Cecelia Ahern - P.S. I Love You

“Anyway, getting back to the interview,” Mr. Feeney said. “Have you any experience in working with the media at all?”

Holly didn't like the way he said “at all”; it meant that he had read through her CV and couldn't see any sign of experience for the job.

“Yes I have, actually.” She returned to business mode and tried hard to impress him. “I once worked in an estate agents and I was responsible for dealing with the media regarding advertising the new properties that were for sale. So I was on the other end of what this job requires and so I know how to deal with companies who are wishing to buy space.”

Mr. Feeney nodded along. “But you have never actually worked on a magazine or newspaper or anything like that?”

Holly nodded her head slowly and racked her brains for something to say. “But I was responsible for printing up a weekly newsletter for a company I worked for . . .” She rambled on and on, grasping at every little straw she could, and realized she was sounding rather pathetic.

Mr. Feeney was too polite to interrupt her as she went through every job she'd ever worked at and exaggerated anything that was in any way related to advertising or media. Eventually she stopped talking as she grew bored at the sound of her own voice, and she twisted her fingers around each other nervously on her lap. She was underqualified for this job and she knew it, but she also knew that she could do it if he would just give her the chance.

Mr. Feeney took off his glasses. “I see. Well Holly, I can see that you have a great deal of experience in the workplace in various different areas, but I notice that you haven't stayed in any of your jobs for a period longer than of nine months . . .”

“I was searching for the right job for me,” Holly said, her confidence now totally shattered.

“So how do I know you won't desert me after a few months?” He smiled but she knew he was serious.

“Because this is the right job for me,” she said seriously. Holly took a deep breath as she felt her chances slipping away from her, and she wasn't prepared to give up that easily. “Mr. Feeney,”

she said, moving forward to sit on the edge of her chair. “I'm a very hard worker. When I love something I give it one hundred percent, as I'm extremely committed. I'm a very capable person and what I don't know now I am more than willing to learn so that I can do my best for myself, for you and for the company. If you put your trust in me, I promise I won't let you down.” She stopped herself just short of getting down on her knees and begging for the damn job. Her face blushed as she realized what she had just done.

“Well then, I think that's a good note to finish on,” Mr. Feeney said, smiling at her. He stood up from his chair and held his hand out. “Thank you very much for taking the time to come down here. I'm sure we'll be in touch.”

Holly shook his hand and thanked him quietly, picked her bag up from the ground and felt his eyes burning into her back as she headed toward the door. Just before she stepped outside the door she turned back to face him. “Mr. Feeney, I'll make sure your secretary brings you in a nice hot pot of tea. It'll do you the world of good.” She smiled and closed the door to the sound of his loud laughter. The friendly secretary raised her eyebrows at Holly as she passed her desk, and the rest of the applicants held on to their portfolios tightly and wondered what the lady had said to make the interviewer laugh so loudly. Holly smiled to herself as she continued to hear Mr.

Feeney laughing and made her way out into the fresh air.

Holly decided to drop in on Ciara at work, where she could have a bite to eat. She rounded the corner and entered Hogan's pub and searched for a table inside. The pub was packed with people dressed smartly on their lunch breaks from work, and some were even having a few sneaky pints before heading back to the office. Holly found a small table in the corner and settled down.

“Excuse me,” she called out loudly and clicked her fingers in the air, “can I get some service here please?”

The people at the tables around her threw her looks for being so rude to the staff and Holly continued to click her fingers in the air. “Oi!” she yelled.

Ciara swirled around with a scowl on her face but it broke into a smile when she spotted her sister grinning at her. “Jesus, I was about to smack the head off you,” she laughed, approaching the table.

“I hope you don't speak to all your customers like that,” Holly teased.

“Not all of them,” Ciara replied seriously. “You having lunch here today?”

Holly nodded. “Mum told me you were working lunches, I thought you were supposed to be working in the club upstairs?”

Ciara rolled her eyes. “That man has got me working all the hours under the sun, he's treating me like a slave,” Ciara moaned.

“Did I hear someone mention my name?” Daniel laughed, walking up behind her.

Ciara's face froze as she realized he had overheard her. “No, no . . . I was just talking about Mathew,” she stammered. “He has me up all hours of the night, I'm like his sex slave . . .” She trailed off and wandered over to the bar to get a notepad and pen.

“Sorry I asked,” Daniel said, staring at Ciara bewildered. “Mind if I join you?” he asked Holly.

“Yes,” Holly teased, but pulled out a stool for him. “OK, what's good to eat here?” she asked, looking through the menu as Ciara returned with pen in hand.

Ciara mouthed “Nothing” behind Daniel's back and Holly giggled.

“The toasted special is my favorite,” Daniel suggested, and Ciara shook her head wildly at Holly. Ciara obviously didn't think much of the toasted special.

“What are you shaking your head at?” Daniel said to her, catching her in the act again.

“Oh, it's just that . . . Holly is allergic to onions,” Ciara stammered again. This was news to Holly.

Holly nodded her head. “Yes . . . they, eh . . . make my head . . . eh . . . bloat.” She blew her cheeks out. “Terrible things are those onions. Fatal in fact. Could kill me someday.” Ciara rolled her eyes at her sister, who once again managed to take things way over the top.

“OK, well then, leave the onions out,” Daniel suggested and Holly agreed.

Ciara stuck her fingers in her mouth and pretended to gag as she walked away.

“You're looking very smart today,” Daniel said, studying her outfit.

“Yes, well, that was the impression I was trying to give. I was just at a job interview,” Holly said and winced at the thought of it.

“Oh yeah, that's right,” Daniel smiled, then he made a face. “Didn't it go well?”

Holly shook her head. “Well, let's just say I need to buy a smarter-looking suit. I won't be expecting a call from them anytime soon.”

“Oh well, not to worry,” Daniel said, smiling. “There will be plenty of other opportunities. Still have that job upstairs if you're interested.”

“I thought you gave that job to Ciara. Why is she working downstairs now?” Holly said, looking confused.

Daniel made a face. “Holly, you know your sister; we had a bit of a situation .”

“Oh no!” Holly laughed. “What did she do this time?”

“Some guy at the bar said something to her she didn't quite like so she poured him his pint then served it to him over his head.”

“Oh no!” Holly gasped. “I'm surprised you didn't fire her!”

“Couldn't do that to a member of the Kennedy family, could I?” he smiled. “And besides, how would I ever be able to face you again?”

“Exactly.” Holly smiled, “You may be my friend, but you 'gotta respect the family.' ”

Ciara frowned at her sister as she arrived with her plate of food. “Well, that has to be the worst Godfather impression I've ever heard. Bon appétit, ” she said sarcastically, slamming the plate down on the table and turning on her heel.