Читать книгу Cecelia Ahern 3-Book Collection: One Hundred Names, How to Fall in Love, The Year I Met You - Cecelia Ahern, Cecelia Ahern - Страница 21

Café en Seine on Dawson Street was a series of bars spanning three floors, a three-storey atrium with glass-panelled ceilings with forty-foot trees reaching to the glass. The style was Parisian art nouveau and it was situated on a bustling street in central Dublin that consisted of restaurants, bars, cafés, the Lord Mayor’s residence and St Anne’s Church. Just a stone’s throw from Stephen’s Green, it was a popular choice for all ages, particularly then, on a Saturday night. Kitty had no idea where she was to meet Mary-Rose, nor how on earth she was to find her in such a gigantic place with numerous bars and darkened hidden corners and alcoves. You could spend a night there not realising that somebody you knew had also been there the entire time. Taking a seat at the main bar on a stool closest to the entrance – which also made her feel like she was in prime position to want to be chatted up – she sat with a glass of wine watching the door.

Her mind drifted again to the previous night’s exploits. She couldn’t help feeling disappointed that Richie still hadn’t contacted her, not even a text. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to, but she was sure that he should. She had definitely given him her number. She remembered little about the night but she did remember that. They had been perfectly sober when that had happened, and his number sat in her phone as proof that he’d existed at all. She thought about calling him, about how perhaps he was waiting for her and thinking exactly the same thing, when she heard her name being mentioned down the other end of the bar.

‘Are you Kitty Logan?’ she heard a man ask.

‘Are you Kitty Logan?’ she then heard a woman ask.

She leaned back in her stool to get a look at the people behind the voices but couldn’t see anyone through the crowd. She examined the mirror behind the bar to find their reflection, trying to get a glimpse of them before they found her.

‘Are you Kitty Logan?’ she heard more loudly this time, and she leaned back in her chair to see a young man in his twenties asking a smooth suit-wearing stockbroker-type man. Stockbroker boy wasn’t overly impressed with the question. ‘Are you sure?’ The young man looked him dead in the eye, all serious.

The group with stockbroker boy laughed and he seemed to relax then.

‘No little operations the boys don’t know about?’

‘No.’ His smile faded.

‘Okay, Sam, let’s move on,’ the female voice said and a delicate hand appeared on his forearm as she moved him on.

‘Are you Kitty Logan?’ she asked the middle-aged woman sitting with a group of women.

‘I might be,’ the lady responded.

‘I think you’re lying,’ Sam said. ‘She wasn’t Kitty Logan last night, were you, baby?’

The group of girls howled with laughter and Kitty felt they would stay with them for ever if she didn’t interrupt.

‘Excuse me?’ she leaned forward on her stool. The group next to her along with Mary-Rose, Sam and the group of women all turned to look at her. She raised her hand. ‘I’m Kitty Logan.’

‘No, I’m Kitty Logan,’ a deep voice came from the tables across the bar, followed by laughter.

‘You have a contender!’ Sam exclaimed, and as if they were part of a pantomime, people oohed.

Kitty laughed and stood to meet her contender, who stepped out from his table. He was four stone overweight, had a beard and he stood with his shoulders back, his fingers twitching as if he was a cowboy in a face-off. Kitty couldn’t keep a straight face.

‘I am victorious!’ the man declared, arms punching the air, and the small audience applauded. The cool stockbrokers looked at them as if they were all a bad smell and they turned their backs. ‘I am Kitty Logan,’ the man declared and he celebrated one final time and returned to his seat. While Sam went to his table to shake his hand and continue the good fun, Mary-Rose approached Kitty.

‘Hello,’ she said. A smile transformed her face and her eyes lit up. She was an extremely pretty young woman, and though she was dressed in skinny jeans, the highest shoes Kitty had ever seen and a simple tank top, she looked a million dollars.

‘I’m Mary-Rose,’ she said.

‘Nice to meet you. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find you in here but I see that my concerns were in vain.’

‘Oh, trust Sam.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘He makes a scene everywhere we go.’

