Cecelia Ahern - The Time of My Life

Okay, I lied.

Life bought the blueberries. We don’t have a rooftop garden. I saw the dress in a magazine and miraculously, I had become a blonde in that daydream.

‘Today,’ I continued, closing my eyes, ‘I just want to stay in bed.’

‘You should call your mother.’

They swiftly opened. ‘Why?’

‘Because she’s trying to plan a wedding and you’re not helping.’

‘It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard; they’re already married, it’s just an excuse to give her something to do. She needs to take up pottery. Besides, neither are Riley or Philip helping. And I can’t meet her today because the carpet people are coming. They’ll probably be late. Those kinds of people are always late. I think I’ll cancel them.’ I reached for my phone.

‘You will not. I found a grey hair on my sock today and I know it wasn’t from a head and I know it wasn’t mine.’

I put the phone back down.

‘And you should call Jamie back.’

‘Why?’

‘When has he ever called you before?’

‘Never.’

‘So it must be important.’

‘Or he was drunk and he hit against his phone and dialled my number by mistake.’

Life looked displeased.

‘So he was going to say sorry for what happened last night at dinner, and he doesn’t need to apologise, he didn’t do anything wrong. He was on my side.’

‘So call him back and tell him that.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it with anyone.’

‘Fine, you just sweep more crap under the rug, because that rug’s going to get so bumpy it’ll trip you up.’

‘You think any of these phone calls are more important than spending time with my life ?’ I thought I’d win him on that.

He rolled his eyes. ‘Lucy, you are in danger of going in entirely the wrong direction. I didn’t want you to become a selfish woman who sits around all day talking about herself with her life. You need to find a balance. Take care of you but take care of the people who care about you too.’

‘But it’s hard,’ I whinged, covering my head with a pillow.

‘And that’s Life. Why did I want to meet you?’

‘Because I was ignoring you.’ I spoke the words I was trained to speak. ‘Because I wasn’t dealing with my life.’

‘And now what are you doing?’

‘Dealing with my life. Spending every little second with my life, so much so that I can barely pee on my own.’

‘You’d be able to pee in private if you fixed the light bulb in the bathroom.’

‘It’s so much hassle,’ I sighed.

‘How is it?’

‘Firstly, I can’t reach it.’

‘Get a stepladder.’

‘I don’t have one.’

‘So stand on the toilet.’

‘It’s a cheap plastic cover and I’ll fall through.’

‘So stand on the edge of the bath.’

‘It’s dangerous.’

‘Right.’ Life stood up. ‘Stand up.’

I groaned.

‘Stand up,’ he repeated.

I pulled myself up like a grumpy teen.

‘Now go across to your neighbour and ask her if you can have a loan of a stepladder.’

I collapsed back on the couch again.

‘Do it,’ he said sternly.

I stood up again, huffily, and made my way to the door. I went across to Claire’s apartment and knocked and returned moments later with a stepladder.

‘See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’

‘We talked about the weather, so yes, it was bad. I hate mindless talk.’

He snorted. ‘Now put the ladder in the bathroom.’

I did as I was told.

‘Now climb up.’

I followed his instructions.

‘Now unscrew the light bulb.’

He shone the torch up so that I could see what I was doing. I unscrewed the old bulb, whimpering like a child who’d been forced to eat vegetables. It finally came loose so I stopped my complaining to concentrate. I handed him the old bulb.

‘Act like I’m not here.’

I tutted, then sang, ‘I hate my life, I hate my life,’ over and over while climbing back down the stepladder, put the bulb in the sink, threw him a nasty look, took the new bulb out of the box, climbed back up the ladder and began to screw it in. Then it was in. I climbed back down the ladder, flicked the switch and the room was flooded with light.

‘Yay, me!’ I said, lifting my hand to high-five Life.

He looked at me as if I was the saddest specimen he had ever seen.

‘I’m not high-fiving you for changing a light bulb.’

I lowered my hand, cringing slightly, then perked up. ‘What now, more pancakes?’

‘Now that the room is lit up, you could do with giving this place a good clean.’

‘Nooo,’ I groaned. ‘You see, that’s why I don’t do things, it leads to having to do other things.’ I folded up the stepladder and left it in the hallway beneath the coat rack, beside the mucky boots from the summer festival, the last festival I went to with Blake, when I’d been informed I’d flashed Iggy Pop from my perch on Blake’s shoulders.

‘You’re not going to leave that there.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s going to gather dust and stay there for the next twenty years just like those boots covered in muck. Give it back to Claire.’

I did what I was told and dragged it back across the hall. ‘Come on.’ I took him by the hand. ‘Let’s snuggle on the couch again.’

‘No.’ He let go of me and laughed. ‘I’m not lying around here all day, I’m going to take the rest of the day off.’

‘What do you mean? Where are you going?’

He smiled. ‘Even I need a rest.’

‘But where will you go? Where do you live?’ I looked up towards the sky and jerked my head. ‘Is it up there?’

‘The next floor?’

‘No! The … you know.’ I jerked my head again.

‘The sky?’ He opened his mouth wider than I’ve ever seen a person open it and he laughed. ‘Ah Lucy, you really make me laugh.’

I laughed along with him as if I’d made a joke, though I hadn’t at all.

‘I can give you some homework before I leave, if you want, just so you don’t miss me.’

I scrunched up my nose. He made for the door.

‘Okay, fine, sit back down.’ I patted the sofa. All of a sudden I just didn’t want to be alone.

‘What do you dream about, Lucy?’

‘Cool, I love dream conversations.’ I got cosy. ‘Last night was a sex-with-the-cute-guy-on-the-train dream.’

‘I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.’

‘We didn’t do it on the train.’

‘No, I meant because he’s so young and you’re going to be thirty any minute now,’ he teased. ‘Anyway, that’s not what I meant. I mean, what do you dream about as in your hopes and ambitions?’

‘Oh,’ I said, bored. I thought about it. Then, ‘I don’t get the question.’

He sighed and spoke to me as if I was a child. ‘What things would you really, really like to do if you could? Something you’d like to accomplish, like a dream job for example.’

I thought about it. ‘An X Factor judge so I can throw stuff at the contestants if they’re crap. Or pull a trapdoor and they go flying down into a bath of beans or something, that’d be cool. And I’d win the fashion contest every week, Cheryl and Dannii would be like, “Oh, Lucy, where did you get your dress?” and I’d be like, “Oh, this? It’s just a little something I found on my curtain pole.” And Simon would be like, “Hey, you two girls should take some tips from Lucy, she’s—”’

‘Okay, okay, okay,’ Life said, putting his fingers to his temples and lightly massaging his head. ‘Any other better dreams?’

I thought about it some more, feeling under pressure. ‘I’d really, really like to win the lottery so that I never have to work again and can buy all the stuff I want.’