Cecelia Ahern - P.S. I Love You

“Anyway, my future son-in-law is back on television so I must be off,” Elizabeth laughed.

“Would you like to come around and join us?”

“Thanks but no, I'm OK here.”

“All right, love, but if you change your mind you know where we are. Bye, dear.”

Back to her empty, silent house.

Holly woke up the next morning still fully dressed and lying on her bed. She could feel herself slipping into her old habits again. All her positive thoughts of the past few weeks were melting away bit by bit every day. It was so bloody tiring trying to be happy all the time and she just didn't have the energy anymore. Who cared if the house was a mess? Nobody but her was going to see it, and she certainly didn't care one way or the other. Who cared if she didn't wear makeup or wash for a week? She certainly had no intention of impressing anyone. The only guy she was seeing regularly was the pizza delivery boy, and she had to tip him to make him smile.

Who bloody cared? Her phone vibrated beside her, signaling a message. It was from Sharon.

CLUB DIVA NO 36700700

THINK BOUT IT. WUD B FUN.

DO IT 4 GERRY?

Gerry's bloody dead, she felt like texting back. But ever since she had begun opening the envelopes he didn't feel dead to her. It was as though he were just away on holiday and writing her letters, so he wasn't really gone. Well, the very least she could do was ring the club and suss out the situation. That didn't mean she had to go through with it.

She dialed the number and a man answered. She couldn't think of anything to say so she quickly hung up again. Oh, come on, Holly, she told herself, it's really not that difficult, just say a friend is interested in singing.

Holly braced herself and pressed REDIAL.

The same voice answered, “Club Diva.”

“Hi, I was wondering if you do karaoke nights there?”

“Yes we do, they are on a. . . ,” she heard him leafing through some pages, “yeah sorry, they're on a Thursday.”

“Thursday?”

“No sorry, sorry, hold on . . .” He leafed through some pages again. “No, they're on a Tuesday night.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, they are definitely on a Tuesday.”

“OK, em, well, I was wondering if, em . . .” Holly took a deep breath and began the sentence again. “My friend might be interested in singing and she was wondering what she would have to do?”

There was a long pause on the other end.

“Hello?” Was this person stupid?

“Yeah sorry, I don't actually organize the karaoke nights, so . . .”

“OK.” Holly was losing her temper. It had taken a lot to summon up the courage to actually make the call and some underqualified unhelpful little twit wasn't going to ruin it for her. “Well, is there anyone there who might have a clue?”

“Eh, no, there isn't, the club isn't actually open yet, it's very early in the morning still,” came the sarcastic response.

“Well, thank you very much, you've been a terrific help,” she said, matching his sarcasm.

“Excuse me, if you can just bear with me for a moment, I'll try and find out for you.” Holly was put on hold and was forced to listen to “Greensleeves” for the next five minutes.

“Hello? Are you still there?”

“Barely,” she said angrily.

“OK, I'm very sorry about the delay but I just made a phone call there. What's your friend's name?”

Holly froze, she hadn't planned on this. Well, maybe she could just give her name and then get

“her friend” to call back and cancel if she changed her mind.

“Em, her name is Holly Kennedy.”

“OK, well, it's actually a karaoke competition on Tuesday nights. It goes on for a month and every week two people out of ten are chosen till the last week of the month, where the six people sing again in the final.”

Holly gulped. She didn't want to do this.

“But unfortunately,” he continued, “the names have all been entered a few months in advance, so you can tell your friend Holly that maybe she could try again at Christmas. That's when the next competition is on.”

“Oh, OK.”

“By the way, the name Holly Kennedy rings a bell. Would that be Declan Kennedy's sister?”

“Eh, yeah, why, do you know her?” said a shocked Holly.

“I wouldn't say I know her, I just met her briefly here the other night with her brother.”

Was Declan going around and introducing girls as his sister? The sick and twisted little . . . No, that couldn't be right, what on earth?

“Declan played a gig in Club Diva?”

“No no,” he laughed, “he played with his band downstairs in the basement.”

Holly quickly tried to digest the information until finally it clicked.

“Is Club Diva in Hogan's?”

He laughed again, “Yeah, it's on the top floor. Maybe I should advertise a bit more!”

“Is that Daniel?” Holly blurted out and then kicked herself for being so stupid.

“Eh, yeah, do I know you?”

“Em, no! No you don't! Holly just mentioned you in conversation, that's all.” Then she realized how that sounded. “Very briefly in conversation,” she added. “She said you gave her a stool.”

Holly began hitting her head softly on the wall.

Daniel laughed again. “Oh, OK, well, tell her if she wants to sing in the karaoke at Christmas I can put her name down now for her. You wouldn't believe the amount of people that want to sign up.”

“Really,” Holly said weakly. She felt like a fool.

“Oh, by the way, who am I speaking to?”

Holly paced her bedroom floor. “Em, Sharon, you're speaking to Sharon.”

“OK, Sharon, well, I have your number on caller ID so I'll call you if anyone backs out.”

“OK, thanks a lot.”

And he hung up.

And Holly leapt into bed, throwing the duvet over her head as she felt her face going purple with embarrassment. She hid under the covers, cursing herself for being such a bimbo. Ignoring the phone ringing, she tried to convince herself she hadn't been a complete idiot. Eventually, after she had persuaded herself she could show her face in public again (it took a long time), she crawled out of bed and hit the button on her answering machine.

“Hi Sharon, I must have just missed you. It's Daniel here from Club Diva.” He paused and then, laughing, added, “In Hogan's. Em, I was just looking through the list of names in the book and it seems somebody already entered Holly's name a few months back, in fact it's one of the first entries. Unless it's another Holly Kennedy . . .” He trailed off. “Anyway, call me back when you get a chance so we can sort it out. Thanks.”

Holly sat shocked on the edge of her bed, unable to move for the next few hours.

Twelve

SHARON, DENISE AND HOLLY SAT by the window in Bewley's Café overlooking Grafton Street. They often met up there to watch the world go by; Sharon always said it was the best window-shopping she could ever do as she had a bird's-eye view of all her favorite stores.

“I can't believe Gerry organized all this!” gasped Denise when she heard the news. She flicked her long brown hair behind her shoulders and her bright blue eyes sparkled back at Holly enthusiastically.

“It'll be a bit of fun, won't it?” Sharon said excitedly.

“Oh God.” Holly had butterflies in her stomach just over the thought of it. “I still really, really, really don't want to do it, but I feel I have to finish off what Gerry started.”

“That's the spirit Hol!” said Denise, “and we'll all be there to cheer you on!”

“Now hold on a minute, Denise,” Holly said, changing the celebratory tone. “I just want you and Sharon there, no one else. I don't want to make a big deal out of this at all. Let's keep it between us.”