friendly customer got down on his knees to help her gather her belongings while the rest of the shop watched in amusement, wondering who the girl from the telly was.
‘It is you, isn’t it?’ the boy laughed.
Holly smiled up weakly at him from the floor.
‘I knew it!’ He clapped his hands together with excitement. ‘You’re cool!’
Yeah, she really felt cool, on her knees on the floor of a shop, searching for bars of chocolate. Holly’s face went red and she nervously cleared her throat, ‘Em … excuse me, could I have another bag, please?’
‘Yeah, that’ll be—’
‘There you go,’ the friendly customer interrupted him, placing a twenty-cent coin down on the counter. The newsagent looked perplexed and continued serving the customers.
‘I’m Rob,’ the man said, helping Holly put all her chocolate back into the bag, then holding his hand out.
‘I’m Holly,’ she said, a little embarrassed by his over-friendliness, and took his hand. ‘And I’m a chocoholic.’
He laughed.
‘Thanks for the help,’ she said gratefully, getting to her feet.
‘No problem.’ He held the door open for her. He was good-looking, she thought, a few years older than she, and he had the oddest coloured eyes, a kind of a grey-green colour. She squinted at him and took a closer look.
He cleared his throat.
She blushed, suddenly realising she had been staring at him like a fool. She walked out to her car and placed the bulging bag on the back seat. Rob followed her over. Her heart did a little flip.
‘Hi again,’ he laughed. ‘Em … I was wondering if you would like to go for a drink?’ Then he laughed, glancing at his watch. ‘Actually, it’s a bit too early for that. How about a coffee?’
He was a very confident man and he rested himself coolly against the car opposite Holly, his hands in the pockets of his jeans with his thumbs resting outside and those weird eyes just staring back at her. However, he didn’t make her feel uncomfortable, he was just very relaxed, as though asking a stranger out for coffee was the most natural thing in the world. Was this what people did these days?
‘Em …’ Holly thought about it. What harm could it do to go for a coffee with a man who had been so polite to her? The fact that he was absolutely gorgeous also helped. But regardless of his looks, Holly really craved company, and he seemed like a nice decent man to talk to. Sharon was out and Denise was at work and Holly couldn’t keep calling over to her mother’s house; Elizabeth had work to do too. Holly really needed to start meeting new people. Many of Gerry and Holly’s other friends had been people with whom Gerry worked, but once he had died all those ‘friends’ of theirs hadn’t been too much of a familiar feature around her house. At least she knew who her true friends were.
She was just about to say yes to Rob when he glanced down at her hand and his smile faded. ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise …’ He backed away from her awkwardly as though she had some kind of disease. ‘I have to rush off anyway.’ He smiled quickly at her and scarpered off down the road.
Holly stared after him, confused. Had she said something wrong? Had she taken too long to decide? Had she broken one of the silent rules of this new meeting-people game? She looked down at the hand that had caused him to run away from her and saw her wedding ring sparkle back at her. She sighed loudly and rubbed her face tiredly.
Just then the teenager from the shop walked by with a gang of friends and a cigarette in his mouth and snorted at her.
She just couldn’t win.
Holly slammed the door of her car and looked around. She wasn’t in the mood to go home, she was sick of staring at the walls all day every day and talking to herself. It was still only ten o’clock in the morning and beautifully sunny and warm outside. Across the road her local café, The Greasy Spoon, was setting up tables and chairs outside. Her stomach grumbled. A nice big Irish breakfast was exactly what she needed. She took her sunglasses from the glove compartment of her car, carried her newspapers with both hands and wandered across the road.
A plump lady was cleaning the tables. Her hair was tied back tightly in a large bun, and a bright red and white checked apron covered her flowery dress. Holly felt like she had walked straight into a country kitchen.
‘Been a while since these tables have seen sunlight,’ the woman said happily to Holly as she approached the café.
‘Yeah, it’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?’ Holly said, and the two of them stared up at the clear blue sky. It was funny how good weather in Ireland always seemed to be the conversation of the day with everyone. It was such a rare sight that everyone felt blessed when it finally arrived.
‘You want to sit out here, love?’
‘Yes, I will. Might as well make the most out of it. It’ll probably be gone in an hour,’ Holly laughed, taking a seat.
‘You need to think positively, love.’ The waitress busied herself around Holly. ‘Right, I’ll get you the menu,’ she said, turning to leave.
‘No, it’s OK,’ Holly called after her, ‘I know what I want. I’ll have the Irish breakfast.’
‘No problem, love,’ the woman smiled, and her eyes widened when she saw the pile of newspapers on the table, ‘You thinking of starting your own newsagents?’ she chuckled.
Holly looked down at the pile and laughed at the sight of the Arab Leader lying on the top. She had grabbed every single paper and hadn’t even thought to check what they were. She doubted very much the Arab Leader contained any articles about the documentary.
‘Well, to tell you the truth, love,’ the woman said, cleaning the table beside her, ‘you’d be doing us all a favour if you put that miserable ol’ bastard out of business.’ She glared across the road to the newsagent. Holly laughed as the woman waddled back into the café.
Holly just sat there for a while, watching the world go by. She loved catching snippets of people’s conversations as they walked past; it gave her a sneaky peak into the lives of others. She loved to guess what people did for a living, where they were heading as they rushed by, where they lived, if they were married or single … Sharon and Holly always used to sit in Bewley’s overlooking Grafton Street and they would do their people spotting. They would create little scenarios in their heads to pass the time, although Holly seemed to be doing this very regularly these days – just another demonstration of how her mind was caught up in other people’s lives instead of focusing on her own.
For example, the new little scenario she was creating involved the man walking down the path holding hands with his wife. Holly decided that he was secretly gay and the man headed toward them was his lover. Holly watched their faces as they approached each other, wondering if they would make eye contact. They went one better than that, and Holly tried not to giggle as the three of them stopped just in front of her table.
‘Excuse me? Have you got the time?’ lover asked secretly gay man and wife.
‘Yes, it’s a quarter past ten,’ secretly gay man answered him, looking at his watch.
‘Thanks
