‘Oh.’ Joe understood now. ‘Part of the German crowd, was he?’
‘No!’ Elizabeth shouted in frustration.
‘Well, where’s he from?’ Joe asked, trying to calm her.
‘I don’t know,’ she said angrily.
‘Well, what’s his surname then?’
Elizabeth swallowed hard. ‘I-I-I don’t know that either.’
‘Sure then how can I help you at all if you don’t know his surname or where he’s from? It doesn’t sound much like you know him either. As far as I remember you were dancin’ around out there on your own like a mad woman. Don’t know what got into you that day, at all.’
Elizabeth suddenly had an idea, grabbed her car keys from the counter and ran out the door.
‘But what about your hot drop?’ he called as she banged the door behind her.
‘Benjamin,’ Elizabeth called out, banging her car door shut and running across the gravel to him. He was standing among a group of builders hunched over documents, which were spread across a table. They all looked up at her.
‘Can I talk to you for a minute?’ She was breathless and her hair danced around her face from the strength of the wind at the top of the hill.
‘Sure,’ he said, stepping away from the silent group and leading her to a quieter area. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘Yes,’ she nodded uncertainly, ‘I just want to ask you a question, is that OK?’
He braced himself.
‘You’ve met my friend Ivan, right?’ She cracked her knuckles and shuffled from foot to foot, in anticipation of his answer.
He adjusted his hard hat, studied her face and waited for her to laugh or tell him she was joking but no smile hid behind those dark and worried eyes. ‘Is this a joke?’
She shook her head and chewed nervously on the inside of her cheek, brow furrowed.
He cleared his throat. ‘Elizabeth, I don’t really know what you want me to say.’
‘The truth,’ she said quickly, ‘I want you to tell me the truth. Well, I want you to tell me you’ve seen him, but I want that to be the truth, you see.’ She swallowed.
Benjamin studied her face some more and eventually shook his head slowly.
‘No?’ she asked quietly.
He shook his head again.
Her eyes filled and she looked away quickly.
‘Are you OK?’ He reached out to touch her arm but she swayed her body away. ‘I assumed you were joking about him,’ Benjamin said gently, slightly confused.
‘You didn’t see him at the meeting with Vincent?’
He shook his head.
‘At the barbecue last week?’
Another shake.
‘Walking through the town with me? In the playroom that day when that, that … thing was written on the wall?’ she asked hopefully, her voice full of emotion.
‘No, I’m sorry,’ Benjamin said kindly, trying to hide his confusion as best he could.
She looked away again, turned her back on him to face out towards the view. From this point she could see the sea, the mountains and the neat little village tucked away in the bosom of the hills.
Finally she spoke. ‘He was so real, Benjamin.’
He didn’t know what to say so he remained silent.
‘You know when you can feel someone with you? And even though not everyone believes in that person, you know they’re there?’
Benjamin thought about it and nodded understandingly even though she couldn’t see him. ‘My granddad died and we were close.’ He kicked at the gravel self-consciously. ‘My family never agreed on much – they never believed much in anything – but I knew he was there with me at times. You knew Ivan well?’
‘He knew me better,’ she laughed lightly.
Benjamin heard her sniff and she wiped her eyes.
‘So was he a real person? Did he pass away?’ Benjamin asked, feeling confused.
‘I just believed so much …’ she trailed off. ‘He’s really helped me over the past few months.’ She looked around at the view for another moment in silence. ‘I used to hate this town, Benjamin,’ a tear rolled down her cheek. ‘I used to hate every single blade of grass on every hill, but he taught me so much. He taught me that it’s not the job of this town to make me feel happy. It’s not Baile na gCroíthe’s fault that I don’t feel I fit in. It doesn’t matter where you are in the world because it’s about where you are up here,’ she touched the side of her head lightly. ‘It’s about the other world I inhabit. The world of dreams, hope, imagination and memories. I’m happy up here,’ she tapped her temple again and smiled, ‘and because of that I’m happy up here too.’ She held out her arms and displayed the countryside around her. She closed her eyes and allowed the wind to dry her tears. Her face was softer when she turned to Benjamin. ‘I just thought it was important for you of all people to know that.’ Quietly and slowly she headed back to her car.
Leaning against the old tower Benjamin watched her walk away. He hadn’t known Elizabeth as well as he’d have liked but he had an idea she’d let him in her life more than she’d let others. Likewise, he had done the same. They’d had enough conversations for him to see how similar they really were. He’d seen her grow and change and now his unsettled friend had settled. He stared out to the view Elizabeth had been looking at for so long, and for the first time in the year he’d been here he opened his eyes and saw it.
In the early hours of the morning Elizabeth sat up in her bed, wide awake. She looked around the room – saw the time, 3.45 – and when she spoke aloud to herself, her voice was firm and confident.
‘To hell with you all. I do believe.’
She threw off the covers and jumped out of bed, imagining the sound of Ivan howling with laughter in celebration.
Chapter 43
‘Where’s Elizabeth?’ Vincent Taylor hissed angrily at Benjamin, out of earshot of the crowd that had gathered for the opening of the new hotel.
