Cecelia Ahern 2-book Bundle

by Cecelia Ahern

  ‘Great, Dick. Can Anne come too? Let’s be sure to ask Aunt Fanny first.’ She glares at him, killing his excitement. ‘I don’t care what’s going on with you, you’re not escaping again. Come now. Dr Montgomery won’t be happy if you don’t show for your appointment again,’ she urges him along.

  ‘OK, OK, hold on. My tooth is fine now.’ He holds out his hands and shrugs like it’s all no big deal. ‘All gone. No pain at all. In fact, chomp, chomp, chomp,’ he says as he snaps his teeth together. ‘Look, completely gone. What am I even doing here? Can’t feel a thing.’

  ‘Your eyes are watering.’

  ‘I’m emotional.’

  ‘You’re delusional. Come on.’ She continues to lead him down the corridor.

  Dr Montgomery greets him with a drill in his hand, ‘Hello, Clarisse,’ he says, and breaks his heart laughing. ‘Just joking. Trying to run off on me again, Justin?’

  ‘No. Well, yes. Well, no, not run off exactly but I realised that there’s somewhere else I should be and …’

  All throughout his explanation, the firm-handed Dr Montgomery and his equally strong assistant manage to usher him into the chair, and by the time he’s finished his excuse he realises he’s wearing a protective gown and reclining.

  ‘Blah blah blah, was all I heard, I’m afraid, Justin,’ Dr Montgomery says cheerily.

  He sighs.

  ‘You’re not going to fight me today?’ Dr Montgomery snaps two surgical gloves onto his hands.

  ‘As long as you don’t ask me to cough.’

  Dr Montgomery laughs as Justin reluctantly opens his mouth.

  The red light on the camera goes off and I grab Dad’s arm.

  ‘Dad, we have to go now,’ I say with urgency.

  ‘Not now,’ Dad responds in a David Attenborough-style loud whisper. ‘Michael Aspel is right over there. I can see him, standing behind the porcelain table, tall, charming, more handsome than I thought. He’s looking around for someone to talk to.’

  ‘Michael Aspel is very busy in his natural habitat, presenting a live television show.’ I dig my fingernails into Dad’s arm. ‘I don’t think talking to you is very high on his priority list right now.’

  Dad looks slightly wounded, and not from my fingernails. He lifts his chin high in the air, which I know from down the years has an invisible string attached to his pride. He prepares to approach Michael Aspel, who is standing alone by the porcelain table with his finger in his ear.

  ‘Must get waxy build-up, like me,’ Dad whispers. ‘He should use that stuff you got for me. Pop! Comes right out.’

  ‘It’s an earpiece, Dad. He’s listening to the people in the control room.’

  ‘No, I think it’s a hearing aid. Let’s go over to him and remember to speak up and mouth your words clearly. I have experience with this.’

  I block his path and leer over him in the most intimidating way possible. Dad steps onto his left leg and immediately rises near enough to my eyelevel.

  ‘Dad, if we do not leave this place right now, we will find ourselves locked in a cell. Again.’

  Dad laughs, ‘Ah, don’t exaggerate, Gracie.’

  ‘I’m bloody Joyce,’ I hiss.

  ‘All right, bloody Joyce, no need to get your bloody knickers in a twist.’

  ‘I don’t think you understand the seriousness of our situation. We have just stolen a seventeen-hundred-pound Victorian waste basket from a once-upon-a-time royal palace and talked about it live on air.’

  Dad looks at me quickly, his bushy eyebrows raised halfway up his forehead. For the first time in a long time I can see his eyes. They look alarmed. And rather watery and yellow at the corners, and I make a note to ask him about that later, when we are not running from the law. Or the BBC.

  The production girl I chased in order to find Dad gives me wide eyes from across the room. My heart beats in panic and I look around quickly. Heads are turning to stare at us. They know.

  ‘OK, we have to go now. I think they know.’

  ‘It’s no big deal. We’ll put it back.’ He speaks as though it is a big deal. ‘We haven’t even taken it off the premises – that’s no crime.’

  ‘OK, it’s now or never. Grab it quick, so we can put it back and get out of here.’

