How to Fall in Love

by Cecelia Ahern

  He seemed confused by the question.

  ‘What I’m asking is, are you ready to move on and get to the rest of business?’

  He breathed in. ‘That didn’t go so well at the hospital.’

  I had no answer for that. I started picking at my salad again. ‘Why did you have a meeting with your cousin Nigel? He claimed that you talked about a merger.’

  ‘I wanted to see him. I hadn’t set eyes on him since we were twelve – can you believe that? The bad blood between Bartholomew’s and Basil’s was all between our fathers as far as I was concerned. My grandfather’s will specifically states that if I don’t take over the company, it falls to Nigel. I wanted to know what his intentions were, what he would do for the company.’

  ‘You wanted a truce.’

  ‘It didn’t even occur to me that we needed a truce. Like I said, as far as I was concerned the quarrel was between our fathers, not us. I was looking for a way out, Christine. I wanted him to say he’d run the company exactly the way it should be run. Instead, he started talking about a merger, as if we were doing the deal right there and then.’

  ‘And you told him no?’

  ‘I listened. I mean, would it be so bad if Bartholomew and Basil united? It was my grandfather’s name so it would be fitting, and we’d leave all the bad blood behind us, start fresh. Merging the companies would help both brands. If there wasn’t a rift, my father would agree in a heartbeat. But Nigel’s just as bitter about the family firm as my uncle Liam. He wants to merge the two companies, then sell up. He said that way we could both get out of the business, spend the rest of our lives lying on a beach somewhere.’

  Adam looked as if he wanted to punch a wall, the aggression was building up again. I put a hand on his arm for a moment.

  ‘But selling up sounds as though it would solve a problem for you.’

  ‘I don’t want to run the business, but there’s no way I want to be responsible for running it into the ground either. A lot of people are relying on me. I’d like to see Basil’s end up in the right hands, so it stays a going concern. I owe my father and my grandfather that much at least.’ He ran his fingers through his hair, exhausted by the whole affair.

  ‘You think your sister would sell the company?’

  ‘Lavinia would hold out ten years to qualify for her inheritance, then she’d sell it to the highest bidder, whoever that might be. But in order to do that, she’d have to come home, whereupon she’d be locked up – by me, if no one else, after what she did.’

  ‘Adam,’ I spoke gently. ‘If you had jumped, if you do jump, where would that leave the business?’

  ‘If I jumped, Christine, I wouldn’t have to worry about this sorry mess any more, that’s the bloody point.’ He threw money on the table, stood up and left the restaurant.

  I sat before my dad at his desk. He was staring at me blankly.

  ‘Say that again?’ he said.

  ‘Which part?’

  ‘The whole thing.’

  ‘Dad, I’ve been talking for ten minutes!’ I shrieked.

  ‘And that’s precisely my point, you. You were talking for too long, too boring, my mind wandered. And can you explain why we have eggs smashed all over our garden since Tuesday?’

  I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose for calm. ‘It’s part of his therapy.’

  ‘But you are not a therapist.’

  ‘I know that.’ I felt defensive.

  ‘So why isn’t he seeing a therapist?’

  ‘I’ve asked him to, but he won’t.’

  Dad was silent, all joking aside for once. ‘You’ve taken on a lot here, Christine.’

  ‘I know that. But with all due respect I haven’t come here to be lectured on what I choose to do or not do with someone who needs help. Now, can we get back to the subject, please.’

  ‘Yes, I’m wondering what that was again.’

  ‘Dad, stop pulling her leg,’ Brenda warned from the back of the office.

  I turned around and saw both of my sisters had sneaked in unnoticed. ‘Is nothing private in this family?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Adrienne said, moving into the room to sit at the desk with us. Brenda quickly joined.

  ‘Christine, my darling pet lambykins,’ Dad began, reaching out to hold my hands in his. ‘You do know that, when I leave the company, and the universe, I do not expect you to suddenly be at the helm. Of the company, that is, not the universe.’ He looked searchingly into my eyes. ‘I’m concerned about you. You’ve always been the one who thinks, while your sisters and I do, but these past few weeks you’ve been getting caught up in an awful lot of doing and not so much thinking.’

