If You Could See Me Now

by Cecelia Ahern

  ‘What?’ she shrilled.

  ‘I read between the lines, hear between the words and know when a full stop is not a full stop but more like a but,’ he sang.

  Elizabeth groaned and stood with her arms wrapped round herself protectively and with her shoulders hunched as though gunge were being thrown over her.

  ‘It’s only rain, Elizabeth. Look around.’ He waved his hands wildly. ‘Do you see anybody else here running?’

  ‘There is nobody else!’

  ‘Au contraire! The lake, the trees, the heron and the salmon, all getting soaked.’ He threw his head back and continued tasting the rain.

  Before Elizabeth headed to the trees she gave one last lecture. ‘Be careful of that rain, Ivan. It’s not a good idea to drink it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it could be dangerous. Do you know what effect carbon monoxide has on the air and the rain? It could be acidic.’

  Ivan slid off the bench while holding his throat and pretended to choke. He crawled to the edge of the lake. Elizabeth’s eyes followed him but she continued lecturing him.

  He dipped his hand into the lake. ‘Well, there’s no fatal contaminations in this, is there?’ He scooped out a handful of water and threw it at her.

  Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened with shock as she stood there with water dripping from her nose. She held her arm out and pushed him roughly into the lake, laughing as he disappeared under the water.

  She stopped laughing when he didn’t reappear.

  She began to get worried and stepped towards the edge. The only movement were the ripples caused by the heavy raindrops landing on the calm lake. The cold drops on her face no longer bothered her. A minute went by.

  ‘Ivan?’ Her voice was shaky. ‘Ivan, stop playing. Come out now.’ She leaned over further to see if she could see him.

  She sang nervously to herself and counted to ten. Nobody could hold their breath for that long.

  The glassy surface broke and a rocket shot out of the water. ‘Water fight!’ exploded from the water creature. It grabbed her by the hands and pulled her head-first into the lake. Elizabeth was so relieved not to have killed him she didn’t even mind when the cool water hit her face and buried her.

  ‘Good morning, Mr O’Callaghan; morning, Maureen; hello, Fidelma; hi, Connor; Father Murphy …’ She nodded sternly to her neighbours as she walked through the sleepy town. Silent, stunned stares followed her as her runners squelched beneath her and her clothes dripped.

  ‘That’s a good look for you,’ Benjamin laughed, holding up a cup of coffee to her while he stood beside a small crowd of tourists, who were dancing, laughing and sprinkling coffee on the pavement outside Joe’s.

  ‘Thank you, Benjamin,’ she answered seriously, continuing on through the town, her eyes sparkling.

  The sun shone over the town, which hadn’t yet received any rain that morning, and its inhabitants watched, whispered and laughed as Elizabeth Egan walked with her head held high and her arms swinging by her side as a piece of seaweed clung to her tangled hair.

  Elizabeth threw another colouring pencil down; crumpled up the sheet she had been working on and tossed it across the room. It missed the bin but she didn’t care. It could stay there with the other ten crumpled balls. She made a face at her calendar. A red X, which had originally signalled the end date for Ivan, Luke’s invisible friend, who had long since gone, now signalled the end of her career. Well, she was being melodramatic – September was the opening date for the hotel and everything was going according to plan. All the materials had arrived on time with only the minor disasters of a few wrong orders. Mrs Bracken had her team working long hours, making cushions, curtains and duvet covers, but unusually, it was Elizabeth who was slowing things down. She just couldn’t find a design for the children’s playroom and was beginning to detest herself for even mentioning the idea to Vincent. She was too distracted lately.

  She sat at her favourite place at the kitchen table and laughed to herself at the memory of her earlier ‘swim’.

  Things between her and Ivan were more unusual than ever. Today she had effectively ended their relationship and it broke her heart to do it, yet here he was, still with her in her home, making her laugh as though nothing had happened. But something had happened, something huge, and she could feel the effect of it right under her chest. As the day wore on she realised that she had never backtracked so much in a relationship with a man and yet still felt satisfied to be in his company. Neither of them was ready for more, not yet anyway, but she wished so much that he was.

