Page 60 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually (Actually #1)
Yes, it was finally my wedding day—the day every girl dreams of.
As I began the long process of trying to transform myself into the perfect-looking, radiant bride I had plenty of time, in between manicures and hairdressing appointments, to ponder what had happened over the last few weeks to lead me to this most important of days.
After the disastrous dinner party that never was, things had been decidedly calm in Lansdowne Road.
Belinda and Harry had decided to return a few days earlier than expected from Dubai, so I’d had to vacate their home sooner than I’d originally planned.
They’d been extremely grateful to me for looking after their house so well, and as Belinda said, “putting up with our neighbors.” And they had brought me several expensive gifts back from their travels, as a thank-you.
The day I left Notting Hill, Oscar and Ursula had been the only two people there to see me off. Sean was still in Dublin on business, so I hadn’t actually seen him to say good-bye to properly .
“Sean will be so upset he’s missed you,” Ursula said, almost in tears as I loaded my final bits and pieces into the waiting black cab.
The taxi was a luxury, but today was stressful enough as it was without having to battle to the train station on the hot and crowded underground system.
“Darling, you must send me photos of you in your wedding dress,” Oscar said, hugging me. He kissed me on each cheek. “You’re going to look absolutely divine—I just know it.”
“I can do better than that,” I said, reaching into my bag and pulling out two envelopes.
“Here—invites to the wedding.” I’d had to fight tooth and nail with Cruella to get these invites for Oscar and Ursula because, apparently, “There isn’t any more room to squeeze in two miniature chihuahuas, let alone two more guests,” I’d been told when I’d asked for two of my friends to be included on the guest list. But fight is what I’d done, and for once I’d come out victorious.
“Ooh we’d love to come, wouldn’t we, Oscar?” Ursula said, eagerly opening her envelope. “What about Sean—have you put one through his letterbox?”
“Er…no. I think he’s had enough of weddings just lately. He probably wouldn’t want to go to another one.”
Oscar glanced at me. “And especially not your wedding,” he said, exchanging a knowing look with Ursula.
“No,” she replied. “Perhaps not.”
I pretended not to have noticed and gave them both one last hug. Then I bent down and gave Delilah a quick stroke before climbing into the back of my taxi and driving away from Lansdowne Road and Notting Hill forever.
** *
And now, as I held on tightly to my father’s arm—who, thankfully, looked nothing like Harrison Ford today in his steel-gray morning suit and burgundy cravat—and we walked together down the seemingly never-ending aisle of the vast church my wedding was being held in, I saw Oscar and Ursula again for the first time since that day.
You couldn’t really miss them, because Oscar was wearing a startling lime-green shirt teamed with an electric-blue suit. And Ursula, a red and white polka dot 1950s dress with a huge, red, wide-brimmed floppy hat.
They waved at me as I passed by, and Ursula mouthed “good luck.”
Unlike last night when I’d “walked down the aisle,” today I was actually wearing the same dress I’d picked out in the wedding shop with the two of them that day.
The white silk embroidered bodice, although fitted, wasn’t so tight that I couldn’t breathe, and the yards upon yards of white tulle that made up my skirts floated airily around my legs, allowing me to move freely.
I wouldn’t have wanted to run a marathon in this dress, or these four-inch stiletto heels for that matter.
Or even the diamante headdress that was balancing precariously on top of my curled and tonged hair.
But for moving around at the sedate speed I was going to be required to move at today, they’d do just fine.
When we finally arrived in front of the minister and the service began, I watched carefully while my father “gave my hand away” to David.
He then went and sat down next to my mother, and for a split second a look passed between them that proved to me they had once genuinely cared about each other very much, and I was pleased that my wedding had formed, even for just that brief moment, a small link between them again as they shared their pride.
The vicar, who I was relieved to see looked nothing like Rowan Atkinson, continued with the service in a clear and confident manner, and everything seemed to be going just fine.
I can’t say I felt blissfully euphoric that this was my wedding day and I was finally standing here opposite David about to take my vows. After all the dramas of a few weeks ago, I just felt glad to get it over with at last and to be able to get on with living a normal life once more.
Yes, this feeling of stillness inside me must be how normal people felt.
