From Notting Hill with Love...Actually (23 page)

I wondered if Oscar might like to wave that wand over some other areas of my life that were needing a sprinkle of magic right now.

***

When the wedding dress fitting was over Oscar and Ursula suggested we go on somewhere else.

“That’s why we originally dropped by earlier, to invite you out for the evening, isn’t it, Ursula?” Oscar said as he skipped down the street carrying Delilah (did she ever walk? I wondered), admiring his reflection in the shop windows he passed.

Ursula nodded. “We thought we’d take a trip to the cinema tonight—you’d be up for that, Scarlett, wouldn’t you?”

It was a rare occasion I wasn’t, and they knew it. “There is a new Hugh Grant movie out I haven’t seen yet.”

“Oh, I love Hugh,” Ursula cried. “What do you say, Oscar? Do you fancy a bit of Hugh Grant tonight?”

“Darling,” Oscar said with a flourish. “I fancy a bit of Hugh
every
night.”

The Coronet in Notting Hill Gate had to be the most wonderful cinema I’d ever been in. The opulent red plush interiors edged with gilt took me back to the height of Hollywood glamour.

“Ah, I do love it here,” Oscar sighed, as we relaxed in our velvet-covered seats. “It’s so glam.”

The Coronet cinema, I discovered once we were inside, was originally a nineteenth-century theater, converted in modern times to a picture house. So, unusually, when we bought our tickets we had the choice of whether to sit in the stalls or the upper circle to watch the film.

We plumped for the upper circle, and now, while we sat there waiting for the adverts and trailers to begin, I felt as if I was going to watch a theater production rather than a movie.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” I said. “So different from our local multiplex back home.”

“I should have searched out some diving goggles to wear when I dropped Delilah back at the house and then you’d have felt even more at home,” Oscar said, holding his fingers over his eyes in two circles.

“Diving goggles? I don’t get…wait, is this the cinema from
Notting
Hill
?”

Ursula nodded. “Yep, I thought you’d have recognized it straight away!”

“I thought it looked familiar,” I said, taking a good look around me. “Well, we may not have any diving goggles to re-create that scene, but Hugh Grant is going to be joining us in a few minutes, so I guess that will have to do!”

The lights in the auditorium dimmed, and the curtains were pulled back to reveal the huge cinema screen. Immediately I was plunged back into my comfort zone again. A zone where someone else’s life was all I had to concern myself with for the next two hours, and my own, ever more complicated one, could temporarily be forgotten.

It was a good movie, as nearly all Hugh’s were. The only thing that could have made it better was if Sean had been sitting there next to me rather than Oscar.

You
have
to
stop
this, Scarlett
, I told myself as the final credits rolled up the screen.
You’ve made your choice, now you have to live with it.

“Shall we go for something to eat?” Ursula asked as we left the cinema. “There’s a lovely Indian restaurant just up the road from here. Oscar and I often go there when we’ve been to see a movie.”

“Yes, why not?” I said, thinking of the empty house waiting for me. “That would be great. Hold on, let me just check how much money I’ve got left, I may have to stop at an ATM along the way.” I felt for where my bag would usually hang but instead felt only my hip. “My bag! Oh, I must have left it in the cinema—just wait here a minute. I’ll be right back.”

I hurried back to where we’d been seated a few minutes ago—but there was no bag waiting for me when I got there.

I felt under the seat, then looked all around where we’d been sitting in case it had been kicked along the floor when everybody had been leaving, but there was still no sign of it.

“Excuse me?” I heard a voice calling from down below. I looked over the top of the balcony, and saw one of the usherettes holding up a bag—my bag. “Is this yours?” she asked.

“Yes,” I called out. “Yes it is! One minute, I’ll be right down.”

I rushed to the exit and then down the stairs.

“Thank you,” I called, as I hurried toward the woman. “I thought I’d lost it.”

“You’re lucky,” she said. “It’s a good bag too. Gucci, right?”

“It’s a fake, actually,” I admitted. As I approached her, I realized she was older than I’d thought.

“I did know, I can tell.”

“Can you really? How?” I’d thought it had been a pretty good copy when I’d bought it off eBay a couple of months ago.

“It’s all in the logo,” she said, pointing at the clasp on the front. She looked up at me as I arrived in front of her. “You see just here, it’s…” Her voice trailed off.

“What?” I asked. “What’s the difference?”

But she continued to stare at me. It was unnerving; she didn’t speak—she just stared. I knew I shouldn’t have bought a fake handbag off eBay. Knowing my luck she’d turn out to be some sort of part-time counterfeits officer, on the lookout for fake designer goods.