  I scan the crowd to make sure nobody big and burly is coming towards us, cracking their knuckles and swinging a baseball bat. Just the young girl with the headset, and I’m sure I can take her on, and if not, Dad can hit her on the head with his clunky corrective shoe.

  Dad grabs the waste basket from the table and tries to hide it in the inside of his coat. The coat barely makes it a third of the way around and I look at him bizarrely and he removes it. We make our way through the crowd, ignoring congrats and well-wishes from those who seem to think we’ve won the lottery. I see the young girl with the headset pushing her way through the crowd too.

  ‘Quick, Dad, quick.’

  ‘I’m going as fast as I can.’

  We make it to the door of the hall, leaving the crowd behind, and start towards the main entrance. I look back before closing it behind me, and catch the girl with the headset, talking into her mike, urgently. She starts to run but gets caught behind two men in brown overalls carrying a wardrobe across the floor. I grab the wooden bin from Dad’s hands and immediately we speed up. Down the stairs, we grab our bags from the cloakroom and then up and down, down and up, all the way along the marble-floored hallway.

  Dad reaches for the gold oversized handle on the main door and we hear, ‘Stop! Wait!’

  We stop abruptly and slowly turn to look at one another, fearfully. I mouth ‘Run’ at Dad. He sighs dramatically, rolls his eyes and steps down on his right leg, bending his left as a way of reminding me of his struggles with walking, let alone running.

  ‘Where are you two going in such a hurry?’ the man asks, making his way towards us.

  We slowly turn round, and I prepare to defend our honour.

  ‘It was her,’ Dad says straight away, thumb pointed at me.

  My mouth falls open.

  ‘It was both of you, I’m afraid,’ he smiles. ‘You left your microphone and packs on. Worth a bit, these are.’ He fiddles around the back of Dad’s trousers and unclips his battery pack. ‘Could have gotten into a bit of trouble if you’d escaped with this,’ he laughs.

  Dad looks relieved until I ask nervously, ‘Were these turned on, the entire time?’

  ‘Eh,’ he studies the pack and flicks the switch to the ‘off’ position. ‘They were.’

  ‘Who would have heard us?’

  ‘Don’t worry, they wouldn’t have broadcasted your sound while they went to the next item.’

  I breath a sigh of relief.

  ‘But internally, whoever was wearing headphones on the floor would have heard,’ he explains, removing Dad’s mike. ‘Oh, and the control room too,’ he adds.

  He turns to me next and I get into an embarrassing muddle as he pulls the pack from the waistband of my trousers and in doing so tugs the string of my thong, which it’s mistakenly attached to.

  ‘Ooowwwwww!’ I yelp, and it echoes around the corridor.

  ‘Sorry.’ The sound man’s face reddens while I fix myself. ‘Pitfall of the job.’

  ‘Perk, my friend, perk,’ Dad smiles.

  After he shuffles back to the fair, we place the umbrella stand back by the entrance door while no one is looking, fill it with the broken umbrellas and exit the scene of the crime.

  ‘So, Justin, any news?’ Dr Montgomery asks.

  Justin, who is reclined in the chair, with two surgically gloved hands and apparatus shoved in his mouth, is unsure of how to answer, and decides to blink once having seen that on television. Then unsure of what exactly that signal means, he blinks twice to confuse matters.

  Dr Montgomery misses his code and chuckles, ‘Cat got your tongue?’

  Justin rolls his eyes.

  ‘I might start getting offended one of these days, if people continue to ignore me when I as
k questions.’ He chuckles again and leans in over Justin, giving him a good view up his nostrils.

  ‘Arrrgggh,’ he flinches as the cool prong hits his sore point.

  ‘Hate to say I told you so,’ Dr Montgomery continues, ‘but that would be a lie. The cavity that you wouldn’t let me look at during your last visit has become infected and now the tissue is inflamed.’

  He taps around some more.

  ‘Aaaahh.’ Justin makes some gurgling sounds from the back of his throat.

  ‘I should write a book on dentistry language. Everybody makes all sorts of sounds that only I can understand. What do you think, Rita?’

  Rita with the glossy lips doesn’t care much.

  Justin gurgles some expletives.

  ‘Now, now,’ Dr Montgomery’s smile fades for a moment. ‘Don’t be rude.’

