Page 95 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” I said. “So different from our local multiplex back home.”
“I should have searched out some diving goggles to wearwhen I dropped Delilah back at the house and then you’d have felt even more at home,” Oscar said, holding his fingers over his eyes in two circles.
“Diving goggles? I don’t get…wait, is this the cinema fromNottingHill?”
Ursula nodded. “Yep, I thought you’d have recognized it straight away!”
“I thought it looked familiar,” I said, taking a good look around me. “Well, we may not have any diving goggles to re-create that scene, but Hugh Grant is going to be joining us in a few minutes, so I guess that will have to do!”
The lights in the auditorium dimmed, and the curtains were pulled back to reveal the huge cinema screen. Immediately I was plunged back into my comfort zone again. A zone where someone else’s life was all I had to concern myself with for the next two hours, and my own, ever more complicated one, could temporarily be forgotten.
It was a good movie, as nearly all Hugh’s were. The only thing that could have made it better was if Sean had been sitting there next to me rather than Oscar.
Youhavetostopthis, Scarlett, I told myself as the final credits rolled up the screen.You’ve made your choice, now you have to live with it.
“Shall we go for something to eat?” Ursula asked as we left the cinema. “There’s a lovely Indian restaurant just up the road from here. Oscar and I often go there when we’ve been to see a movie.”
“Yes, why not?” I said, thinking of the empty house waiting for me. “That would be great. Hold on, let me just checkhow much money I’ve got left, I may have to stop at an ATM along the way.” I felt for where my bag would usually hang but instead felt only my hip. “My bag! Oh, I must have left it in the cinema—just wait here a minute. I’ll be right back.”
I hurried back to where we’d been seated a few minutes ago—but there was no bag waiting for me when I got there.
I felt under the seat, then looked all around where we’d been sitting in case it had been kicked along the floor when everybody had been leaving, but there was still no sign of it.
“Excuse me?” I heard a voice calling from down below. I looked over the top of the balcony, and saw one of the usherettes holding up a bag—my bag. “Is this yours?” she asked.
“Yes,” I called out. “Yes it is! One minute, I’ll be right down.”
I rushed to the exit and then down the stairs.
“Thank you,” I called, as I hurried toward the woman. “I thought I’d lost it.”
“You’re lucky,” she said. “It’s a good bag too. Gucci, right?”
“It’s a fake, actually,” I admitted. As I approached her, I realized she was older than I’d thought.
“I did know, I can tell.”
“Can you really? How?” I’d thought it had been a pretty good copy when I’d bought it off eBay a couple of months ago.
“It’s all in the logo,” she said, pointing at the clasp on the front. She looked up at me as I arrived in front of her. “You see just here, it’s…” Her voice trailed off.
“What?” I asked. “What’s the difference?”
But she continued to stare at me. It was unnerving; she didn’t speak—she just stared. I knew I shouldn’t have bought a fake handbag off eBay. Knowing my luck she’d turn out to besome sort of part-time counterfeits officer, on the lookout for fake designer goods.
Her eyes dropped away from mine, and she swallowed. “Here—just take your bag,” she said in a low voice. A strand of black hair fell across her face.
I reached out and took my bag. As I did so my hand brushed against hers. What felt like a bolt of lightning shot up through my arm—and spread right through me like an enormous wave of emotion.
I looked closely at her again and in the dim light noticed that her eyes were an intense shade of green, just like mine. She stared helplessly back at me.
I glanced down at her badge; it stated thatRosewould be pleased to help me today.
I opened my mouth to speak—but nothing would come out. It was like being in one of those awful nightmares where your body won’t do what you want it to. There were so many questions I suddenly wanted to ask this woman—but I couldn’t.
So instead, she asked me one.
“Scarlett, is that you?”
