NOTTING HILL- CHAPTERS 1-2

Chapter 1

Just Another Wednesday Morning?

       It was a fine spring morning. William Thacker was looking out of his window, thinking about life.

      ‘Notting Hill – not a bad place to be’, he thought. On weekdays, there was the market, selling fruit and vegetables from all over the world. At the weekend, even more people crowded into Portobello Road and the streets around it to buy expensive old furniture, paintings and cheap clothes. Then there were the unusual shops, the cafés and restaurants. The streets were always busy, always full of people. But best of all, this was the place where most of his friends now lived.

          Notting Hill was like a small village in the middle of a big city. And in this London village, William Thacker had his home. His wife lived in another part of town. Well, she was his wife until two years earlier. Then she left him for a man who looked like Harrison Ford. So in the house with the blue front door, William, twenty-eight years old and single, now lived a strange half-life with his Welsh lodger, Spike.

       ‘Hey, can you help me with and important decision?”, Spike walked into the room. He was a tall, thin, pale man with dirty yellow hair and untidy clothes. ‘I’m going out with the great Janine tonight and I want to wear the right T-shirt’.

        ‘What have you got?’, asked William, trying to show interest.

Spike pulled on a T-shirt. On the front, an alien was swimming in a sea of blood above the words I Love Blood.

       ‘Well, there’s this one?’.

‘Hmmm… I’m not sure it’s romantic enough’, William said thoughtfully.

     ‘Yes… maybe you’re right’. Spike ran up the stairs, still talking. ‘I know you’ll like this one’.

      He came back wearing a second T-shirt. Take Me!, read the words on the front, in big, black letters.

       ‘Well’, said William slowly, ‘will she think you’re looking for true love? I’m not sure that she will’.

     ‘Oh, I don’t want her to get the wrong idea! OK, just one more’.

He came down in the last T-shirt. Below little red hearts, it read: You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.

    William showed his surprise. ‘Yes’, he said. ‘That’s perfect. Well done!’.

      ‘Thanks. Great. I’m feeling lucky!’. Spike smiled.

He turned and walked proudly upstairs. On the back of the T-shirt, William could now read: Let’s go to bed.

      ‘Oh, Spike…’, he sighed to himself.

     It was just another Wednesday, another working day. William walked through the market and opened the door to his shop, The Travel Book Company. It was a small shop that sold… well, travel books. But he never seemed to sell many. Inside, there were a few small rooms full of shelves, and every shelf was heavy with books – expensive books, cheap books, large hardbacks and small paperbacks.

     William greeted Martin, his assistant. A small man with a beard and a nervous smile, Martin always tried to see the best in life. He liked to please people, but was not very good at selling. In fact, people often thought he was a little strange.

     William started looking at some papers on his desk.

    ‘Great. Last week we made nothing! In fact, we lost ₤347 on those guidebooks to Turkey…’

     ‘Oh dear. Never mind. Shall I go and get us some coffee? Make you feel better?’, Martin asked, smiling.

     As he left for the café, a woman came into the shop. William looked up at her, looked down, thought for a minute, then looked up again. She was a beautiful young woman with long, black hair, dressed simply in a black jacket and trousers. He was sure he knew her. Was it possible? Could it really be her? Yes, it was Anna Scott, the biggest film star in the world! To William – to most men – she was the most beautiful woman on Earth.

      He tried to stay calm. ‘Can I help you?’

     She looked at him through her dark glasses. ‘No, thanks. I’ll just look around’.

     His eyes followed her as she went over to a shelf. She picked out a large, expensive guidebook full of colour photographs.

    ‘That book’s really not good… er… if you’re thinking of buying it’, he said, a little nervously.

     ‘Really?’

     ‘Yes, but this one is… very good’, he said, picking up one of the smaller books from his desk. ‘I think the writer really has been to Turkey’.

       ‘Thanks. I’ll think about it’, she smiled.

Suddenly, William noticed something on the small screen on his desk.

      ‘Just a minute, please’, he said. He walked to the back of the shop towards a customer who was hiding between two lines of shelves.