  I sighed. ‘You’ve missed the point. I’m not talking about me. I know I don’t have to take over the company.’

  ‘She’s talking about the suicide guy,’ said Brenda, busy tucking into a packet of crisps.

  ‘His name is Adam,’ I snapped. ‘Have a little respect.’

  ‘Ooo-oooh,’ the three of them said in unison.

  ‘Have you kissed yet?’ Dad asked.

  ‘No,’ I frowned. ‘I helped him get back with his girlfriend. And next I’m going to sort out his job. I need help, what do you guys think? Can you help me? I don’t understand the legal stuff.’

  They all shrugged.

  ‘You’re useless!’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘I know people who go to their families for advice and they actually help.’

  ‘That’s in the Hollywood movies,’ Dad said dismissively. ‘You need to talk to a lawyer about this problem.’

  ‘You are a lawyer.’

  ‘No, a different lawyer.’

  ‘One that cares?’ Adrienne raised an eyebrow at him.

  ‘I care,’ he laughed. ‘But you need one who isn’t busy.’ He stood up from his desk and carried a file to his immaculately kept filing cabinet. He came back with some papers. ‘So he was on what’s called force majeure leave. The Parental Leave Act 1998 as amended by the Parental Leave (Amendment) Act 2006 gives an employee a limited right to time off from work if they have a family crisis. It arises where, for urgent family reasons, the immediate presence of the employee is indispensable, owing to an injury to or illness of a close family member. The maximum amount of leave is three days in any twelve-month period or five days in a thirty-six-month period, and you are entitled to be paid.’

  My heart sank. Adam had already taken two months off work. He had no legal leg to stand on to get his job back.

  ‘If there’s a dispute between your friend and his employer about force majeure leave, the issue can be referred using the complaint form which I’ve enclosed in the folder here.’ He placed the document folder on the desk before me. ‘Don’t say I never give you anything. With regards to his grandfather’s will, I can’t offer you any legal advice because I haven’t seen it. Get your hands on a copy and I will do my best to help him find a way out. If that’s the right thing.’

  ‘What do you mean, “If that’s the right thing”? Of course it’s the right thing,’ I said, confused.

  ‘What she needs to find is a therapist,’ Dad told the others.

  ‘She can always talk to us,’ Brenda said. ‘Remember that, Christine.’

  ‘Not for me – he’s talking about a therapist for Adam.’

  ‘What about going to the cute therapist guy who was your client? The sex addict – Leo whatsisname,’ Adrienne said.

  ‘Leo Arnold, and he’s not a sex addict,’ I replied, a smile forming on my lips at Adrienne’s attempt to cheer me up.

  ‘Shame.’

  ‘He was trying to quit smoking so I offered him some advice, that’s all. And he was a client who I placed in a job, so going to him for a session would be unprofessional.’

  ‘And living with a client for a week is professional?’ Dad said.

  ‘That’s different.’ To admit that Adam wasn’t technically my client would open a whole other can of worms.

  ‘It wouldn’t be unprofes
sional if you sent Adam to see this guy,’ Dad said.

  ‘Adam won’t see a therapist,’ I repeated, frustrated.

  ‘He won’t help himself so he’s making you do it all for him. Well, I’ll tell you one thing, you can give him all the help in the world, but unless he learns to fend for himself, it’ll be useless.’

  We were all silent. It was surprisingly a valid point for Dad.

  ‘On a different note, Barry thinks you’re sleeping with Leo and that’s why you left him. He called me last night to tell me,’ said Adrienne.

  I raged.

  ‘He also said that you said the reason Brenda can’t lose any baby weight is because it’s not baby fat, it’s greedy bitch fat,’ Adrienne went on, eyeing Brenda as she sucked the potato-crisp salt from her fingers.

  ‘I never said that,’ I protested.

  ‘No, but I wouldn’t blame you if you had.’

  ‘She has got a point,’ Dad added, looking at Brenda.

  Brenda raised her finger to the three of us and carried on eating.