‘He’s your boyfriend?’

‘Hell, no.’ She scrunched up her face. ‘We’re just friends. Have been since we were kids. Our moms were best friends, are best friends, blah blah blah,’ she finished quickly.

‘Kitty Logan,’ Sam joined them. ‘We’re going for dinner, would you like to join us?’

Kitty looked to Mary-Rose expecting her to try to make a face at him to disinvite her but there was nothing but warmth emanating from her, from the two of them. They were exactly what she needed right then.

They walked five minutes to Frederick Street to a small Italian restaurant. Inside, a table of eight people awaited them and Sam insisted on dragging Kitty around and introducing her to all of their young, attractive and incredibly fashionable friends. Still wearing her clothes from the day before, Kitty felt like a hillbilly next to them all. She sat opposite Mary-Rose, perfect position for her interview, but she doubted that would happen with the lively banter at the table. They were an exuberant lot, friends from childhood with inside jokes that were funny to Kitty because of how they were delivered, despite her not actually understanding their meaning. They knew each other well, tirelessly teased one another, and Kitty couldn’t help but feel it was the best-scripted sitcom she had ever seen, with their flawless hair and clothes. And that was just the boys.

Kitty didn’t have friends like that. She grew up in County Carlow, in the south-east of Ireland. After school she left to go to University College Dublin and had lived in Dublin ever since, choosing to go home only on holidays or if somebody got married or died. She had two brothers, one who’d remained in Carlow and married, the other who’d moved to Cork to study in Cork University and was living very happily with a man named Alexander, whom she’d never met and had only learned about through Facebook. She couldn’t remember the last time they had all been together in the same room at the same time – probably a family member’s funeral – and she couldn’t remember the last time she phoned either of them for a conversation that wasn’t related to putting funds together for their parents’ dodgy immersion heater or their dysfunctional boiler. Her father managed the same bar in Tullow Street as he had done all through Kitty’s youth. Her parents were quiet, socially odd people, not quite knowing or learning the art of conversation and so they stayed away from most social events apart from close friends and family gatherings, where it appeared they mostly listened and did little talking, sat in a corner and didn’t leave for the entire event.

Kitty had grown up with two best friends, both named Mary: Mary Byrne and Mary Carroll, who were always called by their full names to avoid confusion. It had always been Katherine and the two Marys; nobody called her Kitty in Carlow. It was a name she had been proudly baptised with once she reached university and she was only too happy to embrace it, a new name for a new beginning. The two Marys had been irritated by the use of a name they hadn’t invented and refused to call her by it on the rare nights they came to join Kitty and her college friends on a night out in Dublin. Her Carlow friends and college friends had never mixed. The two Marys ended up rallying together in a staged intervention at the end of one particular night to drunkenly tell Kitty how much she’d changed since she’d moved to Dublin. Eventually Kitty couldn’t take the arguments over the same thing each time and the trips to Dublin were reduced to one a year, and then eventually stopped completely. As Kitty returned home less and less, their friendship had eventually whittled away to nothing. If a meeting on the street wasn’t cleverly avoided, the chats were increasingly difficult with nothing much to say. Mary Byrne had moved to Canada and Mary Carroll had lost two stone and was working in a clothes shop in Carlow, which Kitty now made a habit of avoiding after having the most awkward conversation of her life and having to buy two dresses Mary had recommended but which Kitty somehow couldn’t find in her heart to tell her she despised. Her politeness had cost her over one hundred euro.

Now, her solid never-changing friends were Steve and Sally. Apart from them, Kitty had never been able to keep friends, not because she was disloyal in any way, she just felt that she hadn’t connected with anyone deeply since her school friends and so it was easy to drift away as life moved on, as college finished and as she found new jobs and created new friendships that lasted as long as the jobs had. This – she looked around at Mary-Rose’s friends – this she did not have and had never had.

‘So you work for a magazine,’ Mary-Rose finally left the conversation at the other end of the table and turned her attention to Kitty. Kitty was momentarily disappointed about having to get back to work.

‘Yes. Etcetera. Do you know it?’

