Page 130 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually
Wasn’t I supposed to say that?
“Perhaps you’d like to share it with us?” the vicar asked.
I looked at Hugh in amazement—what on earth was he going to say?
“I suspect the bride is having doubts,” he said. “I suspect that the bride does, in fact, love someone else.”
The congregation’s heads swiveled in unison away from Hugh and back toward me again.
I looked at Father Rowan. “Do you?” he asked me sternly. “Do you love someone else, Scarlett?”
My breathing was quick and shallow, and I could feel my chest rising up and down as I tried desperately to get enough air into my lungs to speak. I turned frantically to David. But David had vanished and in his place, and his morning suit, was Colin Firth.
“Well, do you, Scarlett?” Colin now demanded of me. “Do you love someone more than you love me?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. I looked desperately into the congregation for help, but all my family and friends had disappeared now too. Replacing them on the groom’s side of church were Darth Vader and the cast ofStarWars, and on my side the pews were now filled with Mickey Mouse and his Disneyland friends.
I searched frantically for my father. He would help me; Dad was always there for me when I needed him. But in the place where my father had been standing until a few minutes ago was Harrison Ford dressed as Indiana Jones complete with fedora and whip.
I turned to Colin again. He just stared at me; like everyone else in the church, he was awaiting my answer.
“Yes!” I shouted at the top of my voice. “Yes, I do love someone else! I do…I do…I do!”
I awoke with a start and sat up in bed. Still breathing heavily, I wiped away the sweat that was pouring down my face.
“Scarlett,” my mother said, rushing into the room in her nightdress. “Are you all right?”
My breathing was beginning to calm down now. “Yes…I had a bad dream, that’s all.”
My mother sat down on the side of my bed. “Was it about the wedding? Only you were shouting out ‘I do’ at the top of your voice.”
“Yes, it was about the wedding. Things were…well, they weren’t going too well at the service.” Apart from Robbie being there, of course—of all the dreams I’d had about Robbie Williams, I couldn’t say I ever recalled being in a church with him before.
“That’s quite understandable the night before your wedding. I’m sure most brides have the odd strange dream about their big day.”
Strange? Nightmarish, more like.
“Well,” my mother said, looking at her watch. “There’s not much point in going back to sleep now, is there? Not now your big day is here at last.” She jumped up to the window and flung back the curtains. Sunlight streamed through the glass and down onto my bed. “And it looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day!”
I yawned and rubbed my eyes now mascara wasn’t an issue. “After that dream, as long as no more instances of movies where the wedding goes disastrously wrong crop up during the service, I’ll be quite happy, whatever the weather does.”
Mum came over to the bed again. “Weddings don’t always go wrong in the movies, Scarlett.”
“Oh, come on, Mum,” I said, holding up my hand ready to count on my fingers, “there’s loads. Apart fromFourWeddings, there’sTheRunawayBride,TheWeddingPlanner,BrideWars, er…” I tried to think of one from my mother’s era. “What aboutTheGraduatewhen Dustin Hoffman runs off with Anne Bancroft’s daughter at the end? It’s hardly a recipe for success, is it?”
“Scarlett,” Mum said, taking my hand. “Like you said, theyarejust movies. This isreallife and everything is going to turn out just fine at your wedding. Trust me.”
I sighed and gave her a half-smile. “I suppose just as long as I don’t look like the Bride of Frankenstein when I walk down the aisle later this morning, there is half a chance it could just be a perfect day for love—actually.”
Thirty-Nine
Yes, it was finally my wedding day—the day every girl dreams of.
As I began the long process of trying to transform myself into the perfect-looking, radiant bride I had plenty of time, in between manicures and hairdressing appointments, to ponder what had happened over the last few weeks to lead me to this most important of days.
After the disastrous dinner party that never was, things had been decidedly calm in Lansdowne Road.
Belinda and Harry had decided to return a few days earlier than expected from Dubai, so I’d had to vacate their home sooner than I’d originally planned. They’d been extremely grateful to me for looking after their house so well, and as Belinda said, “putting up with our neighbors.” And they had brought me several expensive gifts back from their travels, as a thank-you.