  ‘Have you bought a dress for the party yet? What are you wearing?’ Adrienne asked.

  ‘I’m concentrating more on keeping the birthday boy alive,’ I replied, distracted by the news that Barry was obsessing over Leo Arnold. I was trying to figure out how he got the – correct – impression that I fancied the guy. I had never spoken about my clients with him.

  ‘No point in him being alive if you look like shit,’ Brenda said, and the three of them laughed.

  ‘Brenda bought a lovely new pair of shoes,’ Dad said. ‘They’re black peep-toe with the prettiest little pearls.’

  Dad had a thing about women’s shoes. He used to love bringing us shopping when we were growing up and had been known to surprise us with shoes for special occasions. He had good taste, too. In a way, he was a camp man trapped in a straight man’s body; he loved women, loved their thinking, spent all of his working days with them, had spent his whole life sharing a house where he was outnumbered by women, including his aunts, and so had a great respect for them. He appreciated their behaviours and tendencies, their nuances, their need for chocolate at the time of the month that he knew by heart – a pre-requisite for raising three teenage girls single-handed – and tried his best to understand the continuously fluctuating hormones and need to discuss and analyse feelings and happenings.

  ‘What makes you think you’re going to the party?’ I asked, surprised they were all getting prepared.

  ‘He invited us when he was here, don’t you remember?’ Dad said. ‘You don’t think we’re going to miss a bash like that?’

  ‘It’s hardly the bash of the year. He’s only thirty-five.’

  ‘No, but it’s the night they’ll announce that he’s taking over Basil’s from his father, which is a big deal, considering Dick Basil’s been at the helm for over forty years. His father left it to him to run when he was only twenty-one. Imagine all that responsibility at such an age! Did you know Basil’s exports its products to forty countries worldwide, a total of one hundred and ten million euro of Irish trade, and more than two hundred and fifty million euros’ worth of chocolate produced in Ireland is exported every year. You better believe it’s a big deal. They use all local ingredients, which is more important now than ever. I’m sure the Taoiseach will be there. He and Dick Basil are good friends. If he’s not in town, most certainly the Minister for Foreign Affairs and Trade will be there, and possibly the Minister for Jobs, Enterprise and Innovation.’ Dad clapped his hands. ‘It will be a lot of folly on the night, and I shall look forward to it.’

  I swallowed. ‘Where did you hear all that?’

  ‘The Times. Business page,’ he lifted it up and showed it to me, then threw it back down on the table. ‘Your boy is being handed a dynasty.’

  ‘He doesn’t want it,’ I said quietly, panic for Adam beginning to swell in my stomach. ‘That’s why I’m taking care of him. If he has to take over the company, he’ll kill himself. And he’ll do it that night.’

  They all looked at me in silence.

  ‘Well then, you have six days to work on that,’ Dad said, giving me a supportive smile. ‘My darling baby daughter, I’m going to give you the best piece of advice I believe I’ve ever given you in your short life.’

  I braced myself.

  ‘I suggest you go find that sex addict.’

  Leaving Adam in my dad’s office with his laptop, with Dad under strict instructions not to make any inappropriate comments, I took myself off to the waiting room of Leo Arnold, the client I had fantasised about most nights leading up to me leaving Barry. I never for a moment wanted any of these fantasies to come true, they were just that: fantasies, something to keep my mind occupied when reality felt too dark. I was sure he wasn’t even my type; there was no actual attraction between us at all, I had created an entirely different Leo Arnold in my head, one that made appointments for late-night therapy sessions and, unable to contain himself a moment longer, dropped in on me when I was alone in the office, sometimes even when there was a client waiting outside. I felt my face flush at the thought of how ridiculous it all was, now that I was sitting in his waiting room, now that it was real life.

  ‘Christine,’ Leo suddenly appeared at the door. His secretary had of course told him I was waiting, but he still couldn’t hide his surprise.

  ‘Leo, I’m sorry I didn’t make an appointment,’ I said, my voice low so I wouldn’t anger the others in the waiting room.

  ‘No problem,’ he said pleasantly, leading me to his office. ‘I have a few minutes between appointments. I’m sorry it can’t be longer, but I gather you said it was urgent.’

