This Digital Download PDF eBook edition and related web site are NOT.. dependable a figure of speech analysis on cecelia ahern's if you could see me now. If You Could See Me Now Also byC ecelia A hernPS, I Love You Love, Rosie ( originally published as Rosie Dunne). If You Could See Me Now Also by C ecelia A hern PS, I Love You Love, Rosie ( originally published as Rosie Dunne) If You Could See Me Now · If You Could .
|Language:||English, Spanish, Arabic|
|Distribution:||Free* [*Register to download]|
tant in storytelling, aren't they? I was glad I met Luke that morning because I was a bit down after having to leave my old best friend, Barry. He couldn't see me. From the bestselling author of P.S. I Love You and Love, Rosie, Cecelia Ahern, comes an enchanting novel that leads you to wonder if Not Seeing is believing!. pdf If You Could See Me Now From the bestselling author of P.S. I Love You and Love, Rosie, Cecelia Ahern, comes an enchanting novel that leads you to.
I could hear the doors locking from where I was at the end of the garden. A few kids on the road stopped playing and stared at the scene unfolding before them. Finally, the owner of the mystery voice came running outside with a phone in her hand. She looked very different from the other lady she called Saoirse. Her hair was tied back neatly and tightly at the back of her head.
She too was red in the face and out of breath. Her chest heaved up and down rapidly as she tried to run as quickly as she could in her high heels to the car.
Saoirse just grinned from inside the car and started up the engine. Saoirse sped off down the long cobblestoned driveway. Halfway down, she slowed the car. The woman with the phone watched in fright as the car sped off again down the road, narrowly missing hitting a child on the road. A few hairs escaped from the tight bun on her head, as though attempting to chase the car themselves. The woman let out an exasperated screech, threw her hands in the air, and I f Yo u C o u l d S e e M e N o w 19 turned on her heel.
She lurched forward as the heel of her shoe became lodged between the cobbles of the drive, and shook her leg wildly, growing more frustrated by the second. Eventually, she tugged her foot free with one great effort. The fuchsia door slammed shut behind her and she was swallowed back up by the house. The windows, doorknob, and the letter box smiled at me again and I smiled back. He just stared at me with the same frown, his mind evidently half lost in the thoughts of what he had just seen, and in the oddity of smiling at a door.
We could see the woman with the phone through the glass of the front door, pacing the hall. He looked shaken. A yellow glow appeared on his pale skin.
Not as much as before though. Chapter Three it was really nice of luke to invite me to lunch that day. But how can you say no to the treat of pizza on a Friday? The parents think that making food for me is a waste because they always just end up throwing it out.
They never even asked.
Sometimes they just give me an empty plate and tell my best friends that invisible people eat invisible food. I mean, 21 22 Cecelia Ahern please, does the invisible wind blow invisible trees?
We come into existence as we are. The dads always say things under their breath to me when they think no one else is listening. For example, me and Barry went to Waterford on our summer holidays and we were lying on the beach on Brittas Bay and a lady walked by in a bikini.
Nineteen minutes and thirty-eight seconds later, Elizabeth called Luke for dinner. My stomach was grumbling and I was really looking forward to the pizza. I followed Luke down the long hall to the kitchen, looking in every room as we passed. The house was quiet and our footsteps echoed. As far as I could see not only was there no sign of a child living in the house, there was no sign of anyone living in the house.
I liked the kitchen though, it was warm from the sun and because it was I f Yo u C o u l d S e e M e N o w 23 surrounded by glass, it felt like we were sitting in the garden. Kind of like a picnic. I noticed the table was set for two people so I waited until told where to sit. The plates were big, black, and shiny; the sun shining through the window made the cutlery sparkle, causing two crystal glasses to make rainbow colors on the table.
There was a bowl of salad and a glass jug of water with ice and lemon in the center of the table. Everything was resting on black marble place mats. Looking at how everything glistened, I was afraid even to get the napkins dirty. Elizabeth picked up the giant salad fork and spoon and began to gather leaves and baby tomatoes onto her plate. Luke watched her and frowned. Luke had a slice of margarita pizza on his plate. No olives. She was afraid to look. She would knock it on the head straightaway and there would be no more talk of invisible friends.
