Cecelia Ahern - P.S. I Love You

“OK, now open my present!” Ciara screamed again.

“Ciara!” they all shouted. “After the toast,” added Sharon.

Everyone held up their glasses.

“OK, here's to my bestest friend in the whole world who has had such a difficult year, but all throughout, she's been the bravest and the strongest person I've ever met. She's an inspiration to us all. Here's to her finding happiness for the next thirty years of her life! To Holly!”

“To Holly,” they all chorused. Everyone's eyes were sparkling with tears as they took a sip of their drink, except of course for Ciara, who had knocked back her glass of champagne and was scrambling to give her present to Holly first.

“OK, first you have to wear this tiara because you are our princess for the night, and second here's my present from me to you!”

The girls helped Holly put on the sparkling tiara that luckily went perfectly with her black glittery corset, and at that moment, surrounded by her friends, she felt like a princess.

Holly carefully removed the tape from the neatly wrapped parcel.

“Oh, just rip it open!” said Abbey to everyone's surprise.

Holly looked at the box inside, confused. “What is it?”

“Read it!” Ciara said excitedly.

Holly began to read aloud from the box, “It's a battery-operated . . . oh my God! Ciara! You naughty girl!” Holly and the girls laughed hysterically.

“Well, I'll definitely need this,” Holly laughed, holding the box up to the camera.

Declan looked like he was about to throw up.

“Do you like it?” Ciara asked, searching for approval. “I wanted to give it to you at dinner that time but I didn't think it would be appropriate . . .”

“Gosh! Well, I'm glad you saved it till now!” Holly laughed, giving her sister a hug.

“OK, me next,” Abbey said, putting her parcel on Holly's lap. “It's from me and Jack, so don't expect anything like Ciara's!”

“Well, I would worry if Jack gave me something like that,” she said, opening Abbey's present.

“Oh, Abbey, it's beautiful!” Holly said, holding up the sterling silver–covered photo album.

“For your new memories,” Abbey said softly.

“Oh, it's perfect,” she said, wrapping her arms around Abbey and squeezing her. “Thank you.”

“OK, well, mine is less sentimental, but as a fellow female I'm sure you will appreciate it,” said Denise, handing her an envelope.

“Oh brilliant! I've always wanted to go here,” Holly exclaimed as she opened it. “A weekend of pampering in Haven's health and beauty clinic!”

“God, you sound like you're on Blind Date, ” teased Sharon.

“So let us know when you want to make an appointment, it's valid for a year, and the rest of us can book the same time. Make a holiday out of it!”

“Oh, that's a great idea, Denise, thank you!”

“OK, last but not least!” Holly winked at Sharon. Sharon fidgeted with her hands nervously while she watched Holly's face.

It was a large silver photo frame with a photograph of Sharon, Denise and Holly at the Christmas Ball two years ago. “Oh, I'm wearing my 'spensive white dress!” sobbed Holly playfully.

“ Before it was ruined,” pointed out Sharon.

“God, I don't even remember that being taken!”

“I don't even remember being there,” mumbled Denise.

Holly continued to stare at the photo sadly while she walked over to the fireplace.

That had been the last ball that she and Gerry had been to, as he had been too ill to attend last year's.

“Well, this will take pride of place,” Holly announced, walking over to the mantelpiece and placing it beside her wedding photo.

“OK, girls, let's get some serious drinking done!” screamed Ciara, and everyone dived to safety, as another bottle of champagne was popped open.

Two bottles of champagne and several bottles of red wine later, the girls stumbled out of the house and piled into a taxi. Through the giggling and shouting someone managed to explain to the taxi driver where they were going. Holly insisted on sitting in the passenger seat of the taxicab and having a heart-to-heart with John the driver, who probably wanted to kill her by the time they reached town.

“Bye John!” they all shouted to their new best friend before falling out onto the curb in Dublin city, where they watched him drive off at a high speed. They had decided (while drinking their third bottle of wine) to chance their luck in Dublin's most stylish club, Boudoir. The club was reserved for the rich and famous only, and it was a well-known fact that if you weren't rich and famous, you then had to have a member's card to be granted access. Denise walked up to the door coolly waving her video store membership card in the bouncers' faces. Believe it or not, they stopped her.

The only famous faces they saw overtaking them to get into the club, as they fought with the bouncers to get in, were a few newsreaders from the national TV station who Denise smiled at, and she hilariously kept repeating “good evening” very seriously to their faces. Unfortunately after that, Holly remembered no more.

Holly awoke with her head pounding. Her mouth was as dry as Gandhi's sandal and her vision was impaired. She leaned up on one elbow and tried to open her eyes, which were somehow glued together. She squinted around the room. It was bright, very bright, and the room seemed to be spinning. Something very odd was going on. Holly caught sight of herself in the mirror ahead and startled herself. Had she been in an accident last night? She ran out of energy and collapsed flat on her back again. Suddenly the house alarm began wailing and she lifted her head slightly from the pillow and opened one eye. Oh, take whatever you want, she thought, just as long as you bring me a glass of water before you go. After a while she realized it wasn't the alarm but the phone ringing beside her bed.

“Hello?” she croaked.

“Oh good, I'm not the only one,” said a desperately ill voice on the other end.

“Who are you?” croaked Holly again.

“My name is Sharon, I think,” came the reply, “although don't ask me who Sharon is because I don't know. The man beside me in bed seems to think I know him.” Holly heard John laughing loudly in the background.

“Sharon, what happened last night? Please enlighten me.”

“Alcohol happened last night,” said Sharon drowsily, “lots and lots of alcohol.”

“Any other information?”

“Nope.”

“Know what time is it?”

“Two o'clock.”

“Why are you ringing me at this hour of the morning?”

“It's the afternoon, Holly.”

“Oh. How did that happen?”

“Gravity or something. I was out that day in school.”

“Oh God, I think I'm dying.”

“Me too.”

“I think I'll just go back to sleep, maybe when I wake up, the ground will have stopped moving.”

“Good idea, oh and Holly, welcome to the thirties club.”

Holly groaned, “I have not started as I mean to go on. From now on I will be a sensible, mature thirty-year-old woman.”

“Yeah, that's what I said too. Good night.”

“ 'Night.” Seconds later Holly was asleep. She awoke at various stages during the day to answer the phone, conversations that all seemed part of her dreams. And she made many trips to the kitchen to rehydrate herself.

Eventually at nine o'clock that night Holly succumbed to her stomach's screaming demands for food. As usual there was nothing in the fridge, so she decided to treat herself to a Chinese take-away. She sat snuggled up on the couch in her pajamas watching the very best of Saturday night TV while stuffing her face. After the trauma of being without Gerry for her birthday the previous day, Holly was surprised to notice that she felt very content with herself. It was the first time since Gerry had died that she was at ease with her own company. There was a slight chance she could make it without him.