“I’m Rob,” the man said, helping her put all her chocolate back into the bag, and held his hand out.
“I’m Holly,” she said, a little embarrassed by his overfriendliness as she 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 her, and had the oddest colored eyes, a kind of a gray-green color. She squinted at him and took a closer look.
He cleared his throat.
She blushed, suddenly realizing she had been staring at him like a fool. She walked out to her car and placed the bulging bag in the backseat. Rob followed her over. Her heart did a little flip.
“Hi again,” he said. “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 sat in the pockets of his jeans with his thumbs resting outside, and those weird eyes just stared back at her. However, he didn’t make her feel uncomfortable; in fact, he was acting 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 beauty, Holly really craved company and he seemed like a nice, decent man to talk to. Sharon and Denise were 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 Gerry’s friends from work and from various other walks of life, but once he had died all those “friends” of theirs hadn’t been 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 realize …” He backed away from her awkwardly, as if she had some kind of disease. “I have to rush off anyway.” He smiled quickly at her and took 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 it was 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,” she 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 do, 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.” She 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.” She 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 favor 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 by; it gave her a sneaky peak into the lives of others. She loved to guess what people did for a living, where they were headed to as they rushed by, where they lived, if they were married or single … Sharon and Holly loved going for coffee in Bewley’s café overlooking Grafton Street, as it was the best place for people-spotting.
They would create little scenarios in their heads to pass the time, but Holly seemed to be doing this very regularly these days. Just another demonstration of how her mind was caught in other people’s lives instead of focusing on her own. For example, the new story 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?” the lover asked the secretly gay man and his wife.
“Yes, it’s a quarter past ten,” the secretly gay man answered him, looking at his watch.
“Thanks a lot,” the 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 Tracey 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 last Wednesday, the latest TAM ratings revealing 4 million people tuned in in the UK. The show is to be repeated again Sunday night at 11 p.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 Declan 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. However, she wasn’t too happy with the use of the words “mad girls,” “drunken girls,” and the explanation from one of the papers of how 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 toward her with his gang of friends again and she picked up her plate and ran inside. She hadn’t had much of an appetite lately, but she finally felt ready to eat, and she wasn’t going to let some stupid spotty teenager ruin it 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 Holly’s prediction the weather hadn’t gotten worse, and the sun was still sitting high in the cloudless blue sky. Holly looked across at the crowded beach in front of the house, and it was difficult to tell where the sky ended and the sea began. Busloads of people were continuously being dropped off across the road, and there was a lovely smell of suntan 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 memory from when Holly was a child.
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 wide open if they weren’t home, especially with throngs of strangers wandering around the area. She 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!” she yelled back.
“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 Christ’s sake,” Holly snapped loudly and hung up the phone. She dialed 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 said, patting 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 said, ordering him onto the couch.
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 from the couch.
“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 with 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 even checked with Ciara and even she said you’d like it. I’m sorry if I upset you,” he eventually mumbled.
Holly continued nodding her head through his explanation, realizing he genuinely had 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 it. 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 III.
“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 step 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 opened the door and burst her way in, 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.
Twenty-one
“OH CIARA, WHAT’S WRONG?” HOLLY said soothingly to her younger sister. Holly was worried; she couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her cry, in fact, she didn’t know Ciara even k
new how to cry. Whatever had reduced her strong sister to tears must be something serious.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Ciara said, snapping the photo album shut and sliding it under her bed. She seemed embarrassed to be caught crying, and she wiped her face roughly, trying to look like she didn’t care.
Downstairs on the couch, Declan peeped his head out from under the cushion. It was eerily quiet up there; he hoped they hadn’t done anything stupid to each other. He tiptoed upstairs and listened outside the door.
“Something is wrong,” Holly said, crossing the room to join her sister on the floor. She wasn’t sure how to deal with Ciara like this. This was a complete role reversal; ever since they’d been kids it was always Holly who had done all the crying. Ciara was supposed to be the tough one.
“I’m fine,” Ciara snapped.
“OK,” Holly said, looking around, “but if there’s something on your mind that’s upsetting you, you know you can talk to me about it, don’t you?”
Ciara refused to look at her and just nodded her head. Holly began to stand up to leave her sister in peace when all of a sudden Ciara burst into tears. Holly quickly sat back down and wrapped her arms protectively around her younger sister. Holly stroked Ciara’s silky pink hair while her sister cried quietly.
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” she asked softly.
Ciara gurgled some sort of reply and sat up to slide the photo album back out from under the bed. She opened it with trembling hands and flicked a few pages.
“Him,” she said sadly, pointing to a photograph of her and some guy Holly didn’t recognize. Holly barely recognized her sister. She looked so different and so much younger. The photograph was taken on a beautiful sunny day on a boat overlooking the Sydney Opera House. Ciara was sitting happily on the man’s knee with her arms wrapped around his neck, and he was staring at her with a huge smile on his face. Holly couldn’t get over how Ciara looked. She had blond hair, which Holly had never seen on her sister before, and a great big smile on her face. Her features looked much softer and she didn’t look like she was going to bite someone’s head off for a change.
PS, I Love You Page 15