Cecelia Ahern - If You Could See Me Now

The book fell away from Elizabeth’s hands and she was lost to the world of sleep.

The front gate creaked.

Elizabeth’s eyes shot open to the brightness of the early morning and her heart beat wildly. She heard the crunching of footsteps over gravel as they approached the front door. Elizabeth’s heart did cartwheels across her chest with delight. Her mother hadn’t forgotten her; she knew she wouldn’t have missed her birthday.

She leaped out of bed and did a little dance around her room, not knowing whether or not to open the door for her mother or to allow her to make the grand entrance she loved so much. She ran out into the hall in her nightdress. She could see the blurry image of a body through the rippled glass of the front door. She hopped from foot to foot with nervousness and excitement.

Elizabeth’s father’s bedroom door opened. She turned around to face him with a grin. He gave her a small smile and leaned against the door frame watching the door. Elizabeth turned her head back to the door, twisting the hem of her nightdress in her little hands. The letter box opened. Two white envelopes slid through and landed on the stone floor. The figure at the door began to fade again. The gate creaked and closed.

Elizabeth dropped the hem of her nightdress from her hands and stopped hopping. She suddenly felt the cold of the stone floor as though it hadn’t been there before.

She slowly picked up the envelopes. Both were addressed to her and her heart quickened again. Maybe her mother hadn’t forgotten after all, maybe she had got so caught up in one of her adventures that she couldn’t make it home in time and had to explain it all in a letter. She opened the envelopes, careful not to rip the precious paper that could contain precious words from her mother.

Both were birthday cards from distant, dutiful relatives.

Her shoulders slumped and her heart fell. She turned to face her father and shook her head slowly. His face darkened and he stared angrily into the distance. They caught eyes again and for a moment, a rare moment, Elizabeth and he shared the same knowing feeling and Elizabeth didn’t feel so alone anymore. She took a step forward to give him a hug.

But he turned away and closed his door behind him.

Elizabeth’s bottom lip trembled. There were no fairy cakes or buns that day. The pink balloons floating up toward the clouds remained nothing but dreams. And Elizabeth learned that imagining and fantasizing did nothing but break her heart.

Chapter Eleven

The hissing of the water overflowing from the pot onto the cooker’s surface brought Elizabeth sharply back to the present. She raced across the kitchen to lift the pot off the hob and lowered the heat. She poked at the steamed chicken and vegetables, wondering where her head was today.

“Luke, dinner,” Elizabeth called.

She had collected Luke from her father’s after work, although she had been in absolutely no mood to drive down that road after sobbing in her office. She hadn’t cried in years. She didn’t know what was happening to her over the last few days, her mind just kept drifting and she never drifted. She always had such stable, controlled thoughts. Nothing at all like her behavior today at the office.

Luke shuffled into the kitchen already dressed in his Spider-Man pajamas. He stared sadly at the table. “You didn’t set a place for Ivan again.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself in time, remembering the advice the Web sites had given. “Oh, didn’t I?”

Luke looked at her in surprise.

“Sorry, Ivan,” she said, taking out a third plate. What a waste of food, she thought, spooning broccoli, cauliflower, and potatoes onto his plate. “I’m sure he doesn’t like chicken, so this will have to do.” She placed the plate of leftover vegetables down opposite her.

Luke shook his head. “No, he said he really does like chicken.”

“Let me guess,” Elizabeth said, cutting a corner off her own, “chicken’s his favorite.”

Luke smiled. “He says it’s his favorite kind of poultry .”

“Right.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. She watched Ivan’s plate, wondering how on earth Luke was going to manage to eat a second plate of vegetables. It was difficult enough trying to get him to eat his own vegetables.

“Ivan said he had fun in your office today,” Luke said, forking broccoli into his mouth, chewing quickly and making a face in disgust. He swallowed quickly and gulped back some milk.

“Did he?” Elizabeth smiled. “What was so fun about my office?”

“He liked the chair-spinning,” he replied as he speared a baby potato.

Elizabeth stopped chewing and stared at Luke. “What do you mean?”

Luke popped the potato into his mouth and munched. “He says spinning around in Poppy’s chair is his favorite.”

Elizabeth for once ignored the fact that he was speaking with his mouth full. “Did you speak to Poppy today?” Luke loved Poppy and sometimes called to chat to her when Edith called the office to check a detail with Elizabeth. He knew Elizabeth’s office number by heart—she had insisted he learn it as soon as he learned his numbers—so it was quite possible he might have called, missing his little chats with her while Edith was away. That must have been it, she thought, relieved.

“Nope.”

“Did you speak to Becca?”

“Nope.”

The chicken suddenly tasted like cardboard in her mouth. She swallowed it quickly and put down her knife and fork. She watched Luke eat, lost in thought. Ivan’s plate went untouched, unsurprisingly. “Did you speak to Saoirse today?” She studied his face. She wondered if Saoirse’s little role-play in her office earlier had anything to do with Luke’s new obsession with Ivan. Knowing Saoirse, she would have continued to taunt her, had she found out about an invisible friend.

“Nope.”

Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Perhaps Luke was just guessing about the chair-spinning. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Where had all her certainties suddenly gone?

“Don’t play with your vegetables, Luke. Ivan told me to tell you that they are good for you.” She might as well use the Ivan situation to her advantage.

Luke started laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Ivan says that all mums use him to make their kids eat vegetables.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Well, you can tell Ivan that’s because mums know best.” Her smile faded; well some mums at least.

“Tell him yourself.” Luke giggled.

“Right, then.” Elizabeth faced the empty chair ahead of her. “Where do you come from, Ivan?” She leaned forward and spoke as if addressing a child.

Luke started laughing at her and she felt silly. “He’s from Ekam Eveileb.”

It was Elizabeth’s turn to laugh. “Oh, really? And where’s that?”

“Far, far away,” Luke said.

“How far? Like Donegal-far?” She smiled.

Luke shrugged, already bored with the conversation.

“Hey.” Elizabeth looked at Luke and laughed. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Take a potato from Ivan’s plate?”

“I didn’t.” Luke frowned. “Ivan ate it.”

“Don’t be sil—” She stopped herself.

Later that evening, Luke lay on the floor of the living room humming that song while Elizabeth drank a cup of coffee and stared at the television. It was a long time since they had done that. Usually they went their own separate ways after dinner. Usually they didn’t talk so much during the meal either, but then usually Elizabeth didn’t humor Luke by playing silly games. She began to regret what she had done. She watched Luke coloring with his crayons on the floor. She had put down a mat so that he wouldn’t dirty the carpet and although she hated when he played with his toys outside the playroom, she was glad that he was playing with some toys that she could at least see. Every cloud and all that. She turned her attention back to her house makeover show.