She opened her mouth to silence him but was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. As soon as she left the room, Luke got up from his chair and took out a plate from the kitchen press.
A big black one just the same as the 24 Cecelia Ahern other two. He placed a slice of pizza onto the plate, took out cutlery and a napkin, and placed it on a third place mat beside him.
A piece of melted cheese dribbled down his chin, looking like yellow string. I laughed and nodded. My mouth was watering.
Elizabeth hurried back into the kitchen just as Luke was reaching up to the shelf. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. She had sad eyes. Sad brown eyes and I was convinced that I was going to make her happy by eating every last crumb. I ate quickly. She circled the car slowly, inspecting the paintwork closely. She always felt embarrassed. She wiped down the splashes of dried mud with a tissue.
Colm smiled at her sadly. They had never done that before. They had always given Saoirse a warning and then dropped her back to wherever she was staying.
Unprofessional, she knew, but in such a small town where everyone knew everyone, they had always just kept their eye on Saoirse, stopping her before she did anything incredibly stupid. But Elizabeth feared Saoirse had been warned once too many. Saoirse was a danger.
Why did she keep protecting her sister? When would she learn to accept that they were right, that her sister would never be the angel she wished her to be? She had to hold her hand across her mouth to stop herself. She took a deep breath and tried to regroup, tried to regain control.
Colm looked down at the ground and moved a stone around with his 26 Cecelia Ahern foot. Every bone in her body pleaded with him. Elizabeth never asked for help. Her knees trembled as she begged on behalf of her sister. He may go lightly on her, then again he may not.
Did she cooperate? There was a silence before Colm spoke. Colm had always had a soft spot for Saoirse, he was the one who was always on her side. She chewed nervously on the inside of her mouth and felt the taste of blood slide down her throat. Although she felt huge relief, she knew it was no victory. No one could protect her sister this time, she would have to face the consequences of her actions.
Elizabeth sat on the porch, trying to rest her knocking knees, and looked at her mud-stained car. Why did Saoirse have to taint everything?
Why was everything. She felt the clouds above push all that was between them and her onto her shoulders and she worried about what her father was going to do when they would undoubtedly bring Saoirse to his farm. She rose from the porch where she had been trapped in a web of thought, turned slowly on her heel, and headed inside. When she got to the door the ringing had stopped and she spotted Luke sitting on the stairs with the phone pressed to his ear.
She leaned against the wooden door frame, arms folded, and watched him. She felt a small smile creep onto her face. He was growing up so fast and she felt such a disconnection from the whole process, as though he was doing everything without her help.
He was doing it without the nurturing she knew she should be providing but that she felt awkward summoning. She knew she lacked that emotion, sometimes lacked emotion full stop, and every day she wished the maternal instincts she lacked had come with the paperwork she signed. When Luke fell and cut his knee, her immediate response was to clean it and plaster his cut.
He paused to listen to his granddad on the other end. Finally, he lifted the phone back to his ear. Since when had Luke become an expert on olives? He must have learned about them at school, he had a good memory for things like that. Luke paused and listened to the other end. Her father was confused enough as it was at times, without having to explain the existence, or lack thereof, of an invisible boy.
Luke dragged his feet back to the kitchen. Irritation at the noise reared itself within Elizabeth again. The last time she did, she I f Yo u C o u l d S e e M e N o w 29 released the chickens from the coop and I spent all day getting them back in.
She upsets Luke. Colm just brought it back a few minutes ago. Our lord only intended us to rest on a Sunday. Tell young Luke to come around with this new friend on Monday. She hung up the phone and made her way back to the kitchen. Luke sat alone at the table, holding his stomach and laughing hysterically. She took her seat and continued eating her salad. Evenings spent over long dinners bored her and she never had much of an appetite, she was always too busy worrying about something or too hyper to be able to sit still and eat.
She glanced at the plate directly ahead of her and to her surprise saw that it was empty. He spat it out onto the plate. What had gotten into him?
