Page 114 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually
“Scarlett?” Sean prompted.
“They’re going to have to meet each other again some time now Mum’s back in my life,” I said, turning to face him. “It’s not my fault Dad’s turned up out of the blue like this.”
Sean’s eyes widened. “But they haven’t seen each other for over twenty years; there could be bloodshed if they just turn up at the same dinner party!”
“But there might not be…it could all work out just fine.”
Sean rubbed his forehead in a way that suggested he didn’t agree.
“Just how much of that red wine we were marinating with did you drink? Scarlett, just ring your mother and tell her the dinner’s off.”
“No, she’s been looking forward to meeting everyone.”
“Including your father?”
I pulled my apron over my head and folded it up. “Look, Sean, I didn’t orchestrate this, fate did. And now I’m going to let fate take its course.”
“You’re asking for trouble.”
“Maybe…maybe not.” I shrugged. “Look, are you going to come to dinner tonight or not?”
“And miss this? You’ve got to be kidding. It’ll be like Christmas in the Queen Vic—just without the cockney accents.”
I had to smile. “I know you think what I’m going to let happen is the wrong thing to do. But maybe that’s what all this has been about—me coming to London, so I can have two parents in my life. Everything happens—”
“For a reason. Yes, I know, you’ve said so before. But maybe this isn’t the only reason for you coming here?”
“And maybe it is. Look, I have to get back inside. I’ll see you later, yes, about 7:30? I’ll tell Mum it’s eight, and then everyone will have a chance to chat to Dad a bit before she arrives.”
“I don’t think that’s a good—”
I held up my hand. “No more, Sean. I’ll see you later?”
Sean nodded. “But you could end up regretting this decision, Scarlett. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and possibly for the rest of your life.”
I stared suspiciously at Sean. “Are you absolutely sure you never watch movies?” I asked him.
“Not often, why?”
“Hmm, it just seems you have an awful knack recently of making me feel like I’m in one.”
Thirty-Three
I looked around Belinda and Harry’s lounge at my guests all enjoying themselves and I felt a sense of great achievement.
Everyone had arrived within ten minutes of the requested time of 7:30, and they were now all standing around with glasses in their hands, chatting amiably to one another.
Ursula arrived looking quirky yet elegant as always, in a lilac and pink 1960s vintage dress from Oscar’s boutique. And Oscar, who was currently looking very bored talking to David, tonight sported a mustard-yellow suit with a black shirt and red tartan tie.
My father had put on his best trousers and a shirt that I bought him last Christmas, and at this moment was surprisingly deep in conversation with Sean.
After Sean had left earlier this afternoon, I had quickly returned to the kitchen to make sure that nothing was burning or boiling over on the stove—but everything appeared to be under control. Luckily Sean had prepared a series of sticky notes to remind me just when I had to start cooking each dish and what gas mark to put them on at.
I watched him now as he chatted with my father. Tonight hewas wearing a deep-purple shirt—unbuttoned just far enough for me to make out the beginnings of the fine hair that I knew covered his broad chest. And a pair of black trousers that sat on him so perfectly and fitted him so snugly in all the places they should that they must have been tailor-made.
“When is your mother arriving?” Ursula inquired, appearing by my side and making me jump.
“Hmm? Oh, I…I told her eight o’clock,” I said, looking at my watch. “So she should be here soon.” I had briefed everyone—except Dad, of course—on what was happening tonight, and so far the response hadn’t been exactly enthusiastic.