  Dinner with Benjamin the previous night had been pleasant. She had battled with her dislike of going out to eat, her dislike of food and her dislike of unnecessary conversations, and while she managed to put up with those things with Ivan, sometimes even enjoy them, she still found it a task. Socialising wasn’t enjoyable for her, however they had much in common. They had a nice chat and a nice meal, but Elizabeth wasn’t upset when it was all over and time to go home. Her mind was hugely distracted, wondering about her future with Ivan. Not like when Ivan left her.

  Luke’s giggles brought her out of her daydream.

  Ivan spoke. ‘Bonjour, madame.’

  Elizabeth looked up to see both Ivan and Luke entering the conservatory from the garden. Each had a magnifying glass held up to his right eye, causing their eyes to appear gigantic. Across each of their upper lips a moustache had been drawn in black marker. She couldn’t help but laugh.

  ‘Ah, but zis is no laffing matter, madame. Zere ’az been a mur-dare,’ Ivan said gravely, approaching the table.

  ‘A murder,’ Luke translated.

  ‘What?’ Elizabeth’s eyes widened.

  ‘We’re looking for clues, madame,’ Luke explained, his uneven moustache wobbling up and down as he spoke.

  ‘A ghastly mur-dare ’az taken place in your jardin,’ Ivan explained, running the magnifying glass along the surface of the kitchen table in search for clues.

  ‘That’s French for garden,’ Luke explained.

  Elizabeth nodded, trying not to laugh.

  ‘Forgive us for just barging into your ’ome. Allow us to introduce ourselves. I am Mister Monsieur and zis iz my foolish sidekick, Monsieur Rotalsnart.’

  Luke giggled. ‘It’s backwards for translator.’

  ‘Oh,’ Elizabeth nodded. ‘Well, it’s very nice to meet you both but I’m afraid I’m very busy here, so if you don’t mind …’ She widened her eyes at Ivan.

  ‘Mind? Of course we mind. We are in ze middle of a very serious mur-dare investigay-c-on and you are what?’ He looked around, his eyes fell upon the crumpled balls of paper by the bin. He picked one up and studied it with his magnifying glass. ‘You are making snowballs, as far as I can see.’

  Elizabeth made a face at him and Luke giggled.

  ‘We must interrogate you. Have you any harsh lights we can shine in your face?’ Ivan looked around the room and withdrew the question on glancing at Elizabeth’s face. ‘Very well, madame.’

  ‘Who has been murdered?’ Elizabeth asked.

  ‘Ah, just as I suspected, Monsieur Rotalsnart.’ They paced the floor in opposite directions with the magnifying glasses still over their eyes. ‘She pretends to not know so we don’t suspect her. Clever.’

  ‘Do you think she did it?’ Luke asked.

  ‘We shall see. Madame, a worm was found squished to death earlier today on the path leading from your conservatory to the clothes line. His devastated family tell us he left home when the rain had stopped in order to cross the path to the other side of the garden. His reasons for wanting to go there are not known but it’s what worms do.’

  Luke and Elizabeth looked at one another and laughed.

  ‘The rain stopped at 6.30 p.m., which is when the worm left his home to cross the path. Could you tell me your whereabouts, madame?’

  ‘Am I a suspect?’ Elizabeth laughed.

  ‘At zis stage of the investigay-c-on, everyone is a suspec
t.’

  ‘Well, I returned from work at 6.15 and put the dinner on. Then I went to the utility room and emptied the damp clothes from the washing machine into the basket.’

  ‘Then what did you do?’ Ivan thrust the magnifying glass in her face and moved it around, studying her. ‘I am checking for clues,’ he whispered to Luke.

  ‘After that I waited for the rain to stop and then I hung the washing on the line.’

  Ivan gasped dramatically. ‘Monsieur Rotalsnart, did you hear that?’

  Luke’s giggling revealed his gums, from where yet another tooth had fallen.

  ‘Well then, this means you are the mur-dare-air!’

  ‘The murderer,’ Luke translated.

  They both turned to her with their magnifying glasses over their eyes.

  Ivan spoke. ‘As you tried to keep your birthday of next week a secret from me, your punishment will be to have a party in the back jardin in the memory of the recently deceased Monsieur Wriggles, the worm.’

  Elizabeth groaned. ‘No way.’

  ‘I know, Elizabeth,’ he changed to an upper- class British accent, ‘having to socialise with the village folk is so terribly frightful.’

