If You Could See Me Now (12 page)

Poppy snapped out of her trance and her face fell in disappointment.

“Poppy.” Elizabeth sighed. “We’ve been through this before. I really think you should stick to the profile for this one.”

“Ah.” She fell back as though she’d been shot in the chest. “But the profile is so
boring.
”

“Hear! Hear!” Ivan stood and applauded. “Gnirob,” he said loudly into Elizabeth’s ear.

Elizabeth
flinched and scratched at her ear. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Poppy, but unfortunately what you consider boring is how other people choose to decorate their homes. People want liveable, comfortable, and calming environments. People don’t want to return home after a hard day’s work to a house that shouts dramatic statements from every beam or colors that give them a headache. With work environments so full of stress, people just want their home environment to be manageable, relaxing, and peaceful.” A speech she delivered to all of her customers. “And this is a
hotel,
Poppy, we need to appeal to all kinds of people and not just the few, the
very
few in fact, that would like to reside in a velvet-lined womb,” she added drily.

“Well, I don’t know many people that
haven’t
once resided in velvet-lined wombs, do you? I don’t think it rules out anyone on
this
planet, at least.” She kept trying. “It might spark off some comforting memories for people.”

Elizabeth looked disgusted.

“Elizabeth.” Poppy groaned her name and dissolved dramatically into the chair in front of her. “There has to be something that you will let me put my stamp on. I just feel so constrained here, like my creative juices aren’t being allowed to
flow and—oooh, that’s nice,” she said chirpily, leaning over to look at the page in front of Elizabeth. “Chocolate and lime are really gorgeous together. What made
you
of all people go for that?”

Ivan returned to Elizabeth’s side and crouched down beside her, studying her face. Elizabeth stared at the sketch before her as if seeing it for the
first
time. She frowned, but then her face softened. “I don’t know, actually, it just . . .” She closed her eyes briefly, breathed deeply, and remembered the feeling. “It just kind of ...floated into my head suddenly.”

Poppy smiled and nodded excitedly. “You see, now you understand how it is for me. I can’t suppress my creativity, you know? I know
exactly
what you mean. It’s such a natural, instinctive thing.” Her eyes glistened and her voice lowered to a whisper. “Like
love.
”

“Hear! Hear!” Ivan repeated, watching Elizabeth, so close to her now his nose was almost touching her cheek, but this time it was a light whisper that blew Elizabeth’s loose hair softly around her ear.

Chapter Nine

“Poppy, did you
call me?” Elizabeth called out from under the mound of carpet samples piled onto her desk later that day.

“No,
again,
” came the dull, bored reply. “And please refrain from disturbing me, as I’m about to order two thousand pots of white magnolia paint for our future projects. May as well be organized and plan ahead for the next twenty years,” she muttered, then grumbled loudly enough for Elizabeth to hear. “Because it’s not as if we’re about to change our ideas anytime soon.”

“Oh, OK.” Elizabeth smiled, giving in. “You can order another color in too.”

Poppy almost fell off her chair with excitement.

“Order a few hundred pots of beige as well, while you’re at it.
Barley,
it’s called.” “Ha ha,” Poppy said drily. Ivan raised his eyebrows at Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, Elizabeth,” he sang,

“did you just make a funny? I think you did.” He stared directly at her, elbows on the desk. He sighed, blowing the loose strands of her hair as he did so.

Elizabeth froze, moved her eye sockets from left to right suspiciously, and then continued working. “Oh, see how she treats me?” Ivan said dramatically, holding his hand to his forehead and pretending to faint onto a black leather chaise longue in the corner of the room. “It’s like I’m not even here,” he declared. He put his feet up and stared at the ceiling. “Forget about being at a principal’s office, this is like being at a shrink’s.” He stared at the cracks in the ceiling. “You see, doc, it all started when Elizabeth kept ignoring me,” he said loudly into the room. “It just made me feel so
unloved,
so
alone,
so
very, very alone.
It’s like I don’t exist. Like I’m
nothing,
” he exaggerated. “My life is a mess.” He pretended to cry. “It’s all Elizabeth’s fault.” He stopped and watched her for a while, matching carpets with fabrics and paint charts, and when he spoke again, his voice became soft. “But it is her fault that she can’t see me because she’s just too afraid to believe. Isn’t that right, Elizabeth?”

“What?” Elizabeth shouted again.

“What do you mean, what?” shouted an irritated Poppy back. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You called me.”

“No, I didn’t, you’re hearing voices again and please stop humming that bloody song!” Poppy shrieked.

“What song?” Elizabeth frowned.

“Whatever that
thing
is that you’ve been humming all morning. It’s driving me
insane.
”

“Thank you very much!” Ivan announced, standing up and taking a dramatic bow before plonking his body back down onto the chaise longue. “I
invented
that song. Andrew Lloyd Webber, eat your heart out.”

Elizabeth continued working. She started humming again, then immediately stopped herself.

“You see, Poppy,” Ivan called into the other room, “I think Elizabeth can hear me.” He crossed his hands across his chest and twiddled his thumbs. “I think she can hear me very well. Isn’t that right, Elizabeth?”

“Christ almighty.” Elizabeth dropped the samples onto her desk. “Becca, is that you saying my name?”

“No.” Becca’s voice was barely audible.

