From Notting Hill to New York . . . Actually

by Ali McNamara

  In our little part of the vast area of greenery that is Central Park, there’s silence while everyone digests this piece of information they’ve just been given.

  Oscar, surprisingly, is the first person to speak.

  ‘Oh lordy, it’s just like Star Wars,’ he sings, clapping his hands together.

  We all turn towards him.

  ‘What?’ Sean snaps. ‘What are you talking about now, you rainbow-coloured lunatic?’

  Oscar tosses his head back, ignoring Sean. ‘This whole scenario,’ he says, strutting forward with a wave of his hand. ‘What you just said, Tom. It was just like when Darth Vader tells Luke Skywalker that he’s his father. And of course, Scarlett, you would be Princess Leia, the sister Luke never knew he had.’ He looks around at his audience, who are stunned into silence not only by my revelation but by Oscar’s follow-up.

  ‘Hmm, and who else do we have in this tale … Oh yes, there’s Peter, you would be Obi-Wan, the all-knowing wise Jedi, and Max, as Jamie’s friend, you could be—’

  ‘Han Solo,’ Max says. ‘Don’t you stick me with one of the robots. I want a good part in all this. If anyone’s going to be C-3PO, let it be you, you’re the one with so much to say for himself all the time.’

  ‘Hmmph,’ Oscar tosses his head again. ‘Now, Seany, who can we find for you to be? Something boring like a Storm Trooper.’

  ‘I think you’ve probably said enough for now, Oscar,’ Sean says sternly, nodding in our direction. ‘Maybe it’s time someone else spoke.’

  ‘Of course, of course, my apologies one and all.’ Oscar scuttles back out of the spotlight. ‘I got a little carried away with myself, there.’

  Dad and Jamie turn away from Oscar’s performance to look at each other again. Each man regards the other for a few moments, neither of them speaking.

  ‘Well, Darth,’ Jamie says, breaking the silence. ‘How does it feel to have a son you never knew you had?’

  Oh God, Dad hates jokes, especially ones made at solemn moments like this. That won’t go down well.

  My father stares at Jamie for what in reality is only a few seconds, but which feels like hours to me, until finally he breaks the silence. ‘I can tell you this for nothing – it feels like the Force is very definitely with me today, Luke.’

  You can almost feel the sighs of relief as they rebound from one to the other of us like a line of dominoes toppling to the ground, except we’re not falling down, we’re virtually leaping with joy that Dad and Jamie both seem to have taken this momentous news so well.

  As my father and Jamie immediately fire question after question at Eleanor, and she patiently tries to answer each one as best and as honestly as she can, I stand back and watch them, realising that it’s now my legs that feel a tad wobbly after all that.

  ‘You OK, Red?’ Sean asks. ‘Looks like you got away with it this time.’

  I love hearing Sean use my nickname again. It makes me feel things are almost back to normal.

  ‘I can’t quite believe it myself, Sean. I actually got something right at long last.’ I turn to him in excitement. ‘I did. I got it right this time!’

  Sean smiles down at me. ‘You always get it right, Red. Sometimes the path you travel is a little bumpy, that’s all.’ He kisses me on the forehead. ‘Shall I break into that champagne now?’

  ‘Yes, let’s! See, I told you we’d be needing it.’

  Sean hands round eight glasses, then pops open the champagne cork and goes from person to person, filling each glass. Then he taps on the side of his own glass with a fork.

  ‘I think this calls for a toast,’ he says. ‘Can I ask you all to raise your glasses to the person that’s brought us all together today, and who has managed to reunite a father and son and prove me wrong about her ability to do just that. To Scarlett, everyone.’

  ‘To Scarlett,’ everyone echoes as I blush profusely.

  ‘Thank you, but it wasn’t just me. If Eleanor hadn’t seen the brooch on Jamie’s report, she would never have known about any of this.’

  ‘So we have that old brooch to thank,’ Dad says. ‘What did you do with it in the end, Scarlett? Do you still have it?’

  ‘Scarlett auctioned it, she tells me,’ Eleanor says. ‘Which is such a shame.’

  ‘For charity, though,’ I insist. ‘A children’s charity, too. It raised quite a bit, didn’t it, Peter?’