I told you olives were his favorite. Granddad wanted to know if he could grow olives on the farm. Elizabeth smiled back. If he had eaten the entire thing, he would be sick all night and Elizabeth would have to clean up the mess. She rubbed the base of her aching spine. A shiver ran through her body. She banged the dishwasher door shut, too fed up even to reply to her nephew. She sat down at the kitchen table, her shoulders sagged, and she held her head in her hands.
Elizabeth had heard him say thank you. He knew it. He circled her slowly for a few minutes, studying her for signs of a reaction to his presence. He clapped his hands and stamped his feet. It echoed loudly around the large kitchen but Elizabeth remained at the table with her head in her hands. No reaction at all. After all, she was a parent, and who cared what parents thought? He stood behind her and stared down at the top of her head, wondering what noise he could make next.
He sighed loudly, exhaling a deep breath. Suddenly, Elizabeth sat up straight, shuddered, and pulled the zip on her tracksuit top higher. And then he knew she had felt his breath.
Chapter Four elizabeth pulled her dressing gown tighter around her body and secured it at the waist. She tucked her long legs up underneath her body and snuggled down into the oversized armchair in the living room. Her wet hair sat tower-like on the top of her head, twisted in a towel; her skin smelled fruity from her passion fruit bubble bath. She cradled a fresh cup of coffee, complete with splash of cream, in her hands, and stared at the television.
She was literally watching paint dry. Her favorite house makeover show was on and she loved to see how they could transform the most run-down rooms into sophisticated, elegant homes. Ever since she was a child, she had loved giving everything she touched a makeover. She also supposed it was her own childish way of trying to convince her mother to stay. She remembered thinking that perhaps the prettier the house, the longer her mother would remain home.
As she grew older, her love for bringing the beauty out in things grew as well. Even in her own home she was always changing things, rearranging and trying to improve. She strove for perfection. She loved setting herself tasks, sometimes impossible ones, to prove to her heart that underneath every seemingly ugly thing there was something beautiful.
Beautiful, comfortable, and functional spaces were what she endorsed. There were light colors of coffees and creams and just like the mug in her hand they helped clear her mind. In a world where most things were a clutter, having a peaceful home was vital to her sanity.
It was her refuge, her nest, where she could hide from the problems outside her door. At least in her home she was in control. There, unlike in the rest of her life, she allowed in only those whom she wanted, she could decide how long they should stay, and where in her home they could be.
Not like a heart, which let people in without permission, held them in a special place she never had any say in, and then yearned for them to remain there longer than they planned. And she chose for them to stay away. She had spent weeks planning for it, updating her portfolio, creating a slide show, gathering magazine cut-outs and newspaper write-ups of the places she had designed. An old tower stood high on the mountainside and the original plan was for it to be knocked over to make space for a hotel.
No one was proud of it nor interested in it. It was an ugly pile of stones that had been neglected to crumble and decay, which by day housed the village teenagers and by night housed the village drunks, Saoirse having been among both of them. A story began to circulate that if the building were knocked down, all love would be lost. It grabbed the attention of the tabloids and soft news programs and eventually the developers saw the opportunity for an even bigger goldmine than expected.
They decided that they would keep the tower standing and instead build the hotel around it, leaving the tower as a historical piece for their courtyard and that way keeping the love alive in the Town of Hearts.
There was suddenly a huge rush of interest from believers all around the country wanting to stay in the hotel to be near the tower blessed by love. Elizabeth would have driven the JCB through it herself. She thought it was a ridiculous story, one created by a village afraid of change and intent on keeping the tower on the mountain. Despite the talk of the tower, she was excited about the prospect of a hotel being built, as the job of designing its interiors would be perfect for her.
It would be a small hotel, but one that would provide employment for the people of Heartstown. Her last big project brought her to New York, but as soon as Luke was born that had all ended. Having to walk out of the meeting on Friday should not have happened. Her employees consisted of Becca and Poppy. Receptionist Becca was a timid and extremely shy seventeen-year-old who had joined Elizabeth in her transition year while on work experience and decided not to go back to school.
