Cecelia Ahern - There’s No Place Like Here

“One passed away, the other is living in another village. You’re definitely sure your watch is gone?”

“It’s gone,” I assured her.

“Is this the only thing that has disappeared?”

This is where I chose to lie. I nodded. “And believe me, there’s no better person at searching than me.” I looked around her room while she studied me.

“What is it that you do back home, Sandy?” She rested her chin on her hand and gazed intently at me, trying to solve the puzzle in her own mind.

“I run a missing-persons agency.”

She laughed first, but her smile faded when she realized she was laughing alone. “You search for missing people?”

“And help people reunite, find long-lost relatives, adopted parents, adopted children, that kind of thing,” I rattled off.

Her eyes widened with each example. “So your case is certainly very different from the others I spoke about.”

“Or it’s coincidental.”

She mulled that over but didn’t comment. “So that’s how you know so much about the people here.”

“Only some people. Only the people in the play. By the way, the dress rehearsal is on tonight. Helena wanted me to invite you.” I remembered how Helena had hammered it into my head before I left the house that morning. “It’s The Wizard of Oz but it’s not a musical, Helena is stressing to everybody. It’s just her and Dennis O’Shea’s interpretation.” I laughed. “Orla Keane is playing the role of Dorothy. I’m actually quite looking forward to it.” I realized this, as I said it, for the first time. “The idea for the play was initially just my way of having a chance to talk to the potential cast without raising suspicions. We thought it would be far cleverer than knocking on doors and relaying stories of home, but perhaps we should have put a bit more thought into it. I didn’t realize how quickly people talk here.”

“Word gets around fast,” Grace replied, still in a daze. She leaned in further and said, “Were you looking for someone in particular when you arrived here?”

“Donal Ruttle,” I said, still hoping I’d find him.

“No.” She shook her head. “The name isn’t familiar.”

“He’s now twenty-five years old, from Limerick, and would have arrived here last year.”

“He’s definitely not in this village, anyway.”

“I don’t think he’s here at all, I’m afraid,” I thought aloud, feeling instant sympathy for Jack Ruttle.

“I’m from Killybeggs in Donegal, I don’t know if you know it…” Grace leaned forward again.

“Of course I do.” I smiled.

Her face softened. “I’m married here but my maiden name is O’Donohue. My parents were Tony and Margaret O’Donohue. They have passed away now. I saw my dad’s name in the obituaries in a newspaper I found six years ago. I’ve kept it.” She glanced over at her wall cabinet. “Carol Dempsey,” she started up again. “You know Carol. She’s in the play too, I believe. Well, she’s a Donegal woman too, as you well know, and she informed me of my mother’s death when she arrived a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yes, well…” she said gently. “I’m an only child,” she explained, “but I have an uncle Donie who moved to Dublin a few years before I arrived here.”

I nodded along with her, waiting for the story to begin, but she fell silent and watched me. I shifted uneasily in my chair, realizing she was giving me information about her life to refresh my memory.

“I’m sorry, Grace,” I said softly. “That might have been before I set up the agency. How long have you been here?”

“Fourteen years.” I must have looked at her with such pity because she quickly explained, “I love it here, don’t get me wrong. I have a wonderful husband and three gorgeous children and I wouldn’t go back in a heartbeat, but I was just wondering…I’m sorry.” She sat upright again and composed herself.

“It’s OK. I’d want to know too,” I said gently, “but I’m not familiar with the people you’ve mentioned. I’m sorry.”

There was a silence and I thought I’d upset her, but when she spoke again she seemed fine.

“What made you want to find missing people? It’s such an unusual career.”

I laughed. “Now, there’s a question.” I thought back to when it all began. “Two words,” I said. “Jenny-May Butler. She lived across the road from me when I was a child in Leitrim, but she went missing when she was ten.”

“Yes.” Grace smiled. “Jenny-May is as good a reason as any. What a character.”

It took me a moment to catch what she’d said. My heart leaped into my throat with the surprise. “What? What did you say?”

Come on, Bobby!” I yelled, poking my head in the door of Lost and Found.

“What?” he shouted from upstairs.

“Bring the camera, get your keys, lock up, and let’s go. We’ve got to go!” I allowed the door to swing shut and paced up and down the veranda, Grace’s words still ringing in my ears. She knew Jenny-May. She had given me directions. I had to go to her now . My excitement had gone way past boiling point and was overflowing, spilling from me as I waited impatiently outside for Bobby. I needed him to show me the way to Jenny-May’s home in the forest, yet I didn’t have the patience to explain what it was I wanted.

Bobby arrived at the door, looking bewildered. “What the hell are you doing-” He stopped as soon as he saw the look on my face. “What happened?”

“Get your things, Bobby, quick.” I pushed by him into the shop. “I’ll explain on the way. Bring the camera.” I hopped around him as he clumsily tried to gather his things, trying to keep up with the speed with which I was barking my orders. By the time he had finished locking up I was power-walking down the dusty street, aware that even more eyes were on me now, after the community gathering last night.

“Wait, Sandy!” I heard him panting behind me. “What the hell happened to you? It’s like you’ve a rocket shoved up your arse!”

“Maybe I have.” I smiled, racing on.

“Where are we going?” He jogged alongside me.

“Here.” I thrust the page of directions at him and kept walking.

“Hold on. Slow down,” he said, trying to read it and run alongside me at the same time. One of my strides equaled two of his but I kept walking nonetheless. “Stop!” he shouted loudly in the market area, and others turned to stare. I finally stopped. “If you want me to read this properly you have to tell me what the hell is happening.”

I spoke faster than I had ever spoken before in my life.

“OK, I think I got all that,” Bobby said, still slightly confused, “but I’ve never been in this direction before.” He studied the map again. “We’ll have to ask Helena or Joseph.”

“No! We’ve no time! We have to go now ,” I whined like an impatient child. “Bobby, I’ve been waiting for this moment for the past twenty-four years of my life. Please do not delay me now when I’m so close.”

“Yes, Dorothy, but it will take a bit more than following the yellow brick road,” he said sarcastically.

Despite my frustration, I laughed.

“I understand your haste but if I try to bring you to this place it will be another twenty-four years before we get there. I don’t know this part of the woods, I have never heard of this Jenny-May person, and I don’t have any friends who live that deep. If we get lost, we’re in big trouble. Let’s just go to Helena for help first.”

Although he was almost half my age, the boy made sense, and so I grudgingly stomped my way to Helena and Joseph’s house.

Helena and Joseph were sitting on the bench in the front of their house, enjoying the relaxing atmosphere of Sunday lunchtime. Bobby, sensing my urgency, rushed straight to Helena and Joseph while Wanda jumped up from the ground where she was playing and ran to me.