  Peter nods. ‘Yes, Scarlett was very generous with her time and possessions that night. Sunnyside will benefit for a long time to come as result of that donation.’

  ‘Not as long as they would have benefited had I sold it on your behalf,’ Eleanor says resignedly.

  ‘Why would that have made a difference?’ Peter asks.

  ‘Because, even though the brooch appears to be a replica due to its mismatched eye colour, I happen to have proof that it’s not a fake at all. My brooch was actually a genuine, one hundred per cent Louis Comfort Tiffany dragonfly.’

  Thirty-one

  ‘I’m just looking through the records,’ Peter says as we stand in his office in a very tall, very grand skyscraper in central Manhattan. ‘It should be about … here. Yes: it was bought by a George Harrison, I remember now, he was buying it for his wife, umm …’ Peter thinks, ‘that would be Lucinda.’

  ‘George Harrison, like The Beatles’ George?’ I ask in surprise.

  ‘Except that that George Harrison is dead, Scarlett,’ Sean reminds me.

  ‘Yes, yes, of course I knew that. I meant, he has the same name.’

  ‘Yes, Scarlett,’ Peter says kindly. ‘Like The Beatles’ George. I’ll give him a call, shall I? I know George and Lucinda fairly well.’

  Sean and I take a seat in Peter’s sumptuous office while he asks his secretary to get George on the phone.

  After we’d got over Eleanor’s shock announcement, she’d calmly explained that the brooch was an original passed down through her family for a number of generations. The reason all the experts thought it was fake, albeit an extremely good one, was because of the dragonfly’s differing eye colour; a deliberate addition by the master craftsman at the time. He had been asked to make something unique for a wealthy businessman to give to his lover, something no one else would know was real, and they’d come up with the plan to replace one of the eyes. Eleanor still had the original documentation to prove the brooch’s authenticity, along with the second matching eye, should someone ever want to replace it.

  Oscar and I had both thought it so romantic and had ooh-ed and aah-ed at the story. Sean and Jamie had thought it mad that someone would go to so much trouble to give someone else a gift. I smile to myself; maybe they did have more in common than I’d thought.

  ‘George … Peter. Yes, how are you?’ Peter asks as his call gets put through and he swings himself around in his leather chair. ‘Uh-huh … yep … sure, we can do that sometime … Look, the reason I’m phoning, George, is do you remember bidding on a brooch for Lucinda at the fundraiser you came to the other week at the Plaza?’ Peter listens for a moment. ‘Yes, that’s the one, the dragonfly. You don’t happen to know if Lucinda would be willing to sell it back to me, do you?’

  After another minute or so of conversation, Peter puts the phone down. ‘He’s going to call her and check, but he can’t see any problem. He doesn’t think she’s even worn it yet.’

  Good – this sounds promising.

  ‘So, how are you two?’ Peter asks, looking at us both over his desk. ‘After yesterday? I mean, that was a bit dramatic, wasn’t it, at the picnic? I felt like I was in an episode of Days of Our Lives.’

  ‘Peter, that’s nothing,’ Sean smiles wryly. ‘That’s what living with Scarlett is like on a daily basis.’

  ‘Ignore him, Peter,’ I shake my head. ‘Things are good, thanks. Dad and Jamie spent some time together last night after the picnic, both with Eleanor and on their own. They seem to be coping with it all quite well.’

  Peter nods. ‘That’s good. And yourself, Scarlett, how are you coping
?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Well, you’ve just found out you’ve got a half-brother you never knew you had. Your father and Jamie aren’t the only ones who’ve had to take that kind of news on board.’

  Peter’s right; with everything that’s been going on in the last couple of days, I haven’t given much thought to mine and Jamie’s relationship in all this.

  ‘I’ll talk to Jamie when he’s had a chance to get to know Dad a bit better. Besides, Jamie and I have known each other for a while now. It’s only been hours for him and Dad.’

  It’s only really been a few days for Jamie and me. Even though it feels like I’ve known him for ever.

  The phone rings on Peter’s desk.

