From Notting Hill to New York . . . Actually

by Ali McNamara

  ‘Max, I’m warning you!’ I growl.

  ‘Sorry! I’ll be good, gorgeous. Just be careful with my camera.’

  ‘Right, I’ll meet you guys upstairs in a few minutes,’ I say, pulling the trolley back towards me. God, this thing was awkward to control, probably because it was carrying a fair bit more weight than it was used to with just dirty laundry inside.

  ‘OK,’ Jamie says. ‘What room number?’

  ‘Five-one-O.’

  ‘See you in a bit then. Oh, Scarlett,’ he calls to me just as I’m pushing the errant trolley off into the distance. ‘Jennifer Lopez has got nothing on you, you know.’

  ‘What?’ I ask turning back.

  ‘Maid in Manhattan,’ Jamie grins. ‘I thought you’d like the movie reference.’

  ‘Of course, yes, thanks.’ But living my life like a movie didn’t really matter right now, and controlling this damn trolley and getting up to room 510 without anyone seeing me did.

  I manage to – I can only call it wobble – the trolley towards the lift and wait while the lift seems to take an absolute age to descend to the ground floor. When it finally arrives, I’m overjoyed to see that it’s empty, so I push my trolley inside and select the fifth floor.

  I wonder while the lift ascends and I watch the numbers tick by whether I should have tried to find a service lift instead of using the public one? But it seems pretty quiet; it looks like I’ve got away with it. One, two, three, uh-oh, it’s stopping on three. The doors slide open and a young couple get in. They barely glance at me as I stand with my head bent in the corner, having eyes only for each other. Hopefully that’s it, I think, as we begin to move again, but no: the lift stops on the fourth floor as well.

  ‘Going down?’ a refined English voice enquires as an elderly gentleman peers into our lift.

  The young couple, who are now playing tonsil hockey in the corner, are too obsessed with each other to answer. I’m forced to reply. ‘No, going up.’ I hope this will prevent him climbing in, but it doesn’t.

  ‘Well, it has to go down eventually. The more the merrier!’

  He eyes me as the doors close. ‘Which rooms do you clean?’ he asks, lowering his gold spectacles so he can check out my dress more clearly. ‘I haven’t noticed you on my floor. I’ll have to put in a special request with the management.’

  ‘Staff only!’ I insist as I hurriedly push my trolley out of the doors at floor five, yanking on the hem of my dress as I leave.

  I’m pleased to see that Jamie and Max are already waiting for me in my room. I’d given Jamie a key so he could let himself in.

  ‘How’d it go?’ he asks, as he helps me through the door with the trolley. ‘Did anyone try and stop you?’

  ‘No; I just had to put up with being perved at by some grandad, but apart from that it all went smoothly.’

  ‘Great stuff. You’re a star for doing this, Scarlett. We owe you.’

  ‘It’s the least I could do; you did help me with my brooch, after all.’

  Jamie smiles. ‘Ah, that was nothing, and I didn’t have to dress up like a stripper to do it.’

  I wince. ‘Do I really look that bad?’

  ‘I think you look great,’ Max calls from where he’s setting up his camera on a tripod.

  Jamie shakes his head reassuringly. ‘Ignore him. You look fine. We were wondering if you had a robe you could wear for the filming. We thought it might make it look more realistic if you were actually wearing hotel property.’

  ‘Sure.’ I go over to my wardrobe and pull out the leopard-print robe.

  ‘Wow!’ Max exclaims. ‘That’s different.’

  ‘I know, no plain white here. Apparently you can buy them in zebra print at Reception, if you want.’

  ‘Right, if you could slip the robe on over your maid’s outfit,’ Jamie suggests. ‘We won’t be able to see it underneath. Then we can get on with some filming. You don’t mind if I help myself to some towels from your bathroom?’

  ‘No, go ahead,’ I say, slipping on the robe. ‘They’re clean.’

  We spend the next twenty minutes or so with me pretending to steal the towels from my hotel room while Max shoots me from different angles. I have to do lots of takes – and I actually quite enjoy the whole process of being the ‘star’, even if all I am doing is packing the towels into my own suitcase then zipping it up with an evil look in my eye. (I add that extra bit just in case my face gets in shot, even though Max assures me they’re only filming my back view and my hands doing the packing.)

