by Ali McNamara
“Sean, this is my father.”
“Mr. O’Brien, pleased to meet you at last, Scarlett has told me so much about you.”
I didn’t know whether Sean was doing all this just to annoy David—but if he was, it was working, because David’s face was now quite an alarming shade of red.
My father, looking surprised, shook Sean’s hand.
“Dad, this is Sean, my neighbor.”
David made a snorting sound.
“Pleased to meet you, Sean,” Dad said. Then he glanced at David. “Are you all right, David? You’ve turned a funny color.”
“I think it’s time I went,” Sean said, untying his apron. “I hope I’ve been of some help to you, Scarlett.” He pulled the apron over his head and walked toward the door.
David—his color returning to normal again—stepped aside to make room for him. “I hope you’re not going on our account, old boy,” he sneered as Sean passed.
“Yes, Sean, you really don’t have to go.” I glared at David.
“Yes, I think I do,” Sean said, focusing on me and choosing to ignore David. “I hope all goes well tonight, Scarlett. I’m sure your guests will enjoy the food you’ve so carefully prepared.” He winked at me as he reached for the door.
“Wait a moment, Sean, and I’ll see you out properly. Dad, David, the lounge is just through there,” I said, pointing to the door. “If you’d like to go through, I’ll be there in a minute to help you find somewhere to put all your things.”
My father looked in the direction I was gesturing. “Righty-ho then. Nice to meet you, Sean.” He nodded at him.
“And you, Mr. O’Brien.”
David made what sounded like a growling noise at Sean.
“You really want to get that cough seen to, David,” Dad said, as David followed him obediently into the lounge. “It can get much worse if you leave it untreated too long.”
I waited until they were out of sight before stepping outside with Sean.
“Please don’t go,” I pleaded with him again. “I still have room for seven around the table, it’s huge. And I’m sure David will behave himself if I have a word.”
Sean smiled at me. “Oh, Scarlett, I would have thought me being there would be the last thing on your mind right now.”
“What do you mean? Oh, Dad. I had no idea he was going to turn up today—apparently it’s a surprise.”
“Yes, I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation from the kitchen. But no, I don’t mean your father turning up unexpectedly. I mean, what are you going to tell your mother?”
“How do you mean?”
“About the dinner party—how will you put her off? You can’t have her turning up tonight with your father here, can you?”
I stuck my hands in the pocket of my apron and idly watched a man trimming a hedge over the road.
“Scarlett?” Sean prompted.
“They’re going to have to meet each other again some time now Mum’s back in my life,” I said, turning to face him. “It’s not my fault Dad’s turned up out of the blue like this.”
Sean’s eyes widened. “But they haven’t seen each other for over twenty years; there could be bloodshed if they just turn up at the same dinner party!”
“But there might not be…it could all work out just fine.”
Sean rubbed his forehead in a way that suggested he didn’t agree.
“Just how much of that red wine we were marinating with did you drink? Scarlett, just ring your mother and tell her the dinner’s off.”
“No, she’s been looking forward to meeting everyone.”
“Including your father?”
I pulled my apron over my head and folded it up. “Look, Sean, I didn’t orchestrate this, fate did. And now I’m going to let fate take its course.”
“You’re asking for trouble.”
“Maybe…maybe not.” I shrugged. “Look, are you going to come to dinner tonight or not?”
“And miss this? You’ve got to be kidding. It’ll be like Christmas in the Queen Vic—just without the cockney accents.”
I had to smile. “I know you think what I’m going to let happen is the wrong thing to do. But maybe that’s what all this has been about—me coming to London, so I can have two parents in my life. Everything happens—”
“For a reason. Yes, I know, you’ve said so before. But maybe this isn’t the only reason for you coming here?”
“And maybe it is. Look, I have to get back inside. I’ll see you later, yes, about 7:30? I’ll tell Mum it’s eight, and then everyone will have a chance to chat to Dad a bit before she arrives.”
“I don’t think that’s a good—”
I held up my hand. “No more, Sean. I’ll see you later?”
Sean nodded. “But you could end up regretting this decision, Scarlett. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and possibly for the rest of your life.”
I stared suspiciously at Sean. “Are you absolutely sure you never watch movies?” I asked him.
“Not often, why?”
“Hmm, it just seems you have an awful knack recently of making me feel like I’m in one.”
Thirty-Three
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 fu
n. 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 ev
ening 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.
Thirty-Four
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…