Page 44 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually (Actually #1)

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.”

Greta looked at Rose, who appeared highly amused at my ordering technique.

“I’ll have whatever she’s having,” she grinned.

Greta rolled her eyes and headed back to the kitchen.

“ When Harry Met Sally , right?” Rose asked. “The way you ordered your pie?”

I nodded. “Sally knows exactly what she wants—and she wants to get it just right. So do I when I order food—it’s just the way I am. By the way, I liked your line, the ‘I’ll have whatever she’s having’ one. It comes from the movie too.”

Rose smiled. “Yes, I know. That’s why I said it.”

“Oh, sorry.” I blushed. “I didn’t realize you’d done it on purpose.”

“You like films, then?” Rose asked, her green eyes sparkling with interest.

“Yes, love them.”

“Me too.”

“I know, Dad said.” I closed my eyes. Duh!

Rose looked surprised. “Tom told you about me? I didn’t know if he would.”

“Only recently—he never said anything before.”

“So what happened recently to make him start?” Rose pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business, perhaps you’d rather not say.”

I shrugged. “It’s fine. Don’t worry.” I wondered if I should tell her the real reason I’d come to London.

But I decided against it for now. “Why did you leave?” I asked abruptly.

I had no idea where the question came from—it certainly didn’t run itself past my brain for permission to exit before it blurted out.

Rose sighed deeply. “I knew you would ask me that question one day, Scarlett. And I’ve always known I wouldn’t be able to give you a worthy answer to it when you did.”

I turned my face to the window and watched the passing traffic crawling by. I might have guessed she wouldn’t tell me anything.

“You’ve turned into a fine young woman,” Rose continued. “ Your father has obviously brought you up well on his own.” She thought for a moment. “I’m assuming he was on his own…or did he…remarry?”

I shook my head as I stared out of the window.

“No, he didn’t get married again. Dad did it all on his own—he was the one who looked after me.

” I thought about Dad for a second. I tried not to think about how he’d feel if he knew where I was right now.

Then I turned back to face Rose. “He fed me, played with me, and changed my nappies. He listened to me read and helped me study for my exams. He even made my outfits when I was in the school play, even though he had to handsew everything because he couldn’t get the sewing machine to work.

Dad let me cry on his shoulder when my first boyfriend dumped me, and he even came with me to buy my first bra.

Yep, Dad was there for it all—when you weren’t. ”

I took a deep breath to steady myself. Getting all that out of my system had left my heart pounding so hard I thought it might explode through my chest at any moment and land on the table in front of me.

“I’m sorry, Scarlett,” Rose said, looking startled by my outburst. “If it’s any consolation at all, I never stopped thinking about you.”

“Do you know something? It’s not!”

Rose looked down at the tablecloth while I stared hard out of the window again. This time I didn’t even see the cars as they pulled up at the traffic lights. It had started raining, and the wet glass was a blur of colored lights merging like the inside of a kaleidoscope.

“So?” I demanded, turning back to face her again after a few seconds.

“Where were you when all this was going on?” I was on a roll now—a floodgate had been opened on thoughts, feelings and questions that I’d had bottled up inside me for over twenty years.

And it was going to take a lot to stem the fast-flowing river that contained them.

“Living it up in London? Or was it New York then—or Paris?”

Rose looked confused. “How do you know I’ve lived in those places?”

“I…I don’t. Lucky guess, I suppose.”

“Scarlett, it’s a very, very long story.”

“So, we’ve got all night—unless you’ve got something better to do?” I challenged her, our eyes meeting across the table.

“No, nothing better.”

“Plus, we have a bonus,” I said, glancing behind her.

“We do?” Rose asked, looking confused again.

“Yes, it looks like we now have apple pie to sustain us through your long story,” I said, as Greta placed two large helpings of apple pie covered in fresh cream on the table in front of us. There was a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side of each plate.

“Now, if Greta can get that right, I’m sure you’re going to be able to tell me just exactly why you ran out on us all those years ago, aren’t you, Rose?”