       ‘Er… excuse me, sir’, he said to the man.

       ‘Yes?’

       ‘Bad news’.

       ‘What?’

       ‘We’ve got a camera in this part of the shop’.

       ‘So?’

      ‘So I saw you put that book down your trousers’, William told him.

      ‘What book?’

      ‘The one down your trousers’.

      ‘I haven’t got a book down my trousers’, replied the man.

     ‘OK. Listen. We seem to disagree about this. I’ll call the police and they can take a look. If I’m wrong, I’m really sorry’, William said patiently.

    ‘Right. Er… And if I do have a book down my trousers?’, the man asked.

     ‘Well… this is what I suggest. I’ll go back to my desk. You take the Cadogan Guide to Bali from your trousers and put it back on the shelf. Or buy it’.

      William walked back to his desk. On the screen, he watched as the book came out of the man’s trousers. Then it was back on the shelf. The thief started walking slowly towards the door.

     William turned back to Anna. ‘Sorry about that’.

     She smiled. ‘No, that’s fine. I was thinking of stealing one too, but now I’ve changed my mind’. She looked at the copies of the cheaper guidebook on his desk. ‘Signed by the writer?’.

    ‘Yes’, William said. ‘We couldn’t stop him. If you can find an unsigned copy, you can probably sell it for a lot of money’.

     The thief stopped next to Anna, looking at her with interest.

    ‘Can you sign this for me?’, he asked, pulling a dirty piece of paper from his coat.

      Anna sighed. ‘What’[s your name?, she asked.

     ‘Rufus’.

    She wrote on the piece of paper and gave it back to him. He tried to read her handwriting.

     ‘What does it say?’, he asked.

She pointed: ‘Well, that’s my name. and there it says: Dear Rufus   – I hope the police catch you next time’.

     ‘Nice’, he smiled. ‘Would you like my phone number?’.

   ‘I don’t think so’, she replied. As the man left the shop, she turned to William. ‘I think I’ll try this one’. She gave him the large, expensive book and the money for it.

    ‘Oh, right. Maybe it isn’t as bad as I thought’, William said.    ‘Probably quite good. And I’ll give you this one free’. He dropped the cheaper guidebook into the same bag. ‘Very useful for lighting fires or for making paper hats…’

     A sudden warm smile lit up her face. She looked carefully at this amusing young man with blue eyes and thick brown hair.’

      ‘Thanks’, she said, and left.

Chapter 2

First Kiss – Last Kiss?

      William felt empty. ‘That’s it, then. She’s gone. And I’ll probably never see her again’, he thought to himself.

       ‘Here’s your coffee’, Martin said brightly, as he came back into the shop.

        ‘Thanks. You won’t believe who was in here a minute ago’.

‘Who? Somebody famous?’, Martin asked, excited.

      But William suddenly changed his mind. ‘Oh… er… no… nobody’.

        ‘Perhaps one day a famous person will come in!’, said Martin, his eyes shining. ‘I saw one of the Beatles once… Ringo Starr. Well, I think it was Ringo Starr. I’m not really sure… he was quite far away. He had long hair and a beard’.

    ‘Hmmm… so you think you saw Ringo, but perhaps you didn’t?’.

         ‘Er… yes, that’s right’.

          ‘Maybe it was just a man with long hair and a beard?’.

         ‘Yes, maybe’.

      ‘Not a very good story, then, is it?’, suggested William. He shook his head and finished his coffee. ‘Right… another one?’.

        ‘Yes. No, let’s go crazy! I’ll have an orange juice’.

      Five minutes later, William left the café and hurried back to the bookshop with the orange juice. But as he turned the corner, he walked straight into a woman. The orange juice ran down her shirt.

‘I’m so sorry…’ He looked up at the woman’s face. For the second time that day, it was Anna Scott! ‘Oh… really, I’m sorry. Here…’

‘What are you doing?’, Anna shouted angrily, as William tried to clean her shirt with a paper towel.

