From Notting Hill to New York . . . Actually (17 page)

‘So I see,’ Max says, a smile twitching on his lips. ‘You must be the Oscar Jamie has been telling me
all about.’

Oscar eyes him dubiously. ‘What’s he been saying, and who might you be?’

‘I’m Max. I work with Jamie as his cameraman.’

‘So you’re the other half of the gruesome twosome.’

‘What did you just say?’ Max asks in surprise.

‘Oh, don’t mind me, sweetie,’ Oscar says with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘I’ve been out in the hot sun too long today. I’m sure you’re lovely really, and any friend of Scarlett’s is a friend of mine!’ He swivels on his heel and looks keenly around him. ‘Now, I’m off to find ice cream! What is it about this place; sixty-nines I can find no problem, but where’s a cool, fluffy Mr Whippy Ninety-nine when you want one? I shall return forthwith!’

Max watches Oscar skip merrily away along the path with a mixture of horror and disbelief.

‘Is he for real?’ he asks me in amazement.

‘Incredibly, yes he is. But his heart is in the right place, even if his morals aren’t always.’ I turn from Oscar’s departing figure back to Max. ‘So what brings you to Battery Park today?’

‘I’m meeting Jamie in a while, more vox pops.’ He pulls a face. ‘I doubt he’ll be here too early though, he was on a
live this morning to the UK and he won’t have had much sleep.’

I look blankly at Max.

‘A live link to the
Morning Sunshine
studios. Because of the time difference, when it’s early morning over there it’s
very
early morning here. Between you and me, I don’t know how he does it sometimes; he keeps some very odd hours.’

‘Ah, right, I see.’

‘He told me about bumping into you at the sailors’ party the other night.’

‘Did he?’

Max nods. ‘And about your trip to Central Park.’

‘That’s right, it was after we’d been to see his friend Harry at the museum,’ I hurriedly insist, as though I need a reason to have been with Jamie.

‘So you’ve met
Harry
, have you?’ Max raises his eyebrows deliberately.

‘Yes …’ I wonder what he’s insinuating.

‘And how is she? Still trying to get her claws into Jamie?’

I shrug. ‘Can’t say I noticed, really, I was too interested in finding out about my brooch.’

Max raises his eyebrows in mock surprise this time. He has quite bushy black eyebrows, and they almost perform on their own without assistance from the rest of his face.

‘You didn’t notice Harry when she was
in full swing? Either she’s toned it down a lot in recent times, or Jamie is losing his touch with the ladies.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Come on, Scarlett, you must have noticed the effect my young companion has on the female members of the population. God, you only have to look at his followers on Twitter to know that.’

‘Jamie is on Twitter?’

‘Yeah, he’s got loads of followers, tons more than me.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Us guys behind the scenes don’t get any recognition, only the pretty boys up front.’ Max pulls out his iPhone. ‘Look.’ He taps in a few digits and there is the familiar face of Jamie grinning back at me from his Twitter profile.

‘Twelve thousand and four followers!’ I exclaim in surprise. ‘How’d he manage that?’

‘Smiling a bit on TV and holding a mic under people’s noses, generally.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘Tell me about it! I bet three-quarters of them are women, too.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, because they’re the ones watching the most breakfast TV, aren’t they? Sorry if that sounds sexist, but it’s true. Generally they’re getting the kids ready for school in the morning before they
go to work, or they’re stay-at-home mums.’

‘I guess.’

‘And the other quarter of those followers are likely to be gay.’

‘You can’t say that!’ I give him a reproving look.

‘Just did. Never been that politically correct, me. And I bet it’s true. Come on, Scarlett, it can’t have escaped your notice that my microphone-wielding friend is quite easy on the eye?’

I can feel myself blushing. ‘Well, no … I suppose he’s quite attractive if you go for that type.’

‘What type?’ I jump as I hear Jamie’s voice behind us. ‘What are you two gossiping about? And, more to the point, we meet again, Scarlett!’ He smiles.

‘Ice cream!’ I improvise, seeing Oscar coming up the path towards us carrying two great ice-cream cones. ‘I was just talking about the type of ice cream I hoped Oscar would bring me.’

Oscar rolls his eyes as he sees not only Max, but now Jamie as well, standing by my side. He thrusts a cone into my hand. ‘I suppose you two will be wanting one of my Mr Whippy specials now?’ He rolls his tongue around the ice cream melting down the side of the cone. Then he winks. ‘I can recommend them, they’re very tasty.’

