From Notting Hill with Love Actually

by Ali McNamara

  “About everything. About your mum, about your movie chasing, about everything else you seem to do that annoys him.”

  “I’m not doing the movie thing anymore.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Because there’s just no point in trying to prove my theory any longer—I told Dad earlier that I’d had loads of experience of life being like a movie since I’ve been here, and I still don’t think he believed me. So what’s the point? Maybe I was never right in the first place anyway. Maybe they were just all coincidences.”

  Sean stared at me in amazement. “I cannot believe I am hearing you say this.”

  “Why? I’m entitled to change my mind, aren’t I?”

  Sean raised his eyebrows.

  I sighed. “It’s just after everything that’s happened over the last few weeks—and especially tonight—I’m beginning to think that Dad and David and whoever else has said it to me in the past was right, Sean—life really isn’t like a movie. You can try as hard as you want to make it that way, but there never is that perfect fairytale ending you get at the cinema, and there never will be.”

  I drank some more of my whiskey while Sean continued to stare at me in disbelief.

  “Scarlett, stop it,” he said eventually. “This is not you talking. What’s happened to you? You were so full of hope and optimism when I first met you, and now you’re so…so…”

  “Realistic,” I said flatly. “That’s the word you’re searching for. If this experience has taught me anything, it’s taught me realism, Sean. I thought the reason I came to London was to prove my family wrong about the movies. But I’ve discovered the true reason was so I could find something that’s been missing from my life all these years—my mother. I’m telling you, Sean, everything happens—”

  “Yes, I know, for a reason. You’ve said so before—many a time. But finding your mother could just have been an added bonus while you’re here. Why does it have to be the only reason for what’s gone on?”

  “It’s not the only one—it’s the main one. These last few weeks have also taught me that I’m luckier than I ever realized with the life I have back in Stratford. Meeting my mother and hearing about the life she’s had, and the men she’s met since leaving my father, has made me realize that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. It may seem it for a while, but then when the grass withers and dies, and there’s nothing left, you have to start all over again from the beginning—sowing the seeds and watching it grow again.”

  “So what are you saying, Scarlett?” Sean said, putting his whiskey down on the table. “You’d rather your life was full of plain gray concrete—solid and virtually indestructible—so that nothing could ever come along and damage it?”

  I nodded.

  “Bullshit,” Sean said. “I don’t believe you. Before you came here, you’d have wanted more than just a neat green lawn. You’d have wanted a whole meadow full of long grass and wild flowers for you to run through.”

  “Yes, you’re probably right. But I’ve changed.”

  “No, you haven’t. You’ve had a few experiences that have made you see life a bit differently—and that might not be a bad thing. But the romantic, idealistic Scarlett still lurks in there somewhere—I know it. It’s who you are, Scarlett, it’s what makes you tick.”

  Oh why did Sean have this ability to read me so well? It was so annoying. I’d just made all these decisions about how my life was going to be in the future—and now here he was turning them all upside down again.

  “How would you know what makes me tick?” I said haughtily. “You don’t have a romantic bone in your body, Sean Bond—let alone an idealistic one. You don’t even like Robbie Williams or Ronan Keating, for heaven’s sake! Everything’s got to be black and white with you—there’s no room for daydreaming.”

  Sean was strangely silent.

  I thought I’d hurt him with my words—which wouldn’t be the first time—and I was just about to apologize when he leaned toward me and spoke.

  “You could be right there, Scarlett,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “On the other hand, you might be wrong. You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you? Maybe you’re not the only one changing your view of life right now.”

  Now what did he mean? But before I had time to question him further, the phone rang in the hall. I rushed through to answer it so it didn’t disturb David or Dad.

  Sean followed me.

  “Mum!” I said as I recognized the voice at the other end of the line. “Just hold on a moment, will you?”

  I put my hand over the receiver.

  “It’s about time I got some sleep too,” Sean said, heading toward the door. “So I’ll leave you with your phone call. I’m flying over to Dublin tomorrow on business, so I won’t see you for a few days. Will you still be here when I return?”

  I was surprised he was off again so soon. But then it was business so perhaps I shouldn’t have been…“Yes, I think so. I have to house-sit until Belinda and Harry get back from Dubai at the end of next week, so I should still be around.”

  “Because I wouldn’t want to miss you to say good-bye,” Sean said, pausing at the open door.

  “No…that wouldn’t be good.” I couldn’t imagine ever saying good-bye to Sean. But I guess it was going to have to happen sooner or later.

  Sean gave me one last smile and then closed the front door behind him.

  “Mum,” I said as I carried the phone into the lounge and shut the door, “I’m so glad you rang. I’m so sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean for it to happen like that, honestly, I had no idea that Dad was going to turn up here today or I would never have invited you to the dinner party and—”

  “Scarlett, Scarlett, just slow down, please,” Mum’s calm voice came floating back down the line. “I haven’t rung for explanations at this time of night, simply to check if you’d got back safely. When Oscar and Ursula told me you’d run off I was worried about you. And I know all the circumstances surrounding what happened this evening, because Sean explained them to me earlier, so please don’t fret.”

