Cecelia Ahern 2-Book Gift Collection: The Gift, Thanks for the Memories. Cecelia Ahern
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appearance of earlier that morning had also altered. His hair had lost its Cary Grant-like sheen and neatly combed quiff, and the shoulders of his suit appeared to be covered in dandruff as the little white balls of ice falling from the sky nested in his expensive suit and took their time to melt. When they did, they left dark patches on the fabric. He was uncharacteristically windswept and his usually relaxed shoulders were instead hunched high in an effort to shield his ears from the cold. His body trembled, missing his cashmere coat like a sheep who’d just been sheared and now stood knobbly-kneed and naked.
‘You want a job?’ Lou asked confidently, but it came out quiet and meek as half of his volume was taken away by the wind and the question asked instead to a stranger further down the pavement.
Gabe simply smiled. ‘You’re sure?’
Confused by his reaction, Lou nodded. He wasn’t expecting a hug and a kiss but his offer seemed almost expected. This he didn’t like. He was more atuned to a song and a dance, an ooh and an ahh, a thank you and a declaration of indebtedness. But he didn’t get this from Gabe. What he did get was a quiet smile and, after Gabe had thrown off the blanket from his body and raised himself to his full height, a firm, thankful – and, in spite of the temperature, a surprisingly warm – handshake. Without Gabe hearing another word, it was as though they were already sealing a deal Lou couldn’t recall negotiating.
Standing at exactly the same height, their blue eyes gazed directly into one another’s, Gabe’s from under the hood that was pulled down low over his eyes, monk-like, boring into Lou’s with such intensity that Lou blinked and looked away. At the same time as that blink occurred, a doubt entered Lou’s mind, now that the mere thought of a good deed was becoming a reality. The doubt came breezing through like a stubborn guest through a hotel lobby with no booking, and Lou stood there, confused as to what decision to make. Where to put this doubt. Keep it or turn it away. He had many questions to ask Gabe, many questions he probably should have asked, but there was only one that he could think of right then.
‘Can I trust you?’ Lou asked.
He had wanted to be convinced, for his mind to be put at ease, but he did not count on receiving the kind of response he was given.
Gabe barely blinked. ‘With your life.’
The Presidential Suite for the gentleman and his word.
Gabe and Lou left the icy air and entered the warmth of the marble entrance hall. With walls, floors and pillars of granite covered by swirls of creams, caramels and Cadbury-chocolate colours, Gabe was just short of licking the surfaces. He had known he was cold, but until he felt this warmth he’d had no idea of the extent. Lou felt all eyes on him as he led the rugged-looking man through reception and into the Gents on the ground floor. Unsure of why, Lou took it upon himself to check each toilet cubicle before talking.
‘Here, I brought you these.’ Lou handed Gabe the pile of clothes, which were slightly damp now. ‘You can keep them.’
He turned to face the mirror to comb his hair back into its perfect position, wiped away the hailstones and raindrops from his shoulders and tried his best to return to normality, physically and mentally, as Gabe slowly sifted through the belongings. Grey Gucci trousers, a white shirt, a grey and white striped tie. He fingered them all delicately as though a single touch would reduce them to shreds.
While Gabe discarded his blanket in the sink and then went into one of the cubicles to dress, Lou paced up and down the urinals responding to phone calls and emails. He was so busy with his work that when he looked up from his device, he didn’t recognise the man before him and returned his attention to his BlackBerry. But then he slowly reared his head again, realising with a start that it was Gabe.
The only thing to show that this was the same man were the dirty pair of Doc Martens beneath the Gucci trousers. Everything fitted perfectly, and Gabe stood before the mirror, looking himself up and down as though in a trance. The woollen hat that had covered Gabe’s head now revealed a thick head of black hair, similar to Lou’s, though far more tousled. The warmth had replaced the coldness in his body and his lips were now full and red, his cheeks a nice rosy instead of the frozen pallid colour of before.
Lou didn’t quite know what to say but, sensing a moment that was far deeper than he was comfortable with, he splashed around in the shallow end instead.
‘That stuff you told me about the shoes, earlier?’
Gabe nodded.
‘That was good. I wouldn’t mind if you kept your eyes open for more of that kind of thing. Let me know now and then about what you see.’
Gabe nodded.
‘Have you somewhere to stay?’
‘Yes.’ Gabe looked back at his reflection in the mirror. His voice was quiet.
‘So you’ve an address to give Harry? He’s your boss.’
‘You won’t be my boss?’
‘No.’ Lou took his BlackBerry out of his pocket and began scrolling for nothing in particular. ‘No, you’ll be in another … department.’
‘Oh, of course.’ Gabe straightened up, seeming a little embarrassed for thinking otherwise. ‘Right. Great. Thanks so much, Lou, really.’
Lou nodded it off, feeling embarrassed. ‘Here.’ He handed Gabe his comb while looking the other way.
‘Thanks.’ Gabe took it, held the comb under the tap and then began to shape his messed hair. Lou hurried him on and led him back out of the Gents and through the marble lobby to the elevators.
Gabe offered the comb back to Lou.
Lou shook his head and waved his hand dismissively, looking around to make sure nobody waiting with them by the elevators had seen the gesture. ‘Keep it. You have an employer number, PRSI number, things like that?’ he rattled off at Gabe.
Gabe shook his head, looking concerned. His fingers ran up and down the silk tie, as though it were a pet and he was afraid it would run off.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll sort that out. Okay,’ Lou started to move away as his phone began ringing, ‘I’d better run, I’ve so many places to be right now.’
‘Of course. Thanks again. Where do I –?’
But Gabe was cut off as Lou wandered around the lobby, his movements jittery as he spoke on the mobile in that half-walk, half-dance that people on mobile phones do. His left hand was jingling the loose change in his pocket, his right hand glued to his ear. ‘Okay, gotta run, Michael.’ Lou snapped the phone shut and tutted when he found an even bigger crowd still waiting at the elevators. ‘These things really need to be fixed,’ he said aloud.
Gabe fixed him with a look that Lou couldn’t quite read.
‘What?’
‘Where do I go?’ Gabe asked again.
‘Oh, sorry, you’re going down a floor. The mailroom.’
‘Oh.’ Gabe looked taken aback at first, and then his pleasant face returned again. ‘Okay, great, thanks,’ he nodded.
‘Ever worked in one before? I bet they’re, um … exciting places to be.’ Lou knew that offering Gabe a job was a great gesture, and that there was nothing wrong with the job he was being offered, but somehow he felt that it wasn’t enough, that the young man standing before him was not only capable but expectant of much more. There was no reasonable explanation for why on earth he felt this, as Gabe was as soft, friendly and appreciative as he had been