  I sat before his desk, trying not to look around too much, though after imagining his office and the things we’d done there so many times in my mind it was hard not to want to know what the reality was. I glanced at the filing cabinet and thought of handcuffs. My face began to heat up and I knew I was turning puce.

  ‘I’m guessing this is about your husband.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Barry.’

  I looked at him in surprise. ‘Actually, no.’

  ‘You’re here for a session?’ he said, surprised.

  ‘Why, what did you think I was here for?’

  ‘Well, I thought it might be related to the um … phone call that I received.’

  ‘From who?’

  ‘From Barry. Isn’t that your husband? He said he was your husband. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake?’

  ‘Oh!’ I said, realising, my face turning even more crimson. ‘He called you?’ I whispered, afraid to say the words aloud. The thought was too much for me to bear. How had Barry got his number? I thought back to the computer I’d left behind in the apartment. He must have got his hands on my contact list. There was no end to my cringing.

  It was Leo’s turn to go red. ‘Er … yes, I assumed you knew. I wouldn’t have said anything about it if I’d realised you didn’t know … I’m sorry.’

  ‘What did he say?’ My voice was a little above a whisper.

  ‘He believed that, um, we, that you and I were, um … well, I think the more polite way of putting it would be that he believed we were having an affair.’

  I gasped. ‘Oh my … Leo … I’m so sorry … I don’t know how on earth he …’ I struggled to find the words.

  ‘Well, that’s more politely than he put it anyway.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said firmly, finding my voice, trying to remain professional. ‘I have no idea how or why he would have come to that conclusion. He’s going through a bit of a … I mean, we’re going through a bit of a …’ nightmare, I finished, to myself.

  ‘He said something about finding a heart around my name …’ Leo continued, his face as scarlet as mine.

  ‘He said what?’ My eyes sprung open wide. ‘What on earth – I have no idea …’ I thought of the notepad I kept by the computer, the one I doodled on when working, I thought of the love hearts I always drew, sometimes stars, sometimes spirals, then remembered
the one time, the one ridiculous childish moment where I’d put Leo’s name in my bubble heart and thought it was funny, like I was back to being a schoolgirl again, like I had a choice who I could fancy, like it was a carefree, enjoyable thing instead of a betrayal. Trapped, trapped. I’d felt trapped and a name in a bubble heart had freed me for one moment, and now it had come back to haunt me. I cringed, I felt slightly sick, I wanted very much to get out of the office.

  ‘He told my wife, actually,’ he said, a little firmer now, his face no longer red, his anger coming through a bit more. ‘I learned about it from her. She’s pregnant. Six months. A most unwelcome time for her to hear that kind of thing.’

  ‘He what?! Oh my lord, oh my goodness. Leo, once again, I’m so sorry, I …’ I kept shaking my head, looking around, wanting the floor to swallow me whole. ‘I hope she understands it isn’t true? I mean, I could call her to explain, if you think that would—’

  ‘No. I don’t think that would help,’ he said curtly, interrupting.

  ‘Okay.’ I nodded. ‘I understand, believe me, I completely understand.’ I looked around. I wanted to leave but I was quite paralysed.

  ‘What did you come to see me about, if it wasn’t that?’

  ‘Oh, never mind.’ I stood up, my face behind my hands, I was so mortified.

  ‘Christine, please, it sounded important. And this meeting, you said it was urgent.’

  I really wanted to leave. I wanted nothing more than to walk out of this office, never to see his face again, to find a way of deleting the memory, all knowledge of the conversation that had passed, but I couldn’t. I owed it to Adam to help him the best way I could, and that meant swallowing my pride, my everything, and asking for help.

  As I gave up the struggle, I felt a sudden freedom. ‘It’s not about me, actually. I’m here on behalf of a friend.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, not sounding as though he believed me.

  ‘No, really, it is about a friend, but that friend refuses to see a therapist and so I’m here on his behalf.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said in exactly the same tone, which was incredibly frustrating. If I’d told him it was about my pet monkey he probably would have replied in the same way.