Elizabeth had hired her quickly after Saoirse, who had been hired by Elizabeth to work there part time, had let her down. She had more than let her down and Elizabeth was desperate to get someone in quickly. To tidy up the mess. Keeping Saoirse near her during the day as an attempt to help her on her feet had only succeeded in driving her further away and knocking her right back down. Bracken, a sixty-eight-year-old genius with a needle and thread who ran her own upholstery shop in the town.
She was also an incredible grump and insisted on being called Mrs. Bracken and not Gwen, out of respect for her dearly departed Mr.
She would often arrive drunk and abusive and willing to take anything that she could get her hands on—anything worth selling, of course, which automatically excluded Luke. Elizabeth had been trying to help her since she was fourteen. She had tried being her friend, had tried being her enemy, had laughed with her, and shouted at her, but nothing would work.
Saoirse was lost to her, lost in a world where nobody else mattered. She was a slave to her addictions. Their frustration would grow as they stood by and watched Elizabeth being taken advantage of time and time again till they could no longer be in her life. She was always in control. She knew what she was doing and why she was doing it, and she refused to desert a family member.
She would not be like her mother. She had worked too hard all her life to be just the opposite. She cocked her head to one side. After looking around the room and seeing that everything was as it should be, she turned the volume back up again.
There it was again. She silenced the TV once more and stood up from the armchair. It was She looked out to the back garden and in the dusk she could only see black shadows and shapes. She pulled the curtains closed quickly and immediately felt safer in her cream and beige cocoon. She tightened her dressing gown again and sat back down in her armchair, tucking her legs even closer to her body and wrapping her arms protectively around her knees. The vacant cream leather couch stared back at her.
She shuddered again, turned the volume up even higher than before, and took a gulp of coffee. The velvety liquid slid down her throat and warmed her insides and she tried once again to be sucked back into the world of television. All day she had felt odd. Her father always said that when you got a chill up your spine it meant that someone was walking over your grave. Ivan watched her mute the television once again, quickly put her coffee cup on the table next to her, and jump out of her chair as though she had been sitting on pins.
Here she goes again, he thought. Once again Ivan prepared himself and pushed his body to the edge of the couch. The denim of his jeans squeaked against the leather. Elizabeth jumped to face the couch.
Her knuckles turned white as they tightened around it. She slowly tiptoed around the room, eyes wild with fear. Ivan leaped from his seat and dived to the corner of the room. Ivan hid behind the curtains for protection and watched as she pulled the cushions out of the chair while grumbling to herself about mice. After ten minutes of searching through the couch, Elizabeth put all the cushions back in place. She picked up her coffee cup self-consciously and made her way into the kitchen.
Ivan followed closely on her heel; he was so close that strands of her soft hair peeking out from under the towel wrapped around her hair tickled his face.
Her hair smelled of coconut and her skin of rich fruits. He had been watching her since after lunch on Friday. Luke had kept calling him to play game after game and all Ivan had wanted was to be around Elizabeth. Firstly it was just to see if she could hear him or sense him again, but then after a few hours, he found her compelling. She was obsessively neat. And she thought a great deal. He could see it in her face. Her brow would furrow in concentration and she would make facial expressions as though she were having conversations with people in her head.
They seemed to turn into debates more often than not, judging by the activity on her forehead. He noticed she was always surrounded by silence. There was never any music or sounds in the background like most people had, like a radio blaring, the window open to allow the sounds of summer—the birdsong and the lawn mowers—in. Luke and she spoke little and when they did it was mostly her giving him orders, him asking permission, nothing fun. The phone rarely rang, nobody called by.
He spent most of Friday and Saturday following her around, sitting on the cream leather couch in the evenings and watching her watch the only program she seemed to like on TV. He had watched her sleeping the 40 Cecelia Ahern previous night. She had made Ivan tired just watching her from the straw chair in the corner of the room. On Sunday morning she was up early tidying, vacuuming, polishing, and cleaning an already spotless home. She spent all morning at it while Ivan chased with Luke out in the back garden.
He recalled Elizabeth being particularly upset by the sight of Luke running around the garden laughing and screaming to himself. She had joined them at the kitchen table and watched Luke playing cards, shaking her head and looking worried when he lost a game of snap against himself. He could sense her getting more jittery as the days wore on. She washed her coffee cup out, ensuring it was already spotless before putting it in the dishwasher.
