Cecelia Ahern - The Gift & Thanks for the Memories

‘He’s going to realise that I’m me.’

‘As opposed to you being …?’

‘Someone else.’ I bite my lip again.

‘This is really reminding me of the old days. You are thirty-three years old, Joyce, why are you acting like a teenager?’

‘Because she’s in love,’ Kate says, bored, turning to face the swimming pool and clapping her coughing daughter, Jayda, whose face is half under the water.

‘She can’t be in love.’ Frankie rolls her nose up in disgust.

‘Is that normal, do you think?’ Kate, beginning to get worried about Jayda, tries to get our attention.

‘Of course it’s not normal,’ Frankie responds. ‘She hardly knows the guy.’

‘Girls, eh, stop for a minute,’ Kate tries to butt in.

‘I know more about him than any other person will ever know,’ I defend myself. ‘Apart from himself.’

‘Eh, lifeguard.’ Kate gives up on us and calls gently to the woman sitting below us. ‘Is she OK, do you think?’

‘Are you in love?’ Frankie looks at me as though I’ve just said I want to have a sex change.

I smile just as the lifeguard crashes into the water to save Jayda and a few kids scream.

‘You’ll have to take us over to Ireland with you,’ Doris says with excitement, placing a vase on the kitchen windowsill. The flat is almost finished and she’s arranging the finishing touches. ‘They could be a nutcase and you’d never know. We need to be nearby just in case something happens. They could be a murderer, a serial stalker who dates people and then kills them. I saw something like that on Oprah .’

Al begins hammering nails into the wall and Justin joins in with the rhythm, gently and repeatedly bashing his head against the kitchen table in response.

‘I am not taking you both to the opera with me,’ Justin says.

‘You took me along on a date with you when you and Delilah Jackson went out.’ Al stops hammering and turns to him. ‘Why should this be any different?’

‘Al, I was twelve years old.’

‘Still,’ he shrugs, returning to his hammering.

‘What if she’s a celebrity?’ Doris says excitedly. ‘Oh my God, she could be! I think she is! Jennifer Aniston could be sitting in the front row of the opera and there could be a place free beside her. Oh my God, what if it is?’ She turns to Al with wide eyes. ‘Justin, you have to tell her I’m her biggest fan.’

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a minute, you’re starting to hyperventilate. How on earth have you come to that conclusion? We don’t even know if it’s a woman. You are obsessed with celebrities,’ Justin sighs.

‘Yeah, Doris,’ Al joins in. ‘It’s probably just a normal person.’

Justin rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah,’ he imitates his tone, ‘because celebrities aren’t normal people, they’re really underworld beasts that grow horns and have three legs.’

With that both Al and Doris pause from their hammering and hanging duties to stare at him.

‘We’re going to Dublin tomorrow,’ Doris says with an air of finality. ‘It’s your brother’s birthday and a weekend in Dublin, in a very nice hotel like the Shelbourne Hotel – I’ve, I mean Al has always wanted to stay there – would be a perfect birthday present for him, from you.’

‘I can’t afford the Shelbourne Hotel, Doris.’

‘Well, we’ll need somewhere close to a hospital in case he has a heart attack. In any case, we’re all going!’ She claps her hands excitedly.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

I’m on my way into the city to meet Kate and Frankie for help on what to wear to tonight’s opera, when my phone rings.

‘Hello?’

‘Joyce, it’s Steven.’

My boss.

‘I just received another phone call.’

‘That’s really great but you don’t have to call me when that happens.’

‘It’s another complaint, Joyce.’

‘From who and about what?’

‘That couple you showed the new cottage to yesterday?’

‘Yes?’

‘They’ve pulled out.’

‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ I say, lacking all sincerity. ‘Did they say why?’

‘Yes, in fact they did. It seems a certain person in our company advised them that to recreate the look of the period cottage properly, they should demand that the builders carry out excess work. Guess what? The builders weren’t entirely interested in their list that included,’ I hear paper rustling and he reads aloud, ‘“Exposed beams, exposed brickwork, log-burning stove, open fires …” The list goes on. So now they’ve backed out.’

‘It sounds reasonable enough to me. The builders were recreating period cottages without any period features. Does that make sense to you?’

‘Who cares? Joyce, you were only supposed to let them in to measure for their couch. Douglas had sold this place to them already when you were … out.’

‘Evidently, he didn’t.’

‘Joyce, I need you to stop turning our clients away. Do you need to be reminded that your job is to sell , and if you’re not doing that then…’

‘Then what?’ I say haughtily, my head getting hot.

‘Then nothing,’ he softens. ‘I know you’ve had a difficult time,’ he begins awkwardly.

‘That time is over and has nothing to do with my ability to sell a house,’ I snap.

‘Then sell one,’ he finishes.

‘Fine.’ I snap my phone shut and glare out the bus window at the city. A week back at work and already I need a break.

‘Doris, is this really necessary?’ Justin moans from the bathroom.

‘Yes!’ she calls. ‘This is what we’re here for. We have to make sure you’re going to look right tonight. Hurry up, you take longer than a woman to get changed.’

Doris and Al are sitting on the end of their bed in a Dublin hotel, not the Shelbourne, much to Doris’s dismay. It is more of a Holiday Inn, but it’s central to the city and shopping streets and that’s good enough for her. As soon as they’d landed earlier that morning, Justin had been all set to show them around the sites, the museums, churches and castles, but Doris and Al had other things on their minds. Shopping. The Viking tour was as cultured as they got and Doris had howled when water had sprayed her in the face on entry into the River Liffey. They’d ended up rushing to the nearest rest room so that Al could wash the mascara out of her eye.

There were only hours to go until the opera, until he would finally discover the identity of this mystery person. He was filled with anxiety, excitement and nerves at the thought of it. It would be an evening of sheer torture or pleasantries depending on his luck. He had to figure out an escape plan if his worst-case scenario was to play out.

‘Oh, hurry up, Justin,’ Doris howls again and he fixes his tie and exits the bathroom.

‘Work it, work it, work it!’ Doris whoops as he strolls up and down the bedroom in his best suit. He pauses in front of them and fidgets awkwardly, feeling like a little boy in his communion suit.

He is greeted by silence. Al, who has been shovelling popcorn in his mouth at a serious speed, also stops.

‘What?’ he says nervously. ‘Something wrong? Something on my face? Is there a stain?’ He looks down, studying himself.

Doris rolls her eyes and shakes her head. ‘Ha-ha very funny. Now seriously, stop wasting time and show us the real suit.’

‘Doris!’ Justin exclaims. ‘This is the real suit!’

‘That’s your best suit?’ she drawls, looking him up and down.

‘I think I recognise that from our wedding.’ Al’s eyes narrow.

Doris stands up and picks up her handbag. ‘Take it off,’ she says calmly.

‘What? Why?’

She takes a deep breath. ‘Just take it off. Now.’

‘These are too formal, Kate.’ I turn my nose up at the dresses she has chosen. ‘It’s not a ball, I just need something …’