  ‘What folk?’ Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Oh, just a few people we invited,’ Ivan shrugged. ‘Luke posted the invites this morning, isn’t he great?’ He nodded to a proud and beaming Luke. ‘Next week you will be the host of a garden party. People you don’t know very well will be stomping through your home, possibly making it dirty. Think you can handle that?’

  Chapter 34

  Elizabeth sat cross-legged on the white sheet covering the dusty cement floor of the building site, with her eyes closed.

  ‘So this is where you disappear to every day.’

  Elizabeth’s eyes remained closed. ‘How do you do it, Ivan?’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Just appear out of nowhere exactly when I’m thinking of you?’

  She heard him laugh lightly but he didn’t answer the question. ‘Why is this room the only room that hasn’t been finished? Or started, by the looks of it.’ He stood behind her.

  ‘Because I need help. I’m stuck.’

  ‘Well, what do you know, Elizabeth Egan is asking for help.’ There was a silence until Ivan started humming a familiar song, the song she hadn’t been able to get out of her head for the past two months and the song that was making her almost broke, thanks to Poppy and Becca’s pig in the office.

  Her eyelids flew open. ‘What are you humming?’

  ‘The humming song.’

  ‘Did Luke teach you that?’

  ‘No, I taught him, thank you very much.’

  ‘Oh, really,’ Elizabeth grumbled. ‘I thought his invisible friend made it up.’ She laughed to herself and then looked up to him. He wasn’t laughing.

  Eventually he spoke. ‘Why do you sound like you’re speaking with socks in your mouth? What is that on your face? A muzzle?’ he chortled.

  Elizabeth flushed. ‘It’s not a muzzle,’ she spat. ‘You have no idea how much dust and bacteria this building has. Anyway, you should be wearing a hard hat,’ she knocked on her own. ‘God forbid this place should come down on us.’

  ‘What else are you wearing?’ He ignored her moodiness and looked her up and down. ‘Gloves?’

  ‘So my hands don’t get dirty,’ she pouted like a child.

  ‘Oh, Elizabeth,’ Ivan shook his head and strolled comically around her, ‘all the things I’ve taught you and you’re still worrying about being clean and tidy.’ He picked up a paintbrush, which was sitting beside an open pot of paint and dipped it in.

  ‘Ivan,’ Elizabeth said nervously watching him, ‘what are you going to do?’

  ‘You said you wanted help,’ he grinned.

  Elizabeth rose slowly to her feet. ‘Ye-es, help with painting the wall,’ her voice warned.

  ‘Well, unfortunately you didn’t quite specify that when you asked, so I’m afraid that doesn’t count.’ He dipped the paintbrush into the red paint, held the bristles back in his hand and released them towards Elizabeth like a catapult. Paint splattered across her face. ‘Ooh, too bad you weren’t wearing protective clothing on the rest of your face,’ he teased, watching her eyes widen in anger and shock. ‘But it just goes to show, no matter how hard you try to wrap yourself in cotton wool, you can still hurt yourself.’

  ‘Ivan,’ there was venom in her voice, ‘throwing me in the lake is one thing but this is ludicrous,’ she squealed. ‘This is my work. I’m serious, I want absolutely nothing more to do with you, Ivan, Ivan … I don’t even know your surname,’ she spluttered.

  ‘It’s Elbisivni,’ he explained calmly.

  ‘What are you, Russian?’ she shouted almost hyperventilating. ‘Is Ekam Eveileb Russian too or does it even exist?’ She was screaming now, and breathless.

  ‘I’m very sorry,’ Ivan said seriously, his smile disappearing. ‘I can sense that you’re upset. I’ll just put this back down.’ He slowly lowered the paintbrush back to the pot and left it back at the perfect angle it had been placed, mirroring the others. ‘That was over the top. I apologise.’

  Elizabeth’s anger began to subside.

  ‘The red is perhaps too much of an angry colour for you,’ he continued. ‘I should have been more subtle.’ Suddenly another paintbrush appeared before Elizabeth’s face. Her eyes widened.

  ‘White maybe?’ he grinned, and splashed the paint down her top.

