if I just came around to your door.”

  Twenty-Four

  I’d fled inside, leaving Sean still standing on his balcony. Now as I stood outside his room, thinking what a dope I’d just been, he opened the door to let me in.

  “What on earth were you thinking of?” Sean asked, still looking at me strangely.

  I shrugged as I walked past him into the room. “Don’t know, really—just seemed the natural thing to do at the time.”

  “Right…” Sean said, closing the door behind me. He held up my note again. “I’m so sorry, Scarlett—if I’d known where you were tonight…”

  “You’d have what?”

  “I’d have cut short my dinner and come at once. I did try and phone you.”

  “I know, but I accidentally left my phone in my room when I went out.” I walked over to the window and looked at the street below. They were just pulling the shutters down on the bistro opposite. I hoped they hadn’t seen me earlier, doing my Spiderman impressions. “So how was business tonight?” I asked casually, turning back to face the room again.

  “Fine, why?”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Nowhere interesting really. Listen, you didn’t spend all night on top of the Eiffel Tower alone, did you?”

  “I might have done.” Two can play at avoiding the questions, Sean.

  “I’m really sorry, Scarlett. Honestly I am.”

  Why was he being so nice to me? It must be guilt, because he certainly wasn’t telling me the truth about Jen.

  “Have you eaten tonight?” Sean asked, looking about him for the room service menu.

  “Have you?”

  “Scarlett, what is this? Why aren’t you answering any of my questions?”

  “Why aren’t you answering any of mine…truthfully?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Without looking at him, I walked away from the window and sat down at the desk. I picked up one of the hotel pens and doodled on the headed notepaper that lay in front of me. “Does the name Jen ring any bells with you, Sean?”

  Sean jumped. “How do you know about Jen?”

  Oops, how did I know? Oh yes…“I saw the two of you earlier—in the restaurant over the road.”

  Sean’s eyes flickered toward the window for a moment. “Oh, I see. Yes, I did have dinner with Jen. It was a thank-you for her helping us out with the information about your mother—she’s the contact I was telling you about.”

  “Did you not think I might like to thank her too?” I asked, swinging round in the chair to face him.

  God, I was good. I could almost have been Reese Witherspoon at the end of Legally Blonde putting my client under pressure. But strangely, winding Sean up like this wasn’t as much fun as it should have been—he looked extremely uncomfortable as he tried to justify his actions to me.

  “Yes, perhaps I should have asked you along as well. But,” he added brightly, as an excuse occurred to him, “I couldn’t, could I? Because I couldn’t get hold of you—the dinner was what I was trying to call you about earlier.” Sean gave a satisfied nod of his head and visibly relaxed again.

  Damn you, Sean—touché!

  “Hmm, that’s true, I guess. So this Jen, is she just a work colleague?” I asked, pushing on ever further.

  “Actually she…wait a minute,” Sean said, narrowing his eyes. “How do you know the person I was having dinner with was called Jen if you only saw us through a window?”

  “I…er…” Now he’d got me.

  “Did you hear us in here earlier, when you were out on the balcony? I didn’t think we were that loud—our voices must have carried.”

  That would be the reason—yes!

  “Yes, they did. I didn’t hear everything, though—only her name really because I was on the phone to David for most of the time.”

  Sean looked relieved again. “Good. I mean I’m glad we weren’t too loud.”

  “Why?” I inquired politely. “Were you shouting then? Was there a problem?”

  “No, no problem. Look. I asked before if you’d eaten. Would you like me to order something up for you?” He reached across the desk for the room service menu.

  “No, thanks, I had a snack at the top of the tower.”

  Damn, I didn’t want to bring that up again.

  “So you were up there a long time?”

  “A while…maybe I am a little peckish after all.” I pulled the menu away from Sean and began to examine it, eager to steer the subject quickly away from that embarrassing topic.

  Sean snatched it back and knelt down in front of me.

  “Hey, I was looking at that!” I cried, trying to take it back from him.

  Sean held the menu away from me at arm’s length. “Not until you answer my questions.” He looked up at me in earnest. “Why did you ask me to meet you up there, Scarlett?”

  “I told you, there’s a movie where—”

  “Forget the movies for once. Is that the only reason?”