  Just as we’re finishing up there’s a knock at the door, and we all freeze.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Jamie hisses.

  ‘I don’t know. Probably Oscar, coming to see where I am.’

  ‘Make sure it is before you open the door – we can’t have anyone else seeing the equipment or we’ll be in trouble for filming in here without permission.’

  I go over and take a look through the peephole, but I can’t see anyone.

  Odd.

  I ease open the door just a tiny bit in case it’s someone from the hotel staff who’s seen something suspicious and has come to check up on us. But I still can’t see anyone outside. So I open the door even further and poke my head out.

  ‘Surprise!’ calls a voice that makes my heart leap so far up into my chest with shock that I nearly decapitate myself on the half-opened door. ‘I bet you weren’t expecting to see me tonight!’

  ‘Sean …’

  Twenty-three

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I ask him as I stand in the doorway, open-mouthed with shock.

  ‘I missed you, so I thought I’d fly over and surprise you.’ He comes over and kisses my wide-open mouth.

  OK, that doesn’t sound like Sean to begin with.

  ‘B-but you never do things like that. Why?’

  ‘Maybe it’s time I started. Aren’t you going to invite me in?’

  ‘What? Oh, right, yes, of course.’ Then I think about what’s going on in the room. ‘Actually, Sean, I should just explain—’

  But Sean is already carrying his suitcase through and into the room. ‘What the … who are you?’ He stares at Jamie and Max standing in the corner. ‘And why have you got a camera?’ He looks between the three of us, and then back at me in my robe. ‘And why are you dressed like that, Scarlett? What the hell is going on here?’

  ‘Sean, it’s fine, really, calm down. These are my friends Jamie and Max from breakfast TV. I told you about them, remember? I’m helping them out with some filming. And it’s not like I’m naked or anything, I’ve got this on.’ As I say these words and open up the robe, I realise I’ve made a mistake, but it’s too late to tie it up again as Sean’s eyes are open as wide as my mouth was a few moments ago.

  ‘Just what sort of film is it you’re making?’ he demands.

  ‘Scarlett, maybe we’d better go,’ Jamie suggests quietly. ‘I think we’ve got everything we need here now, and you obviously have things you need to sort out.’

  ‘It’s fine, Jamie. You don’t have to,’ I say, glaring at Sean.

  ‘No, really,’ Max joins in. ‘I’ve got all the shots I need. We’ll quickly pack up our stuff and be out of your way.’

  While Max and Jamie hastily gather all their stuff together, Sean and I stand in silence, watching them. I’m pretty sure this isn’t quite what Sean had in mind when he imagined jetting over here to surprise me.

  ‘I’ll let you know when I’ve edited the piece together,’ Jamie says as he leaves. ‘And you can pop over to the studio to have a look if you like.’

  ‘Thanks, Jamie, yes I’d like that; I’ll give you a call. It’s been fun this afternoon, thanks.’

  ‘No prob, it’s us that should be thanking you. Anyway,’ he says when he feels Sean’s eyes boring into him, ‘we’ll leave you to it. Nice to meet you, Sean. I’ve heard a lot about you from Scarlett.’

  ‘Have you?’ Sean says with a steely expression. ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Good luck, kid
do,’ Max winks. ‘Catch you soon.’

  And they’re gone.

  I turn to Sean. ‘What was all that about? Those people are my friends, and you burst in here unannounced and behave like this?’

  ‘Looks like I got here just in time. What have you got yourself into, Scarlett? Two men in your room with a camera, and you dressed like some cheap hooker?’

  I’ve never felt like slapping Sean before, but for one split second I nearly do just that. But luckily my sense of humour takes over and I just laugh.

  ‘That is so far from the truth it’s actually amusing.’

  I quickly do my best to explain to him just why I’m dressed the way I am, and why Jamie and Max were in my hotel room, and Sean begins to relax a little.

  ‘I knew I shouldn’t leave you alone in New York,’ he says, shaking his head in disbelief when I’ve finished my tale. ‘Just what else have you been up to while you’ve been here that you haven’t told me about?’