It wasn’t an emptiness at all like I’d worried it was before I came to London.
No, today this was simply a feeling of calm.
There was no need for the exhilaration and excitement I’d felt in my month living in London… no need at all.
“Therefore, if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together,” I heard the vicar saying, “let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace.”
As there always is at weddings, there was a deathly silence in the church as the congregation waited (hopefully?) to see if anyone did have any objections to our marriage.
When it appeared that no one was going to burst through the doors, declare their undying love for me, and whisk me off on a galloping white charger, the vicar opened his mouth to continue .
“Wait,” a voice said, breaking the silence. Embarrassingly, I quickly realized it was mine. I was sure I could hear something outside, and if he started prattling on again I wouldn’t be able to hear it properly. “Wait, please. Just a moment—listen.”
Everyone fell silent for a second time. And there it was again, I hadn’t imagined it—the definite sound of someone singing in the church grounds. And it was a song and a singer I recognized immediately.
I knew then that I had to go and find out.
I knew that I couldn’t just carry on with the ceremony without checking first.
What if it wasn’t just a coincidence? What if that song meant what I thought it meant?
I turned and looked at David.
My head was saying, “This is your wedding day, Scarlett…”
But my heart was saying…
“David, I’ll be right back.”
“Scarlett, you can’t just run off in the middle of our wedding ceremony!”
But I was already halfway down the aisle.
“Get out of my way,” I instructed Cruella, as she tried to bar my exit through the doors.
“Miss O’Brien, I really don’t think you should go out there. I’ve managed to stop them from coming in. But it’s nothing, really. Please just continue with the service.”
“Get out of my way now—or I will move you myself!”
She hastily stepped aside.
“And if you want to retain your reputation as London’s top wedding planner, then I suggest you try and stop them from coming outside for a few minutes,” I said, as I saw David, Maddie, and my parents all hurrying down the aisle behind me.
I ran the last few steps down the aisle and tugged open the heavy wooden doors at the end, and as I did so the music immediately got louder, because sitting alone on the steps of the church was a CD player.
And it was playing a song that was instantly familiar: “When You Say Nothing At All” by Ronan Keating.
It was the theme tune to Notting Hill , the song that had been playing while Hugh and Julia sat on the bench in the movie.
The song Sean and I had discussed while we sat in the park together the first night we met…
While the song was playing I became aware of two pairs of eyes watching me. The eyes were trying to disguise themselves behind two pairs of dark glasses, and they in turn appeared to belong to two bodies that thought they were hiding themselves behind two gravestones.
“Do you know something about this, by any chance?” I called, pointing to the CD player as I carried it to the bottom of the church steps.
The two pairs of eyes turned to each other, then one of the heads nodded, and slowly two bodies emerged from behind the graves. Then walking across the churchyard toward me came two men who wore black suits and black hats to match their dark glasses.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” the shorter of the two men said, removing his hat from his head in greeting. “My name is Dermot, and this is my brother Finlay.”
Finlay gave a small bow of his head .
“And can I assume that you are the lady in question?”
I stared blankly at them.
“Scarlett?” he prompted.
“Yes, that’s me—but who are you, and what’s going on?”
“All in good time, miss,” Dermot said. “First we must apologize to you that we’ve turned up here today in this manner.
” He smiled ruefully and straightened his tie.
“And please also send my apologies to the lady inside who tried to bar our entrance for the slight, shall we say, altercation that took place a few minutes ago.”
“Who? You mean Cruella? Tall woman, silver hair in a bun?”
Dermot nodded. “That’s her.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it—I’m sure she can handle herself.”
“She certainly can. Finlay was unconscious for over a minute.”
I looked at Finlay, who nodded his agreement.
“Oh, er…I’m really sorry about that, Finlay.”
Just then the church doors burst open and, unable to be contained any longer, David, Maddie, and my parents burst forth from the church and poured down the steps behind me.
“What on earth is going on, Scarlett?” David demanded, looking with disdain at Dermot and Finlay.
“ That , David, is just what I’m trying to find out,” I said impatiently. “Dermot, please continue. I’m sure everyone will be quiet and listen— won’t you? ”
Everyone nodded silently. I don’t think I looked like I was in a mood to be messed with.