Page 2 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually
He was right, I didn’t really want orange juice all over my new suede coat, so I did as he said and carefully removed my jacket to reveal the offending orange stain.
“You simply must get that shirt in to soak immediately,” he insisted. “Orange juice is a devil to get out if it’s left. Go home immediately and sponge, sponge, sponge, darling. Then I can rest easy that Delilah and I haven’t ruined your gorgeous outfit forever!”
I smiled at him, my earlier fears now subsiding. “Don’t worry—I’m sure it will be fine.”
He rummaged in his bag and produced a business card. “Look, this is my number. If the stain doesn’t come out, be sure to call me and I’ll reimburse you for a new shirt.”
“No really, it’s fine,” I said, waving the card away.
“My darling, I won’t hear of it—here, take the card, I insist.”
I took the card from him. It read:
MARYMARYQUITECONTRARY
FabulousFashionsandDivergentDesigns
OscarSt. James—Proprietor
“I have a shop on the King’s Road,” Oscar explained. “ButDelilah and I live just around the corner in Elgin Crescent. Are you somewhere nearby too?”
“Er…well I think I am.”
“What on earth do you mean, darling?”
“I’ve just arrived, and I was on my way to where I’m supposed to be staying, but I seem to have lost the address.” I shrugged in embarrassment. “I think I’m going to have to phone my friend to get directions again. I’m only here for a month, you see.”
“Ohreally, why? No, ignore my last question,” he said with a flourish of his hand. “Far too probing! My mouth gets completely carried away with me sometimes. Well, most of the time actually, isn’t that right, Delilah?”
Delilah looked up at him disdainfully while she peed on a nearby lamppost.
“Look, darling, I can’t just leave you out on the street like this. Why don’t you come back to my house? You can ring your friend and find out where you’re supposed to be going, and while you’re getting yourself sorted, I can get that juice out for you in a jiffy.” He leaned toward me in a conspiratorial fashion. “I have this fabulous little product, given to me by the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ ex-stylist. It works in an instant on every type of stain you can think of.” He lowered his voice. “And as you can imagine, with them—there were a lot of stains to deal with.”
I grinned. “Really, it isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine.” I knew I didn’t have anything to worry about with Oscar by now, but I wasn’t used to random strangers being this nice to me, especially in London.
“I insist, darling. Besides, I don’t get many opportunities to rescue damsels in distress. Old queens,” he said, giving me a wink, “now that’s a different story. So what do you say?”
“Sure, why not,” I finally agreed. “It really is very kind of you, Oscar.”
Oscar fed his arm companionably through mine and turned me in the direction of his house. “Not at all, darling. Oh, do come on, Delilah,” he said, impatiently tugging on her pale blue leash when she didn’t move. “It won’t do you any harm to walk, just this once.”
***
When we arrived at his house, Oscar quickly unlocked the door and swiftly turned off his alarm.
“Now then,” he said, turning toward me as Delilah trotted off into the kitchen for a drink. “Let the battle of the stains commence!”
We followed Delilah into a kitchen that could have jumped straight off the pages ofElleInteriors.
Oscar looked pleased by my obvious amazement. “Welcome to my pride and joy!” he flamboyantly announced. “Designed by none other than Iko Katwatchi himself!”
“It’s simply—fabulous,” I said, thinking this was the type of endorsement Oscar would like.
“Isn’t it just? He’sthemost important name in kitchens right now.”
“Indeed,” I agreed, even though I thought Iko Katwatchi sounded more like one of those newfangled exercise regimes.
“Now first, the offending stain, please?” Oscar said, holding out his hand like a surgeon asking to be passed his scalpel.