  Startled, Justin concentrates on the television suspended from the wall in the corner of the room. Sky News’s red banner at the bottom of the screen screams it’s breaking news again and though it’s muted and too far away for him to read what exactly it is that they are breaking, it provides a welcome distraction from Dr Montgomery’s dismal jokes and calms his urge to jump out of the chair and grab the first taxi he can find, straight to Banqueting House.

  The broadcaster is currently standing outside Westminster, but as Justin can’t hear a thing he has no idea what it’s related to. He studies the man’s face and tries to lip-read while Dr Montgomery comes at him with what looks like a needle. His eyes widen as he catches sight of something on the television. His pupils melt into his eyes, blackening them.

  Dr Montgomery smiles as he holds it before Justin’s face. ‘Don’t worry, Justin. I know how much you hate needles but it’s necessary for a numbing effect. You need a filling in another tooth before that gets an abscess as well. It won’t hurt, it will just feel slightly odd.’

  Justin’s eyes grow wider as he watches the television and he tries to sit up. For once, Justin doesn’t care about the needle. He must try to communicate this as best as possible. Unable to move or close his mouth, he begins to make deep noises from the back of his throat.

  ‘OK, don’t panic. Just one more minute. I’m nearly there.’

  He leans over Justin again, blocking his view of the television, and Justin squirms in his seat, trying to see the screen.

  ‘My goodness, Justin, please stop it. The needle won’t kill you, but I might if you don’t stop wriggling.’ Chuckle, chuckle.

  ‘Ted, I think maybe we should stop,’ his assistant says, and Justin looks at her with grateful eyes.

  ‘Is he having a fit of some sort?’ Dr Montgomery asks her and then raises his voice at Justin as though he has suddenly become hearing-impaired. ‘I say, are you having a fit of some sort?’

  Justin rolls his eyes and makes more noises from the back of his throat.

  ‘TV? What do you mean?’ Dr Montgomery looks up at Sky News and finally removes his fingers from Justin’s mouth.

  All three focus on the television screen, the other two concentrating on the news while Justin watches the background where Joyce and her father have wandered into the path of the camera’s angle, them in the forefront, Big Ben in the background. Seemingly unaware, they carry out what looks like a seriously heated conversation, their hands gesturing wildly.

  ‘Look at those two idiots at the back,’ Dr Montgomery laughs.

  Suddenly Joyce’s father pushes his suitcase over to Joyce and then storms off in the other direction, leaving Joyce alone with two bags, and throwing her hands up with frustration.

  ‘Yeah, thanks, that’s very mature,’ I shout after Dad who has just stormed off, leaving his suitcase behind with me. He is going in the wrong direction. Again. Has been since we left the Banqueting House but refuses to admit it and also refuses to get a taxi to the hotel as he is on a penny-saving mission.

  He is still within my sights and so I sit on my case and wait for him to realise the error of his ways and come back. It’s evening now and I just want to get to the hotel and have a bath. My phone rings.

  ‘Hi, Kate.’

  She is laughing hysterically.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ I smile. ‘Well, it’s nice to hear somebody is in a good mood.’

  ‘Oh, Joyce,’ she catches her breath and I imagine she’s wiping her teared-up eyes. ‘You are the best dose of medicine, you really are.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I can hear children’s laughter in the background.

  ‘Do me a favour and raise your right hand.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just do it. It’s a game the kids taught me,’ she giggles.

  ‘OK,’ I sigh, and raise my right hand.

  I hear the kids howl with laughter in the back.

  ‘Tell her to wiggle her right foot,’ Jayda shouts down the phone.

  ‘OK,’ I laugh. This is putting me in a much better mood. I wiggle my right foot and they laugh again. I can even hear Kate’s husband howling in the background, which suddenly makes me uncomfortable again. ‘Kate, what exactly is this?’

  Kate can’t answer, she’s laughing so much.

  ‘Tell her to hop up and down!’ Eric shouts.

  ‘No.’ I’m irritated now.

  ‘She did it for Jayda,’ he begins to whinge, and I sense tears.

  I quickly hop up and down.

  They howl again.

  ‘By any chance,’ Kate wheezes through her laugher, ‘is there anyone around you who has the time?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ I frown, looking around. I see Big Ben behind me, still not sure of the joke, and as I turn back round only then see the camera crew in the distance. I stop hopping.

