From Notting Hill to New York . . . Actually (32 page)

They want to know
about my search, and how I found out I had a brother, and how we’re all getting on now we’ve been ‘reunited’, and the odd thing is, the interviews seem to go fairly well. I don’t make a complete fool of myself or babble on about something quite irrelevant like the movie I watched on cable last night, or the shoes I saw in the window of Saks on the way to the studio.

But even after all the news bulletins and the interviews, we still have no new leads on the dragonfly. The person who has it can’t live in New York, can’t watch television, or can’t want to be found.

The madness really starts to take hold when calls like this begin coming in.

‘Scarlett,’ Sean says, holding the hotel room phone away from his face. ‘It’s
Marsha & Friends –
it’s like a daytime chat show here, and they want you to come on their show as a guest to talk about your hunt for the brooch.’

‘Me?’

‘
Yes
,’ Sean says slowly as if I’m a child. ‘
You
, Scarlett. Will you do it? Can you cope?’

‘Of course I can cope.’ Being a guest on
Marsha & Friends
can’t be that different to the local news interviews I’ve done so far, can it? ‘Of course I’ll do it, Sean. Tell them yes.’

But I may have underestimated quite how different it is.

‘So, Scarlett,’ Marsha asks me from her side of the
desk as I try to get comfortable on the incredibly hard sofa her guests are expected to sit on. ‘Tell us how this dragonfly brooch we’ve all been hearing so much about brought you here to New York to search for your family.’

‘Well, that’s not quite how it happened, Marsha.’

‘But didn’t you go across to Ellis Island to try and trace them?’ Marsha asks, leaning in towards me. ‘That’s usually what people go there for.’

How did she know about that?

‘Yes, I did go to Ellis Island as a tourist, and yes, I did search for my family while I was there, but I didn’t find anything out. My friend Oscar did, though, he found he was related to a long line of Italian—’

‘So what made you want to begin searching for your family then, Scarlett?’ Marsha cuts me short. ‘Did you have a difficult childhood?’

‘No, I had a very happy childhood, actually.’

‘Both parents at home?’

‘No, just my dad, but—’

‘Aha, so you felt the need to search for a long-lost mother?’

‘No, I did that last year back in the UK and I found her, and we’re all quite happy now.’

Marsha opens her eyes wide and I see a glint.

‘You searched
for your long-lost mother and found her? Tell us about that.’

I tell Marsha, her audience and the viewing public as quickly as I can about how I’d looked for and found my mother last year.

‘And this is how you met your boyfriend? How wonderful is that, ladies and gentlemen!’ Marsha turns to the audience, who burst into spontaneous applause, encouraged by the floor assistant who madly waves her arms in the air at them.

‘Is he here?’ Marsha asks.

‘Yes, he’s over there.’ I point to Sean sitting in the audience.

The camera swings around and pans in on Sean who, redder than I’ve ever seen him before, smiles – though I can tell it’s more of a grimace – at the camera and half raises his hand in acknowledgement.

I grin at him, and as soon as the camera swings away from him he pulls a pained face back at me.

‘So, is this what drove you to help your father to meet with his son, so they could share that same sense of joy and belonging as you’d felt?’

‘No, not at all to begin with. I didn’t know about Jamie when I came here to New York. We met accidentally when I was researching the dragonfly brooch, and he filmed me for a TV station over in the UK …’

I go on to tell Marsha
the whole story while her audience sit enraptured.

‘But I do know what it feels like when you don’t know your whole family. You feel like you’re not quite complete. A piece of your jigsaw is always missing, is the way I’d describe it. Which is why I want to set up a trust to help people find their lost relatives.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard about this. Tell us more,’ Marsha asks eagerly.

I tell her about Sunnyside and the children there, and all the other people I think I could help with my idea. And by the time I’ve finished, Marsha actually looks quite moved, and a couple of the women in the audience are dabbing at their eyes with tissues.

‘So this would be a charitable organisation?’ Marsha asks.

‘In the main, yes. Obviously if someone was able to pay and wanted our help, then the fee would go towards helping others.’

‘Well, Scarlett, it may all have happened accidentally for you, but it sounds absolutely fantastic, and I wish you the best of luck with everything. Oh, just one more thing: what will you call this charitable trust, if you manage to set it up? Just so our viewers can look out for it?’

