Cecelia Ahern - P.S. I Love You

She was about to give him a great big kick between his legs when she heard whooping and laughing from the back of the bus. She twisted herself around and spotted her sisters, Holly, Sharon and about five other friends picking themselves up from the floor of the minibus. She had been in so much shock she hadn't even noticed them when she got on the bus. She finally figured out what was really happening when her sisters placed a veil on her head while screaming “Happy hen party!” That was the main clue.

“Oh, you bitches!” Denise spat at them, effing and blinding them until she had used every single curse word invented, and even made up a few of her own.

The girls continued to hold their stomachs with laughter.

“Oh, you are so lucky I didn't kick you in the balls!” Denise screamed at the gyrating garda.

“Denise, this is Paul,” her sister Fiona giggled, “and he's your stripper for the day.”

Denise narrowed her eyes and continued to curse at them. “I almost had a heart attack, I hope you know! I thought I was going to prison. Oh my God, what will my customers think? And my staff! Oh my God, my staff think I'm a criminal.” Denise closed her eyes as though she were in pain.

“We told them about it last week,” Sharon giggled. “They were all just playing along.”

“Oh, the little bitches,” Denise repeated. “When I go back to work I'm going to fire the lot of them. But what about the customers?” Denise asked, panicking.

“Don't worry,” her sister said. “We told your staff to inform the customers it was your hen party after you left the shop.”

Denise rolled her eyes. “Well, knowing them they deliberately won't, and if they don't then there will be complaints, and if there are complaints I will be so fired.”

“Denise! Stop worrying! You don't think we would have done this without running it by your boss. It's OK!” Fiona explained. “They thought it was funny, now relax and enjoy the weekend.”

“Weekend? What the hell are you girls going to do to me next?! Where are we going for the weekend?” Denise looked around at her friends, startled.

“We're going to Galway, and that's all you need to know,” Sharon said mysteriously.

“If I wasn't bloody handcuffed I'd slap you all in the face,” Denise threatened.

The girls all cheered as Paul stripped out of his uniform and poured baby oil over his body for Denise to massage into his skin. Sharon unlocked the handcuffs of a gobsmacked Denise.

“Men in uniform are so much nicer out of them . . . ,” Denise mumbled, rubbing her wrists as she watched him flex his muscles before her.

“Lucky she's engaged, Paul, or you would be in big trouble!” the girls teased.

“Big trouble is right,” Denise mumbled again, staring in shock as the rest of the clothes came off. “Oh girls! Thank you so much!” she giggled, her voice a very different tone than before.

“Are you OK, Holly? You've barely said a word since we got into this van,” Sharon said, handing her a glass of champagne and keeping a glass of orange juice for herself. Holly turned to look out of the window and stared at the green fields as they flew by. The green hills were dotted with little white specks as the sheep climbed to new heights, oblivious to the wonderful views. Neat stone walls separated each field and you could see the gray lines, jagged like those in jigsaw puzzles, for miles, connecting each piece of land together. Holly had yet to find a few pieces for her own puzzled mind.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I'm OK.”

“Oh, I really have to ring Tom!” Denise groaned, collapsing onto the double bed she and Holly were sharing in the hotel room. Sharon was fast asleep on the single bed beside them and had refused to listen to Denise's hilarious idea of Sharon having to sleep in the double bed on her own due to the size of her rapidly growing bump. She had gone to bed much earlier than the other girls after eventually becoming bored of their drunken behavior.

“I'm under strict orders not to let you ring Tom,” Holly yawned. “This is a girls-only weekend.”

“Oh please,” Denise whimpered.

“No. I am confiscating your phone.” She grabbed the mobile from Denise's hand and hid it in the press beside the bed.

Denise looked like she was going to cry. She watched as Holly lay back on the bed and closed her eyes, and she began to formulate a plan. She would wait until Holly was asleep and then she would call Tom. Holly had been so quiet all day it was really starting to irritate Denise. Every time Denise had asked her a question she got nothing but yes or no answers back, and every attempt to strike up a conversation failed. It was obvious that Holly wasn't enjoying herself, but what really annoyed Denise was to see that Holly wasn't even trying to enjoy herself, or even pretending to be enjoying herself. Denise could understand that Holly was upset and that she had a lot to deal with in her life, but it was her hen party and she couldn't help feeling that Holly was bringing the atmosphere down a bit.

The room was still spinning. Having closed her eyes, Holly was now unable to sleep. It was five o'clock in the morning, which meant that she had been drinking for almost twelve hours, and her head was pounding. Sharon had given in long ago and had done the sensible thing by going to bed early. Her stomach became queasy as the walls spun around and around and around . . .

She sat up on the bed and tried to keep her eyes open so she could avoid the feeling of seasickness.

She turned to face Denise on the bed so that they could talk, but the sound of her friend's snores ended all thought of communication between them. Holly sighed and looked around the room.

She wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep in her own bed, where she could be surrounded by familiar smells and noises. She felt her way across the bedcovers in the dark for the remote control and flicked on the television. Commercial presentations adorned the screen.

Holly watched as they demonstrated a new knife to slice oranges without spraying yourself in the face with the juice. She saw the amazing socks that never got lost in the wash and stayed together at all times.

Denise snored loudly beside her and she kicked Holly in the shins as she changed position. Holly winced and rubbed her leg as she watched with sympathy Sharon's extremely frustrated struggle to lie on her stomach. Eventually she settled on her side and Holly rushed to the toilet and hung her head over the toilet seat, prepared for whatever might come. She wished she hadn't drunk so much, but with all the talk of weddings and husbands and happiness she had needed all the wine in the bar to prevent her from screaming at everyone to shut up. She dreaded to think what the next two days would be like. Denise's friends were twice as bad as Denise. They were loud and hyper and acted exactly the way girls should on a hen weekend, but Holly just didn't have the energy to keep up with them. At least Sharon had the excuse of being pregnant; she could pretend she wasn't feeling well or that she was tired. Holly had no excuse apart from the fact that she had turned into a complete bore, and she was saving that excuse for a time when she really needed it.

It felt like only yesterday that Holly had had her own hen party, but in fact it was more than seven years ago. She had flown over to London with a group of ten girls for the weekend to party hard, but she ended up missing Gerry so much she had to speak to him on the phone every hour. Back then she had been so excited about what was to come and the future had looked so bright.

She was to marry the man of her dreams and live and grow with him for the rest of their lives.

For the entire weekend she was away she counted the hours until she could return home. She was so excited on the flight back to Dublin. Although they had been apart for only a few days, it had felt like an eternity. He had been waiting for her at arrivals with a huge board in his hand saying MY FUTURE WIFE. She had dropped her bags when she saw him and run into his arms and hugged him so tight. She had never wanted to let go; what a luxury it was for people to be able to hold their loved ones whenever they wanted. The scene at the airport seemed like a scene from a movie now, but it had been real: real feelings, real emotions and real love, because it was real life. Real life had become a nightmare for her.