Cecelia Ahern - The Time of My Life

‘What about the kitchen?’

There was a small space on the floor, which was where the buggy was. I moved the buggy and he came towards me, but I don’t know what happened, his toe hit something, I heard his boot bang, maybe against the counter, and the couch went flying out of his arms and on to the buggy.

‘Oh, my God,’ he shouted. ‘Oh, my God.’

‘It’s OK,’ I said quickly, trying to explain. ‘It’s okay, there’s nothing—’

‘Oh, fuck. Oh, my God,’ he repeated over and over as he tried to lift the couch off the buggy.

‘Relax, it’s okay. There’s no baby in there,’ I said loudly. He paused and looked at me like I was the oddest person on the planet.

‘There isn’t?’

‘No, look.’ I helped him lift the couch and place it on top of the counter. ‘See, it’s empty.’

‘But you said …’

‘Yeah, I know. It’s a long story.’

He closed his eyes and swallowed, sweat on his brow. ‘Jesus.’

‘I know, I’m sorry, but it’s okay.’

‘Why do you—’

‘Please don’t ask.’

‘But you—’

‘Honestly, it’s really best you don’t ask.’

He looked at me once more for an answer but I shook my head.

‘Fuck,’ he whispered, taking a deep breath. He gave the buggy one more look to make sure he hadn’t imagined it and then took another deep breath and went about setting up his giant vacuum-cleaning equipment. Then took his phone out of his pocket and texted. Tap, tap, tap. I rolled my eyes at Mr Pan. We were going to be here all day if he kept up with that phone.

‘So.’ He finally turned to me. ‘What I’m going to do first is use hot-water extraction to clean the carpet. Then I’ll protect it and deodorise it.’

‘Okay. Were you in an infomercial, by any chance?’

‘No,’ he groaned. ‘That was my dad. Fancies himself as a bit of an actor. He wants me to do one but I think I’d rather …’ He thought about it. ‘Yep, I’d rather die.’

I laughed. ‘It could be fun.’

He looked at me, widened his eyes. ‘Really? Would you do it?’

‘If you paid me I would pretty much do anything.’ I frowned. ‘Except what I just made it sound like I’d do. I wouldn’t do that .’

‘I wouldn’t ask you to. Not for money, I mean.’ His face pinked. ‘Can we change the subject?’

‘Yes, please.’

My phone beeped and we both took it as a good sign to stop talking immediately.

–Bloody Tom. He met a girl and decided to grow up, he’s moving in with her next week. I’m a flatmate down so … thirty-five-and-three-quarter-year-old tall dark handsome man seeking anybody who can pay the rent.

I texted back.

–Are you looking for someone too?! I’ll send the word out. Personal question: what’s your dream? Something that you really want.

The carpet cleaner’s phone beeped. I tutted, but my disapproval couldn’t be heard over the sound of the cleaner. He turned it off and took his phone from his pocket.

‘You’re popular today.’

‘Yeah, sorry.’ He stopped to read it. Then he texted back.

My phone beeped.

– A coffee. Want one now really badly .

I looked up at the cleaning guy; he was cleaning away, deep in thought. I hopped off the stool.

‘Would you like a coffee?’

He didn’t respond.

‘Excuse me, would you like a coffee?’ I said louder.

He looked up. ‘You must have read my mind. Would love one, thanks.’

He took a slug, placed it on the counter and went back to work. I sat down and read back over my texts, reading between the lines for more answers while I waited for another response. The carpet cleaner took out his phone again. I really wanted to say something but I held my tongue because I began to study him then, the small secret smile that was on his lips as he texted, and it immediately made me hate the person at the other end of that phone. He was texting a girl and I hated her.

‘Is this going to take long?’ I finally said, without the niceness in my voice.

‘Sorry?’ He looked up from the text.

‘The carpet. Will it take long?’

‘About two hours.’

‘I’m going to take the baby for a walk.’

He looked confused. He should be. I was. I received Don’s response when I was in the elevator.

– My dream is to win the lottery so I can quit my job and never have to work again. But what I really really want? Is to meet you .

I stared at the text, open-mouthed. The elevator had reached the ground floor and the doors had opened but I was taken aback and forgot to step out, partly because we had the same lazy dream but mostly because he had said such a beautiful borderline-cheesy thing that was actually quite adorable but terrifying. The doors to the elevator closed and before I’d a chance to press the buttons, it went up again. I sighed and leaned against the wall. We stopped on my floor. It was the cleaning guy.

‘Hello.’

‘I forgot to get out.’

He laughed and looked in the buggy. ‘So what’s his name?’

‘Conor.’

‘He’s cute.’

We laughed.

‘Are you sure we don’t know one another?’ he asked.

I studied him again. ‘Did you used to be a stockbroker?’

‘No,’ he laughed.

‘Did you ever pretend to be one?’

‘No.’

‘Well then, no.’ I really think I’d have remembered if I’d met him before – he was the highest up on the Blake barometer of any other human being living or dead. He was vaguely familiar but that may have been because I’d been staring at him all morning like a dirty old man. I frowned and shook my head. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name.’

He pointed at his chest where there was a stitched-in label. It said, Donal. ‘ My mother did it, insisted it would make the company more modern. It was her idea to do the infomercial. She read one marketing book about Starbucks and now she thinks she’s Donald Trump.’

‘Without the comb-over, I hope.’

He laughed. The doors opened and he let me walk out first. ‘Whoa,’ I said when we got outside. The van was bright yellow with a red magic flying carpet emblazoned on the side. On the roof rack was a larger-than-life rolled-up plastic red carpet.

‘You see? This is what they force me to drive. The carpet turns around when the engine’s on.’

‘That’s some book your mother read. It’s just for work though, isn’t it? It’s not as though it’s your everyday van.’ From the way he was looking at me I could tell I was wrong. New thought. ‘Wouldn’t it be cool if this was your everyday van?’

He laughed. ‘Yep. It’s a real babe-magnet, isn’t it?’

‘It’s like a superhero car,’ I said, circling it, and he looked at it again with new eyes.

‘I never thought of it like that.’ Then he studied me again. It was like he was trying to say something but couldn’t. I got goose bumps. ‘I’ll be finished in about an hour,’ he said instead. ‘The floor will be wet so I advise you not to walk on it for a few hours. I’ll come back this evening to put your furniture back if that’s okay and make sure you’re happy with the service.’

I was going to tell him not to bother coming back to replace the furniture, that I could do it, but I stopped myself, partly because there was no way in the world I could lift all the furniture, but mostly it was because I actually wanted him to come back. ‘Don’t worry about locking up, you can just close the door behind you.’

‘Okay, great. Nice meeting you, Lucy.’

‘Nice meeting you too, Donal. See you later.’

‘It’s a date,’ he said, and we laughed.

Conor and I sat on the bench in the park and when no one was looking I put him in the swing. I knew he wasn’t there, but for Claire, and for the memory of him, I stayed there until the sun went down behind the park trees, pushing him back and forth and hoping his little soul somewhere out there was saying Wheeee, just like mine suddenly was.