  I’m glad Sean seems to be returning to his usual relaxed self. It’s really not like him to be angry. ‘Just let me get changed out of this and I’ll tell you all about it while we have a drink and some food downstairs. You must be hungry after your flight.’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ Sean says, looking at me as I’m reaching for the zip on the dress. ‘I’m really hungry, but it’s not for food at this very moment …’ He sidles up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. ‘Don’t take off that maid’s dress just yet …’

  We end up not going downstairs for food, funnily enough, but we do order up room service a bit later, and we are now sitting propped up in bed after demolishing two portions of house burgers and fries – we’d worked up quite an appetite – and drinking the champagne Sean had insisted we order. It’s very romantic, and quite unlike him.

  ‘So why did you decide to fly over all of a sudden?’ I ask. This is still bothering me; Sean didn’t very often do things on a whim. He always thought everything through quite carefully, and with his business, he’d have had to get cover and cancel meetings and all sorts.

  ‘I told you, I wanted to surprise you.’ Sean takes a long sip of his champagne. ‘Can’t I do that once in a while?’

  ‘Yes, of course, you know I love romantic gestures like that. But it just seems odd, that’s all. I only spoke to you yesterday morning, and you didn’t mention it then.’

  ‘If I had it wouldn’t have been a surprise, would it?’

  ‘I guess not. But that still doesn’t explain why. It’s just not like you.’

  ‘Thanks!’ Sean says, putting his champagne glass down on the cabinet next to the bed. He rolls over towards me and strokes my hair away from my face. ‘Can’t you just be glad I’m here?’

  ‘Of course I’m glad. It just seems unusual, that’s all.’

  ‘Then let me distract you from your unusual thoughts,’ Sean whispers as he begins kissing the side of my neck. ‘I don’t know, a guy books a last-minute flight at eight in the morning to visit his girlfriend halfway around the world, and all he gets are questions.’

  ‘Wait a minute, you booked your flight at eight a.m. your time, yesterday?’

  ‘Mmm,’ Sean murmurs, his lips moving down my neck and along my shoulder.

  ‘But you’d have been just about to go to work then. What made you decide overnight to book a flight to New York and cancel all your meetings that day just to come and see me? You could have flown out the next day and given yourself more time.’

  Sean abandons my shoulder and sits up.

  ‘Will you just let this go?’ he demands.

  ‘No, it doesn’t make sense. I know you, Sean, you forget that.’

  ‘And I thought I knew you too, Scarlett.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing, just forget I said anything.’ Sean reaches for his champagne glass and takes a quick sip. ‘If you must know, I was due to fly in in a few days’ time, right at the end of your stay, so we could spend some time together in the city like you wanted us to.’

  ‘So what made you change your mind?’

  ‘Nothing, I just decided to come over earlier, that’s all.’ Sean looks away.

  Hmm, this still doesn’t make sense. I turn everything over in my mind while Sean drinks slowly from his glass, still not looking in my direction. Then suddenly, like fitting that last piece of a jigsaw puzzle into place, a sense of satisfaction, dismay and on this occasion fury all rush together as I realise what’s happened.

  ‘When you booked your flight, you said it was eight a.m. in the UK, right?’ I ask, turning not only my face but my whole body towards him. ‘That would make it about three a.m. here.’

  ‘Yes,’ Sean replies, staring into the bottom of his empty glass. ‘But I don’t see—’

  ‘And tell me, Sean,’ I continue like a detective who’s just figured out who the murderer is in a whodunnit, ‘just before you made your phone call to the airline, had you by any chance been on the phone to anyone else?’

  Sean’s expression tightens.

  ‘I might have been.’

  ‘And would that person have been your ex-girlfriend Jennifer, by any chance?’

  Sean sighs. ‘Yes, she may have phoned me.’

  ‘At three o’clock in the bloody morning?’

  ‘No,’ Sean says calmly, looking at me now. ‘At about two, actually, seven a.m. my time. From some party you were all at together. She had some very interesting things to tell me about what was going on that night.’

  ‘Such as?’ I pull the sheet around me protectively. I didn’t like where this was heading.

  ‘Such as you parading about on the stage with Bradley Cooper, getting extremely drunk and finishing the night with your head buried in your friend Jamie’s lap!’