  ‘Yes, put him through please, Jane. It’s George,’ Peter says, covering up the mouthpiece. ‘George, thanks for getting back to me … No, really? Oh, that’s too bad … Do you know which one?’ Peter reaches for a pen and scribbles something on a piece of paper. ‘Right … yes, women indeed. Well, I wouldn’t know, would I? Ha! Yes, maybe I’ll do that. Have to go now, George, yes golf sometime soon. Bye for now.’ Peter replaces the handset in its cradle. ‘It’s not good news, I’m afraid. Apparently Lucinda decided she didn’t really like the brooch all that much when she got it home. She hadn’t realised about the eyes not matching until she saw it up close. So she gave it away to a local thrift store.’

  ‘What’s a thrift store?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s like one of our charity shops,’ Sean says. ‘Do you happen to know which one?’

  ‘Yep,’ Peter holds up the piece of paper. ‘It’s a Salvation Army store just off Broadway and Twelfth.’

  ‘I can’t believe someone would pay all that money for a brooch and just give it away a few days later,’ I say in disbelief.

  ‘I can,’ Peter says. ‘You don’t know these women, Scarlett. The money they spend on clothes and jewellery in a week would keep a place like Sunnyside going for a year.’

  ‘Come on,’ Sean says, standing up. ‘We’d better get going, see if this thrift store still has your brooch, and, more importantly, if we can get it back.’

  ‘Good luck,’ Peter calls as we leave the office. ‘Let me know how you get on.’

  As with most journeys across Manhattan, it’s far easier and quicker for us to walk than to get a cab or the subway, so that’s what we do.

  ‘Funny this, isn’t it?’ Sean says as we walk along Park Avenue heading towards Broadway. ‘It reminds me of just over a year ago, when we were searching for your lost mother across London. Now we’re searching for a lost brooch on the streets of New York.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it is a bit déjà vu. In fact, a lot of what’s gone on here has been very much like my adventures of last year.’

  ‘Do you mean the reuniting of people at a big gathering, like you did the other day?’

  ‘Yes, that and a few other things.’ I think it best not to mention how my time with Jamie has reminded me of the first few weeks of my relationship with Sean.

  ‘Were you happier then, Scarlett?’ Sean asks suddenly, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. He looks deep into my eyes as if he’s searching for his answer before I get the chance to reply.

  I think carefully before speaking.

  ‘No, I wasn’t happier. Things were different, that’s all.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I didn’t know you so well then; we weren’t together. Now I do, things are more stable, I suppose.’

  Sean pulls a face. ‘Stable. That’s doesn’t sound very exciting.’

  ‘It’s not supposed to. A year ago when we were chasing all over London and Paris, it was exciting. It was just what I needed at the time, something a bit different in my life.’

  ‘And what about now? What do you need now?’

  I think again. ‘I guess I still yearn for that same sense of romantic excitement I felt when I was first with you, Sean. I can’t help it; it’s a part of who I am. That’s what I’ve enjoyed about coming here to New York; I’ve had a little taste of that all over again. But I don’t mind giving it up to be with you. I love you.’

  ‘And I love you too, Scarlett, very much. But you make it sound like it has to be a choice; an exciting life, or me.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ I say, wrapping my arms around him. ‘I love my life with you, you know that.’

  Sean is about to reply, but I stifle his doubts by placing my lips over his and kissing him very slowly.

  ‘That might make it slightly better, I suppose,’ Sean says when we’ve finished. ‘But perhaps we’d better try that again, just so I’m a hundred per cent sure of your reassurance in this matter.’

  We eventually find the Salvation Army thrift store and venture inside. It’s much like a charity shop back in the UK, except the donations here are unwanted American items of clothing, jewellery, books and games, instead of British ones. A quick scout around the shop doesn’t reveal the dragonfly brooch anywhere, so we go up to the counter to enquire.

  ‘Can I help you guys?’ a short, dark, quite round lady wearing a colourfully patterned blouse and a red headscarf asks from behind the counter.

  ‘Yes, please,’ I say politely. ‘We were wondering if you’d had a dragonfly brooch brought in here in the last few days.’

  ‘A dragonfly, you say? Hmm …’ She thinks about this deeply for a moment. ‘Tallulah!’ she suddenly shrieks. ‘Have we had any dragonfly brooches in here lately?’

  Tallulah appears from behind a curtain, the complete opposite to her headscarfed colleague. She’s tall and skinny with frizzy, bright red hair, which she has clipped up at the sides with large plastic flowers.