She dried the wet sink with a cloth and put the cloth in the wash basket in the utility room. She had done the exact same thing the last two nights. But before leaving the living room this time, she stopped abruptly, almost sending Ivan into the back of her. His heart beat wildly. Had she sensed him? She spun around slowly. Once she was facing him, he smiled. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and opened them again. She bit her lip and charged toward Ivan. Chapter Five elizabeth knew she was losing her mind right at that moment.
It had happened to her sister and mother; her mother with her eccentricity and wild girl nature and Saoirse with her drinking problems and complete detachment from life. For the last few days she had felt incredibly insecure, as if someone were watching her. She had locked all the doors, drawn all the curtains, set the alarm.
That probably should have been enough, but now she was going to go that one step further. She looked at the poker lying on her bedside locker, rolled her eyes, and turned her lamp off. She was losing her mind. Ivan emerged from behind the couch and looked around the dark living room.
He had dived behind it, thinking she was charging toward him. He heard the door lock after she stormed out. He sighed loudly, feeling a disappointment he had never experienced before. That has to be done for me. My special power is friendship.
I listen to people and I hear what they say. Sighs and silences and avoided conversations are just as important as the things you do talk about.
So all I could do that night was think about my new friend Luke. I need to do that occasionally. They like to keep it all on record for training purposes. I needed to think about why I was here. What made Luke want to see me? The business is run extremely professionally and we must always provide the company with a brief history of our friends and then list our aims and objectives.
Take, for example, Elizabeth; she lies in bed worrying about car tax and phone bills, babysitters and paint colors. People forget they have options.
I worried about my job a little the night I was locked in the living room. He liked living with his aunt, was scared of his mom, and liked talking about vegetables with his granddad.
She had heard me say thank you once, felt my breath a few times, and heard me squeak on the leather couch. Elizabeth did not want to play. People refer to me as an invisible or an imaginary friend. Chapter Six elizabeth was awakened at 6: She always slept with the curtains open. It stemmed from growing up in a cottage; lying in her bed she could see out the window, down the garden path, and out the front gate.
Beyond that was a country road that led straight from the farm, stretching on for a mile. Elizabeth could see her mother returning from her adventures, walking down the road for at least twenty minutes before she reached the bungalow. She could recognize the half-hop, half-skip from miles away. Those twenty minutes always felt like an eternity to Elizabeth.
The rusting hinges acted as a welcoming band for the free spirit. Like the long stretch of road, it would tease her, and some days on hearing the creak she would run to see who was at the door and her heart would sink at the sight of the postman.
Elizabeth had annoyed college roommates and lovers with her persistence in keeping the curtains open. But now in her adulthood, the open curtains acted as her alarm clock; with them open she knew the light would never allow her to fall into a deep sleep. She went to bed to rest, not to dream.
She squinted in the bright room and her head throbbed. She needed coffee, fast. Somewhere far away, a cow answered its call. But despite the idyllic morning, there was nothing about this Monday that Elizabeth was looking forward to. This annoyed Elizabeth; this was her territory. Luke had been invited to spend the day with his grandfather on the farm. That bit, Elizabeth was happy with. It was the part about him expecting another six-year-old by the name of Ivan that worried her.
She would have to have a discussion with Luke this morning about it because she dreaded to think of what would happen if there was a mention of an imaginary friend to her father. Age had not managed to mellow him; instead it had brought bitterness, resentment, and even more confusion. He was small-minded and unwilling to open up or change. He was stern, rarely spoke except to the cows or vegetables, never laughed, and whenever he did decide someone was worthy of his words, he lectured.
There was no need to respond to him. He spoke to make statements. Fairy tales and fantasy stories had no place with her father. She supposed that was the only belief they actually shared. I f Yo u C o u l d S e e M e N o w 47 She yawned and stretched and, still unable to open her eyes against the bright light, she instead felt around her bedside locker for her alarm clock.
Although she woke up every morning at the same time, she never forgot to set her alarm. Her sleepy heart jumped with fright. Hanging her head over the side of the bed, she caught sight of the iron poker lying on her white carpet.