‘She’s still in the kids’ room,’ Benjamin sighed, feeling the cement of the building wall of pressure from the last week finally dry and lay heavy on his aching shoulders.
‘Still?’ Vincent shouted, and a few people turned round from paying attention to the speech being made at the top of the room. The local politician from Baile na gCroíthe had come to open the hotel officially, and a few speeches were being made beside the original tower in the hotel grounds that had stood at the top of the mountain for thousands of years. Soon the crowd would be trampling through the hotel, looking in each room to admire the work, and the two men still didn’t know what Elizabeth was up to in the playroom. The last time either of them had seen it was four days ago and it had still been a blank canvas.
Elizabeth literally hadn’t come out of that room for the past few days. Benjamin had brought her some drinks and food from a vending machine and she had hastily grabbed it from him at the door and slammed it shut again. He had no idea what the interior was like and his life had been hellish all week, trying to deal with a panicking Vincent. The novelty of Elizabeth speaking to an invisible person had long since worn off on Vincent. He had never had rooms being worked on during the very moment the building was being opened, it was a ridiculous and extremely unprofessional situation.
The speeches finally finished, there was polite clapping and the crowd filed inside where they inspected the new furniture, everyone inhaling the smell of fresh paint as they were led round.
Vincent swore loudly over and over again, receiving angry glances from parents. Room by room, they got closer to the playroom. Benjamin could barely take the suspense and paced the floor behind the crowd. He recognised Elizabeth’s father, looking bored while leaning on his blackthorn cane, and her nephew with his nanny, among the crowd and he hoped to God she wouldn’t let them all down. Judging by their last conversation on top of the hill, he believed she would come through for them. At least he hoped so. He was due to fly back to his hometown in Colorado next week and he couldn’t take having to deal with any delays
on site. For once, his personal life would come before his work.
‘OK, boys and girls,’ the guide spoke as if she were in an episode of Barney, ‘this next room is especially for you so, moms and dads, you’ll have to take a few steps back to allow them through because this is a very special room.’
There were oohs and aahs, excited giggles and whispers as the children let go of their parents’ hands, some shyly, some daringly racing to the front. The guide turned the handle on the door. It didn’t open.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Vincent muttered, placing his hand over his eyes, ‘we’re ruined.’
‘Eh, just a minute, girls and boys.’ The guide looked questioningly at Benjamin.
He just shrugged and shook his head hopelessly.
The guide tried the door again but to no avail.
‘Maybe you should knock,’ one child shouted out, and the parents laughed.
‘You know what, that’s a very good idea.’ The guide played along, not knowing what else to do.
She knocked once on the door and suddenly it was pulled open from the other side. The children slowly shuffled forward.
There was complete silence and Benjamin covered his face in his hands. They were in big trouble.
Suddenly one child let out a ‘Wow!’ and one by one, the hushed and stunned children gradually began calling excitedly to one another: ‘Look at that!’, ‘Look over there!’
The children looked around the room in awe. The parents followed them in and Vincent and Benjamin looked at each other in surprise as they heard similar whispers of approval. Poppy stood at the doorway, her eyes darting about, her mouth open wide in total shock.
‘Let me see this,’ Vincent said rudely, pushing his way through the crowd. Benjamin followed and what he saw inside took his breath away.
The walls of the large room were covered with enormous murals of splendid bursts of colour, each wall with a different scene. One wall in particular was a familiar sight to him: three people happily jumping in a field of long grass, their arms held upward, bright smiles on their face, their hair blowing in the wind as they reached up to catch –
‘Jinny Joes!’ Luke exploded with excitement, his eyes popping along with those of the other children in the room. They were mostly silent as they all stood alone, looking at the detail on each wall. ‘Look, it’s Ivan in the picture!’ he shouted to Elizabeth.
Stunned, Benjamin looked at Elizabeth, who was standing in the corner in scruffy denim overalls, splattered in paint, with dark circles under her eyes. But despite her apparent tiredness, she was beaming, her face alight from the visitors’ reaction to the room. The pride in her shining eyes was evident as everyone pointed to each painting.
‘Elizabeth!’ Edith whispered, her hands flying to her mouth in shock. ‘You did all this?’ She looked at her employer with both confusion and pride.
Another scene was of a little girl in a field watching a pink balloon floating up to the sky; in another a crowd of children were having a water fight, splattering paint and dancing on the sand on a beach, a little girl sat in a green field having a picnic with a cow who wore a straw hat, a group of young boys and girls climbed trees and hung from its branches, and on the ceiling Elizabeth had painted it a deep blue with shooting stars, comets and distant planets. On the far wall she had painted a man and a boy with magnifying glasses held up to their eyes and black moustaches, leaning over and studying a set of black footprints that led from the wall, all the way across the floor and up the wall on the other side. She had created a new world, a wonderland of escapism, fun and adventure but it was the attention to detail, the looks of glee on the characters’ faces, the happy smiles of pure childish enjoyment, that jumped out at Benjamin. Such a face he had seen on Elizabeth when he had caught her dancing in the field and traipsing through the village with seaweed in her hair. It was the face of someone who had let go and was truly happy.
