Cecelia Ahern - P.S. I Love You

“Hi, honey.”

She looked up and saw him standing at the open patio doors. “Hello, you,” she smiled.

“Miss me?”

“Of course.”

“Have you found that new husband yet?”

“Of course I have, he's upstairs in bed asleep,” she laughed, drying her hands.

Gerry shook his head and tutted, “Shall I go up and suffocate him for sleeping in our bed?”

“Ah, give him another hour or so,” she joked, looking at her watch, “he needs his rest.”

He looked happy, she thought, fresh-faced and still as beautiful as she remembered. He was wearing her favorite blue top, which she had bought him one Christmas. He stared at her from under his long eyelashes with his big brown puppy eyes.

“Are you coming in?” she asked, smiling.

“No, I just popped by to see how you are. Everything going OK?” He leaned against the door ledge with his hands in his pockets.

“So, so,” she said, weighing her hands in the air. “Could be better.”

“I hear you're a TV star now,” he grinned.

“A very reluctant one,” she laughed.

“You'll have men falling all around you,” he assured her.

“Falling all around me is right,” she agreed. “The problem is they keep missing the target,” she said, pointing to herself. He laughed. “I miss you, Gerry.”

“I haven't gone far,” he said softly.

“You leaving me again?”

“For the time being.”

“See you soon,” she smiled.

He winked at her and disappeared.

Holly woke up with a smile on her face and felt like she had slept for days.

“Good morning, Gerry,” she said, happily staring up at the ceiling.

The phone rang beside her. “Hello?”

“Oh my God, Holly, just take a look at the weekend papers,” Sharon said in a panic.

Twenty

HOLLY IMMEDIATELY LEAPT OUT OF bed, threw on a tracksuit and drove to her nearest newsagent. She reached the newspaper stand and began to leaf through the pages in search of what Sharon had been raving about. The man behind the counter coughed loudly and Holly looked up at him. “This is not a library, young lady, you'll have to buy that,” he said, nodding at the newspaper in her hand.

“I know that,” she said, irritated by his rudeness. Honestly, how on earth was anyone supposed to know which paper they wanted to buy if they didn't even know which paper had what they were looking for? She ended up picking up every single newspaper from the stand and slammed them down on the counter, smiling sweetly at him.

The man looked startled and started to scan them into the register one by one. A queue began to form behind her.

She stared longingly at the selection of chocolate bars displayed in front of her and looked around to see if anyone was looking at her. Everyone was staring. She quickly turned back to face the counter. Finally her arm jumped up and grabbed the two king-size chocolate bars nearest to her on the shelf from the bottom of the pile. One by one the rest of the chocolate began to slide onto the floor. The teenager behind her snorted and looked away laughing as Holly bent down with a red face and began to pick them up. So many had fallen she had to make several trips up and down. The shop was silent, apart from a few coughs from the impatient queue behind her. She sneakily added another few packets of sweets to her pile. “For the kids,” she said loudly to the newsagent, hoping everyone behind her would also hear.

He just grunted at her and continued scanning the items. Then she remembered she needed to get milk, so she rushed from the queue to the end of the shop to retrieve a pint of milk from the fridge. A few women tutted loudly as she made her way back to the top of the queue, where she added the milk to her pile. The newsagent stopped scanning to stare at her; she stared back blankly at him.

“Mark,” he yelled.

A spotty young teenager appeared from one of the shopping aisles with a pricing gun in his hand. “Yeah?” he said grumpily.

“Open the other till, will ya, son, we might be here for a while.” He glared at her.

Holly made a face at him.

Mark dragged his body over to the second till, all the time staring at Holly. What? she thought defensively; don't blame me for having to do your job. He took over the till and the entire queue behind her rushed over to the other side. Satisfied that no one was staring at her anymore, she grabbed a few packets of crisps from below the counter and added them to her purchases.

“Birthday party,” she mumbled.

In the queue beside her, the teenager asked for a packet of cigarettes quietly.

“Got any ID?” Mark asked loudly.

The teenager looked around in embarrassment with a red face. Holly snorted at him and looked away.

“Anything else?” the newsagent asked sarcastically.

“No thank you, that will be all,” she said through gritted teeth. She paid her money and fumbled with her purse, trying to put all the change back in.

“Next,” the newsagent nodded to the customer behind her.

“Hiya, can I have twenty Benson and–”

“Excuse me,” Holly interrupted the man. “Could I have a bag, please,” she said politely, staring at the huge pile of groceries in front of her.

“Just a moment,” he said rudely, “I'll deal with this gentleman first. Yes sir, cigarettes is it?”

“Please,” the customer said, looking at Holly apologetically.

“Now,” he said, returning to her, “what can I get you?”

“A bag.” She clenched her jaw.

“That'll be twenty cents please.”

Holly sighed loudly and reached into her bag, searching through the mess to find her money again. Another queue formed behind her.

“Mark, take over the till again, will you?” he said snidely.

Holly took the coin out of her purse and slammed it down on the counter and began to fill the bag with her items.

“Next,” he said again, looking over her shoulder. Holly felt under pressure to get out of the way and began stuffing the bag full in panic.

“I'll wait till the lady here is ready,” the customer said politely.

Holly smiled at him appreciatively and turned to leave the shop. She walked away grumbling to herself till Mark, the boy behind the counter, startled her by yelling, “Hey, I know you! You're the girl from the telly!”

Holly swirled around in surprise and the plastic handle broke from the weight of all the newspapers. Everything fell onto the floor and her chocolate, sweets and crisps went rolling in all directions.

The friendly customer got down on his knees to help her gather her belongings while the rest of the shop watched in amusement and wondered who the girl from the telly was.

“It is you, isn't it?” the boy laughed.

Holly smiled up weakly at him from the floor.

“I knew it!” He clapped his hands together with excitement. “You're cool!” Yeah, she really felt cool, on her knees on the floor of a shop searching for bars of chocolate. Holly's face went red and she nervously cleared her throat. “Em . . . excuse me, could I have another bag, please?”

“Yeah, that'll be–”

“There you go,” the friendly customer interrupted him, placing a twenty-cent coin down on the counter. The newsagent looked perplexed and continued serving the customers.

“I'm Rob,” the man said, helping her put all her chocolate back into the bag, and held his hand out.

“I'm Holly,” she said, a little embarrassed by his overfriendliness as she took his hand. “And I'm a chocoholic.”

He laughed.

“Thanks for the help,” she said gratefully, getting to her feet.

“No problem.” He held the door open for her. He was good-looking, she thought, a few years older than her, and had the oddest colored eyes, a kind of a gray-green color. She squinted at him and took a closer look.