Oh … I hadn’t thought of a name …

‘The
Dragonfly Trust,’ I announce off the top of my head.

‘Of course, how perfectly apt; let’s hope you manage to trace your mascot again. I’d like to thank you for being such a wonderful guest today.’ She holds up her hand. ‘Scarlett O’Brien, everyone. And remember, if you see that dragonfly brooch, get in touch with us!’

And that’s not the only interview I’m asked to do.

Over the next week, I do three more US TV shows, all of them national, and the phone never stops ringing. Sean is constantly on his mobile, taking calls from companies and individuals offering to donate to this new venture of mine, once I get it up and running.

‘Well, Red,’ he says one evening when we’ve finally got some time alone and we’re out having dinner together. ‘It looks like I was wrong. Looks like this really might be a viable business.
If
you can actually trace people, that is. The success you had with your dad and Jamie was just luck, really.’

‘That doesn’t matter. If all these people are going to put their faith in me, I’ll do it.’

Sean smiles. ‘You’re a very determined person, aren’t you, when you put your mind to something. Scatty a lot of the time, with your head in the clouds, but your heart is in the right place, and that’s what really counts in life.’

‘What’s made you suddenly say that?’

‘I’ve been doing
a lot of thinking lately, that’s all. About us, and what it will mean if you start running this business over here.’

I put my hand across the dinner table and take hold of his. ‘It doesn’t have to change anything. Things will just be a bit different, that’s all. I’ll be here in New York some of the time, and in London the rest. A bit like you, when you’re jetting off on your business trips.’

Sean nods. ‘I know; it’s just odd.’

‘What, because it’s me doing it and not you?’

‘No, I don’t mean that. I mean …’ He struggles, which is very unlike Sean. ‘I know you had the business with your father before, but that was different. This time it will be all yours, and it sounds as if it could be big, too, from the interest we’ve been getting already. But if you’ve got all that going on in your life … Well, you might not need me in it any more.’

I’m almost lost for words. This is
so
unlike Sean. He’s usually so confident and self-assured about everything.

‘Sean, don’t be silly! Of course I need you, I’ll always need you.’

‘Really?’ Sean looks across at me with genuine concern on his face.

‘Yes! Absolutely I will.’

‘Even if life with me isn’t very exciting any more?’

‘Sean,
please. I love every day I spend with you, whether there’s excitement involved or not.’

Sean is about to say something else, but his phone rings; he rolls his eyes. ‘Better get it; it might be more investors in your scheme. We’ll be needing an assistant and an office soon, if it carries on like this.’ He gets up from the table and takes his phone outside.

I think about him while he’s gone. I’ve never seen Sean like this … how would I describe it … lost, vulnerable even. The last time I’d seen him look anything like that was when we were at the top of the London Eye together last year, and he was about to declare his true feelings for me.

‘Scarlett,’ Sean says coming back into the restaurant. ‘Good news. Peter thinks he might have found your brooch.’

‘Where?’

‘A lady has just called
the TV station and said she saw it being worn at a fashion show about a week ago.’

‘A fashion show? How ever could it have ended up on a runway?’

‘I don’t know.’ Sean throws some dollars on the table. ‘But Peter has a name we can speak to at the fashion house. He’s already called, and we can go round and see the chap now.’

‘At this time of night?’

‘Yeah, he’s working late, apparently. Come on, Scarlett, look sharp. Do you want to get this brooch back, or not? Plus,’ he grins, ‘We’re off again – it’s just like old times!’

We head
over to the address Peter has given us. Wave Designs, just off Fifth Avenue, is located three storeys up in one of the older buildings I’d admired, when I first came to New York, as being brave enough to hold its own against the soaring new ultra-modern skyscrapers that dominate the skyline.

We buzz the intercom outside, then take the elevator up to the third floor and Sean knocks on the appropriate door along the hall.

‘Yo, it’s open,’ a male voice calls.

We push the door ajar to find a large open-plan office. Inside there are boards all over the walls with sketches and swatches of fabric covering them. Desks are equally as haphazardly strewn with paper, fabric, plans, old coffee cups – just about everything you might find in a fashion designer’s office. Except that it’s not sleek and sophisticated, as I would have expected a New York fashion house to be; it’s really a bit of a pickle.