  “I know, but I’m really sorry, Mum.”

  “And like I told you, Scarlett, we can talk about it properly when I see you again. But now I know you’re home safe and sound I can relax, and we can both go and get some sleep; it’s late.”

  I hesitated for a moment. “Can I just ask you something before you go, Mum?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “You met Sean tonight.”

  “Yes. I met Sean.”

  “And…what did you think of him?”

  It was Mum’s turn to hesitate now.

  “Why?”

  “I just wondered, that’s all. Since it was the first time the two of you had met properly.”

  “We promised to be honest with each other, didn’t we, Scarlett?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I liked him.”

  “Is that it?”

  I heard her sigh. “All right—he seems like an amusing and intelligent young man. Quite good looking too, I suppose, if you like that type.”

  I had a feeling I was going to regret asking this, but I had to. “What type do you mean, Mum?”

  “Look, Scarlett, I can’t fault the way he dealt with the situation tonight. He came to see if I was OK and was polite and attentive while he was in the café with me. He was extremely concerned over your welfare too.”

  “But…”

  “But he’s good looking, Scarlett, and has a smooth line in chat when he wants it. So I’m guessing he’s probably extremely fun to be with when you first know him. But then he’s likely to turn out to be completely unreliable after you’ve known him for a while.”

  “How can you tell all this?” I asked in a small voice.

  “Because I’ve been there before, Scarlett, I’m afraid. If you’re asking my advice—which I think indirectly you are—the last thing you want is to get mixed up with Sean when you’ve got David already waiting for you in the w
ings.”

  I stared into the phone. This was the last thing I’d expected my mother to say.

  “You’re making Sean sound like some sort of modern day cad.”

  “I never said he was that. I just don’t think he’s as reliable as your David’s likely to be. In the long term, I mean. You did ask for my opinion, Scarlett.”

  “Yes, I know. And thank you, it’s helped me…clarify a few thoughts.”

  “I’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted to hear, Scarlett.”

  “No, it’s fine. It’s given me some things to think about.”

  As if I didn’t have enough of those already…

  Thirty-Seven

  Even though my head was still spinning with thoughts and conversations when finally I climbed the stairs to bed that night, I felt as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders now that Dad knew about me finding Mum. But when I arrived at the bedroom door and saw David sleeping in my bed, I felt the same weight descending upon me again.

  The purpose of taking some time away on my own hadn’t originally been to find out whether I wanted to marry David or not; purely to put my mind at rest that I was doing the right thing. But now after everything that had happened, I found myself standing at the bedroom door wondering just that.

  To anyone who didn’t know David well, he did appear to be quite staid and reserved, and he didn’t give too much away. But I knew that deep down he could be very passionate and loving once you got to know him. And that was the David I loved—the one he didn’t show to anyone but me.

  But since Sean had come into my life it had made me question whether what I felt for David was enough. Sean was the complete opposite to David, his personality was…well, how would you describe him? My mother had portrayed him just now as a bit of a cad…a smooth talker…a ladies’ man, even. He wasn’t really that. She’d also said he was an amusing and intelligent young man—fun to be with at first, but likely to let you down in the long run. Even Dad had said he used his head to get what he wanted, not only in business, but in his personal life too.

  I screwed my forehead up; those descriptions sounded familiar, particularly Mum’s…where had I heard them before?

  Then I realized. That’s just how I’d described the characters of Mark Darcy and Daniel Cleaver from the Bridget Jones movies to Sean earlier today—almost word for word!

  I’d told Sean then that I’d preferred Colin Firth’s character of Mark Darcy to Hugh Grant’s Daniel Cleaver. Is that the way I really felt about David and Sean?

  Oh God, this is just getting ridiculous. Didn’t I just say this evening how I wasn’t going to try living my life like a movie anymore? And now here I am only an hour or so later doing it again already.

  I entered the bedroom and tiptoed in the dark across to the bathroom. Too much has happened tonight for me to even be thinking about all this right now, let alone to be making any decisions.

  When I had finished in the bathroom, I returned to the darkened bedroom again. I tried crossing the room as silently as I could; the last thing I needed was for David to wake up and want to start yet another discussion with me—especially about our relationship. I think I’d done enough soul-searching for one night.

  I stubbed my toe against the chair in front of the dressing table and swore under my breath, so I reached out and fumbled for the lamp that sat on top of the table. A soft glow filled the room. David stirred in the bed and I watched him for a moment, praying he wouldn’t wake up. But he didn’t—he just turned over and carried on snoring.

  Normally if I’d heard David snoring I’d have been immediately thinking of ways of getting him to stop before I tried to get some sleep myself. But not tonight; in fact, I hardly heard him—I just stared at the offending chair that had attacked my innocent toe.

  On the seat of the chair lay David’s clothes for the next morning. Not his suit and shirt; they hung on wooden hangers against the outside of the wardrobe. The items that were causing me so much interest were his socks neatly laid out in a pair, and more importantly, his underpants. They sat folded just as neatly on top of the seat too—just like Mark Darcy’s underwear had done when he’d been in Bridget Jones’s flat…

  I looked at the boxer shorts and then I looked at David.

