Читать книгу Cecelia Ahern 2-Book Valentine Collection: PS I Love You, Where Rainbows End - Cecelia Ahern, Cecelia Ahern - Страница 30

Holly immediately leaped out of bed, threw on a tracksuit and drove to her nearest newsagent. She reached the newspaper stand and began to leaf through the pages in search of what Sharon had been raving about. The man behind the counter coughed loudly and Holly looked up at him.

‘This is not a library, young lady. You’ll have to buy that,’ he said, nodding at the newspaper in her hand.

‘I know that,’ she said, irritated by his rudeness. Honestly, how on earth was anyone supposed to know which paper they wanted to buy if they didn’t even know which paper had what they were looking for? She ended up picking up every single newspaper from the stand and slammed them down on the counter, smiling sweetly at him.

The man looked startled and started to scan them into the register one by one. A queue began to form behind her.

Holly stared longingly at the selection of chocolate bars displayed in front of her and looked around to see if anyone was looking at her. Everyone was staring. She quickly turned back to face the counter. Finally her arm jumped up and grabbed the two king-size chocolate bars nearest to her on the shelf from the bottom of the pile. One by one the rest of the chocolate began to slide on to the floor. The teenager behind her snorted and looked away, laughing, as Holly bent down with a red face and began to pick them up. So many had fallen she had to make several trips up and down. The shop was silent apart from a few coughs from the impatient queue behind her. She sneakily added another few packets of sweets to her pile, ‘For the kids,’ she said loudly to the newsagent, hoping everyone behind her would also hear.

He just grunted at her and continued scanning the items. Then she remembered she needed to get milk so she rushed from the queue to the end of the shop to retrieve a pint of milk from the fridge. A few women tutted loudly as she made her way back to the top of the queue where she added the milk to her pile. The newsagent stopped scanning to stare at her, she stared back blankly at him.

‘Mark,’ he yelled.

A spotty young teenager appeared from one of the shopping aisles with a pricing gun in his hand. ‘Yeah?’ he said grumpily.

‘Open the other till, will ya, son? We might be here for a while.’ The newsagent glared at Holly.

She made a face at him.

Mark dragged his body over to the second till, all the time staring at Holly. What? she thought defensively. Don’t blame me for you having to do your job. He took over the till and the entire queue behind her rushed over to the other side.

Satisfied that no one was staring at her any more she grabbed a few packets of crisps from below the counter and added them to her purchases. ‘Birthday party,’ she mumbled.

In the queue beside her, the teenager quietly asked for a packet of cigarettes.

‘Got any ID?’ Mark asked loudly.

The teenager looked around in embarrassment with a red face. Holly snorted at him and looked away.

‘Anything else?’ the newsagent asked sarcastically.

‘No, thank you, that will be all,’ she said through gritted teeth. She paid her money and fumbled with her purse, trying to put all the change back in.

‘Next,’ the newsagent nodded to the customer behind her.

‘Hiya, can I have twenty Benson and—’

‘Excuse me,’ Holly interrupted the man, ‘could I have a bag please?’ She stared at the huge pile of groceries in front of her.

‘Just a moment,’ he said rudely, ‘I’ll deal with this gentleman first. Yes, sir, cigarettes, is it?’

‘Please,’ the customer said, looking at Holly apologetically.

‘Now,’ the newsagent said, returning to Holly, ‘what can I get you?’

‘A bag.’ She clenched her jaw.

‘That’ll be twenty cents please.’

Holly sighed loudly and reached into her handbag, searching through the mess to find her purse again. Another queue formed behind her.

‘Mark, take over the till again, will you?’ the man said arrogantly.

Holly took the coin out of her purse, slammed it down on the counter and began to fill the bag with her items.

‘Next,’ the newsagent said again, looking over her shoulder to the next customer. Holly felt under pressure to get out of the way and began stuffing the bag full in panic.

‘I’ll wait till the lady here is ready,’ the customer said politely.

Holly smiled at him appreciatively and turned to leave the shop. She was walking away grumbling to herself when Mark, the boy behind the counter, startled her by yelling, ‘Hey, I know you! You’re the girl from the telly!’

Holly swirled round in surprise and the plastic handle broke from the weight of all the newspapers. Everything fell onto the floor and her chocolate, sweets and crisps went rolling in all directions.

The friendly customer got down on his knees to help her gather her belongings while the rest of the shop watched in amusement, wondering who the girl from the telly was.

‘It is you, isn’t it?’ the boy laughed.

Holly smiled up weakly at him from the floor.

‘I knew it!’ He clapped his hands together with excitement. ‘You’re cool!’

