If You Could See Me Now

by Cecelia Ahern

  ‘Oh, her?’ Ivan made another face. ‘No way.’ He leaned forward on the leather couch and it squeaked beneath his jeans. A familiar sound to Elizabeth. ‘You know she makes this awful chicken dish. Sauce really ruins the chicken.’

  Elizabeth found herself laughing again. ‘That’s an unusual reason not to like someone,’ but funnily enough Luke had complained about it to her also, after eating dinner at Sam’s over the weekend.

  ‘Not if you like chicken, it’s not,’ Ivan replied honestly. ‘Chicken is by far my favourite,’ he smiled.

  Elizabeth nodded, trying to suppress a giggle.

  ‘Well, my favourite kind of poultry really.’

  That did it. She started laughing again. Luke must have picked up some of his phrases.

  ‘What?’ Ivan smiled widely, revealing a set of sparkling white teeth.

  ‘You,’ Elizabeth said, trying to calm herself and control her laughter. She couldn’t believe she was acting like this with a total stranger.

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘You’re funny,’ she smiled.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said calmly and she looked up at him in surprise.

  Her face flushed. What kind of a thing was that to say? There was another silence, uncomfortable on her part as she wondered whether to be insulted or not. Rarely did people make such comments to Elizabeth. She didn’t know how she was supposed to feel.

  On sneaking a peak at Ivan she was intrigued to see he didn’t look at all perplexed or embarrassed. As though he said it all the time. A man like him probably did, she thought cynically. A charmer, that’s all he was. Although, as much as she stared at him with forced disdain, she couldn’t really bring herself to believe that. This man did not know her, had met her less than ten minutes ago, had told her she was beautiful and yet remained seated in her living room as if he were her best friend, looking around the room as if it were the most interesting place he had ever seen. He had such a friendly nature, was easy to talk to, easy to listen to, and despite telling her she was beautiful while she sat in old tattered clothes with red-rimmed eyes and greasy hair, he didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. The more they sat in silence the more she realised he had simply paid her a compliment.

  ‘Thank you, Ivan,’ she said politely.

  ‘And thank you too.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘You said I was funny.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Well, em… you’re welcome.’

  ‘You don’t get many compliments, do you?’

  Elizabeth should have stood up right there and then, and ordered him out of her living room for being so intrusive, but she didn’t, because as much as she thought she should technically, according to her own rules, be bothered by this, she wasn’t. She sighed, ‘No, Ivan, I don’t.’

  He smiled at her. ‘Well, let that be the first of many.’

  He stared at her and her face began to twitch from holding his stare for so long. ‘Is Sam staying with you tonight?’

  Ivan rolled his eyes. ‘I hope not. For a boy of only six years of age, he snores awfully loud.’

  Elizabeth smiled. ‘There’s nothing only about being si—’ She stopped herself and gulped back some coffee.

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘What was that?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she mumbled. While Ivan was looking around the room Elizabeth stole another glance at him. She couldn’t figure out how old he was. He was tall and muscular, manly but yet had a boyish charm. He confused her. She decided to cut to the chase.

  ‘Ivan, I’m confused about something.’ She took a breath to ask her question.

  ‘Don’t be. Never be confused.’

  Elizabeth felt herself frown and smile at the same time. Even her face was confused by his statement. ‘OK,’ she said slowly, ‘do you mind me asking what age you are?’

  ‘No,’ he said happily. ‘I don’t mind at all.’

  Silence.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘What age are you?’

  Ivan smiled. ‘Let’s just say I’ve been told by one person in particular that I’m old like you.’

  Elizabeth laughed. She had thought as much. Obviously Ivan hadn’t been spared any of Luke’s unsubtle comments.

  ‘Children keep you young, though, Elizabeth.’ His voice turned serious, his eyes deep and thoughtful. ‘My job is to care for children, help them along and just be there for them.’

  ‘You’re a care worker?’ Elizabeth asked.

  Ivan thought about that. ‘You could call me a care worker, professional best friend, guide…’ He held out his hands and shrugged. ‘Children are the ones that know exactly what’s going on in the world, you know. They see more than adults, believe in more, are honest and will always, always let you know where you stand.’