  I turn away from Sean and look out of the window for a moment into the now darkening Manhattan sky.

  ‘It’s not like it sounds.’

  ‘Isn’t it, Scarlett? Then please explain how it is then. Because right now it doesn’t sound too good at all.’

  I haul myself up and out of the bed, taking the sheet with me. ‘And that’s why you changed your flight, because of what she said?’ I look back at him for a moment before I head into the bathroom. ‘I can’t believe you would listen to her vile gossip. You know what she’s like.’

  ‘I didn’t want to, Scarlett; I even put the phone down on her. But after I sat and thought about what she’d said, it kept playing on my mind. You know you weren’t quite yourself when you left London. So I decided to fly over and see for myself what was going on. And after what greeted me on my arrival here today, maybe I was right to do that.’

  ‘I can’t believe this, Sean,’ I reply sadly. ‘I really can’t believe you still think I’ve got some sort of problem after what Maddie said to you in London, and much worse, I can’t believe you’d think I was up to anything … anything … untoward while I was here.’

  Sean opens his mouth to reply, but I cut in.

  ‘No, Sean, I’m going for a shower before one of us says something we’ll really regret, and so I can cool down and think about all this.’ I lock the bathroom door behind me, turn on the shower and sit on the toilet seat to think.

  Damn. Damn. Damn.

  Damn that cow Jennifer for phoning Sean.

  Damn that I had to get so drunk last night I fell asleep in Jamie’s lap.

  And damn if I still couldn’t remember how I got home last night.

  Jamie and I hadn’t had a chance to discuss it today with Max being there, so I was still none the wiser, but that didn’t give Sean the right to accuse me of getting up to no good.

  I let the sheet drop away from me and climb into the shower. As the hot water runs down over me I try to fathom out what to do next.

  It was so unfair of Sean not to trust me, and to fly over here to see what was going on. I’d not done anything wrong. I was pretty sure I hadn’t, anyway … Yes, I liked Jamie. Yes, I felt a connection with him. But it wasn’t like that. I just k
new I wouldn’t have done anything out of order last night. And I was certain Jamie wouldn’t have taken advantage.

  Damn you, Jen! Why did you have to stick your long pointy nose into my affairs? I wince. Bad choice of word.

  I finish my shower, towel myself dry, then wrap a new towel around me when I realise that my robe is still in the bedroom where I discarded it earlier. When I come out of the bathroom Sean is asleep in the bed. I look at my watch on the dressing table. It’s eight o’clock. I suppose it is quite late, for him; in the UK it would be one a.m. now. I tiptoe about the room finding my clothes, making as little noise as possible, then I pin up my hair, pull on my shoes and quietly slip out.

  I need to get out of here and think for a bit.

  That’s one of the great things about New York; it’s a bit like London in that it doesn’t matter what time of day you set foot on the streets, it’s always buzzing with people. The type of people changes depending on the time of day you’re out and about, but there’s always a crowd to disappear into, or a place that’s open to go to if you want a change of scene.

  I find myself walking across Madison and up Fifth Avenue. The stores are filled with late-night shoppers and tourists, but I don’t really feel like any retail therapy right now. Neither do I feel like venturing somewhere quieter. I’m not stupid; I know the parks at this time of night could be dangerous. So, where to?

  And then I see it beckoning to me like a beacon of calm amid the hustle and bustle of the street and my overwrought mind.

  St Patrick’s Cathedral.

  I find the nearest crossing and wait for the signal. One of my few New York disappointments was not coming across any WALK–DON’T WALK signals at the pedestrian crossings. So far, I’ve only seen little flashing red and green men. These were far too much like our crossings back home, and not at all like the ones you see in the movies or on TV. But when, finally, the green man looking after my crossing lights up, I hurry across the road and pull open the big wooden door at the back of the cathedral.

  I’m surprised to find that there’s an adult choir singing at the front of the cathedral tonight. The women all wear long black dresses and the men black dinner suits, white shirts and bow ties. As I slip into one of the pews at the back to listen, I’m at once completely absorbed by their stunningly beautiful voices. And the sound that fills every inch of the vast auditorium I find myself in once again feels like honey soothing my soul from within.