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Authors: Ali McNamara

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From Notting Hill to New York . . . Actually (7 page)

BOOK: From Notting Hill to New York . . . Actually
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‘I can,’ Sean says, standing up and easing his jacket over his shoulders. ‘The night of your birthday. You wore your blue dress – remember?’

‘You’re right!’ I think for a minute. ‘I wonder if I put it away with the shoes I was wearing that night?’

I look around in the wardrobe again and, as if by magic, there it is, lying in a box with my blue satin shoes. I’d obviously been a bit
too
organised that evening.

‘Just ask Sean,’ he says, checking himself in the mirror. He doesn’t need to; he always looks so handsome when he’s wearing a suit.

I open the bag and quickly begin transferring the contents of yesterday’s handbag into this one. But as I put my hand inside, it catches against something cold and hard. I take a look inside and discover the dragonfly brooch. I must have forgotten I’d put it in there before we went out for the meal that night, and it must have got caught inside when I emptied it upside down on the bed at the end of the night to transfer my things back to my usual
day bag. Yes; as I try and retrieve the brooch now, one of its delicate wings is indeed caught on the silk lining.

‘What’s up?’ Sean asks, coming over to see what I’m doing.

‘It’s Dad’s brooch. I’d forgotten I’d put it in here on my birthday.’ I manage to loosen the wing and free the insect again.

I stare at the piece of jewellery now sitting in the palm of my hand, its beady eyes looking right back up at me.

‘You never did find out why your father had that,’ Sean says, lifting the brooch from my palm and holding it up in the light from the window. ‘I thought you were going to ask him about it.’

‘I was, but to be honest I’ve been so busy at work over the last month or so it’s just slipped my mind, and what with the time difference and everything, we haven’t spoken to each other that often lately.’

Sean looks at me. ‘Miss him, don’t you?’

I nod. ‘A lot.’

‘Then why don’t you go and see him and ask him about it yourself?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Why not take a trip to New York and visit your father, and take this,’ he holds up the dragonfly, ‘and solve the big O’Brien brooch mystery?’

My spirits lift for a
moment. ‘Sounds like a great plan, but I can’t just leave the business, can I?’

‘Tammy and Leon would cope; you said only the other day how well they were getting on and how much you trusted them.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘And it’s not as if you can’t be in constant touch with them if you want to. Mobile phones and the internet do work over in New York, you know. And now you’ve got your new MacBook, you can even Skype them daily if you want and have important conference calls about the state of the popcorn industry.’

I pull a face at Sean. ‘Don’t tease me. New York does sound fantastic; I’ve always wanted to go there. But would you be able to get away from work that easily?’

Sean’s keen expression suddenly changes. ‘I can’t go with you, Scarlett. Not at the moment, anyway. We’ve got so much going on at the office, and so many things coming up in the next few weeks, it would be impossible.’

‘But I can’t go on my own. Not to New York!’

‘Why not, you’re a grown woman, aren’t you?’

‘I don’t want to go on my own, I want to go with you. Come on, Sean, we haven’t been anywhere in ages. It would be lovely to have a little trip away somewhere together, and New York would be so romantic.’

‘Not really,’ Sean says flatly. ‘I’ve been there loads of times. It’s not romantic at all.’

‘Yes, but that’s because it was
business you were there for, and you’re hardly likely to see the city’s romantic side when you’re working there, are you? Well, I hope you didn’t, anyway!’ I say lightly, hoping to sway him, but really I know I’m wasting my time. Once Sean has decided on something, it’s rare he’ll change his mind.

‘I’m sorry, Scarlett,’ Sean says, taking me in his arms. ‘I just can’t right now. But you go. Go and visit your father, it will do you good. You’ve been …’ he hesitates ‘… unsettled just lately, and I think it will do you good to get away for a while and have a break from things.’

‘A break from us, do you mean?’ I look up at him in horror.

‘No, not a break from us, you daft thing,’ Sean kisses the end of my nose. ‘Just a break from here.’

‘OK,’ I reply hesitantly, but I’m still not sure. ‘If that’s what you think is best.’

‘It’s just that Maddie mentioned—’

I pull away from him. ‘Maddie mentioned what? What has she been saying?’

