Cecelia Ahern - How to Fall in Love

I wasn’t sure if Gemma would be back, but on the off chance, by way of explanation I placed a copy of How to Share Your Financial Problems With People Who Depend on You on her desk and hoped that she would understand.

The venue for item 1 on our list was Bay restaurant in Clontarf with views over Dublin Bay.

‘So eating is fun?’ Adam asked, his chin resting on his hand as if his head was too heavy for his neck. ‘I thought it was something that was necessary for life.’

While he scanned listlessly through the menu, I took in the packed café. The place was brimming with people, the chat was loud, plates were piled high with colourful vibrant food, and the aromas wafting around the room probably had everyone’s mouths watering, though they were making my stomach churn.

‘Yes of course,’ I lied. All I really wanted was to eat a green salad and have it over with, but I needed to set a good example for Adam. ‘I’ll have the braised lamb shank, with root vegetables, harissa hummus and herb quinoa, please.’ I forced a smile for the waitress while inwardly dreading the task of eating all that food.

‘I’ll just have a black coffee, thanks,’ Adam said, shutting the menu.

‘No, no!’ I wagged a finger at him. I opened the menu and handed it back to him. ‘Food. Fun. Eat.’

Adam looked lost as his tired eyes flicked across the menu.

‘What do you suggest?’ I asked the waitress.

‘I really like the baked marinated salmon fillet on a bed of Mediterranean vegetable ratatouille and creamy mash.’

Adam looked as if he was going to vomit in his mouth.

‘He’d love that, thank you.’

‘No starters?’ she asked.

‘No,’ we said in unison.

‘So when did you lose your appetite?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know, a couple of months ago. When did you lose yours?’

‘I haven’t.’

He raised his eyebrow.

‘Alcohol and caffeine are not a good idea for someone who’s depressed,’ I said, trying to regain the upper hand and keep him in the spotlight.

‘And what did you have for breakfast this morning?’

I thought about my black coffee at the hotel. ‘Yes, but I’m not depressed.’

He snorted.

‘ You’re depressed. You tried to kill yourself. I’m just … a bit down.’

‘A bit down.’ He studied me. ‘That’s an understatement. Eeyore has nothing on you.’

I laughed despite myself. ‘All I meant was, we should look at your diet, it will help you. That has a large part to do with depression. Clearly you’re fit, I mean, you must work out a lot.’ I felt my face get hot. ‘I never see you eat, I don’t know where you get the energy.’

‘Would you like me to tell you in five ways or ten ways?’

‘Just one please.’

‘It’s from when I’m stripping, you know? When I’m on stage, dancing with the boys.’

I laughed. ‘I think you’ve got stripping and modelling completely mixed up.’

‘Well, I don’t know what goes on in your head,’ he said with a smile.

The waitress placed two enormous plates of food in front of us. We both looked at it with dread.

‘Is everything okay?’ the waitress asked, noticing the reaction. ‘Did I get the order right?’

‘Yes, of course, this looks … delicious. Thank you.’ I picked up my knife and fork, unsure where to begin.

‘So when’s the last time you went out to eat, Christine, since you think this is so much fun?’ he asked, studying his plate and, like me, not knowing where to start.

‘It’s been a long time, but only because we were saving up for the wedding. Mmm, this is good. Is yours good?’ Don’t just eat your food, taste it. ‘I don’t know what this is – is it ginger? It’s really good, and I think I can taste lemon. Anyway, after the wedding we went away on honeymoon and then we had no money so we stayed in for most of the year or got the occasional take-away, which was fine because all our friends were in the same boat.’

‘Fun,’ he said sarcastically. ‘How long were you married?’

‘Eat. Is that nice? Is the mash creamy?’

‘Yes, the mash is creamy,’ he played along. ‘And the carrots are carroty.’

‘Nine months,’ I ignored him.

‘You left him after nine months? I’ve been with girlfriends I hated longer than that. You can’t have tried very hard.’

‘I tried very hard.’ I looked down and played with my food.

‘Eat. Is your lamb lamby?’ he asked. ‘So when did you know it wasn’t right?’ He took a forkful of salmon, chewed slowly and swallowed as if it was a giant pill.

I thought about it. Give the truth, or the answer I had given everyone else?

‘No secrets,’ he added.

‘I had twinges of doubt for a while, but I knew it wasn’t right, for sure, when I was walking down the aisle on my wedding day.’ That was the truth.

He stopped eating, looked at me in surprise.

‘Keep eating,’ I said. ‘I was crying my eyes out, walking towards him. Everybody still talks about it, they thought it was such a sweet moment. But my sisters knew. They weren’t tears of joy.’

‘Then why did you get married?’

‘I panicked. I wanted to stop it but didn’t have the courage. And I didn’t want to hurt him. I couldn’t see a way out; I was trapped, but it was a trap I’d got myself into. So I made myself go ahead with it.’

‘You got married because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings?’

‘Which is why I couldn’t stay married to him just because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.’

He pondered that, then nodded. ‘That’s a fair point.’

‘If I’d stopped and thought about it at the time, really thought about it, then I would have seen another way out. A better way.’

‘Like being on a bridge.’

‘Exactly like that.’ I pushed the food around on my plate. ‘I loved him, you know, but I have a theory about love. I think that, however good it is, some love isn’t meant to be for ever.’

He was quiet. We both took a few forkfuls of food. Eventually he dropped his cutlery on the plate.

‘I surrender,’ he said, hands in the air. ‘I can’t eat any more. Can I please stop now?’

‘Sure,’ I put my knife and fork down too, relieved. ‘Jesus, I’m full,’ I groaned, hands on my bloated belly, accidentally dropping my act. ‘Imagine, people do this three times a day.’

We looked at each other and laughed.

‘What’s next?’ he leaned forward, eyes shining.

‘Er …’ I looked in my bag and pretended to root for a tissue. Surreptitiously I opened the book.

2. Go for a walk in the park. Don’t just walk, take in your surroundings, remark on the beauty of the life around you.

‘Let’s go for a walk,’ I said as if I’d that moment thought of it.

We were both ready to walk off the food we had forced ourselves to eat, so despite the extreme cold we made our way to St Anne’s Park, the second largest municipal park in Dublin. Bundled up against the chill, we wandered around the walled garden, the red stables that held food markets during the weekends, the Herculanean temple by the duck pond – which I pulled him past quickly in case he felt compelled to jump in. The rose garden at this time of year was a disappointment and the wrong place to choose to sit on a bench and take a break. We looked out at the bleak cut-back branches with no colour whatsoever while the icy wind whipped our faces, and the cold bench permeated our coats and trousers straight to our bottoms. I used every opportunity and excuse I could to investigate his mind.

‘Did you buy Maria flowers often?’

‘Yeah, but not on Valentine’s Day. I am absolutely not allowed to buy them on Valentine’s Day. Too clichéd.’