  I looked down at Sean—his eyes were fixed firmly on my face; they didn’t waver. “I don’t know,” I said flippantly. “What other reason would there be?”

  Sean closed his eyes, sighed, then sprang to his feet again. “That is just what I was rather hoping you might tell me, Scarlett.” It was his turn to walk over to the window now. He stood with his back to me, supposedly gazing out of it.

  “Maybe I’m not telling you for the same reason you didn’t tell me about Jen being your ex-girlfriend?”

  I saw Sean’s back stiffen, then he turned around.

  “You heard that?”

  I nodded. “I heard all of it, Sean. I know she was the one you told me about in Glasgow—the one who broke your heart.”

  “I’m sure I didn’t say that,” Sean said lightly. “That sounds more like something Oscar would say.”

  “I never discussed you and Jen with Oscar.”

  “Oh.”

  “It doesn’t matter anyway,” I said, standing up and joining him at the window. “I don’t mind if you want to see your ex while she’s in town, why would I?”

  Sean shrugged. “I didn’t want to see her particularly. When I rang her for help, I thought she was in New York, not in Paris. I’d forgotten she’d be over here for fashion week. As far as I was concerned, if I’d never seen Jen again for as long as I lived, it would have been too soon. In fact, it was bad enough speaking to her over the phone.”

  “Then why do it?” We were facing each other now and it was my turn to look up into his eyes. “Why did you even call her?”

  “For you, Scarlett, you know that. I swallowed my stupid pride and called my ex-girlfriend to help you.”

  We were moving closer to each other all the time. I should have moved away then, backed off before something happened I’d regret. But I couldn’t—Sean’s intense gaze paralyzed me. It buried itself deep within me, taking a hold in places I shouldn’t have allowed it to go.

  “Now I’ve told you the truth about Jen, it’s your turn, Scarlett,” Sean said in a low voice, still not taking his eyes away from mine. “Why did you leave me this note?” He pulled the folded piece of paper from his pocket and held it up in between our two faces.

  “I wanted to see if you’d come.”

  “Why? You know I would have if I could. I wouldn’t have just left you stranded up there all alone.”

  “No, I mean…oh, I don’t know what I mean, Sean. I just needed to prove something to myself.”

  “Let me try proving it to you another way.” Sean released the note from his f
ingers and we both watched it flutter down on to the carpet. Then in perfect unison, our faces lifted to look at each other once more. Sean reached up his hand and gently stroked my cheek with his fingers. I felt my eyes close at his touch—it was almost too much to bear. Pull away, Scarlett. Pull away now! a tiny voice inside me urged. Before something happens you’ll regret! Now Sean was cupping my face in his hands…But I didn’t want to pull away. I wanted Sean to kiss me. I wanted to know what it felt like to have his lips on mine, to taste him, to—

  There was a knock at the door.

  My eyes snapped open as our heads both spun toward the intruding noise—then back toward each other again.

  Sean shook his head. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know. We didn’t get around to ordering any room service in the end, did we?”

  “Well, I have no idea,” I said, staring wildly at him. “It’s your room!”

  Sean took a look through the peephole. His expression was puzzled as he pulled open the door.

  “Bonsoir, monsieur,” a waiter said. He was carrying a tray laden with champagne, chocolates, cakes, and pastries.

  “I didn’t order this,” Sean said, looking even more confused. “You must have the wrong room.”

  A smarter-looking man wearing a suit and carrying a huge arrangement of flowers followed the waiter into the room. “Excuse our intrusion so late in the evening, sir, madam,” he said, nodding at me as he placed his flowers on the table. “Allow me to introduce myself—I am Francois, the duty manager.” He gave a small bow. “These,” he said, waving his hand over the tray of food and the vase of flowers, “are with the compliments of the hotel. We were unaware when you booked with us that you were on your honeymoon.”

  “But…”

  “It was only when two of our elderly guests informed us earlier tonight of some strange goings-on in our honeymoon suite that we realized our mistake, as we have no one staying in the suite at present. When they mentioned this room number, and said you had just got married, we felt we had to do something special for you. There will, of course, also be a champagne breakfast for you both in the morning, again with our compliments.”

  Sean looked at me in astonishment.

  I shrugged.

  “Er…thank you, Francois,” Sean began to say, “but I really think I should explain—”