      William jumped back. ‘Nothing, nothing. Listen, I live across the street. You can wash at my house’.

      ‘No, thank you. I just need to call my driver’. She turned away.

     ‘I also have a phone. In five minutes you can be clean and back on the street again…’

     She turned and looked at him. ‘OK. What does across the street mean? How far is your house exactly?’

     William pointed: ‘It’s just there. That’s my house. The one with the blue door’.

    She looked down at her shirt. Then she looked back up at him.      

    ‘Well, OK’.

    They walked towards William’s house. He opened the door.

    ‘Come in. I’ll just…’

     The house was in a terrible mess. William ran inside in front of her and kicked some shoes under the stairs. He threw away an old pizza and tried to hide some dirty plates.

     ‘I’m afraid it’s a bit untidy’.

     Anna looked around. Her face showed nothing. Taking the bag of books from her, William pointed towards the stairs.

    ‘The bathroom’s up there and there’s a phone on the desk in the room next to it’.

    She took her other bags and walked upstairs. William ran around the ground floor, clearing the mess.

    ‘Anna Scott is in my house! She’s in my bathroom! And look at this place! I’ll kill Spike’, he thought.

   He heard Anna’s feet on the stairs and looked up. She was wearing different clothes now – a black top and skirt. Without the dark glasses, her deep brown eyes shone. She looked wonderful. William stopped and stared. He tried to think of something to say.

     ‘Tea… Would you like a cup of tea before you go?’

     ‘No, thanks’.

     ‘Coffee?’

     ‘No’.

     ‘Something cold? Orange juice? No, probably not. Water?’

    ‘Really, no’.

    ‘Something to eat… some fruit?’

    ‘No’.

    ‘Do you always say no to everything?’

    Anna looked amused. ‘No. I must go’, she said. ‘Thanks for your help’.

    ‘You’re welcome’. He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t find the words. ‘And Id like to say…’, he continued, finally, ‘you’re wonderful. It’s my one chance to say it. When you’ve read that terrible book, you’ll never visit my shop again’.

     She looked pleased. ‘Thank you’.

William walked her to the front door. ‘Nice to meet you. Strange, but nice’.

     Anna left, and he closed the door behind her.

    ‘Oh, no!’, he thought. ‘Strange, but nice! What was I thinking?’.

There was a knock on the door. It was Anna again.

    ‘Oh, hi. Did you forget something?’

   ‘I forgot my books’, said Anna, stepping quickly inside the house.

    ‘Oh, right’.

     William ran into the kitchen to get the bag. ‘Here they are’.

    ‘Thanks. Well…’

   They stood near the door again. This time, William felt more comfortable. Then Anna moved forward and kissed him. He could smell her hair; he could feel the smoothness of her skin against his. He couldn’t believe it. Anna Scott, the woman of his dreams, was here, in his house, kissing him, William Thacker.

     At the worst possible time, a key turned in the lock.

    ‘Oh, no. it’s my lodger, Spike! I’m sorry. There’s no excuse for him’.

     Spike walked in and straight past them towards the kitchen. ‘I’m going to get some food’, he called over his shoulder. ‘Then I’m going to tell you a story that you won’t believe…’

      Anna looked at William. ‘You won’t tell anyone about this, will you?’.

     ‘Right. No one. I mean, I’ll tell myself sometimes. But don’t worry… I won’t believe it’.

      He opened the door for her a second time.

     ‘Bye’. She touched his hand lightly. And then she was gone.

     William walked slowly back into the kitchen.

   ‘Shall we watch videos tonight? I’ve got some really great films’, Spike said, between mouthfuls of food.

    ‘Yes’, thought William sadly. ‘I’ve got nothing better to do with my life’.

    One of Spike’s videos was a film starring Anna Scott. Later that evening, as the two men sat in front of the TV, William remembered the touch of her hand, the smell of her hair.

  Spike shook his head at the screen. ‘It’s hard to believe. Somewhere there’s a man who can kiss Anna Scott – any time, anywhere’.

    ‘Yes, she’s quite wonderful’.