From Notting Hill to New York . . . Actually

by Ali McNamara

  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.’

  Seventeen

  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.

  ‘So,’ I ask as Dad pours the syrup ov
er his waffles. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’

  My father puts the jug of syrup carefully on the table and looks up at me. ‘What do you want me to say?’

  ‘You could start by telling me why you’ve kept a fake Tiffany brooch hidden away in the house all these years.’

  Dad sits back in his chair and clasps his hands together in front of him on the table. He twiddles his thumbs around for a moment as if he’s considering something.

  ‘It was given to me many years ago by … by a friend.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And that’s it.’

  ‘Why? It seems an odd thing for a friend to give a man, a brooch, don’t you think?’

  My father’s eyes narrow as he gazes across at me, then he shakes his head. ‘It’s no good, is it? You won’t rest until I tell you the full story, so I may as well give in now while my waffles are still hot enough to remain edible.’

  I shrug my shoulders. ‘You know me, Dad.’

  ‘Don’t I just? If you can follow a trail halfway around the country and to Paris and back to try and find your mother, this isn’t going to faze you one bit.’

  ‘So what is the story then?’

  Dad sighs. ‘The dragonfly was given to me by a friend of mine who I met not long after we moved to Stratford-upon-Avon. She was having money problems at the time, so I lent her some cash and in return she gave me the brooch as a sort of security on the loan. But then she disappeared, and when I went to have the brooch valued I found out it was a fake.’

  I think about this for a moment while I spoon some of my yogurt into my mouth. Dad does the same and begins cutting into his waffles.

  ‘But why would you keep it all this time if you thought it was fake? We moved to Stratford over twenty years ago.’

  Dad finishes his mouthful of waffle before replying. ‘Sentimental reasons.’

  ‘What do you mean, sentimental reasons?’

  ‘Do I have to spell it out for you, Scarlett?’

  I stare at my father over the breakfast table. ‘You mean, you and this woman were … but you and Mum hadn’t split up long then, had you?’

  Dad looks down at the table. ‘Actually your mother had been gone eighteen months when we moved to Stratford. She left me, remember. I was lonely and I met this woman, she was just there for the summer, she was with a touring company doing A Midsummer Night’s Dream …’ His voice trails off as he thinks back.

  ‘What happened?’ I prompt gently.

  Dad stares at me in surprise as though for a moment he’s forgotten I’m even there. ‘We got to know each other pretty well that summer. Of course, I always knew she was going to move on with the company eventually, that was her job. But when she left she went very suddenly.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. I never heard from her again; it was all very unexpected.’

  ‘But she left you the brooch?’

  ‘Yes, I lent her the money and she left me the brooch, but I never, ever saw her again.’ Dad picks up his cutlery again and begins to eat. But by the look on his face he’s no longer enjoying his waffles.

  ‘Did you try and trace her?’ I ask. ‘Through the touring company she was with?’

  ‘Of course I did. But they said she’d left them in the lurch too, and they had no idea where she was.’

  We both go quiet for a bit while we eat our breakfast and ponder our own thoughts.

  ‘I have to ask this, Dad,’ I say after a bit, ‘but do you think she was just after your money?’

  Again, Dad purposefully finishes his mouthful of food before answering. He shakes his head. ‘No, she wasn’t like that. She wouldn’t.’

  ‘But why would she just up and leave like that without saying goodbye?’

  ‘I don’t know, Scarlett and I really don’t want to talk about it any more. It’s past history.’

  ‘I bet this dragonfly is something to do with this woman’s history,’ I say, my mind still racing. ‘Maybe it was an heirloom in her family. Maybe it was passed down through generations from mother to daughter—’

  ‘Scarlett …’ my father warns. ‘What did I just say?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Do you have the brooch with you now?’ he asks.

  ‘Of course,’ I reach into my bag. ‘I carry it with me all the time at the moment.’ I pass the dragonfly carefully to my father, and watch him while he places it gently in the palm of his hand. He simply looks at it as if he’s absorbing a multitude of memories from its many colours. Then he quickly passes it back to me.

  ‘Like I said – past history. You keep the brooch if you like, Scarlett. Someone might as well have some enjoyment out of it.’

  ‘The expert Jamie took me to see said it might be worth several thousand dollars now.’

  ‘Even better, then. Put the money to good use if you want to sell it.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Dad. I’m not going to sell this brooch if it’s got sentimental value for you.’