Elizabeth looked down at the floor, to a toddler who was playing with one of the many toys scattered throughout the room. She was about to bend down to talk to the little girl when she noticed that the girl was speaking to herself. Carrying out a very serious conversation, in fact, she was introducing herself to mid-air.
Elizabeth looked around the room, breathed in deeply, and tried to smell that familiar Ivan smell. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, closing her eyes and imagining him with her.
The little girl continued babbling away all by herself, looking to her right as she spoke and listening before speaking again. And then she began to hum, that familiar song that Elizabeth hadn’t been able to get out of her head.
Elizabeth threw her head back and laughed.
I stood at the back wall of the playroom in the new hotel with tears in my eyes and a lump so huge in my throat I didn’t think I’d ever be able to speak again. I couldn’t stop looking around at the walls, at the photo album of all I had done with Elizabeth and Luke over the past few months. It was as though someone had sat in the distance and painted a perfect vision of us.
Looking at the walls, at the colour and at the eyes of the characters, I knew that she had realised and I knew that I would be remembered. Beside me, standing in a line at the back of the room, my friends joined me for moral support on this special day.
Opal placed a hand on my arm and gave me an encouraging squeeze.
‘I’m very proud of you, Ivan,’ she whispered, and planted a kiss on my cheek, no doubt leaving a purple lipstick stain on my skin. ‘We’re all here for you, you know. We will always have each other.’
‘Thank you, Opal. I know that,’ I said, feeling very emotional and looking to Calendula, who was on my right, Olivia, who was beside her, Tommy, who was looking around the walls in fascination, Jamie-Lynn, who had bent down to play with a toddler on the ground and Bobby, who pointed and giggled at each of the scenes before him. They all gave me the thumbs-up and I knew that I would never be truly alone as I was in the company of real friends.
Imaginary friend, invisible friend – call us what you like. Maybe you believe in us, maybe you don’t. The point is, it’s not important. Like most people who do truly great work, we don’t exist to be talked about and praised; we exist only to serve the needs of those who need us. Maybe we don’t exist at all; maybe we’re just a figment of people’s imaginations; maybe it’s just pure coincidence that children of two, who can barely speak, all decide to start making friends with people only adults can’t see. Maybe all those doctors and psychotherapists are right to suggest that they are merely developing their imagination.
Or humour me for a second. Is there possibly another explanation that you haven’t thought about for the entirety of my story?
The possibility that we do exist. That we’re here to help and assist those who need us, who believe in believing and who can therefore see us.
I always look on the positive side of things. I always say that with every cloud there’s a silver lining but, the truth be told – and I’m a firm believer of the truth – for a while I was struggling with my experience with Elizabeth. I couldn’t figure out what I had won, all I could see was that my losing her was one big black stormy cloud. But then I realised that, as every day went by and I thought about her every second and smiled, I knew that meeting her, knowing her and above all loving her, was the biggest silver lining of all.
She was better than pizza, better than olives, better than Fridays and better than spinning and even these days when she is no longer with us – and I’m not supposed to say this – of all my friends, Elizabeth Egan was by far my favourite.
IF YOU COULD SEE ME NOW
Before embarking on her writing career, Cecelia Ahern completed a degree in Journalism and Media Communications. Her first novel, PS, I Love You became an international bestseller and was adapted into a major motion picture staring Hilary Swank. Her subsequent novels, Where Rainbows End, A Place Called Here, Thanks for the Memories, The Gift, The Book of Tomorrow and The Time of my Life were also bestsellers along with her col
lection of short stories, Girl in the Mirror.
Cecelia co-created the ABC Emmy Award winning TV comedy Samantha Who?, Hallmark’s Three Wise Women, and adapted her own novella, Mrs Whippy, for the stage.
Cecelia’s books are published in forty-six countries and have collectively sold over 13 million copies. She lives in Dublin with her family.
For updates on Cecelia, her books and her events, and to sign up for her exclusive newsletter, please visit her website www.cecelia-ahern.com or join her on Facebook.
Praise for Cecelia Ahern:
Acclaim for
If You Could See Me Now
‘Captivating’
Irish Independent
‘Enchanting and unexpected’
You
‘ There's more than a touch of fairytale about Cecelia Ahern's novels… thanks to a liberal sprinkling of magic’
Glamour
‘A beautifully written love story’
Closer
‘A contemporary fairytale’
Irish Times
‘An enchanting blend of magic and whimsy’
Daily Mail
Acclaim for
Cecelia's previous bestsellers
‘Cecelia Ahern is queen of the modern fairytale. Ahern has given her readers exactly what they want: love, magic, happy endings. And most of all, hope’
Irish Times
‘An absorbing heart-warming story’
Glamour
‘The key to Ahern's success is her ability to not just tell a good story, but sprinkle it with plenty of laughs, tears, and a little bit of magic’
Mirror
‘Unputdownable’
Grazia
‘Wild humour and heartbreak tangled up in one great read’
Cathy Kelly