‘Hey, Red, calm down.’ Sean tries to put his arms around me again. ‘Maddie hasn’t been saying anything, really. Just for me to look out for some
key signs
, she described them as. I thought she was talking nonsense at first. But when I sat
down and thought about it, they were all already there.’

‘What sort of
key signs
?’ I ask, wriggling away from him. I couldn’t believe this, people wanting to organise my life again. Hadn’t they tried to do that last year before I came to Notting Hill? Everyone seemed to think they knew what was best for me then, and now it was happening all over again. Even Sean was getting involved this time.

‘Just things like you getting bored with life and starting to become obsessed with, I mean
fascinated
with, new things.’

‘And just what sort of things would these be?’ I ask, my hands on my hips.

Sean looks uncomfortable. ‘Well, as I’ve said recently, you do spend quite a lot of time on the internet, Scarlett.’

Oh my God, I can’t quite believe this. Here we are
again
. ‘And? What’s so wrong with that? What am I supposed to do when you’re away all the time on
business
.’ I emphasise the word business by doing that little air-quotes thing with my fingers.

‘You know I can’t help that. But you still do it when I’m home. You’re always on your iPhone, on Twitter or Facebook or some other social networking site.’

‘So why did you buy me a MacBook then, if you don’t like me using the internet so much?’ I demand. ‘It hardly makes sense, does it?’

‘I bought you what I
thought you’d like,’ Sean says patiently. ‘If I’d just gone out and bought jewellery or perfume or something, you’d have thought it dull and boring.’

‘And a computer is supposed to be exciting?’ I reply, sounding horribly ungrateful. This discussion is rapidly descending into nothing more than childish bickering. ‘Do you know what?’ I say, parading back and forth across the soft carpet of the bedroom a few times. ‘If you are daft enough to listen to Maddie, and then stupid enough to decide that I’m presenting symptoms of some disease that’s only going to be cured by a holiday abroad, then really I’d be stupid to argue with you, Dr Sean, wouldn’t I?’

‘Scarlett,’ Sean says, trying to approach me again, ‘please don’t be like this.’

‘I’m not being like anything. If this is what you think is best then who am I to stand in the way of your genius idea?’ I hold out my arms in dramatic Hollywood fashion with a fake smile plastered across my lips. ‘Start spreading the news, Sean, because guess what? Scarlett is about to hit New York City!’

Seven

As the plane gathers speed
along the tarmac I sit and stare out of the tiny window next to me, wondering what kind of miracle takes place to allow this great weighty object to claw its way off the ground and soar high into the air like a grand bird of prey, carrying its cargo up into the clouds and on to another world.

I’m finally on my way to New York City.

After Sean had suggested the trip, it hadn’t taken me long to book it at all. What had taken time was organising everything else. Making sure that Tammy and Leon were actually capable of looking after the business while I was away for a whole week had been my biggest worry, but Sean had said he would pop in and check on them from time to time. I doubted how often this would actually occur,
knowing Sean’s hectic work schedule. But what could I do? It was either that or not go at all, and now I’d decided I wanted to visit New York – boy, was I looking forward to it!

In the few weeks that had passed since booking the flights, I’d bought new clothes suitable for a week’s sightseeing, read as many guidebooks as I could and even re-watched as many of my favourite New York-based movies as I’d had time to, to get me in the mood for the trip. I’d even broken one of my rules of never watching a Christmas movie before December so I could sit through films like
Elf, Home Alone 2
and
Serendipity
, and now I couldn’t wait to set foot in the Big Apple.

The passenger in the seat next to me wriggles for about the tenth time that minute and in frustration I turn towards him.

‘Are you going to be like this for the next seven hours?’ I ask an agitated-looking Oscar, who’s leaning around the side of his seat peering down the aisle of the plane.

‘If we have that hot air steward looking after us for the whole flight I might become more than a little agitated, darling. Did you see him when he leaned across asking us to fasten our seat belts earlier? OMG! He’s to die for.’

‘I wondered why you were pretending to have
a problem with yours. He’s OK, I guess, but I’d rather not die on this flight, thanks; I do actually want to see New York.’

Yes: my travelling companion today, and for the next week, is Oscar, who, when he’d found out that I was going to New York, had thrown his arms in the air with such vigour, and spun around on the floor with such finesse, that he could have been auditioning for a Broadway show.

‘You’re going to New York!’ he’d exclaimed. ‘On your own? How can that be?’