Mary-Rose thought about it. ‘Yes, I think so,’ she said unconvincingly.

‘My editor was Constance Dubois. Was she in touch with you, this year or last year?’ Kitty had long ago given up the hope that Constance had questioned any of these people.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ Mary-Rose said again uncertainly.

‘She passed away a few weeks ago,’ Kitty explained. ‘But before she died she was working on a story. You were part of that story.’

Again, the same reaction as from Birdie, Eva and, to a certain extent, Archie. Surprise, confusion, embarrassment.

‘Do you know why she would have wanted to talk to you and write about you?’

Mary-Rose looked stunned. Kitty could see her eyes moving left and right as she searched both sides of her brain for the answer.

‘No,’ she responded, confused. ‘I’m the most boring person you could possibly meet.’

Kitty laughed. ‘I seriously doubt that. It has been fun so far.’

‘That’s Sam. Me? Honestly, I’m so boring. I’ve never done anything interesting, thought anything interesting, known or seen anything interesting.’

Kitty laughed further. ‘I find you very interesting.’ And she wasn’t lying. It was a pleasure to be in Mary-Rose’s company, to be invited into her world. ‘Well, how would you like to be part of the story I’m writing? Don’t you think that would be interesting?’

Again there was the same look that Kitty had seen from the others: shyness, embarrassment, flattery, but overall the feeling that they simply weren’t good enough for a story.

‘What’s the story about?’

‘About the people on a list.’

‘How many people are on the list?’

‘One hundred names in total.’

Mary-Rose’s eyes widened. ‘How big is your story?’

Kitty smiled. ‘How big is yours?’

Mary-Rose repeatedly pressed her finger against the crumbs on the table and released them again, while shyly answering Kitty’s questions.

‘I’m sure that these other people are very interesting, I’m sure they have exciting lives. I’m just a hairdresser. I work two days in a salon in Booterstown where I’ve lived all my life and the other two days I’m freelance. The rest of the time I’m at home with my mum.’

‘Where do you freelance? Magazines? Television?’

‘God, no. Debs’ nights and hen parties are about as exciting as I get, but mostly I’m in hospitals.’

‘Hospitals?’

‘Yeah, they call me whenever they need me. There’s no hair salons in the hospitals and often people who are sick really feel better when their hair’s done. Sometimes I do make-up for them too, but that’s less popular. It gives them a bit of dignity, at least it did for my mum.’

‘She spent time in hospital?’

‘She had a stroke. She was only young, forty-two. She’s forty-four now and still needs full-time care but getting her hair done always made her feel better. Not better better, but better on the inside. I do nails too, if they ask me. I’m not a qualified nail technician but I bring a selection of colours. To be honest, I think a lot of them are just glad of the company and chat.’

‘That’s a beautiful thing for you to do. It’s not something I’d ever thought about before.’

‘I’m not that nice. I do charge them,’ she said, embarrassed by the compliment.

‘How is your mother now?’

‘Not great. She lost the use of the left side of her body. She has to be helped to do most things, she had to learn to speak again.’

‘That must have been very difficult for you?’

She smiled sadly. ‘Not as hard as it was for her.’

‘Who helps her?’

‘We have home help for a few hours a day and then … well, me when I get home.’

‘Any brothers or sisters?’

‘Nope.’

‘Dad?’

‘Nope.’

‘That’s a lot of responsibility.’

‘Ah. It is what it is. I love my mum. I’d do anything for her.’

And just when Kitty was about to tell Mary-Rose she was far from boring, her life got much more interesting.

Sam tapped his glass with a spoon and attracted the attention of those at their table along with the few surrounding tables too. The friends at Mary-Rose and Sam’s table looked at each other with big smiles, knowing what was in store.

‘Oh God.’ Mary-Rose shrunk in her chair, her cheeks already pink.

‘What’s happening?’ Kitty asked.

‘You’ll see.’

Sam stood, continued to tap his glass until he had the attention of the entire restaurant. Not sure how to react to this disruption, the manager and the waiters viewed him warily nearby.