  Elizabeth nodded along with him. He obviously loved his job – as a father and as a care worker.

  ‘You know, it’s interesting,’ he leaned forward again, ‘children learn much more, far more quickly than adults. Do you know why that is?’

  Elizabeth assumed there was some scientific explanation for it but shook her head.

  ‘Because they’re open-minded. Because they want to know and they want to learn. Adults,’ he shook his head sadly, ‘think they know it all. They grow up and forget so easily and instead of opening their minds and developing it they choose what to believe and what not to believe. You can’t make a choice on things like that: you either believe or you don’t. That’s why their learning is slower. They are more cynical, they lose faith and they only demand to know things that will help them get by day by day. They’ve no interest in the extras. But, Elizabeth,’ he said, his voice a loud whisper, eyes wide and sparkling, and Elizabeth shivered as goose pimples rose on her arms. She felt as if he was sharing the world’s greatest secret with her. She moved her head closer. ‘It’s the extras that make life.’

  ‘That make life what?’ she whispered.

  He smiled. ‘That make life.’

  Elizabeth swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘That’s it?’

  Ivan smiled. ‘What do you mean, that’s it? How much more can you get than life, how much more can you ask for than life? That’s the gift. Life is everything, and you haven’t lived it properly until you believe.’

  ‘Believe in what?’

  Ivan rolled his eyes and smiled. ‘Oh, Elizabeth, you’ll figure it out.’

  Elizabeth wanted the extras he spoke about. She wanted the sparkle and the excitement of life, she wanted to release balloons in a barley field and fill a room with pink fairy cakes. Her eyes filled again and her heart thudded in her chest at the thought of crying in front of him. She needn’t have worried because he stood up slowly.

  ‘Elizabeth,’ he said gently, ‘on that note, I shall leave you. It was my pleasure to spend this time with you.’ He held out his hand.

  When Elizabeth held out her own to touch his soft skin, he grasped it gently and pumped it hypnotically. She couldn’t speak for the lump in her throat that had taken over.

  ‘Good luck with your meeting tomorrow,’ he smiled encouragingly, and with that he exited the living room. The door was closed behind him by Luke who shouted, ‘Bye, Sam!’ at the top of his voice, laughed loudly, and then pounded up the stairs.

  Later that night Elizabeth lay in bed, her head hot, her nose blocked and her eyes sore from crying. She hugged her pillow and snuggled down into her duvet. The open curtains allowed the moon to shine a path of silver-blue light across her room. She gazed out the window at the same moon she had watched as a child, at the same stars she had wished upon, and a thought struck her.

  She hadn’t mentioned anything at all to Ivan about her meeting tomorrow.

  Chapter 15

  Elizabeth hauled her luggage out of the boot of the taxi and trailed it along behind her into the departure and arrival area of Farranfore Airport. She breathed a sigh of relief. Now she really felt that she was going home. After spending only a month living in New Yor
k she felt she fitted in there more than she ever had in Baile na gCroíthe. She was beginning to make friends; more importantly, she was beginning to want to make friends.

  ‘The plane is on time at least,’ Mark said, joining the small check-in queue.

  Elizabeth smiled at him and rested her forehead against his chest. ‘I’ll need another holiday to recover from this one,’ she joked wearily.

  Mark chuckled, kissed the top of her head and ran his hands through her dark hair. ‘You call coming home to visit our families a holiday?’ he laughed. ‘Let’s go to Hawaii when we get back.’

  Elizabeth lifted her head and raised an eyebrow, ‘Of course, Mark, I’ll just let you tell my boss that. You know I need to get back to that project urgently.’

  Mark studied her determined face. ‘You should go it alone.’

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes and leaned her forehead against his chest again. ‘Not this again.’ Her voice was muffled in his duffel coat.

  ‘Just listen.’ He lifted her chin with his forefinger. ‘You work all the hours under the sun, rarely take time off and stress yourself out. For what?’

  She opened her mouth to reply.

  ‘For what?’ he repeated, stopping her.