Her eyes dropped away from mine, and she swallowed. “Here—just take your bag,” she said in a low voice. A strand of black hair fell across her face.

I reached out and took my bag. As I did so my hand brushed against hers. What felt like a bolt of lightning shot up through my arm—and spread right through me like an enormous wave of emotion.

I looked closely at her again and in the dim light noticed that her eyes were an intense shade of green, just like mine. She stared helplessly back at me.

I glanced down at her badge; it stated that
Rose
would be pleased to help me today.

I opened my mouth to speak—but nothing would come out. It was like being in one of those awful nightmares where your body won’t do what you want it to. There were so many questions I suddenly wanted to ask this woman—but I couldn’t.

So instead, she asked me one.

“Scarlett, is that you?”

“Mum?”

We stood in the empty cinema staring at each other.

“Scarlett?” she said again. “Is it really you?”

I nodded helplessly.

“I…I can’t believe it. My little baby.”

Suddenly it was all too much and I burst into tears.

“Scarlett, are you still in here?” I heard Ursula call. “Oh, there you are.” She came rushing toward me. “We wondered where you’d…what on earth is wrong?”

Ursula looked between Rose and me.

“Ursula, this…” I hesitated, it sounded all wrong. “This is…my…my mother.”

“Your…but Sean told us you couldn’t find…oh my! You mean you two have just…like just now in the cinema?”

I nodded.

“But that’s incredible.”

“Isn’t it,” my mother answered for both of us. Actually, I couldn’t even think of her in that way just yet. So I decided to think of her as Rose for now—like her name badge stated. Rose looked as bewildered and disorientated as I was feeling.

“You two must have so much to talk about. Perhaps I should—”

“No, no don’t do that, Ursula,” I said, panicking. Now I was face to face with my mother, I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to say to her.

“But…” Ursula said in embarrassment.

“Scarlett, my shift finishes in about half an hour,” Rose said gently. “Maybe we could go somewhere…just for a coffee or something?”

I nodded again. I still couldn’t bring myself to speak to her properly.

“There’s a little café just up the road from here, called Kelly’s. Do you know it?”

I shook my head.

“I do,” Ursula said. “I’ll make sure she gets there OK.”

“I guess I’ll see you in a bit?” Rose said, trying to force a smile.

Again I just nodded. Ursula had to forcibly turn me around and walk me out of the cinema, as my legs, and in fact my whole body, had become incapable of functioning on their own.

“Don’t ask!” she instructed an astonished Oscar as we emerged on to the street. “I’ll tell you in a minute. Come on, we’re going this way.”

She grabbed my hand, pulled me along the street, and into the first pub we came to.

“But this isn’t a café,” I said weakly, looking around me.

“No, I know, but you need a stiff drink before you go and meet your mother properly.”

“Her what?” Oscar asked in astonishment. “But I thought…”

“So did Scarlett until about ten minutes ago. Come on, let’s get a drink first—I’ll go up to the bar, you find us some seats, Oscar.”

Oscar looked around him, then wandered over to the other side of the pub where he spied a small table in the corner with three empty seats. “Over here,” he said, beckoning me across. When I didn’t move, he returned to my side and gently guided me in the right direction.

We sat down at the table and waited for Ursula.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Oscar asked after a minute or two of us sitting in silence.

I looked at him sitting there in his bright green shirt and purple jeans. No one but Oscar or a Wimbledon umpire could get away with that color combination, I thought in admiration. A man at the next table cast an appreciative glance in Oscar’s direction—so he was obviously doing something right. “I would, Oscar—but I don’t really know what to say.”

Ursula arrived with the drinks. “Usual for you, Oscar,” she said, plonking an energetic-looking cocktail down in front of him. The drink, with its lurid umbrellas and swizzle sticks, even seemed to match Oscar’s outfit.

“And a brandy for you, Scarlett.”

“But I don’t drink brandy,” I protested.

“You do tonight—you’ve had a shock. Go on, get it down you; it’ll do you good.”

I began to sip gently at the brandy, still in a daydream, while Ursula briefed Oscar on what had happened at the cinema.

“It’s unbelievable,” I heard Oscar saying. “What if Sean hadn’t phoned today and asked us to call on Scarlett? She might never have bumped into her!”

“I know, and if he hadn’t suggested we take her to the cinema too—it doesn’t bear thinking about, does it?”

I was fed up sipping at the rich, sweet liquid, so I picked up my glass, threw my head back, and downed the contents in two big gulps.