‘I’m very sorry to interrupt your evening,’ Sam said politely, as if butter wouldn’t melt. ‘I promise I won’t take up too much of your time but there’s something that I just have to do. There’s somebody important in this room who I’d like to say something special to.’

He cleared his throat and a twitter of excitement gathered in the room. He was no longer annoying anybody; he had their full attention.

Sam ran his eyes over everyone on his table, resting for a moment on Kitty, which got her heart rate up, and then moved on to Mary-Rose, whose face was now puce. He smiled at her lovingly.

‘Josephine Quinn,’ he said softly, and Kitty looked around in confusion. Had she been duped? Was she sitting with the wrong person? How on earth had Mary-Rose suddenly become Josephine?

‘Yes,’ she said softly.

‘You and I have been friends for a long time, you were there for me every day of my life, every single second. I never needed to call for you, you were always there, like a shadow, behind me, following me, stalking me.’

One of his friends snorted and was thumped in the arm by his girlfriend.

‘You have always been there exactly when I need you, ever since …’ his voice cracked and he looked down, and Kitty wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to continue. He looked up again and his eyes shone with tears ‘… ever since I had my operation, you know, Josephine, the operation where I had my—’

‘Yes, yes, I know the one,’ Mary-Rose said hastily.

‘Well,’ he took a deep breath and came around the table to her.

A few women in the restaurant yelped excitedly, Mary-Rose covered her face in her napkin. Her friend beside her pulled her arm down. The chefs came from the kitchen to the door to watch. Everything was still and silent. Sam got down on bended knee and one woman yelped in excitement. The diners and staff all laughed and then a hush resumed. Sam reached for Mary-Rose’s hand and she was forced to face him, removing her hands from her flushed cheeks. She shook her head at him as though she couldn’t believe he was doing this.

‘Josephine Quinn,’ Sam said proudly and clearly, delivering his words to every corner of the room. ‘I have loved you since the very moment I met you and I will love you every day until the day that I die, and beyond.’

Kitty spied a woman wiping her eye with a napkin. She caught another rolling her eyes.

‘Will you do me the honour of being my wife?’

Despite the fact all knew this was coming, there was another rumble of excitement, which again was quickly hushed as all eyes were on Mary-Rose, waiting for her answer.

She looked at Sam, smiled that beautiful perfect smile and said, ‘Yes.’

That was all everybody needed. The room erupted in celebration, the manager was quick to join the table and offer his congratulations, where he announced they would all receive drinks on the house. A friendly man at the table beside them sent a glass of champagne to the bride- and groom-to-be, and Sam, who had previously been sitting at the head of the table, bumped up a friend so that he could sit beside his new fiancée. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned in and covered her face.

‘I’m going to kill you,’ she said so quietly that only Kitty could hear.

‘Just smile and wave,’ Sam said, a grin on his face, and she finally looked up and waved her thanks at the neighbouring tables offering their congratulations.

‘Guys, I don’t mean to rain on your parade,’ Kitty said finally, ‘but I’m so confused. I thought your name was Mary-Rose Godfrey.’

Sam laughed.

‘Oh, Kitty, I’m so sorry.’ She turned to Kitty and kept her voice down. ‘It is Mary-Rose. Don’t mind him, he’s always doing this.’

‘Always doing what?’

‘Proposing! It’s just this weird thing that he does. It’s not real.’ She became serious. ‘You do know it wasn’t real?’

Kitty’s mouth dropped.

Sam howled.

‘But it was so beautiful,’ Kitty said, disappointed.

‘You see?’ Sam exclaimed, looking at Mary-Rose. ‘Other people find it touching.’

‘Then do it to someone else for a change.’

‘It’s more fun with you, sweetheart.’ He squeezed her even tighter and she scowled. ‘My little shnookums here doesn’t always appreciate it.’

Kitty looked from one to the other. ‘So you just randomly propose to people when you’re out.’

‘Not just people. Just Mary-Rose. I know she secretly likes it.’

‘I hate it.’

‘She doesn’t always know how best to express it, though.’