Yeah, she really felt cool, on her knees on the floor of a shop, searching for bars of chocolate. Holly’s face went red and she nervously cleared her throat, ‘Em … excuse me, could I have another bag, please?’

‘Yeah, that’ll be—’

‘There you go,’ the friendly customer interrupted him, placing a twenty-cent coin down on the counter. The newsagent looked perplexed and continued serving the customers.

‘I’m Rob,’ the man said, helping Holly put all her chocolate back into the bag, then holding his hand out.

‘I’m Holly,’ she said, a little embarrassed by his over-friendliness, and took his hand. ‘And I’m a chocoholic.’

He laughed.

‘Thanks for the help,’ she said gratefully, getting to her feet.

‘No problem.’ He held the door open for her. He was good-looking, she thought, a few years older than she, and he had the oddest coloured eyes, a kind of a grey-green colour. She squinted at him and took a closer look.

He cleared his throat.

She blushed, suddenly realising she had been staring at him like a fool. She walked out to her car and placed the bulging bag on the back seat. Rob followed her over. Her heart did a little flip.

‘Hi again,’ he laughed. ‘Em … I was wondering if you would like to go for a drink?’ Then he laughed, glancing at his watch. ‘Actually, it’s a bit too early for that. How about a coffee?’

He was a very confident man and he rested himself coolly against the car opposite Holly, his hands in the pockets of his jeans with his thumbs resting outside and those weird eyes just staring back at her. However, he didn’t make her feel uncomfortable, he was just very relaxed, as though asking a stranger out for coffee was the most natural thing in the world. Was this what people did these days?

‘Em …’ Holly thought about it. What harm could it do to go for a coffee with a man who had been so polite to her? The fact that he was absolutely gorgeous also helped. But regardless of his looks, Holly really craved company, and he seemed like a nice decent man to talk to. Sharon was out and Denise was at work and Holly couldn’t keep calling over to her mother’s house; Elizabeth had work to do too. Holly really needed to start meeting new people. Many of Gerry and Holly’s other friends had been people with whom Gerry worked, but once he had died all those ‘friends’ of theirs hadn’t been too much of a familiar feature around her house. At least she knew who her true friends were.

She was just about to say yes to Rob when he glanced down at her hand and his smile faded. ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise …’ He backed away from her awkwardly as though she had some kind of disease. ‘I have to rush off anyway.’ He smiled quickly at her and scarpered off down the road.

Holly stared after him, confused. Had she said something wrong? Had she taken too long to decide? Had she broken one of the silent rules of this new meeting-people game? She looked down at the hand that had caused him to run away from her and saw her wedding ring sparkle back at her. She sighed loudly and rubbed her face tiredly.

Just then the teenager from the shop walked by with a gang of friends and a cigarette in his mouth and snorted at her.

She just couldn’t win.

Holly slammed the door of her car and looked around. She wasn’t in the mood to go home, she was sick of staring at the walls all day every day and talking to herself. It was still only ten o’clock in the morning and beautifully sunny and warm outside. Across the road her local café, The Greasy Spoon, was setting up tables and chairs outside. Her stomach grumbled. A nice big Irish breakfast was exactly what she needed. She took her sunglasses from the glove compartment of her car, carried her newspapers with both hands and wandered across the road.

A plump lady was cleaning the tables. Her hair was tied back tightly in a large bun, and a bright red and white checked apron covered her flowery dress. Holly felt like she had walked straight into a country kitchen.

‘Been a while since these tables have seen sunlight,’ the woman said happily to Holly as she approached the café.

‘Yeah, it’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?’ Holly said, and the two of them stared up at the clear blue sky. It was funny how good weather in Ireland always seemed to be the conversation of the day with everyone. It was such a rare sight that everyone felt blessed when it finally arrived.

‘You want to sit out here, love?’

‘Yes, I will. Might as well make the most out of it. It’ll probably be gone in an hour,’ Holly laughed, taking a seat.

‘You need to think positively, love.’ The waitress busied herself around Holly. ‘Right, I’ll get you the menu,’ she said, turning to leave.

‘No, it’s OK,’ Holly called after her, ‘I know what I want. I’ll have the Irish breakfast.’

‘No problem, love,’ the woman smiled, and her eyes widened when she saw the pile of newspapers on the table, ‘You thinking of starting your own newsagents?’ she chuckled.

Holly looked down at the pile and laughed at the sight of the Arab Leader lying on the top. She had grabbed every single paper and hadn’t even thought to check what they were. She doubted very much the Arab Leader contained any articles about the documentary.

‘Well, to tell you the truth, love,’ the woman said, cleaning the table beside her, ‘you’d be doing us all a favour if you put that miserable ol’ bastard out of business.’ She glared across the road to the newsagent. Holly laughed as the woman waddled back into the café.

