Page 52 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually (Actually #1)
I looked around Belinda and Harry’s lounge at my guests all enjoying themselves and I felt a sense of great achievement.
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 fun. 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 evening 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.