She washed and dressed and after waking Luke, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Minutes later, with espresso in hand, she dialed the number to Rentokil. Luke wandered into the kitchen sleepily, blond hair tossed, dressed in an orange T-shirt half tucked into red shorts. He was like that every morning, it took him at least an hour to wake up even once he was dressed and walking around.
He knew not to interrupt her when she was on the phone. Elizabeth rolled her eyes. This carry-on again. Luke stopped shouting and his ears perked up. Luke suddenly ran from the kitchen and out into the hall. She heard him banging at the living room door.
Elizabeth slammed down the phone after her conversation had ended. Luke was shouting through the living room door at full volume. Her blood boiled. He stood before her and spoke quietly and as innocently as he possibly could in his high-pitched voice. She would choose this moment to sit down and discuss the issue with Luke and by the end of it he would respect her wishes, she would help him see sense, and there would be no more talk of invisible friends.
Elizabeth exploded. He does not play chasing, he does not eat pizza, he is not in the living room, and he is not your friend because he does not exist. Elizabeth continued. Do you understand? He nodded his head slowly as tears rushed down his face. She knew she had a problem keeping her temper. She sat at the table and watched him pour Coco Pops into his cereal bowl. His little hands wobbled with the weight of the milk carton. Milk splashed onto the table.
She held back from shouting at him again, although she had just cleaned the table yesterday evening until it sparkled. She rested her chin on her hand and watched Luke eating. He munched slowly. Finally, after a few minutes, he spoke.
She took the key to the living room out of her pocket, went out to the doorway in the hall, and twisted the key. Luke shook his head as if what he had said was the most normal thing 50 Cecelia Ahern in the world.
It was the most ridiculous thing Elizabeth had ever heard. She went back to the kitchen to gather her belongings for work. Elizabeth watched with horror. She walked down the hall and stood beside Luke at the doorway. She looked into the living room. The girl from Rentokil had said that it would be unusual for mice to be in the house in June. As Elizabeth eyed the living room suspiciously, she wondered what on earth could be making all those noises. There was an extra place set and a freshly poured bowl of Coco Pops across from him.
Luke giggled and nodded. Luke thought for a while and then shrugged. Elizabeth eyed him nervously. Luke grabbed it. Luke started laughing and copied me. We laughed even harder when Elizabeth stopped cleaning to stare. Her eyes widened. How she had lived on this farm for eighteen years was beyond her; nothing could be kept clean. The wild fuchsia danced in the light breeze, waving their welcome from the side of the road. They lined the mile-long road like landing lights and rubbed against the windows of the car, pressing their faces to see who was inside.
Luke lowered his window and allowed his hand to be tickled by their kisses. In order to let someone pass she would have to reverse half a mile back the way she came, just to make room. At times it felt like the longest road in the world. She could see where she was trying to get to, yet she would have to keep reversing in order to get there.
Two steps forward and one step back. They were delayed already as it was. She glanced quickly at Luke. He sat buckled up in the back, arm out the window, humming the same song he had been singing all weekend.
He looked happy. She could see her father at the gate waiting. A familiar sight. A familiar action. Waiting was his forte.
He wore the same brown cords Elizabeth could have sworn he had been wearing since she was a child. They were tucked into muddy green Wellington boots that he walked in all around the house. His gray cotton jumper was stitched with a faded green-and-blue diamond pattern; there was a hole in the center, and underneath the green of his polo shirt peeked through. His eyebrows were gray and wild and when he frowned they seemed to cover his gray eyes completely.
Deep wrinkles cracked his face, his hands were as big as shovels, shoulders as wide as the Gap of Dunloe. He dwarfed the bungalow that stood behind him. Luke stopped humming as soon as he saw his grandfather and brought his arm back into the car. Elizabeth pulled the car up and as soon as the engine was off she jumped out of the car. She had a plan. As soon as Luke climbed out of the car she shut the car door and locked it quickly before he had a chance to hold the seat forward and make way for Ivan.