  ‘Ivan!’ Elizabeth half laughed and half shouted. ‘Fine,’ she dived towards the pots of paint, ‘you wanna play? I can play. Wearing colours is your favourite thing to do now, you say?’ she grumbled to herself. She dipped a paintbrush in the pot and chased Ivan round the room. ‘Blue’s your favourite colour, Mr Elbisivni?’ She painted a strip of blue down his face and hair, and began laughing evilly.

  ‘You thought that was funny?’

  She nodded in hysterics.

  ‘Good,’ Ivan laughed, grabbing her by the waist and pushing her to the floor, pinning her down masterfully and painting her face while she squealed and struggled to get free. ‘If you don’t stop shouting, Elizabeth, you’ll have a green tongue,’ Ivan warned.

  After they had both been covered head to toe in paint and Elizabeth was laughing so much she could no longer put up a fight, Ivan turned his attention to the wall. ‘What this wall needs now is some paint.’

  Elizabeth removed her mouth cover and tried to regain her breathing, revealing the only normal skin colour on her face.

  ‘Well, at least that came in handy,’ Ivan noted, and turned back to face the wall. ‘A little birdie told me that you went on a date with Benjamin West,’ Ivan said, dipping a fresh brush into the red paint pot.

  ‘Dinner, yes. A date, no. And may I add that I went out with him the night you stood me up.’

  He didn’t reply. ‘You like him?’ he asked.

  ‘He’s a nice man.’ She still didn’t turn round.

  ‘You want to spend more time with him?’

  Elizabeth began to roll up the paint-splattered sheet from the floor. ‘I’d like to spend more time with you.’

  ‘What if you couldn’t?’

  Elizabeth froze. ‘Then I’d ask you why.’

  He avoided the question. ‘What if I didn’t exist and you’d never met me, would you want to spend more time with Benjamin then?’

  Elizabeth swallowed hard, put her paper and pens into her bag and zipped it shut. She was tired of playing games with him and his talk was making her nervous. They needed to discuss this properly. She stood up and faced him. On the wall, Ivan had written ‘Elizabeth ♥s Benjamin’ in big red letters.

  ‘Ivan!’ Elizabeth giggled nervously. ‘Don’t be such a child. What if someone was to see that!’ She went to grab the brush from him.

  He wouldn’t let go and their eyes locked. ‘I can’t give you what you want, Elizabeth,’ he said softly.

  A coughing from the doorway caused them both to jump
.

  ‘Hi, Elizabeth,’ Benjamin looked at her with curious amusement. He glanced at the wall behind her and grinned. ‘That’s an interesting theme.’

  There was a pregnant pause. Elizabeth looked to her right. ‘It was Ivan.’ Her voice came out childlike.

  Benjamin chuckled slightly. ‘Him again.’

  She nodded and he looked to the paintbrush in her hand, dripping red onto her jeans. A red, blue, purple, green and white splashed face now turned crimson.

  ‘Looks like it’s you who’s been caught painting the roses red,’ Benjamin said, and went to take a step into the room.

  ‘Benjamin!’

  He paused mid-step, with a pained expression at the sound of Vincent’s demanding voice. ‘I’d better go,’ he smiled. ‘I’ll talk to you later,’ and he headed off in the direction of Vincent’s shouts. ‘Oh, by the way,’ he called out, ‘thanks for the party invitation.’

  A fuming Elizabeth ignored Ivan, doubled over laughing and occasional snorting. She dipped her brush in the white pot and erased Ivan’s words, trying to erase this embarrassing moment from her memory.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr O’Callaghan; hello, Maureen; hello, Fidelma; hi, Connor, Father Murphy,’ she greeted her neighbours as she walked through the town to get to her office. Red paint dribbled down her arms, blue paint clung in strands around her hair and her jeans looked like Monet’s palette. Silent, stunned stares followed her as her clothes continued to drip with paint, leaving a multicoloured trail behind her.

  ‘Why do you always do that?’ Ivan asked, running alongside her to keep up as she marched through the town.

  ‘Do what? Good afternoon, Sheila.’

  ‘You always cross the road before you get to Flanagan’s pub, walk on the opposite path and then cross again once you get to Joe’s.’

  ‘No I don’t.’ She smiled at another gawker.

  ‘Talk about painting the town red, Elizabeth,’ Joe called out to her, laughing as she left red footprints behind her as she ran across the road.