  ‘Old memories fade fast, Scarlett. It was a very long time ago now. Do what you want with the brooch.’ He waves it away with his fork. ‘Now, tell me about these Jamie and Max fellows you’ve been mentioning. Is Sean OK with you spending time with other men while you’re here?’

  ‘Oh, Dad, not you as well!’

  Eighteen

  ‘Wow,’ I gasp as we enter the huge hotel ballroom the TVA party is being held in that night. ‘It’s amazing.’

  The room has been decorated entirely in gold and white. White lilies are draped elegantly along the centre of all the tables in long glass vases, and even bigger arrangements of lilies, roses and orchids fill every corner of the room. There are huge swags of gold fabric swooping from one side of the room to the other, and everywhere I look handsome waiters wearing white shirts, gold waistcoats and tight black trousers bustle about with trays of champagne and canapés.

  ‘I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,’ Oscar coos, eyeing the waiters. ‘Either that, or I’m having a wonderfully inventive dream.’

  ‘Champagne, sir, madam?’ one of the waiters asks, hovering next to us with a tray.

  ‘Ooh, yes please,’ Oscar says, grabbing two glasses while managing to give the waiter the eye at the same time. ‘There you go, darling, get that down you. Enjoy your first taste of New York high life.’

  It’s extremely good champagne, and we polish our first glass off pretty quickly while we surreptitiously peruse the New York glitterati milling around us. Then we swiftly move on to our second when another waiter passes by with a tray full of topped-up glasses.

  ‘There you are,’ a familiar voice says, arriving next to us. ‘I was wondering where the two of you had got to.’

  ‘Jamie, hi.’

  Jamie looks pretty smart in his black tux tonight. Actually, he looks more than that, he looks really gorgeous, and I can’t help but notice all the admiring glances he receives from female guests as they pass by, and the occasional male one too. Max hadn’t been too far off the mark.

  ‘You look wonderful, Scarlett,’ he says, looking me up and down appraisingly. ‘Green really suits you. And the brooch looks great with that dress.’

  I’d decided to wear the dragonfly at the last minute. My black earrings just hadn’t been enough to complement the simple cut of the dress, and it had looked a bit plain. It was Oscar’s idea to add the brooch. And as usual where clothes are concerned, he was spot on.

  ‘Thanks. I wasn’t too sure about wearing it, but it’s good for it to be out on show again after all this time. Hey, guess what, I actually got to see my dad today at last.’

  ‘Cool, what did he say?’

  I tell Jamie all about what Dad had said earlier. Oscar becomes bored during my tale and wanders off to find a waiter to harass, or something equally Oscar-like, to amuse himself.

  ‘Hmm,’ is Jamie’s non-committal response when I’ve finished my story.

  ‘What do you mean, hmm?’

  ‘Sounds like there’s more to it.’


  ‘How can there be more to it? The brooch belonged to a woman Dad met who had money troubles, and she ran off and left him with the debt. Sounds like she saw him coming, if you ask me.’

  ‘Possibly,’ Jamie screws up his nose. ‘But my journalistic senses are twitching.’

  I can’t help but laugh. ‘You’re a breakfast-TV reporter, Jamie. You’re hardly Donal MacIntyre undercover.’

  Jamie gives me a disapproving look. ‘Ha, ha, funny, and it’s correspondent, actually. You wait. I bet there’s something more to all this than he’s letting on.’

  ‘More to what?’ I feel a hand on my shoulder as Max drapes his arms around Jamie and me and energetically jumps in between the two of us. ‘Isn’t this great? Free drink and free food all night? And check out some of the birds … I mean women here. Man, they’re fit.’

  I smile at Max. He looks slightly more dishevelled in his tux than Jamie does, and his bow tie is already hanging loose around his neck.

  ‘And just how many glasses of free champagne have you had already, Max?’ Jamie asks, removing Max’s arm from his shoulder.

  ‘Dunno, lost count after the sixth. But I tell you something, it must be strong stuff: when I was coming out of the gents’ just now I thought I saw Bradley Cooper walking towards me. Now what the hell would he be doing here tonight?’

  I look down at my glass; it must be good stuff. I wouldn’t mind having lovely visions like that. I’d better get some more down me.

  ‘It probably was Bradley Cooper,’ Jamie says casually. ‘The owner of the station has some pretty big celebrity friends. He usually tries to get an odd one or two of them to come along to help boost funds for the charities, so I’ve heard.’

  Max and I turn to each other in amazement, and then back to Jamie.

  ‘How can you sound so casual about it?’ I ask. ‘Are you actually saying that the Bradley Cooper might be at this party?’

  Jamie shrugs. ‘Yeah, and?’