Kitty laughed. ‘And you do this when you’re out.’

‘Restaurants, bars, cafés, you should try it sometime. You will always get a free drink. One time our entire meal was complimentary, another time we got that bottle of champagne, remember?’

Mary-Rose nodded.

‘So you do this for free food and drink?’

‘And to bring sunshine to Mary-Rose’s days. Now, now, don’t look so angry, sweetheart, we just got engaged. People are looking and here come our free drinks. If you don’t perk up I’ll kiss you.’

Mary-Rose pasted a smile on her face so quickly Kitty was in hysterics.

The free drinks arrived with a complimentary dessert plate for the happy couple with ‘Congratulations’ written in balsamic dressing at the bottom of the plate.

‘Last time we got a free meal,’ Sam said quietly so that the manager wouldn’t hear. He handed Mary-Rose a spoon.

‘You’ve proposed here before?’ Kitty asked.

‘Oh, no, always a different place,’ Sam explained. ‘A criminal never returns to the scene of the crime.’

‘Actually they do,’ Mary-Rose said. ‘That’s the saying. A criminal always returns to the scene of the crime.’

Sam frowned. They were almost nose-to-nose, they looked so comfortable together, so at ease and yet it was all fake. Kitty doubted that. Somebody must have felt something. She thought about her and Steve, how so often people commented that there must be more to their relationship, despite her persistent denials. They wouldn’t say it any more now he had Katja. She swallowed, feeling a shocking sadness sweep over her.

‘But that’s stupid,’ Sam said. ‘Why would they go back to the scene?’

‘That’s the point. They are stupid. They make mistakes and they go back or else it’s for self-gratification. They get cocky. Just like you wanting to come back here and do this again.’

‘I wouldn’t do that.’

‘In about a year I bet you’d risk it.’

They continued their debate and Kitty turned to watch everyone around her. It was undeniable that the atmosphere had completely transformed since Sam’s proposal. Everyone resumed their conversations but this time it was with more gusto. The energy had picked up in the room, it was louder, there was more laughter, people had fed off their happiness, and whether they believed in love or not they were willing to celebrate on the young couple’s behalf and bask in the glow of those who did. Sam had done more than get a free drink or a free meal, he’d done more than embarrass his friend, he’d lifted spirits, he’d brought everyone around them together, at least if only for a few minutes. He had done something very special.

Mary-Rose returned home to the sound of the television on upstairs as usual. She dumped her bag and coat on the stairs and went straight upstairs to her mother’s bedroom. She was sitting up in bed, propped up by cushions, watching late-night infomercials. Her new obsession was with the kitchen knives, not the knives themselves but she loved watching the chefs chop at top speed. Mary-Rose read into it that her mother missed being able to be so agile, to chop and cook as she used to, but it could simply be nothing more than a fascination with the speed of professionals. She didn’t like to think about it too much, though she was sure she probably would as she dedicated much of her day to thinking about what her mother could no longer do.

She greeted her with a kiss. ‘Do you need to go to the toilet?’

Her mother nodded and Mary-Rose took her arms and lifted them over her own shoulders, pushed back the bedclothes, scooped her arms under her mother’s legs and lifted. Her mother was heavy; it always surprised her how much heavier she was than she looked each time she picked her up. Trying to stay steady, she slowly made her way to the en-suite bathroom and lowered her mother to the ground, where her mother held on to the safety bar on the wall while Mary-Rose pulled her panties down and lowered her to the seat. She turned her back then, her mother liked her to, and she tried to drift away in her mind to give her as much privacy as she could.

Her mother’s muffled words snapped her out of her tired trance. Nobody but their care worker and her closest friend, Sam’s mother, would understand what she had said – her words were like that of a child – but Mary-Rose smiled, then laughed.

‘Yes, Mom, he proposed again.’

Her mother spoke again, and Mary-Rose shook her head. ‘No. Don’t be silly. It’s just a bit of fun.’

But for some reason, that night, of all the nights that Sam had proposed, tonight her mother’s comment made her think. A startling thought that for the first time didn’t quite repel her.