‘You guys must be the Scarlett and Sean Peter was telling me about. I’m Julian, Julian Jackson, I’m the owner of Wave, how can I help you?’

In contrast, Julian is dressed a bit more how I imagine a fashion designer should look. He’s wearing an eclectic mix of clothes, some new, some possibly secondhand, in an assortment of mismatched colours. His look is completed with a purple trilby sporting a brown ostrich feather. Oscar
couldn’t have worn it better if he’d tried.

‘Yes, we are,’ Sean says, walking over to shake Julian’s hand. ‘Our apologies for bothering you at this time of night, Julian, but Peter said you might have some information for us.’

‘Yeah, he said you were looking for a brooch, right, and some lady had seen it at one of our shows?’

‘Yes, that’s right. I guess one of the models might have been wearing it,’ I suggest hopefully.

‘We showed all our new collections recently, not quite on the scale of New York Fashion Week, you understand, just a few local events,’ he explains. ‘We’re just a small outfit. I’m only lucky enough to have an off-Fifth Avenue address to work from because my uncle owns this building and rents me these offices pretty dirt cheap.’

‘I see.’
That explains a few things.
‘Well, it’s a brooch in the shape of a dragonfly. It’s green and blue, about this big.’ I hold up my fingers to demonstrate.

‘Hmm …’ Julian thinks. ‘Blue and green, you say? I wonder if we used it on the
Enchanted
collection. My assistant was in charge of gathering accessories for that one. Just one moment, she’s out back.’

He goes to a door and calls down a staircase. ‘Jenny, darling, could you come up here? There are some people that would like to ask you a couple of questions.’

Suddenly I get an odd feeling
in the pit of my stomach. And that feeling only intensifies when ‘Jenny’ appears at the top of the stairs, carrying a roll of fabric that’s almost as big as she is.

‘What’s wrong, Ju?’ she asks, resting the roll on the ground so that she can see who she’s talking to. And now we can see all too clearly that the person standing in front of us wearing a crimson dress is Sean’s ex, Jennifer.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she asks, running her hand over her blond hair and straightening her skirt.

‘I might ask you the same thing!’ I demand. ‘You told Oscar you worked as a PA for the boss of a high-class fashion house.’

Jennifer wrinkles her pert little nose. ‘I may have exaggerated that fact slightly when I spoke to him over the phone. How the hell did I know you two were going to show up here? Anyway, it wasn’t a complete lie; it’s in my career plan. Sorry, Ju,’ she says when Julian makes a small pained noise behind her. ‘But even you know we’re just small fry here. Looking good as ever, Sean,’ she says, fluttering her spider-like eyelashes at Sean.

I can only shake my head at the audacity of her.

‘The feeling isn’t mutual, Jen, I can assure you,’ Sean replies flatly. ‘We’re here
about a brooch. A dragonfly brooch, to be precise. Do you have it?’

‘I’m sorry, you’ll have to be a bit
more
precise,’ Jennifer says, her blue eyes wide with innocence. ‘What exactly do you mean – a dragonfly?’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Jennifer, stop messing about,’ I snap. ‘You know exactly what Sean means. It’s the brooch I auctioned off at the ball we were at the other week.’

Jennifer pretends to think. She puts a bright pink fingernail to her chin. ‘Can’t say it rings any bells.’

I’m about to lunge at her, but Sean holds me back. ‘Don’t let her wind you up, Red.’

‘Oh, how very quaint, you have nicknames for each other; what does she call you, Sean, Yellow?’

‘Enough, Jen,’ Sean says firmly. ‘Did you, or did you not, use that same brooch in a show recently?’

‘I might have.’ Jennifer says huffily. ‘But I bought it fair and square in a thrift store. It’s not like I stole it, is it? It was just there waiting to be purchased.’

‘But you must have known it was the same brooch,’ I ask, trying to remain calm.

‘So?’ Jennifer shrugs her bony shoulders. ‘There’s no law against me buying your old tat, is there? It was perfect for the show.’

Sean’s hand is already there in front of me before I can move.

‘Don’t you watch TV, Jen?’ he asks calmly. ‘Only Scarlett’s been all over it this week,
appealing for help in finding that brooch.’