  ‘What on earth is that woman doing?’ Dr Montgomery steps closer to the television. ‘Is she dancing?’

  ‘Oo han ee ha?’ Justin says, feeling the effects of his numbed mouth.

  ‘Of course I can see her,’ he responds. ‘I think she’s doing the hokey cokey. See? You put your left leg in,’ he begins to sing. ‘Left leg out. In. Out. In. Out. Shake it all about.’ He dances around. Rita rolls her eyes.

  Justin, relieved that his sightings of Joyce aren’t all in his mind, begins to bounce up and down in his seat, impatiently. Hurry! I need to get to her.

  Dr Montgomery glances at him curiously, pushes Justin back in the chair and places the instruments in his mouth again. Justin gurgles and makes noises from the back of his throat.

  ‘It’s no good explaining it to me, Justin, you’re not going anywhere until I have filled this cavity. You’ll have to take antibiotics for the abscess, then when you come back I’ll either extract it or use endodontic treatment. Whatever I’m in the mood for,’ he laughs girlishly. ‘And whoever this Joyce lady is, you can thank her for curing your fear of needles. You didn’t even notice I’d injected you.’

  ‘Aah haa ooo aaa aa ee a.’

  ‘Oh, well, good for you, old boy. I donated blood before too, you know. Satisfying isn’t it?’

  ‘Aa. Ooo aaa iii uuuu.’

  Dr Montgomery throws his head back and laughs. ‘Oh, don’t be silly, they’ll never tell you who the blood has gone to. Besides it’s been separated into different parts, platelets, red blood cells and what have you.’

  Justin gurgles again.

  The dentist laughs again. ‘What kind of muffins do you want?’

  ‘Aa.’

  ‘Banana,’ he considers this. ‘Prefer chocolate, myself. Air, Rita, please.’

  A bewildered Rita puts the tube into Justin’s mouth.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I succeed in hailing a black cab and I send the driver in the direction of the dapper old man who is easily spotted on the pavement swaying in horizontal motions like a drunken sailor, amidst the crowd’s vertical stream. Like a salmon, he swims upstream, pushing against the throngs of people going in the opposite direction. Not doing it just for the sake of it, not to be deliberately different, or even noticing he’s the odd one out.

 
; Seeing him now reminds me of a tale he told me when I was so small he seemed to me to be as gigantic as our neighbour’s oak tree that loomed over our garden wall, raining acorns onto our grass. This, during the months when outside playtime was interrupted by afternoons spent staring out the window at the grey world, and, outside, wearing mitts that hung from strings through my coat sleeves. The howling wind would blow the giant oak tree’s branches from side to side, leaves going swish swash, left to right, just like my dad, a skittle wavering at the end of a bowling alley. But neither of them fell under the wind’s force. Not like the acorns, that leapt from their branches like panicked parachutist pushed out unawares or excited wind worshippers falling to their knees.

  When my dad was as sturdy as an oak tree and when I was bullied at school for sucking my thumb, he recalled the Irish myth of how an ordinary salmon had eaten hazelnuts that had fallen into the Fountain of Wisdom. In doing so, the salmon gained all the knowledge in the world, and the first to eat the salmon’s flesh would, in turn, gain this knowledge. The poet Finneces spent seven long years fishing for this salmon and when he’d finally caught it, he instructed his young apprentice, Fionn, to prepare it for him. When spattered with hot fat from the cooking salmon, Fionn immediately sucked on his burned thumb to ease his pain. In doing so, he gained incredible knowledge and wisdom. For the rest of his life, when he didn’t know what to do, all he had to do was suck on his thumb and the knowledge would come.

  He told me that story way back when I sucked my thumb and when he was as big as an oak tree. When Mum’s yawns sounded like songs. When we were all together. When I had no idea there would ever come a time when we wouldn’t be. When we used to have chats in the garden, under the weeping willow. Where I always used to hide and where he always found me. When nothing was impossible and when the three of us, together forever, was a given.

  I smile now as I watch my great big salmon of knowledge moving upstream, weaving in and out of the pedestrians pounding the pavements towards him.

  Dad looks up, sees me, gives me two fingers and keeps walking.

  Ah.

  ‘Dad,’ I call out the open window, ‘come on, get in the car.’