  Again she opened her mouth to answer and he jumped in. ‘Well, seeing as you’re so reluctant to answer,’ he smiled, ‘I’ll tell you what for. For other people. So that they get all the glory. You do all the work, they get all the glory.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Elizabeth half laughed, ‘that job pays me extremely well as you well know, and at the rate I’m going, by this time next year – if we decide to stay in New York, that is – I’ll be able to afford that house we saw—’

  ‘My dear Elizabeth,’ Mark interrupted, ‘the rate you’re going, this time next year that house will be sold and in its place will be a skyscraper or terribly trendy bar that doesn’t sell alcohol or a restaurant that doesn’t serve food “just to be different”,’ he made quotation marks with his fingers, making Elizabeth laugh, ‘which you will no doubt paint white, put fluorescent lights in the floors and refuse to purchase furniture for, in case it clutters the place,’ he teased. ‘And other people will get the credit for that.’ He looked at her in pretend disgust. ‘Imagine. That’s your blank canvas, nobody else’s, and they shouldn’t take that away from you. I want to be able to bring our friends in there and say, “Look, everyone, Elizabeth did this. Took her three months to do, all it is is white walls and no chairs but I’m proud of her. Didn’t she do well?”’

  Elizabeth held her stomach from laughing so hard. ‘I would never let them knock down that house. Anyway, this job pays me lots of money,’ she explained.

  ‘That’s the second time you’ve mentioned money. We’re doing fine. What do you need all this money for?’ Mark asked.

  ‘A rainy day,’ Elizabeth said, her laughter dying down and her smile fading as her thoughts drifted to Saoirse and her father. A very rainy day, indeed.

  ‘Just as well we’re not living here any more then,’ Mark said, not noticing her face and looking out the window, ‘or you’d be broke.’

  Elizabeth looked out the window to the wet day and couldn’t help feeling that the week had been a complete waste of time. She hadn’t exactly been expecting a welcoming committee and bunting to be hung from the shops but neither Saoirse nor her father seemed to be in the least bit interested in whether she was home or not, and what she has been up to in her time away. But she hadn’t returned to share stories about her new life in New York; she had returned to check up on them.

  Her father still wasn’t talking to her on account of her leaving home and deserting him. Working for a few months at a time in different counties had seemed at the time the ultimate sin, but leaving the country altogether was now the mightiest sin of all. Before Elizabeth had left she had made arrangements to ensure they would both be looked after. Much to her great disappointment, Saoirse had dropped out of school the previous year and Elizabeth had had to set her up with her eighth job in two months, stocking shelves in the local supermarket. She had also arranged with a neighbour to drive her into Killarney twice a month to see her counsellor. To Elizabeth, that part was far more important than the job and she knew that Saoirse had only agreed to it as it gave her the opportunity to escape from her cage twice a month. In the unlikely event that Saoirse ever decided to talk about how she was feeling, at least there would be someone there to listen.

  There had been no sign of the housekeeper Elizabeth had organised for her father, though. The farmhouse was a dusty, smelly, damp mess and after spending two days scrubbing the place Elizabeth gave up, realising there was no amount of cleaning products that would bring back the shine to the farmhouse. When her mother left, she had taken the sparkle with her.

  Saoirse had moved out of the bungalow and into a house with a group of strangers she had met while camping out at a music festival. All they seemed to do was sit in a circle by the old tower near the town, lying on the grass, with long hair and beards, strumming on a guitar and singing songs about suicide.

  Elizabeth had only managed to catch her sister twice during her stay. The first meeting was very brief. On the day of Elizabeth’s arrival she received a phone call from the only ladies’ clothes store in Baile na gCroíthe. They were holding Saoirse as they had caught her shoplifting some T-shirts. Elizabeth had gone down, apologised profusely, paid the women for the T-shirts and as soon as they had stepped outside Saoirse had headed for the hills. The second time they met was only long enough for Elizabeth to loan Saoirse some money and then organise to meet for lunch the next day, a lunch Elizabeth ended up eating alone. At least she was glad to see Saoirse had put on some weight at last. Her face was fuller and her clothes didn’t seem to hang off her as they once had. Perhaps living alone was good for her.

