Page 54 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually (Actually #1)

Charlie Four rolled his eyes and sighed. “Then I shall have to improvise.” He reached for his handcuffs.

Oh no, were they going to cuff me to the gates until backup was called ?

But instead of removing the handcuffs from his belt, he lifted them up and groped about in his pocket. “Nope, I don’t seem to have anything suitable,” he announced. “Constable, empty your pockets, please.”

“Sarge?”

“Your pockets—empty them. I’m looking for something to pick the lock with.”

The constable slowly emptied his pockets. One by one a tissue, a piece of string, a stick of gum, and a condom were placed into the sergeant’s outstretched palm.

The sergeant raised his eyebrows at the condom.

“I was a Boy Scout,” the constable explained. “Be prepared?”

“Indeed, Constable, we’ll discuss that fact later. But none of this is any good for getting the lock undone, now, is it?” He looked at me through the bars again. “I don’t suppose you have a hairpin on you, do you, miss?”

“Er, no,” I said, absentmindedly feeling about in my hair. I had worn it down tonight, so there were no accessories of any kind hidden in there.

“Then I shall have to ask you to remove your hat, Constable,” the sergeant instructed.

“But why, Sarge?”

“Come along now, Constable. I think you know why? Let’s not mess about in front of the lady.”

The constable slowly removed his hat and the sergeant swiftly plucked a hairpin from his head.

“There now, that’s better,” he said, inserting the pin into the lock.

“It was my girlfriend’s idea,” the constable quickly explained to me while the sergeant expertly picked at the lock. “I have an unusually small head for a man, and they didn’t do a hat small enough to fit me properly. The pins help me keep it up above my eyes, see.”

I nodded, thinking how bizarre this was—one policeman picking a lock in front of me while the other explained the benefits of hair accessories.

“There. All done,” Charlie Four announced at last, swinging open the gate. “Now, if you’d like to come this way, miss.”

“Are you taking me down the station?” I asked worriedly.

“You’ve been watching too many episodes of The Bill , miss,” he said, holding out his arm in an “after you” gesture. “We’re just going to walk you safely home, that’s all.”

“But I thought—”

“ Notting Hill , right?” the sergeant asked, giving me the onceover again now I wasn’t “behind bars.”

I nodded. “How did you guess?”

“You look the type. All full of romance and nostalgia. We’ve seen it a hundred times since that film came out. They’re not usually on their own though, like you—are they, Constable? We usually find them in pairs.”

The constable nodded.

“Well, I…” My voice trailed off. It was much too long a story to explain why I was there on my own.

“Never mind, miss. We don’t need to know why. Let’s get you home.”

Charlie Four and Bravo One escorted me back to the house.

They may not have been arresting me, but I felt like a criminal being walked home by two policemen. Thank goodness it would probably only be Dad and David there when I got home; everyone else would be long gone by now.

There was still a light on in the hall as I approached the house. I climbed the steps while the sergeant and his constable watched me from the pavement below. I held my hand up to knock gingerly on the door, but it swung open before I had the chance to.

“Scarlett!” Sean exclaimed. He hurriedly crept out on to the step next to me and pulled the door to behind him.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked, lowering his voice.

“We’ve all been worried sick.” He looked down at the two policemen standing on the pavement.

“Are you all right? Has something happened?”

“I’m assuming you know this lady then, sir?” Charlie Four called to Sean. “And you can confirm she does actually live here?”

“Yes, yes she does, why?”

“That’s all we need to know, sir. We’ll leave her with you now, if we may? But perhaps you can do one thing for us in the future?”

“Yes?” Sean asked, looking mystified.

“Next time she goes out, sir, just make sure she takes a key with her, OK?”

As the two policemen ambled away together down the road, Sean held his finger to his lips and pulled me silently inside the house. Then he gently closed the door behind us. “What’s he talking about, Scarlett?” he whispered. “What’s been going on?”

“It’s a long story, Sean.” I looked around the house. It seemed very quiet. “Has everyone gone home?” I asked, keeping my own voice low. “Why are you still here? ”

“Oscar and Ursula have left, yes. But I didn’t want to go home until I knew you were back safely. Your father is in the lounge. But David and I have been trying to keep him calm.”

“Thanks,” I said gratefully. “You didn’t have to stay.”

“I wanted to.” Sean smiled. “You don’t need to worry about your mother either. Ursula and Oscar found her in a café down the road. And she’s fine.”

“How did they…oh, it must have been Kelly’s they went to. And she’s really OK?” I asked him. “You’re not just saying that? What did they say?”

“She’s fine, Scarlett. A bit shaken up, but once you’ve spoken to her and explained I’m sure all will be well again.”

How did Sean always know how to make everything right?

“You look frozen, Scarlett,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t you go upstairs and put something a little warmer on? I’ll make you a cup of tea and then you can deal with your father. Five more minutes won’t hurt, will it?”

I nodded at him gratefully. “You’re too good to me, Sean, do you know that?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling, “I do.”

I began to climb the stairs and then I turned back. “Wait, you said before you and David had been working together to keep Dad calm? How did that happen?”

Sean shrugged. “I guess we both had something in common for once.”

“What’s that?”

“We both love you, Scarlett,” he said, looking up at me for a moment before he disappeared into the kitchen. I heard my father’s voice from the lounge, and David replying, so I quickly ran up the stairs to my bedroom, dissecting Sean’s last comment as I went.

What did he mean—love? Did he mean love as in “care about”? Or love as in “fall in love”?

I rubbed at my forehead. Now was not the time to be throwing even more complex questions into my pounding brain. I knew there were going to be plenty of those later.