‘Suddenly I’ve gone off the thought of ice cream,’ Max
says hurriedly. ‘Hadn’t we better get on, Jamie, lots to do and all that?’

‘Nah, what’s the hurry?’ Jamie says casually. ‘I’ve only just got here.’ He looks with disdain at Oscar.

‘What are the two of you filming today, then?’ Oscar asks. ‘The life cycle of a slug, or something equally enthralling?’

‘Almost,’ Jamie says, not taking the bait. ‘We’re interviewing women on why they find men in uniform so attractive. That’s why we’re down here today, so we can catch the women’s reactions to the marines doing their stuff.’

‘Why only the women?’ Oscar asks, looking affronted. ‘What about the men?’

Jamie looks at Max. ‘It would be a different angle, I guess. What do you reckon?’

‘Put this guy in front of the camera and we’re making TV gold right before our eyes,’ Max says, grinning.

After Oscar has complained that he isn’t wearing the right outfit for TV and that his hair is too frizzy from the boat ride earlier, that Max is holding the camera too close and they aren’t filming him from his best side, finally Oscar gets his moment of fame. And boy, does he milk it.

I sit down on a nearby bench and watch him overact for the camera, gesticulating like the conductor at the Last Night of the Proms while
Max tries to keep the camera trained on him and Jamie the microphone in front of his mouth.

That was strange, what Max said about Jamie earlier. About the effect he had on women. I’d noticed it, of course, when we were with Harry the other day, and I couldn’t deny that, with his dark chestnut hair and chocolate-brown eyes, he’s an attractive guy. But I didn’t feel like that about him – did I?

I’d told Oscar I didn’t fancy Jamie, and that was the truth, I was sure of it. Yet I did feel an attraction of sorts towards him, I couldn’t deny it. But it was different, somehow. Different to anything I’d ever felt before. Different even to how I felt about Sean.

‘All done,’ Jamie says, wandering over to join me at the bench. ‘He sure can talk.’

‘Oscar, oh yes. If talking ever becomes an Olympic sport, he’s a gold-medal winner for sure.’

I look over at Oscar. Max is showing him a playback of what they’ve just recorded, and Oscar is looking nonchalant as though he does this all the time, when I know inside he’s squealing with delight that he’s going to be on TV.

‘I was wondering if the two of you would like to come to a party tomorrow evening,’ Jamie says. ‘The American TV station we share our office with is hosting it. It’s their big
annual fundraising bash for charity, and I’ve got a couple of spare tickets. There might be the odd celebrity there too, if you’re into that sort of thing.’

Jamie didn’t know me very well, did he? Really, was I into that sort of thing?

‘Yes, I think we’re free,’ I try to sound casual. ‘Is there a dress code?’

‘Black tie, I’m afraid,’ Jamie says, as though that’s a bad thing. ‘Could you and Oscar manage that at short notice? It’s a bit of a pain, I know.’

I smile. Was he
kidding
? We were in New York, shopping capital of the world. This would be heaven …

‘He only said black tie, darling, he didn’t say anything about the rest of the outfit.’

Oscar is standing in the middle of Saks Fifth Avenue men’s department in a purple velvet lounge suit. To be fair, he has got a black tie on, barely visible against his black shirt, and he does look good in it. It’s very Oscar. But will the executives at TVA think it acceptable attire?

‘I know, and you know that isn’t what black tie actually means.’

Oscar sighs. ‘It’s so unfair, you girlies get to go out and buy something new and sparkly, and us dudes are all expected to wear the same boring thing.’

‘My
apologies for the interruption, but is that the TVA ball you’re going to?’ the young male assistant hovering nearby pipes up.

‘Yes it is, why?’ I reply.

‘Because it may say black tie on the invitation, but you get all kinds going to that. It’s TV, isn’t it? They’re very … how can I put it …
creative
with their outfits. Let me assure you, you won’t look out of place at all if you turn up wearing that.’

Oscar claps his hands in delight. ‘In that case, my good fellow, did I spy the shimmer of gold lamé over there?’

Thankfully Oscar sticks with his original choice of purple, and I manage to find a beautiful dress in a deep-green, gleaming silk after exploring womenswear for a relatively short time. It’s long and sleeveless, with a low-cut cowl neck, and for me it’s very fitted. I’m just glad we haven’t been in New York longer; otherwise some of the delicious yet highly calorific meals we’ve been indulging in would have prevented me from even looking at a dress like this, let alone purchasing it.