When I’d explained about Sean and his work, and that I was really going to visit Dad, his eyes had lit up. ‘Let’s go together, darling! And I can visit Jen while I’m there!’

As fast as Oscar’s arms had raised, my heart had sunk. Jen was not only Oscar’s sister, but Sean’s ex-girlfriend. We hadn’t ever really met properly, but I’d heard her in action in a hotel room in Paris – very long story! – and she was not the sort of person I wanted to spend any time with at all.

‘Yes, why not?’ I’d said brightly through gritted teeth. ‘It would be fantastic for you to see her again.’

And that’s how it had started.

So before I knew it I had a companion who was travelling with just as much, if not more, luggage than me. (He certainly had a
bigger case of toiletries.) And as I set out on my big adventure across the Atlantic, I was very glad to have him right there beside me.

Our flight is smooth and goes past in a flash, thanks to almost a hundred movies to choose from on the in-flight entertainment system. You can start them when you want, then stop, pause and even rewind. I’m in heaven. I don’t even get a chance to listen to the playlist I’ve made on my iPod of New York-themed songs; although to be fair, I have been playing it quite a lot before leaving home. I’d been driving Sean mad with songs like Frank Sinatra’s ‘New York, New York’; Alicia Keys and Jay-Z’s ‘Empire State of Mind’ and my favourite ‘Arthur’s Theme’ from the Dudley Moore movie of the same name. It’s such a romantic tune: ‘If you get caught between the moon and New York City … the best that you can do is fall in love’.

Although Sean did raise a questioning eyebrow at me when I was singing along a bit too enthusiastically to that one …

Our parting this morning had been quite strange. It was the first time since getting together that we were going to be away from each other for so long. Sean was always the one on business trips, but only for a few days at a time, so it seemed odd for me to be the one leaving today. When I was about to climb into the taxi to head off to the
airport, I was pretty sure Sean was regretting ever suggesting the idea in the first place.

‘I’ll miss you,’ he’d said, gazing down at me, gently stroking a stray piece of hair away from my eyes.

‘I’ll miss you too,’ I’d said, looking up at him. ‘It’s not too late to change your mind, you know. You could pack and catch a flight out tomorrow.’

But Sean had shaken his head. ‘No, you go. You’ll have a fine time with Oscar, and you know it.’

‘I’ll say hi to Jen for you if I see her,’ I’d said half jokingly.

‘Don’t bother,’ Sean had screwed up his nose. ‘I don’t wish to be remembered to her.’

Then Oscar had called out of the taxi window that we’d miss our flight if we didn’t hurry up, so Sean and I had kissed goodbye quickly and then we were off. The last I saw of him was as I waved out of the back of the taxi window to his disappearing figure.

Oscar spends most of the flight trying to catch the eye of the good-looking air steward, but after getting nowhere he finally gives up and falls asleep under the pages of
Heat
magazine, while I watch my movies in between thinking about New York and Sean. When we finally arrive at JFK Airport (even saying that is exciting), we slowly trudge along the long, winding lines with the other hundreds of travellers
trying to enter the country via the immigration desks. After we’ve had our faces scanned and our fingerprints taken, it’s with relief that our passports are finally stamped and we’re allowed through to go and collect our suitcases from the baggage carousel. Where again there’s more relief when we find them safely riding round and round like weary children on a never-ending merry-go-round. We spy Oscar’s cases quickly; we can’t exactly miss their bright pink leopard print. But luckily my slightly less bold pale blue ones arrive shortly afterwards, and we’re on our way.

The heat hits me the moment I step outside the airport into the late-afternoon air. Whoa, it wasn’t like this when we’d left London, a bit damp and miserable and about fifteen degrees – here, it must be well into the high twenties.

We find the taxi rank, join the queue and shuffle forward slowly as we wait to be ushered by an attendant into one of the ever-constant stream of bright yellow taxis arriving at the airport. When it’s our turn, the taxi driver enquires as to our destination, then hoists our bags effortlessly into the boot of his cab while we load ourselves inside.

‘First time in New York?’ he asks as we set off on our journey.

‘Yes, it is, for me,’ I reply as I turn my head back
around from where it’s been craning out of the window to take in every new sight and sound of the city we’ve just landed in.

BOOK: From Notting Hill to New York . . . Actually
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