The gate outside the bungalow creaked. It was a statement. His face remained pressed against the glass. Elizabeth contemplated opening the car door for him, just to avoid a scene, but thought better of it. He needed to get over this phase. His blue eyes looked pleadingly into hers. Her heart sank. He knew better than to cause a scene. Elizabeth jumped in. Luke, have a good day with your granddad, OK? Elizabeth hated herself, but she knew she was right in controlling this ludicrous behavior.
The last thing she heard was the gate creaking before she slammed her car door shut. She had to reverse twice down the road in order to let two tractors pass. From her mirror, she could see Luke and her father in the front garden, her father towering over him.
Elizabeth remembered the moment when she was eighteen when she thrived on the freedom of such a view.
She was going to Cork University, after winning the battle with her father, but in turn losing all respect he ever had for her. Instead of sharing in her excitement, he had refused to see her off on her big day. Not for what lay ahead, but for what she was leaving behind. Her father needed to step into his rightful place of fatherhood now, a title he had discarded many years ago and refused to recognize. She only hoped now that as the two of them were alone, he would realize his duties and show as much love as he could for what he had left.
The red hair jumping up and down was visible from a mile away and so they both kept on waving. What would her little sister do now that the fun of waving had worn off and the realization set in that she was alone with the man who never spoke, never helped, and never loved? Elizabeth almost told the driver to stop the car right there and then, but quickly told herself to cop on.
She needed to live. Fly away from there. At once her shoulders relaxed and she realized she had been holding her breath the entire time. Then she did a funny thing. She giggled childishly. Chapter Seven the town was stirring as elizabeth drove over the graystoned bridge that served as the entrance to the village.
Two huge coaches full of tourists were currently trying to inch past each other on the narrow street. The coach driver facing Elizabeth licked his lips in concentration and she could see the sweat glistening on his brow as he slowly maneuvered the oversized vehicle along the narrow road originally designed for horses and carts. The sides of the coaches were so close they were almost touching. Beside him, the tour guide with microphone in hand did his best to entertain his one-hundred-strong audience so early in the morning.
Elizabeth lifted the hand brake and sighed loudly. She doubted the coaches would stop. They rarely did unless it was for a toilet break. Window boxes adorned the shop fronts, hanging baskets hung from patent black lampposts, trees grew tall in the main street. Each building was painted a different refreshing color and the main street, the only street, was a rainbow of mint greens, salmon pinks, lilacs, lemons, and blues.
The pavements were litter free and gleaming and as soon as you averted your gaze above the gray slate roofs you found yourself surrounded by majestic green mountains. Cozy or suffocating.
Her building was a pale blue and sat above Mrs. The shop had previously been a hardware shop run by Mr. Bracken, but when he had died ten years ago, Gwen had decided to turn it into her own store. Gwen seemed to make decisions purely based on what her deceased husband would think. Bracken would have wanted. The coaches slowly moved passed each other inch by inch and Elizabeth sighed loudly. Cue clapping and cheering on board the bus.
A nation in celebration. Elizabeth drove on, looked in her rearview mirror to see the celebrating coach excitement die down as the bus that had faced her confronted yet another on the small bridge that led out of the town. Arms slowly I f Yo u C o u l d S e e M e N o w 59 dropped as they settled down for another lengthy struggle to get out of the town.
The town had a tendency to trap people this way. It was almost as if it did it purposely. It was like being a child in a sweet shop, shown the shelves and shelves of luminous sugar-coated mouth-watering delights. And then while you stood there looking around with wide eyes and a racing pulse, the lids were put back on the jars and sealed tightly.
Entrance into the village was smooth compared to the exit. Getting in was easy. It disturbed Elizabeth. She had successfully moved to New York at one time. She had followed her boyfriend, and the opportunity to design a nightclub, over.
She had loved it there. Loved that no one knew her name, her face, or her family history. She could download a coffee, a thousand different types of coffee, and not receive a look of sympathy for whatever recent family drama had occurred. Nobody knew that her mother had left her when she was a child, that her sister was wildly out of control, and that her father barely spoke to her. She had loved being in love there.
In New York, she could be whomever she wanted to be. Luke called it the humming song and it was annoyingly catchy, chirpy, and repetitive. She stopped herself singing and spun her car into the empty space along the road. Sometimes Elizabeth thought that the entire town needed an injection 60 Cecelia Ahern of caffeine; some winter days in particular the village seemed to be sleepwalking, it needed a good shake. But summer days like today were busy, with people passing through.