Holly just sat there for a while, watching the world go by. She loved catching snippets of people’s conversations as they walked past; it gave her a sneaky peak into the lives of others. She loved to guess what people did for a living, where they were heading as they rushed by, where they lived, if they were married or single … Sharon and Holly always used to sit in Bewley’s overlooking Grafton Street and they would do their people spotting. They would create little scenarios in their heads to pass the time, although Holly seemed to be doing this very regularly these days – just another demonstration of how her mind was caught up in other people’s lives instead of focusing on her own.

For example, the new little scenario she was creating involved the man walking down the path holding hands with his wife. Holly decided that he was secretly gay and the man headed toward them was his lover. Holly watched their faces as they approached each other, wondering if they would make eye contact. They went one better than that, and Holly tried not to giggle as the three of them stopped just in front of her table.

‘Excuse me? Have you got the time?’ lover asked secretly gay man and wife.

‘Yes, it’s a quarter past ten,’ secretly gay man answered him, looking at his watch.

‘Thanks a lot,’ lover said, touching his arm, and walked on.

Now it was as clear as day to Holly that that had been secret code for a rendezvous later. She continued her people spotting for a little while longer until she eventually got bored and decided to live her own life for a change.

Holly flicked through the pages of the tabloids and came to a small article in the review section that caught her eye.

Girls and the City a Hit in the Ratings

by Tricia Coleman

For any of you unfortunate people who missed out on the outrageously funny TV documentary Girls and the City last Wednesday, do not despair because it will be back on our screens soon.

The hilarious fly-on-the-wall documentary, directed by Irishman Declan Kennedy, follows five Dublin girls out for a night on the town. They lift the lid on the mysterious world of celebrity life in trendy club Boudoir and provide us with thirty minutes of stomach-aching laughter.

The show proved to be a success when first aired on Channel 4, the latest TAM ratings revealing 4 million people tuned in in the UK. The show is to be repeated again Sunday night at 11p.m. on Channel 4. This is must-see TV, so don’t miss it!

Holly tried to keep her cool as she read through the article. It was obviously great news for Declan but disastrous for her. Having that documentary aired once was bad enough, never mind a second time. She really needed to have a serious talk with him about this. She had let him off lightly the other night because he had been so excited and she didn’t want to make a scene, but at this stage she had enough problems on her plate without having to worry about this too.

She flicked through the rest of the papers and saw what it was Sharon was ranting about. Every single tabloid had an article about the documentary and one had even printed a photograph of Denise, Sharon and Holly from a few years ago. How they got their hands on it she did not know. Thank God the broadsheets contained some real news or Holly would have really worried about the world. She wasn’t too happy with the use of the words, ‘mad girls’, ‘drunken girls’, and the description from one of the papers that they were ‘well up for it’. What did that even mean?

Holly’s food finally arrived and she stared at it in shock, wondering how on earth she was going to get through it all.

‘That’ll fatten you up, love,’ the plump lady said, placing it on the table. ‘You need a bit of meat on your bones; you’re far too skinny,’ she warned her, waddling off again. Holly felt pleased at the compliment.

The plate was piled high with sausages, bacon, eggs, hash browns, black and white pudding, baked beans, fried potatoes, mushrooms, tomatoes and five slices of toast. Holly looked around her with embarrassment, hoping no one would think she was a complete pig. She saw that annoying teenager heading towards her with his gang of friends again and she picked up her plate and ran inside. She hadn’t much of an appetite lately; but she finally felt ready to eat and she wasn’t going to let some stupid spotty teenager ruin her breakfast for her.

Holly must have stayed in The Greasy Spoon much longer than she thought, because by the time she reached her parents’ house in Portmarnock it was almost two o’clock. Against her prediction, the sun was still sitting high in the cloudless blue sky. She looked across at the crowded beach in front of the house and found it difficult to tell where the sky ended and the sea began. Busfuls of people where continuously being unloaded across the road, and there was a lovely smell of sun-tan lotion in the air. There were gangs of teenagers hanging around the grassy area with CD players blaring out the latest tunes. The sound and the smell brought back every happy childhood memory for Holly.

Holly rang the doorbell for the fourth time and still no one answered. She knew somebody had to be home because the bedroom windows were wide open upstairs. Her mum and dad would never leave them open if they weren’t home, especially with throngs of strangers wandering around the area. Holly walked across the grass and pressed her face against the living-room window to see if there was any sign of life. She was just about to give up and wander over to the beach when she heard the screaming match between Declan and Ciara.

‘CIARA, GET THE DAMN DOOR!’

‘NO, I SAID! I … AM … BUSY!’