  November in Baile na gCroíthe was lonely. The young population was away at school and college, the tourists were at home or visiting hotter countries, businesses were quiet and empty, some closed, the others struggling. The village was drab, cold and dreary, the flowers not yet out to brighten the streets. It was like a ghost town. But Elizabeth was glad she had returned. Her small family may not have given two flutes whether she was home or not, but she knew with a certainty now that she couldn’t live her life worrying about them.

  Mark and Elizabeth moved up the queue. There was only one person ahead of them and then they would be free. Free to catch their flight to Dublin so they could go on to New York from there.

  Elizabeth’s phone rang and her stomach lurched instinctively.

  Mark whipped around. ‘Don’t answer that.’

  Elizabeth took the phone out of her bag and looked at the number.

  ‘Don’t answer it, Elizabeth.’ His voice was steady and stern.

  ‘It’s an Irish number.’ Elizabeth bit down on her lip.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said gently.

  ‘But something could be wro—’ The ringing stopped.

  Mark smiled, looked relieved. ‘Well done.’

  Elizabeth smiled weakly and Mark turned back to face the check-in desk. He took a step forward to approach the desk and as he did so her phone began ringing again.

  It was the same number.

  Mark was talking to the woman behind the desk, laughing and as charming as usual. Elizabeth clutched the phone tightly in her hand and stared at the number on her screen until it disappeared and the ringing stopped again.

  It beeped, signalling a voicemail.

  ‘Elizabeth, she needs your passport.’ Mark swirled round. His face fell.

  ‘I’m just checking my messages,’ Elizabeth said quickly, and began rooting in her bag for her passport, phone pressed to her ear.

  ‘Hello, Elizabeth, this is Mary Flaherty calling from the maternity ward in Killarney Hospital. Your sister, Saoirse, has been taken in with labour pains. It’s a month earlier than expected, as you know, so Saoirse wanted us to call you to let you know in case you wanted to be here with her…’ Eliz
abeth didn’t hear the rest. She stood frozen to the spot. Labour pains? Saoirse? She wasn’t even pregnant. She replayed the message, thinking maybe it was the wrong number, ignoring Mark’s pleas for her to hand over her passport.

  ‘Elizabeth,’ Mark said loudly, interrupting her thoughts, ‘your passport. You’re holding everyone up.’

  Elizabeth turned round and was greeted by a line of angry faces.

  ‘Sorry,’ she whispered, her whole body shaking, feeling stunned.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Mark said, his anger fading and concern spreading across his face.

  ‘Excuse me,’ the check-in assistant called. ‘Are you getting on this flight?’ she asked as politely as she could.

  ‘Em,’ Elizabeth rubbed her eyes in confusion, looked from Mark’s issued ticket on the counter, to his face and back again. ‘No, no, I can’t.’ She stepped backwards out of the queue. ‘Sorry.’ She turned to the few people in the queue who looked at her with softened faces. ‘So sorry.’ She looked at Mark standing in the queue, looking so… so disappointed. Not disappointed she wasn’t coming but disappointed in her.

  ‘Sir,’ the lady called, handing him his ticket.

  He took it distractedly and slowly stepped out of the queue. ‘What happened?’

  ‘It’s Saoirse,’ Elizabeth said weakly, a lump forming in her throat. ‘She’s been taken into hospital.’

  ‘Did she drink too much again?’ The concern had instantly disappeared from Mark’s voice.

  Elizabeth thought about that answer long and hard, and the shame and embarrassment of not having known about Saoirse’s pregnancy took charge and shouted at her to lie. ‘Yes, I think so. I’m not too sure.’ She shook her head – trying to shake her thoughts away.

  Mark’s shoulders relaxed. ‘Look, she probably just has to get her stomach pumped again. It’s nothing new, Elizabeth. Let’s just get you checked in and we can talk about it in the café.’

  Elizabeth shook her head. ‘No, no, Mark, I have to go.’ Her voice trembled.

  ‘Elizabeth, it’s probably nothing,’ he smiled. ‘How many of these phone calls do you get a year and it’s always the same thing.’