  And suddenly everything that had been a jumbled mess in my head up until now became crystal clear.

  What Dad had said to me in the lounge.

  What Mum had said on the phone.

  It all made sense now.

  Dad had been through so much to raise me on his own. He’d made so many sacrifices for me, and now it was my turn to repay him.

  Mum had spent too many miserable years all alone, just because she chased some wild, romantic dream that didn’t exist with the wrong type of man. I didn’t want to end up like that.

  Now it was my turn to do the right thing. Dad said I’d know what to do when the time came, and now this must be the time. He was wrong about one thing, though; it was something to do with the movies that was helping me make my choice.

  “Well, if Mark was good enough for Bridget,” I whispered quietly into the darkness.

  Thirty-Eight

  Vivaldi could be heard filtering from the church as Maddie made the final adjustments to my train and Dad held out his arm to me.

  That’s funny, I thought, as we entered the church and began to walk down the aisle. I don’t remember my dress having a train when I was fitted for it.

  In fact, I’m sure this wasn’t the dress I’d chosen with Oscar and Ursula for my big day at all. This dress was a very fitted gown in raw ivory silk. I could hardly breathe as I tried to waddle down the aisle with a smile fixed rigidly to my face.

  But I couldn’t stop to complain because my father was whisking me toward the altar at such a speed that I could hardly feel my feet on the ground below—was he that desperate to get rid of me?

  We arrived in front of the vicar, who looked suspiciously like Rowan Atkinson, and Dad passed my hand quickly to David. At least that part was right.

  The vicar rushed through the preliminaries swiftly, and it was soon time for the first hymn. I looked about me for a hymn sheet, but there didn’t seem to be one.

  “What are you looking for?” David hissed at me. “Surely you of all people should know the words to this one?”

  A band appeared out of nowhere among the congregation and part of me wanted to shout, “Hey, that’s just like in Love Actually!” But then I remembered I wasn’t counting movie scenes anymore—so I just stood and silently listened as they began to play the first few bars of…no, it couldn’t be, could it?

  But it was—and then suddenly up in the pulpit there he was, wearing the biggest pair of feathery white wings I’d ever seen: Robbie Williams, and he was singing “Angels.”

  I wanted to rub my eyes—but I daren’t in case my mascara smudged. Robbie Williams—at my wedding—singing “Angels”? This couldn’t be happening. I looked around at everyone, but they all seemed completely unmoved by the whole thing, as if Robbie Williams singing at a wedding was just an everyday occurrence. I decided to ignore them and enjoy it; after all, this was Robbie. But when “Angels” quickly turned into “Let Me Entertain You,” and then “Rock DJ,” the romantic ambience was soon lost.

  Robbie finished singing and disappeared back down into the pulpit as quickly as he’d appeared. I began to applaud loudly but was the only one who did. Embarrassed, I quickly hid my hands behind my bouquet.

  What was wrong with these people?

  The vicar resumed the service and soon came to the part about anyone having any reasons why David and I shouldn’t get married. I secretly hoped I might hear Sean’s voice floating across the church pews toward me. But sadly I heard nothing, only a deathly silence.

  Then there was a polite cough at the back of the church, and all heads swiveled round to look at the offender.

  “Does somebody have something to say?” the vicar asked, seeming worried. I looked at him closely—he lo
oked even more like Rowan Atkinson now than he had done at the start of the service.

  “Yes, I have a reason,” I heard a familiar voice call from the back of the church.

  “Please, stand up,” the vicar requested, squinting into the distance.

  I nearly dropped my bouquet when Hugh Grant stood up. What the hell was he doing here?

  “You have an objection, sir?” the vicar inquired.

  “Yes,” Hugh said in his clipped English voice. “I do.”

  Wasn’t I supposed to say that?

  “Perhaps you’d like to share it with us?” the vicar asked.

  I looked at Hugh in amazement—what on earth was he going to say?

  “I suspect the bride is having doubts,” he said. “I suspect that the bride does, in fact, love someone else.”

  The congregation’s heads swiveled in unison away from Hugh and back toward me again.

  I looked at Father Rowan. “Do you?” he asked me sternly. “Do you love someone else, Scarlett?”

  My breathing was quick and shallow, and I could feel my chest rising up and down as I tried desperately to get enough air into my lungs to speak. I turned frantically to David. But David had vanished and in his place, and his morning suit, was Colin Firth.

  “Well, do you, Scarlett?” Colin now demanded of me. “Do you love someone more than you love me?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. I looked desperately into the congregation for help, but all my family and friends had disappeared now too. Replacing them on the groom’s side of church were Darth Vader and the cast of Star Wars, and on my side the pews were now filled with Mickey Mouse and his Disneyland friends.

  I searched frantically for my father. He would help me; Dad was always there for me when I needed him. But in the place where my father had been standing until a few minutes ago was Harrison Ford dressed as Indiana Jones complete with fedora and whip.

  I turned to Colin again. He just stared at me; like everyone else in the church, he was awaiting my answer.

  “Yes!” I shouted at the top of my voice. “Yes, I do love someone else! I do…I do…I do!”