Luckily the dress is displayed with coordinating silk court shoes, and I find a small black beaded bag in Women’s Accessories. I know I have some black dangly earrings with me that will match perfectly, so my look is complete.

We’re both pretty exhausted
after our day on the islands, and then trying to find emergency outfits to wear for tomorrow night, so it’s pretty late when we finally head back to our hotel. We grab a quick pizza en route and each go our separate ways as soon as the lift reaches our floor, desperate for a shower and the comfort of our beds.

‘Ahh,’ I sigh about half an hour later as I flop onto my bed wrapped in my leopard-print bathrobe. ‘What a day – New York, you never fail to surprise and amaze, do you?’

My phone rings in my bag.

‘What now!’ I grumble, rolling back up off the bed to get it. I reach into my bag and look at the screen. ‘Dad, hi.’

‘Hi Scarlett, sorry to call so late, but I thought you’d like to know I’m back in NY now.’

I smile to myself at my father calling it NY.

‘That’s great, Dad,’ I yawn.

‘Have you been burning the candle at both ends since you’ve been here, Scarlett? Is that why you’re so tired at nine-thirty on a Wednesday night?’

‘No, not at all. It’s just been really hectic. You’ve no idea what’s been going on.’

‘Really, what? I thought you were coming over for a spot of sightseeing and some shopping? What else could there be?’ He pauses for a moment. ‘Actually, I take that back – it’s you, Scarlett.
Whenever you’re involved in something, there’s always a drama going on.’

I feel myself stifling another yawn. ‘Tell you what, Dad, let’s meet up in the morning and I’ll tell you all about it.’

‘Breakfast? Lunch?’ Dad asks.

‘Better make it brunch. It might take the equivalent of two mealtimes to explain everything.’

I’m on my way over to a
little restaurant Dad has suggested not far from his apartment, that he says serves great breakfasts. I suspect he knows this because he’s sampled one too many of them, but I don’t care. I’m just glad to be seeing him again after so long, even if I do feel pretty apprehensive about the whole brooch thing now. Suddenly, taking something that Dad has had hidden away for so long and trying to investigate its history doesn’t seem like such a good idea. What if there was a reason he’d kept it under wraps all this time? What if Dad knew it was a fake? Or worse, what if it
was
dodgy counterfeit goods, and I could get us both into all sorts of trouble just by having it here in America again?

Stop it, Scarlet
, I reprimand myself.
You’re simply letting your overactive imagination run riot
again. Dad will have a perfectly good explanation, I’m sure, and then that will be that
.

I arrive at the King’s Arms, more what we’d call a pub in the UK than a restaurant, and look around for Dad. Then I spy his dark brown hair poking over the top of the
New York Times
.

He looks up as I come in and smiles.

‘Scarlett!’ he says, standing and wrapping his arms around me in a huge bear hug as I get to his table. ‘How’s my girl?’

‘Dad, it’s good to see you again.’

We both sit down and quickly choose from the menu so that we can begin to talk properly without being interrupted.

‘So,’ Dad says when the waitress has taken our order. ‘How’s everybody back home? How’s Sean?’

‘He’s good, thanks. Yes, very well.’

‘And your mother?’

‘Yes, she’s good too, getting on well at Selfridges now.’

‘Oscar?’ Dad asks in a hopeful tone.

I nod. ‘Oscar is just Oscar, as always.’

‘And you’ve had fun while you’ve been here, the two of you?’

‘Yes, when we’ve been together we have. Oscar was off seeing his sister Jennifer for the first couple of days, so I was pretty much on my own then.’

‘And what have you been getting
up to all on your own in the big city?’ Dad says almost jokingly. But behind his deep brown eyes I sense concern.

‘Ah,’ I fiddle with my paper napkin. ‘That’s what I need to talk to you about.’

First I tell Dad all about the
Antiques Roadshow
and the brooch, and the moment I mention the dragonfly he visibly stiffens. Then I tell him about coming here to New York, bumping into Jamie and Max and visiting Harry, and then finally all about Ellis Island, including what happened to Oscar. By the time I’ve done all that, our breakfasts are just being served.

Dad is having waffles with maple syrup, which he insists he doesn’t eat regularly and is just having as a treat today. And by looking at him I have to believe that. He doesn’t look like he’s gained any weight since he’s been here. I am having a sort of granola with yogurt and bananas. I’m thinking of my green dress for tonight.