Elizabeth’s face turned red and she felt
flustered and embarrassed at looking a fool in front of her employees. Trying to assert control again, she called out sternly, “Becca can you get me a coffee from Joe’s?”

“Oh, by the way,” Ivan sang, enjoying himself, “don’t forget to tell her to take one of the mugs over with her. Joe will be pleased.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth snapped her
fingers as though she’d just remembered something. “You might as well bring one of these with you.” She handed Becca a coffee mug. “Joe will be,” she paused and looked confused, “pleased.”

“Oh, she can hear me, all right.” Ivan laughed. “That self-commanding mind of hers just won’t allow her to admit it. Everything is black-and-white to her.” Then he added, “And beige. But I’m going to shake things up a bit around here and we are going to have some
fun.
Ever done that before, Elizabeth? Had fun?” His eyes danced with mischief.

He swung his legs off the chaise longue and jumped upright. He sat on the edge of Elizabeth’s desk and glanced at the printouts of the online information about imaginary friends. He tutted and shook his head. “No, you don’t believe all that gobbledygook, do you, Lizzie? Can I call you Lizzie?”

Elizabeth’s face
flinched.

“Oh,” Ivan said gently, “you don’t like being called Lizzie, do you?”

Elizabeth swallowed softly.

He lay across the desk on top of all the carpet samples and rested his head on his hand. “Well, I’ve got news for you.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m real. And I’m not going anywhere until you open those eyes properly and see me.”

Elizabeth stopped
fiddling with the paint charts and raised her eyes slowly. She looked around her office and then settled on staring straight ahead of her. For some reason, she felt calm, calmer than she had felt in a very long time. She was stuck in a trance, staring at nothing but unable to blink or look away, feeling surrounded by warmth and security.

Suddenly the door to her office sprang open, so quickly and forcefully that it caused the handle to crash against the wall. Elizabeth and Ivan jolted in fright.

“Oooh, well excuse me for interrupting the lovebirds,” Saoirse cackled from the door.

Ivan jumped off the desk.

Elizabeth, mystified by that statement but accustomed to being mystified by Saoirse, immediately started to tidy her desk, a natural panicked reflex to her at the unannounced arrival of her younger sister. She smoothed down her jacket and pushed her palms over her hair.

“Oh, don’t tidy up on my account.” Saoirse waved her hand dismissively, chewing quickly on a piece of gum. “You’re such a fusspot, you know, just
chill.
” Her eyes moved up and down as she examined the area beside Elizabeth’s desk suspiciously. “So, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Elizabeth examined her sister through narrow eyes. Saoirse made her nervous with her neurotic behavior and sporadic tantrums. Alcohol or no alcohol, Saoirse had always been the same—difficult. In fact, Elizabeth could hardly tell when she was drunk or not. Saoirse had never found herself, she had never grown into a personality or learned about who she was, what she wanted, what made her happy, or where she wanted to go in life. She still didn’t know. She was a concoction of personalities never allowed to develop. Elizabeth wondered who her sister could be if she ever managed to stop drinking. She feared it would only be one problem less on a list of many.

It was so rare that Elizabeth could get Saoirse on her own in a room to talk to her. Sitting down with Saoirse was like trying to catch a butterfly
in a jar. They were so beautiful to look at, brightened up a room, but never settled on anything for long enough to be caught. Elizabeth was forever chasing and when she did manage to catch her sister, Saoirse would all the time be
fluttering her wings in panic, wanting to get away from her sister’s company.

When she did have Saoirse’s company, she tried so hard to be understanding, to treat her with the sympathy and empathy she deserved. Elizabeth had tried to learn all about how to deal with Saoirse and her drinking problem when she had sought professional help. She wanted advice from as many places as possible in order to help her sister. She needed to know the elusive magical words to say to Saoirse on the rare times that she visited. So even when Saoirse mistreated Elizabeth, she remained supportive and kind, because she was afraid to lose her for good, afraid of how much further out of control Saoirse might spiral. Besides, she felt she had a duty to look out for her. But mostly it was because she was tired of seeing all the beautiful butterflies in her life
fly
away.

“Introduce you to whom?” Elizabeth replied gently.

“Oh, stop with that patronizing tone. If you don’t want to introduce me, then that’s
fine.” She turned to the empty seat. “She’s ashamed of me, you see. She thinks I let her good name down. You know how the neighbors like to talk.” She laughed bitterly. “Or maybe she’s afraid I’ll chase you away. Happened to the other one, you see. He—”

“OK, OK, Saoirse.” Elizabeth interrupted her playacting. Saoirse always tried to get a rise out of her; bringing up her past was one of those things designed to hurt her. “Look, I’m glad you dropped by because there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Saoirse’s knee bounced up and down. Her jaw chomped on the gum.

“Colm brought the car back to me on Friday and he told me they’d arrested you. This is serious, Saoirse. You have to be really careful between now and the hearing. It’s on in only a few weeks and if you do anything . . . else, well, it will affect your punishment.”

Saoirse rolled her eyes. “Elizabeth,
relax!
What are they going to do? Lock me up for years for driving two minutes down the road in my own sister’s car? They can’t take away my license because I don’t have one and if they prevent me from ever getting one I don’t care, because I don’t want one. All they’ll do is give me a few weeks of some community-help bullshit, probably helping a few old ladies cross the road or something. It’ll be
fine.” She blew a bubble and it smacked against her chapped lips.