Cecelia Ahern: Short Stories: The Every Year Collection

She hurried down Grafton Street and ignored the men and women standing together but alone outside Bewley’s Café, stamping their feet to stay warm and looking at their watches nervously. She pushed through the crowd gathered around the flower stall outside the Westbury Hotel and received mouthfuls of orchids, lilies and roses as people bumped into her in their rush to get home. She scurried by the entrance to Stephen’s Green Shopping Centre hearing loud greetings, hugs and kisses as other halves arrived at the meeting place. Everywhere people looked at their watches. They all had somewhere to be.

People spilled out of card stores, with little paper bags in their hands. Big red love hearts hung in shop windows grabbing at the heartstrings of passers-by and pulling them in as though they were puppets. Lucy’s head and heart sank, her heavy heart causing her feet to drag against the ground. She turned right into her restaurant along Stephen’s Green. A Valentine’s Day special menu was displayed outside the door. More big red bubbly hearts.

At 6.30 p.m. the door opened as the evening’s first customers arrived. Lucy greeted them at the desk with a smile bright enough to light the room.

‘Hello and welcome,’ she smiled happily at them.

‘Thank you. Table for two?’ the man asked politely looking around the empty restaurant.

‘Have you a reservation?’ she smiled.

‘Yes. McCullough for six thirty.’

Lucy scanned through the list. ‘Of course, Mr McCullough. May I take your coats?’ She took their coats, led the couple to the table and handed them their menus. Always bringing people from A to B but never being able to join them.

The door opened and shut again as man and woman stepped inside, their cheeks and noses rosy from the cold.

‘Hello and welcome,’ Lucy said perkily.

‘Thanks. A table for two, please,’ the man said, looking around the practically empty restaurant.

Lucy smiled through gritted teeth. ‘Have you a reservation?’

‘Yes, it’s under O’Hanlon,’ he said peering over the desk onto her page. She scanned down through the list and ticked their names.

‘May I take your coats?’ She took their coats, led the couple to their table and handed them their menu. The same routine all day every day .

The door opened and closed.

‘Hello.’ Lucy smiled.

Stopping and starting, stopping and starting all over again. Never allowed to go at her own speed or take another route.

‘Table for two, please,’ the lady said, and a lump formed in Lucy’s throat. Her hand began to shake as her finger leafed through the reservations book. Table for two . The words taunted her.

‘Have you a reservation?’ she asked as happily as she could.

‘The name’s Cooper,’ she replied.

Lucy ticked their names. ‘May I take your coats?’ she asked the pair. She took their coats, led them to their table and handed them their menus. The door opened and closed.

‘Welcome.’ Lucy smiled at the boy and girl before her. She guessed they were around sixteen.

‘Thanks,’ the boy said shyly. There was a silence as they all just looked at each other. The girl nudged the boy in the ribs. ‘Ow!’ he yelped, and then realized he was supposed to speak. ‘We were wondering if we could eat here.’

The girl smirked.

‘I mean, can we have a table?’

‘For …?’ Lucy couldn’t say it. She couldn’t say the words.

They looked at each other confused by the question. ‘Well … for us.’ He pointed at himself and the girl.

Lucy smiled.

Then the girl added, ‘A table for two, please.’ He looked at her proudly for saying that.

Lucy’s smile faded. ‘What’s the name?’

They looked at each other uncertainly again and he spoke. ‘Eh, Shane and Michelle.’

Lucy smiled again. ‘OK, Shane do you have a reservation?’

He looked shocked, ‘Ah, shit no. Did I need one?’

Michelle elbowed him in the ribs again and hissed, ‘I told ya to book it, ya eejit.’

‘Hold on a minute,’ Lucy said, studying the reservations. ‘I can give you a table, but we have a reservation for eight p.m. It’s six forty-five p.m. now, which doesn’t give you very much time,’ she explained.

Shane’s eyes widened. ‘Sure it never takes me more than an hour to eat me dinner at home.’

‘Fair enough.’ Lucy grinned. ‘Can I take your coats?’

Michelle looked at Shane uncertainly. ‘Eh, yeah,’ Shane finally decided for the two of them, and they peeled off their denim jackets. Lucy led them to their table in the centre of the dining room and handed them their menus.

She went around the tables lighting the candles. What was it about candles that was supposed to be romantic? Could a flickering flame add an atmosphere of love? Lucy wondered if a candle should be lit for a table for one, or, if one person sat down at a table for two, should she extinguish the flame? She of all people should know.

‘Excuse me,’ Shane called her as she passed.

‘Yes, sir,’ Lucy smiled.

‘“Sir”!’ He looked at Michelle and laughed. She giggled too. He pointed at the menu, ‘What’s a whores devvers?’

Lucy smiled. ‘Sir, the hors d’oeuvres on the menu are a selection of appetizers.’

‘Oh.’ Shane reddened. ‘Well we won’t have that, then, we’ll both just have steak and chips.’ They both looked nervous.

‘It’s not on the menu, though,’ Michelle added quickly.

‘I’m sure that won’t be a problem,’ Lucy said, taking their menus. ‘How would you like your steak cooked?’

They looked at each other again. ‘Eh, fried?’ Shane spoke up.

Lucy bit her lip. ‘Rare, medium or well done?’

‘Oh.’ He reddened. ‘Well done.’

‘The same,’ Michelle said quietly.

Lucy never had anyone to learn things with like Shane and Michelle. Together they were going for a meal by themselves for what appeared to be the first time. They were learning about new foods, the different language used and how to speak up and ask for things themselves. Lucy had never shared moments like that with anyone. Everything she had learned was by herself. Of course she had been out on dates and had boyfriends but none of them were long-term and none of them helped her discover anything new about the world or about herself. Apart from the fact that they didn’t love her and that she didn’t love them.

She scanned the restaurant. There were ten tables for two so far with ages ranging from sixteen to sixty. All different kinds of love: new love, old love, stolen love, couples sitting in silence, others unable to keep their hands off each other, some in serious conversation, some laughing loudly. Lucy’s eyes filled again and she scanned the reservations hoping for no more tables for two.

Clarke x 6.

Ha! Thank god, Lucy thought, the mist clearing from her eyes.

But when the six arrived she realized it was three couples, and there was nothing worse than a couple in love except three couples in love. The words table for two echoed and bounced around her lonely head as she overheard snippets of fights, tears, laughter and love from each table. Surrounded by crowds of people all night, never physically being alone but all the time feeling it.

Standing at reception, she heard the door open and close. Her heart dropped. She was tired, her eyelids were drooping and her feet and back were sore. How could the positive energy of so much love in the room drag her down so much?

‘Welcome, sir.’ Her colleague stepped in for her as she made herself busy by crossing out reservations and updating the sheet.

‘Hello. A table for one, please.’

And there it was. The voice she had so desperately needed to hear. The voice of a stranger that would lift her out of her dark spell. Her head shot up, her eyes twinkling with happy tears. She was faced with a man aged what she would guess to be in his mid- to late thirties.