  ‘Yuh, Dolores?’

  ‘These folks want to know if we’ve had any dragonfly brooches brought in here in the last few days.’

  Tallulah adopts a pained expression, which I assume is her thinking face, but which makes her look at this very moment as if she’s trying to pass something rather hard.

  ‘We had a necklace with a butterfly on it a couple days ago, that was pretty,’ she eventually suggests.

  ‘Any good?’ Dolores asks us.

  ‘Er, no,’ I smile politely. ‘It was specifically a dragonfly we were looking for, you see—’

  ‘There’s a hat in the window with an owl on,’ Tallulah continues, still going though her list of animal-themed stock.

  ‘No, it has to be this particular brooch because—’

  ‘Earrings in the shape of a cow?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Pig slippers?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We’ve a full-sized stuffed bald eagle out back that can sit on your shoulder like a pirate’s parrot. That would make a fine and novel accessory, I’ve always thought, haven’t you, Dolores?’

  Dolores is about to make a comment when Sean steps in to prevent any more nonsense. ‘Ladies, I’m sure you’ve lots of fine things for sale; it’s a very impressive store you’re running here. But it’s a unique brooch we’re looking for. Do you keep a record of the items when they’re donated, items that might be worth a few dollars more?’

  Dolores looks at Tallulah, and they raise their eyebrows in a telling way. ‘Oh my, Tallulah, I reckon we’ve only gone and got Prince William come into our store.’ They both look eagerly at Sean. ‘Say something else,’ Dolores encourages.

  ‘Like what?’ Sean asks, looking bewildered.

  ‘Like whoat,’ Dolores repeats. ‘Ah just love it!’

  ‘Ladies,’ Sean says, trying to calm them down, while I stifle my giggles. ‘I can assure you I am not Prince William.’

  ‘Well, you look awful familiar,’ Tallulah says, eyeing him up and down. ‘Doesn’t he, Dolores?’

  ‘You sure do,’ she agrees. ‘Hugh Grant, then?’

  ‘No,’ Sean says sternly.

  ‘Jude Law?’ Tallulah tries.

  ‘No.’ I can see Sean’s starting to get angry now; the back of his neck is starting to flush red.

  ‘Dolores, Ta
llulah,’ I interrupt. ‘I can assure you that if Sean here was a famous movie star, I’d be the first to know.’

  ‘Well, you speak mighty fancy,’ Dolores says huffily.

  ‘So do you have a record book or something similar we could look at, please?’ I ask hopefully.

  Dolores looks to Tallulah for her approval. Tallulah gives it with a brief nod of her head, and a book is retrieved from underneath the desk. Dolores begins to thumb through it slowly.

  ‘It would only have been in the last few days, we think,’ I suggest helpfully.

  ‘It will be in here if it was worth anything, honey, don’t you fret.’ She flicks through a few more pages, and then runs her finger down one column. ‘Ah-hah! Here, one dragonfly brooch, brought in three days ago by a Mrs Lucinda Harrison.’

  ‘That’s the one, that’s the one!’ I shout excitedly. I look around the shop. ‘Where is it, do you know?’

  ‘Sold,’ Dolores says, pursing her lips tightly. ‘The day after it came in. It made fifty dollars, though, so it did well.’

  ‘What! But that can’t be possible, it was worth—’

  Sean cuts me off. ‘Does it say who it was sold to, Dolores?’ he asks. ‘Do you keep a record of that?’

  Dolores shakes her head. ‘No, we only record where they came from and how much they make, on the pricier items.’

  I sigh. So much for that, then. A dead end. ‘Thank you for your help anyway, we really appreciate it.’

  ‘No problem,’ Dolores says, putting the book back under the desk.

  ‘I don’t suppose it was either of you two that sold it?’ Sean asks as a parting shot, as we’re about to leave the shop.

  The two of them shake their heads. ‘No,’ Dolores says. ‘I work at the Seven-Eleven on a Wednesday, and Tallulah has her regulars at the massage parlour.’

  ‘Sure,’ Sean says as we back out of the door. ‘Well, thank you for your time, ladies, it’s been … illuminating.’

  ‘Now this really does remind me of last year,’ I say as we walk dejectedly back down Park Avenue again. ‘Getting nowhere with our enquiries.’