The concept of eating breakfast outside their own homes had yet to be grasped by the townspeople. He moved slowly toward the kettle. And that was the instant kind. Joe chuckled and winked. Joe looked on with disgust. Lives down in Mayfair. Five kids. The youngest was arrested there last week for throwing a wine bottle at Joseph.
Lives up in Newtown. Wife died last year when she drowned in the bog. So you can make lattes 62 Cecelia Ahern and cappuccinos and espressos instead of all this instant stuff? I drink tea. No fancy names for it. The village had taken a big stretch and a yawn and was wandering sleepily from its bed to the bathroom. Soon it would be showered, dressed, and wide awake. As usual, she was one step ahead of it, even if she was running late today.
Just as she ate to keep herself alive, she spoke to say only what she had to say. There were no double meanings with her; she meant what she said at all times.
She had tried to be involved before, especially during her college days with her attempts to settle in, but just as she did then, she would quickly tune out of the mindless nattering. She liked the orderly way in which she could depend on herself and manage her time more effectively.
When she returned from New York, she had tried to host a dinner party in her new home with the neighbors. She thought she would try a fresh beginning, try to make friendships like most people did, but Saoirse as usual burst into the house and in one fell swoop managed to offend every single person at the table. She accused Ray Collins of having an affair, Fiona Conway of having a boob job, and sixty-year-old Kevin Smith of looking at her in a sexual way. Her silence was worth more to her than a thousand words.
In that silence, she had peace and clarity. Except during the night, when her own jumbled thoughts would keep her awake, sounding like a thousand voices jumping in, out, and interrupting each other so much that she could barely close her eyes. She had watched Luke all weekend walking, talking, and playing games by himself. Laughing and giggling as though he was having the time of his life.
Maybe there was something she should be doing. Perhaps Elizabeth was supposed to automatically know what it was. Once again, the mysteries of motherhood escaped her and she had no one to ask for advice. Nor had she any example to learn from. So far, she had followed her gut instinct and had made a few mistakes along the way, but overall thought Luke had turned out to be a polite and stable child.
Or maybe she was doing it all wrong. What if Luke ended up like Saoirse? What had she done so wrong with Saoirse as a child 64 Cecelia Ahern that had caused her to turn out the way she was? She groaned with frustration and rested her head on her desk. She turned on her computer and sipped at her coffee while it loaded.
Hundreds of sites came up on her screen. Thirty minutes later she felt much better about the Ivan situation. She was relieved to learn that imaginary friends were a sign of creativity and not a sign of loneliness or stress. Site after site told her to ask Luke what Ivan was thinking and doing, as it would be a positive way of giving Elizabeth an understanding into what Luke was thinking.
It went against everything she believed. Her world and the land of makebelieve existed on two very different planes and she found it impossible to playact.
She had grown up knowing not to do that, not to sound like her mother for fear of her father getting mad. It was instilled in her from an early age, but now the experts were telling her to change all that. Imaginary friends disappear within three months, whether or not you encourage them.
After three months she would be more than glad to see the back of Ivan and return to normal life again. He could hear her in the other room on the phone, organizing a meeting using her boring grown-up voice again. But as soon as she hung up the phone, he heard her humming his song again. He decided that chair-spinning was his absolute favorite. Ivan knew that Luke would have loved to play the spin-the-chair game, and on picturing his sad little face pressed up against the car window from earlier that morning, his mind drifted and the chair slowed.
He was similar to Elizabeth in that way. Two boring old gnirobs. Last edited by Mek. July 22, History. By Cecelia Ahern. Go to the editions section to read or download ebooks.
Want to Read. About the Book. Places Ireland. Se tu mi vedessi ora , RCS libri. If you could see me now , Wheeler Pub. If you could see me now , Hyperion. History Created December 10, 9 revisions Download catalog record: Libraries near you: WorldCat Library. If you could see me now , Hyperion in English - 1st ed.
July 22, Edited by Mek. November 4,