Oscar and Ursula stopped talking and watched me open-mouthed.

“Blimey, girl,” Oscar said. “Steady on.”

“It’s got to be done,” I said in a raspy voice after the brandy had burned the back of my throat.

“Better?” Ursula asked after a few seconds. “Are you with us again now?”

I nodded.

“So what do you think you’ll say to your mother when you see her?”

“I have no idea,” I replied truthfully. “I don’t know her, and she doesn’t know me. What the hell are we going to talk about?” I hesitated. “Perhaps I just shouldn’t go after all.”

“I’m sure you’ll find some common ground,” Ursula said, gently putting her hand over mine. “Oh, what I’d give to have five more minutes with my own mother again.”

I was so wrapped up in myself, I’d forgotten about Ursula and Sean’s mother.

“Yes, you’re absolutely right. I should be grateful for this opportunity. But the difference is, Ursula, your mother didn’t choose to abandon you. When she passed away, she had no choice in the matter.”

“But she’s still your mother, Scarlett.” It was Oscar’s turn now. “I moan about mine enough, with her constant badgering and interfering in my life. But I wouldn’t be without her for the world.”

I nodded. “Thanks for your advice, guys. Of course, you’re right, I must go. I’ll just have to see what happens when I get there. After all, what do I have to lose?”

Ursula and Oscar quickly finished up their drinks, and we all left the pub together. We walked along the street until we came to a little cafe called Kelly’s. It wasn’t quite a greasy spoon, but it was getting on that way with its bright plastic chairs and easy-wipe tablecloths.

“Will you be OK?” Ursula asked as we hovered by the door. “Or do you want us to come in and wait with you until she gets here?”

“No, I’ll be fine. It’ll give me a bit of time to think about what I’m going to say to her.”

Ursula gave me a big hug. “Good luck, Scarlett. I do hope it goes well.”

Oscar did the same. “If you’re not sure about her, check out her shoes,” he instructed me in all seriousness. “You can tell a lot about a person by the shoes they wear.”

“Sure, Oscar, I’ll remember that. Thanks.”

I opened the door to the café, and a bell rang above my head, announcing my arrival. “I’ll call you later and let you know how it all goes,” I promised.

“Yes, please do, we’ll be crossing everything for you,” Ursula said with an encouraging smile. “Including our eyes!”

I gave them one last nervous smile, then I took a deep breath and walked into the café. I found myself a table in the corner by the window and sat down.

A middle-aged waitress wearing a brown uniform and a white frilly apron tied around her middle duly appeared. “Evening, what can I get you?”

“Erm, just a cup of tea, please, milk no sugar. Actually no, I will have sugar, please.” I still felt I was in shock: maybe a sweet cup of tea would help me more than that brandy had.

“OK…” the waitress said slowly, eyeing me up and down. “Anything else?”

“No, not at the moment, thanks…Oh, if you have
skim
milk that would be good in the tea too, thanks.”

“Skim.” The waitress wrote on her pad. “Sure, I’ll check for you. I won’t be long.” She wandered back to the counter and spoke briefly to a man who I assumed must be the chef because he was wearing a large white apron. Well, it would originally have been white underneath all the food stains.

I sat back and surreptitiously looked around at the other diners in the cafe.

They were an odd mix of people. The youngsters that lolled about at one of the tables were obviously there to partake of their five daily food groups—chips, caffeine, ketchup, salt, and sugar. Most of the other diners were that bit older, but still obviously felt that their day was not complete without some sort of fry-up. And there were a few odd people like me just sitting on their own, sipping a cup of tea. The lone people looked quite desperate and sad, and I hoped I didn’t look like that.

The dingy white walls were covered in old black and white photos. I glanced at the one closest to me and immediately recognized the handsome face of Gary Grant smiling back.

Then I realized that all the photos were of movie stars. Marilyn Monroe and Charlie Chaplin were hanging next to Clark Gable, Rita Hayworth, and who was that? I squinted to see across the room. Ah yes, Ginger Rogers, Fred Astaire, and Gene Kelly. Maybe the café was named in his honor?

I picked up the laminated menu that stood on the checked plastic tablecloth and flicked casually through the pages. Helpfully, there was a photo of every dish that Kelly’s had to offer. This was presumably so you didn’t have to tax yourself by wading through the one-line description of each meal. And intriguingly, all the dishes had Hollywood-inspired names, I assumed to try and inspire you into wanting to eat them.

Was this why my mother knew this place—because of all its movie connections?

