Page 117 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually
I must have looked quite dramatic silhouetted in the doorway with the wind billowing my hair all around my face, so I took up a theatrical stance.
“You all warned me that tonight would be a disaster. And it was, of epic proportions. And I didn’t listen to any of you, did I? I never do. I just carry on blindly, assuming everything will work out and hoping everyone will have a happy ending. Well, congratulations—you were all right, and I got it all spectacularly wrong. Just like I always do.”
The wind blew another icy cold blast around my back. I didn’t really want to go out into the cold February evening at all—but I couldn’t go back now, could I? Not when I’d just made that dramatic speech. Oh, why did this sort of thing always work in the movies and not in real life?
“Now before I cause any of you any more trouble, I’m going out. To somewhere I can’t cause any problems.”
Then I turned and, without looking back, ran down the steps outside, slamming the door behind me.
Now where can I disappear to for a while in Notting Hill? I asked myself as I ran quickly down the street, pulling on my coat as I went.
I knew the answer straight away.
Thirty-Four
I hurried down the road until I came to the black railings that surrounded the gardens, and after checking quickly around me, I hoisted myself up and over the bars in exactly the same place I had the night I’d met Sean.
I was grateful I hadn’t worn the dress I’d been thinking about wearing earlier tonight, and had plumped instead for a pair of smart black trousers and a sparkly top, otherwise the maneuver could have been a lot trickier.
I landed on the other side with a thud and toppled sideways into a bush—luckily for me one of the non-thorny varieties; my stiletto heels were not an ideal platform for landing on soft ground. “Damn,” I mumbled, as I scrambled to my feet again and brushed my trousers down. “If only I’d had my keys with me I could have saved myself all this mountaineering lark.” I had found out after my first visit here with Sean that Belinda and Harry too had a key to this little park. But of course my diva-like exit from the house tonight hadn’t allowed me the luxury of collecting keys. I was lucky to have a coat on.
So now I was in here, what was I going to do?
I found the wooden bench that Sean and I had rested ona few weeks earlier and sat down. I was starting to feel very guilty at just storming out and leaving everyone to sort out the trouble I’d caused. But it was too late to go back now; I’d acted on the spur of the moment, and now I would have to suffer the consequences.
I wondered what was happening back at the house.
IhopeSeanrememberstotakethemeatoutoftheoven, I thought, suddenly panicking about the carefully prepared dinner. But it was hardly likely that anyone would be tasting it tonight after what had just gone on, so I suppose it didn’t really matter…as long as it didn’t set light to the house…
“Stop it, Scarlett,” I admonished myself. “You’ve got more than a burned dinner to worry about now.”
I was right for once. What I’d done tonight was unforgivable. I’d put everyone at the dinner party in an awkward position, and I wouldn’t blame any of them if they never wanted to speak to me again—particularly my parents.
“Oh, poor Mum.” I buried my face in my hands as I recalled the expression on her face as she’d looked around at everyone in the hallway staring at her.
And Dad. How was I ever going to explain all this to him?
I rested my head on the back of the bench and looked up at the sky. It was a clear night and I could see the stars twinkling above me. It was just like the evening I’d sat out here with Sean—the only difference was, that night I’d felt excited and optimistic about the days that lay ahead of me. Now I only felt sadness that my time here was so rapidly coming to an end and I seemed to have caused so much pain and achieved so little.
I sat on the bench for quite a while just thinking, until my feet began to feel like they were encased in ice, and my hands, even though they were shoved in my pockets, would have sat well on the end of Jack Frost’s arms.
When I’d left the house earlier I’d secretly hoped that someone might come after me. Or that by now I might at least have heard the faraway call of my name floating down the street. But instead I saw no one and heard nothing.
If this had been a movie, the hero would have known right away where to come looking for me. He’d have found me sitting here all alone on my little bench and come along and comforted me in his big strong arms. While everyone else had no idea where I’d gone, my hero would have known straight away.
Perhaps everyone was right? Maybe life never did happen the same way it did in the cinema. I thought about all of the movie scenes I’d added to my list so far. Every time I’d tried to orchestrate one of those scenes myself something had gone wrong. I’d been lucky enough to pick up some coincidental ones along the way, but even those weren’t quite the same as the originals. Had I just been imagining the similarities for my own benefit? And now, I’d just made a wonderfully dramatic exit from my house in the dead of the night—in a scene that would have made any director proud—and yet not one person had come looking for me. I’d have thought at least Sean might have guessed where I was and come to my rescue.
I looked toward the gate hopefully, in case he might be there desperately searching through the railings for me. But sadly he wasn’t. Instead, a bright white light shone through the bars, almost blinding me.
I held my arm up over my eyes.
“Are you OK, miss?” I heard a voice call.
The spotlight was aimed at the ground now, so at least I could see again. I blinked at the railings and saw a young police officer peering through them.
“Yes, I’m fine. Thanks, officer.”
“What are you doing sitting all alone there in the dark?” he asked, shining his flashlight around the surrounding area.
