Cecelia Ahern - The Gift & Thanks for the Memories

‘My trousers would have fallen down! I’m not like all these kids now, I don’t wear a belt to look groovy , as they say. Where I come from you wear it because it keeps your pants up. And you’d be arrestin’ me for a whole lot more than this, if it didn’t, believe you me.’

‘You haven’t been arrested, Mr Conway. We just need to ask you some questions. Behaviour such as yours is prohibited at this airport, so we need to ascertain if you are a threat to the safety of our passengers.’

‘What do you mean, a threat?’

The security officer clears his throat. ‘Well, it means finding out if you are a member of any gangs or terrorist organisations before we reconsider allowing you through.’

I hear Dad roar with laughter.

‘You must understand that planes are very confined spaces and we can’t allow anybody on that we aren’t sure of. We have the right to choose who we allow onboard our aircraft.’

‘The only threat I’d be in a confined space is when I’ve had a good curry from my local. And terrorist organisations? I am, all right. The Monday Club is all I’m a member of. Meet every Monday except on bank holidays when we meet on a Tuesday. A bunch of lads and lasses like me gettin’ together for a few pints and a singsong is all it is. Though if you’re lookin’ for juice, Donal’s family were pretty heavily involved in the IRA all right.’

I hear the man questioning him clear his throat again.

‘Donal?’

‘Donal McCarthy. Ah, leave him alone, he’s ninety-seven, and I’m talkin’ about way back when his dad fought. The only rebellious thing he’s able to do now is whack the chessboard with his cane and that’s only because he’s frustrated he can’t play. Arthritis in both his hands. Could do with gettin’ it in his mouth, if you ask me. Talkin’ is all he does. Annoys Peter no end but they’ve never gotten along since he courted his daughter and broke her heart. She’s seventy-two. Have you ever heard anything more ridiculous? Had a wandering eye, she claimed, but sure, he’s as cock-eyed as they come. His eye wanders without him even knowing it. I wouldn’t blame the man for that, though he does like to dominate the conversations every week. I can’t wait for him to listen to me for a change.’ Dad laughs and sighs in the long pause that follows. ‘Do you think I could get a cuppa?’

‘We won’t be much longer, Mr Conway. What is the nature of your visit to London?’

‘I’m going because my daughter dragged me here, last minute. She gets off the phone yesterday morning and looks at me with a face as white as a sheet. I’m off to London, she says, like it’s somethin’ you just do last minute. Ah, maybe it is what you young people do, but not for me. Not what I’m used to at all, at all. Never been on a plane before, you see. So she says wouldn’t it be fun if we both go away? And usually I’d say no, I’ve loads to be doin’ in my garden. Have to put down the lilies, tulips, daffodils and hyacinths in time for the spring, you see, but she says live a little and I felt like peltin’ her because it’s more livin’ I’ve been doing than her. But because of recent, well, troubles, shall we say, I decided to come with her. And that’s no crime, is it?’

‘What recent troubles, Mr Conway?’

‘Ah, my Gracie—’

‘Joyce.’

‘Yes, thank you. My Joyce, she’s been goin’ through a rough patch. Lost her little baby a few weeks back, you see. Had been years trying to have one with a fella that plays tennis in little white shorts and things finally looked great but she had an accident, fell, you see and she lost the little one. Lost a little of herself too, if I’m to be honest with you. Lost the husband too just last week, but don’t you be feelin’ sorry for her about that. She lost somethin’ all right but, mind you, she got a little somethin’ she never had before. Can’t put my finger on exactly what, but whatever it is, I don’t think it’s such a bad thing. Generally things aren’t goin’ right for her and sure, what kind of a father would I be to let her go off on her own in this state? She’s got no job, no baby, no husband, no mother and soon no house, and if she wants to go to London for a break, even if it is last minute, then she sure as hell is entitled to go without any more people stopping her from what she wants.

‘Here, take my bloody cap. My Joyce wants to go to London and you fellows should let her. She’s a good girl, never did a thing wrong in her life. She has nothing right now but me and this trip, as far as I can see. So here, take it. If I have to go without my cap and my shoes and my belt and my coat, well then, that’s fine by me, but my Joyce isn’t going to London without me.’

Well, if that isn’t enough to break a girl.

‘Mr Conway, you do know that you get your clothing back once you go through the metal detector?’

‘What?’ he shouts. ‘Why the hell didn’t she tell me that? All this feckin’ nonsense for nothing. Honestly, you’d think she almost wants the trouble sometimes. OK, lads, you can take my things. Will we still make the flight, do you think?’

Any tears that had welled very quickly dried.

Finally the door to my cell opens and, with a single nod, I’m a free woman.

‘Doris, you cannot move the stove in the kitchen. Al, tell her.’

‘Why not?’

‘Honey, first of all it’s heavy and second of all, it’s gas. You are not qualified to move around kitchen appliances,’ Al explains, and prepares to bite into a doughnut.

Doris whisks it away from him, leaving him to lick dribbles of jam from his fingers. ‘You two don’t seem to understand that it’s bad feng shui to have a stove facing a door. The person at the stove may instinctively want to glance back at the door, which creates a feeling of unease, which can lead to accidents.’

‘Perhaps removing the stove altogether will be a safer option for Dad.’

‘You have to give me a break,’ Justin sighs, sitting down at the new kitchen table and chairs. ‘All the place needs is furniture and a lick of paint, not for you to restructure the entire place according to yoda.’

‘It is not according to yoda,’ Doris huffs. ‘Donald Trump follows feng shui, you know.’

‘Oh, well then ,’ Al and Justin say in unison.

‘Yes, well then. Maybe if you did what he did, you’d be able to walk up the stairs without having to take a lunch-break halfway up,’ she snaps at Al. ‘Just because you sell tyres, sweetie, it doesn’t mean you have to wear them too.’

Bea’s mouth drops and Justin tries not to laugh. ‘Come on, sweetheart, let’s get out of here before it turns to violence.’

‘Where are you two going? Can I come?’ Al asks.

‘I’m going to the dentist and Bea has rehearsals for tonight.’

‘Good luck, Blondie.’ Al ruffles her hair. ‘We’ll be cheering for you.’

‘Thanks.’ She grinds her teeth and fixes her hair. ‘Oh, that reminds me. One more thing about the woman on the phone, Joyce?’

What, what, what? ‘What about her?’

‘She knows that I’m blonde.’

‘How did she know?’ Doris asks, with surprise.

‘She said she just guessed. But that’s not it. Before she hung up she said, “Best of luck with your ballet show.”’

‘So she’s a thoughtful lucky-guesser,’ Al shrugs.

‘Well, I was thinking about it afterward and I don’t remember telling her anything about my show being specifically ballet.’

Justin immediately looks to Al, a little more concerned now that it involves his daughter, but adrenalin still surges. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think, watch your back, bro. She could be a fruit cake.’ He stands up and heads to the kitchen, rubbing his stomach. ‘Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Fruit cake.’