I put the menu down as the waitress reappeared at the table with my tea. I was impressed that it was in a pot, and not just in a chipped cup and saucer as I’d half expected it to be.

“Would you like anything else?” the waitress asked hopefully. “I see you were just looking at our menu.”

“No, not just at the moment, thanks—maybe later though,” I added when she looked disappointed. “I’m meeting someone here.”

“Righty-ho,” she said, walking away. “I’ll pop back in a while.”

I turned my head and looked out of the window. I felt like I should have a red rose or something similar poking out of a book, so the person meeting me would know who I was. But Rose already knew what I looked like, didn’t she? Just like a younger version of her, really.

I thought about what had happened only half an hour ago in the cinema. What were the odds of that? I wondered. All that time I had been chasing across London and Paris with Sean looking for her, my mother had been right here all along—in Notting Hill.

Sean! Oh my God, I had to tell him; he’d be so excited for me, and it would be an excuse to talk to him again. I’d ring him now, even if he was in New York. Hmm, what time would it be there?

“Hello, Scarlett.”

I looked up and saw Rose standing at the other side of the table. “May I sit down?” she asked.

“Yes—of course.”

I watched her remove her raincoat, hang it neatly on the back of the chair, then smooth her skirt carefully beneath her before she sat down. She arranged herself so that her knees were together and her lower legs, angled slightly to the side, were crossed at the ankles.

It was very elegant to watch. I noticed she had changed out of her cinema uniform too. She now wore a slim green skirt, white shirt, and matching pale green cardigan. Her hair, that had been pulled tightly up in a bun before, had now been brushed and lay gracefully over her slim shoulders.

The waitress appeared. “Hello, Rose,” she said. “Usual?”

Rose nodded. “Yes, please, Greta. Would you like anything, Scarlett?”

I shook my head. “No, no, I’m fine just now, thanks.”

The truth was I was far from fine. I had the strangest combination of sickness, apprehension, and curiosity all burning a hole inside me, and it was starting to make me feel a bit lightheaded.

“So,” Rose said, when Greta had disappeared. “I guess you’re still in as much shock as I am.”

I nodded.

“When you came running toward me to get your bag I just knew—I don’t know how, but…”

I nodded again. It was stupid, but I didn’t know what to say to her.

“Have you worked there a long time?” I asked, then immediately felt dumb. Of all the things I needed to know, that was definitely not one of them.

“Not too long, no—it’s just temporary really, until I find something better.”

“Oh.”

“So how about you, Scarlett, what do you do?”

“I work with my father,” I blurted out without thinking. “We have our own company.”

Rose stared at me for a few seconds. “That’s good,” she said, her cheeks flushing slightly. “How is your father?”

“He’s well.” God, I was going to have to think before speaking. One minute I don’t know what to say, and the next I’m blabbing about Dad.

“I’m glad to hear it. The company you mentioned, is it anything to do with popcorn, by any chance?”

“Yes it is, why?”

“Your father was always talking about setting up on his own, even when I knew him. I’m glad he finally got to do it. And you work with him?”

“Yes, we’re partners. Dad has the bigger share, but we both have the say-so about what goes on within the company.”

“Good. So you should do.”

Greta arrived at the table again. “Would either of you like something to eat?” she asked after she’d placed a mug of coffee on the table in front of Rose.

“Actually, I am rather hungry,” Rose said. “What about you, Scarlett?”

“Yes, OK.” I picked up the menu again. I fancied something sweet—the brandy, and then the sugary tea, still hadn’t been enough to stop my shakes. “I’ll have the hot apple pie, please.”

“Cream or ice cream?” Greta asked.

“I’d like ice cream, but only if it’s vanilla, please. And can I have it on the side, not on the pie itself? Otherwise, it just melts straight away,” I explained to Rose, who was looking at me with interest. “But if it’s not vanilla ice cream,” I said, turning to Greta again, “I’d rather just have cream, but only if it’s fresh cream, not that squirty sort from the can.”

“O…K…” Greta said, raising one eyebrow. “Apple pie with vanilla ice cream, but if we don’t have vanilla, you want cream, right?”

“Yes, but only if it’s
fresh
cream.”

“And it’s to be on the side, not on top?”

“The ice cream, yes.”

“What about the cream?”

“That’s OK on the pie, but only if it’s fresh.”

“What, the pie?”

“No, the cream.”

“Right…” Greta said slowly, rubbing her forehead. “What if we don’t have either vanilla ice cream or fresh cream?”

“Then I’ll just have a jam donut.”