‘WELL, SO AM I!’

Holly rang the doorbell again, just to add fuel to the fire.

‘DECLAN!’ Ouch, that was a bloodcurdling scream.

‘GET IT YOURSELF, YOU LAZY COW!’

‘HA! I’M LAZY?’

Holly took out her mobile phone and rang the house.

‘CIARA, ANSWER THE PHONE!’

‘NO!’

‘Oh, for Christsake,’ Holly snapped loudly, and hung up the phone. She dialled Declan’s mobile number.

‘Yeah?’

‘Declan, open the goddamn fucking door now or I’ll kick it in,’ Holly growled.

‘Oh sorry, Holly, I thought Ciara had answered it,’ he lied.

He opened the door in his boxer shorts and Holly stormed in. ‘Jesus Christ! I hope you two don’t carry on like that every time the doorbell rings.’

He shrugged his shoulders noncommittally, ‘Mum and Dad are out,’ he said lazily, and headed up the stairs.

‘Hey, where are you going?’

‘Back to bed.’

‘No you are not,’ Holly said calmly, ‘you are going to sit down here with me,’ she patted the couch, ‘and we’re gonna have a nice long chat about Girls and the City.’

‘No,’ Declan moaned. ‘Do we have to do this now? I’m really, really tired.’ He rubbed his eyes with his fists.

Holly had no sympathy for him, ‘Declan, it’s two o’clock in the afternoon, how can you still be tired?’

‘Because I only got home a few hours ago,’ he said, cheekily winking at her. Now she definitely had no sympathy for him; she was just plain jealous.

‘Sit!’ she ordered him.

He moaned again and dragged his weary body over to the couch where he collapsed and stretched out along the entire thing, leaving no room for Holly. She rolled her eyes and dragged her dad’s armchair closer to Declan.

‘I feel like I’m with a shrink,’ he laughed, crossing his arms behind his head and staring up at her.

‘Good, because I’m really going to pick your brains.’

Declan whinged again, ‘Oh, Holly, do we have to? We just talked about this the other night.’

‘Did you honestly think that was all I was going to say? “Oh, I’m sorry, Declan, but I didn’t like the way you publicly humiliated me and my friends. See you next week”?’

‘Obviously not.’

‘Come on, Declan,’ she said, softening her tone, ‘I just want to understand why you thought it would be such a great idea not to tell me you were filming me and my friends?’

‘You knew I was filming,’ he said defensively.

‘For a documentary about club life!’ Holly raised her voice in frustration at her younger brother.

‘And it was about club life,’ Declan laughed.

‘Oh, you think you’re so bloody clever,’ she snapped at him, and he stopped laughing. She counted to ten and breathed slowly to prevent herself from attacking him.

‘Come on, Declan,’ she said quietly. ‘Do you not think that I am going through enough right now without having to worry about this as well? And without even asking me? I cannot for the life of me understand why you would do it!’

Declan sat up on the couch and became serious for a change, ‘I know, Holly, I know you’ve been through hell but I thought this would cheer you up. I wasn’t lying when I said I was going to film the club because that’s what I had planned on doing. But when I brought it back to college to begin the edit everyone thought that it was just so funny that I couldn’t not show it to people.’

‘Yeah, but you put it on TV, Declan.’

‘I didn’t know that was the prize, honestly,’ he said, wide-eyed. ‘Nobody knew, not even my lecturers! How could I say no to it when I won?’

Holly gave up and ran her fingers through her hair.

‘I honestly thought you would like it,’ he smiled. ‘I checked with Ciara and even she said you’d like it. I’m sorry if I upset you,’ he mumbled.

Holly continued nodding her head through his explanation, realising he genuinely had good intentions, however misguided. Suddenly she stopped. What had he just said? She sat up, alert in her seat. ‘Declan, did you just say that Ciara knew about the tape?’

Declan froze in his seat and tried to think of a way to back himself out of the corner he found himself in. Coming up with nothing, he threw himself back onto the couch and covered his head with a cushion, knowing he had just started World War Three.

‘Oh, Holly, don’t say anything to her. She’ll kill me!’ came his muffled reply.

Holly bounded out of her seat and stormed upstairs, thumping her feet on every stair to show Ciara she was really mad. She yelled threats at Ciara all the way up and pounded on her bedroom door.

‘Don’t come in!’ yelled Ciara from inside.

‘You are in so much trouble, Ciara!’ Holly screamed. She burst her way inside, putting on her most terrifying face.

‘I told you not to come in!’ wailed Ciara.

Holly was about to start screaming all sorts of insulting things at her sister but stopped herself when she saw Ciara sitting on the floor with what looked like a photo album on her lap and tears streaming down her face.