Chapter 13
Oliver is holding Lenny and looking at me. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes,’ I mutter, rubbing my forehead. My mind is in freefall.
When I touched Oliver, I saw nothing. No flash of light and no vision. There was no doomed love story. Just a void.
Something is wrong.
I stare down at my hands and see they’re trembling. Pain is radiating out of my forehead, and my stomach has gone on a nauseating spin.
What is going on?
The ground tilts. I grip onto the railings for support.
This is strange, as I have bumped heads with people before and seen a vision.
My brain frantically searches for an example.
Miranda’s face rushes to the front of my mind.
We bumped heads after I’d told her about my decision to have Oliver as a flatmate and she’d tried to give me one of her hugs.
I had seen Frank and his pram. A wave of nausea washes over me.
I must have a concussion. That’s why I can’t see anything.
‘Nelly, say something,’ says Oliver. ‘You’re worrying me.’
‘I’m fine,’ I say, reaching out a trembling hand to stroke Lenny. ‘Totally fine.’
He blinks. ‘Right. Let’s get you and Lenny home.’
My legs feel like they have turned to jelly as we climb the stairs. I can’t believe I didn’t see anything when our heads touched. My stomach rotates, and I stop, clutching my belly. ‘I can’t be sick,’ I tell myself. ‘This is not a good start to a flat-sharing relationship.’
Taking a deep breath, I carry on walking.
Once we get back inside the flat and close the door, I can smell a gorgeous aroma that reminds me of the wholesome casseroles Aunty Polly used to cook when I still lived with her.
‘Go lie down, Nelly,’ instructs Oliver, pointing to the sofa. ‘I’ll bring you a bag of frozen peas to put on your head.’
‘I’m fine,’ I protest. This is a lie, but I’m curious to see what he’s cooked.
On entering the kitchen, I gasp. It looks like Oliver has been cooking for half the town. The oven hob is covered in dirty saucepans, and the kitchen work surface is strewn with vegetable peelings, empty sauce cans, and bottles of herbs. The sight intensifies the pain in my head.
‘I will wash and clean up,’ he assures me.
I can’t take my eyes off the chaos and mess.
Turning my attention to the kitchen table, I let out a silent groan.
It has been set for two. If I sit directly opposite him, one of his legs might nudge or kick mine under the table.
I will have to sit further back from the table and hope that food doesn’t topple off my fork and onto my lap.
He’s looking at me. ‘I know what you’re thinking.’
‘What?’
I watch as he glances back at the table. ‘There’s not much space, and with how long my legs are, we’ll end up playing footsie under the table. I can’t break your no-touching rule twice in the first half-hour of the flat share.’
‘You remembered my rule?’
He smiles. ‘I didn’t when we banged heads. I’m sorry about that. You look awfully pale.’
‘I’ll feel better after food,’ I say, optimistically.
‘Let’s do trays,’ he suggests, and relief floods through me.
I stand behind the kitchen table while he serves. He keeps glancing over his shoulder at me. ‘Do you need a bag of peas?’
‘I’m fine, honest.’
‘Here’s your tray,’ he announces. ‘I checked with Miranda that you eat meat. It’s a beef casserole with dumplings. All homemade.’ With a smile, he picks up his tray. ‘See you in the living room. Race you to the chair.’
My eyes must have glowed red or something because his smile disappears and is replaced by a look of concern. He emits a nervous chuckle. ‘Only joking.’
We both devour his casserole. He’s on the sofa and I am in my chair. I know he’s made a mess of my kitchen, but his casserole tastes divine, and his dumplings are perfect.
After we sit for a while avoiding eye contact, I break the awkward silence. ‘This meal was nice, Oliver. Thank you. How was the move?’
‘Good. I only had a few boxes to carry up three flights of stairs. I’m sorry again for Lenny’s escape. It won’t happen again.’
‘He’s fine, so it’s okay.’
Lenny makes an appearance and, to my dismay, heads straight for Oliver.
‘I’m off out for a beer with Jamie tonight,’ Oliver says. ‘How’s your head?’
‘I’ve got a slight headache, but I will be okay.’
He smiles and scratches Lenny’s chin. ‘I’ll tidy the kitchen before I go out, don’t worry.’
After he washes up and tidies the countertops, he shouts goodbye and leaves the flat.
Exhaustion washes over me. ‘Lenny, we’re going to have an early night,’ I say, lifting him off my lap. ‘It’s been an eventful day.’
He follows me into the hallway, and I glance down at him. ‘I know you’re not going to like this, but I am going to put your dirt tray in with me tonight as I don’t want you escaping when Oliver comes home.’
After sorting out Lenny plus his dirt tray, I place a chair in front of my locked bedroom door. Lenny is glaring at me.
‘Mummy is busy protecting us. Oliver could be the flatmate from hell and could come in here with wandering hands.’
I lie in bed and think about how I saw no vision when Oliver and I banged heads. Weird. It must have been quite a whack to my head. Lenny meows by the door but gets bored and soon comes to snuggle in with me. We both fall asleep.
CRASH. I wake up with a frightened gasp. What the hell was that noise? It’s midnight. A hushed voice and a drunken giggle follow it.
With a thumping heart, I move the chair and look over at my cat. ‘You stay here,’ I whisper, before opening the door.
The sight in the hallway robs me of breath. Oliver is being helped into the flat by a man with short blond hair. The man looks up and smiles. ‘You must be Nelly. I’m Jamie. Nice to meet you.’
I stare in horror as he struggles into the hallway with Oliver, who spots me and grins. ‘NELLY,’ he shouts, with outstretched arms. ‘GIVE ME A HUG.’
I back away, and my horrified face makes Jamie smile. ‘No need to panic. Ollie has only had two and a half pints,’ he says, chuckling, ‘One sniff of the barmaid’s apron and he’s sozzled. Oliver has never been able to handle his drink. I’ll get him into his room, and then I’ll go.’
‘I… hate… Rory,’ slurs Oliver, falling against the wall.
‘Ollie, come on, mate,’ groans Jamie, helping him up and hurrying him along. Jamie looks over at me. ‘He’ll be fine.’
I watch them struggle along the hallway, and then they disappear into Oliver’s room. An hour later, I hear Jamie leave the flat. As I pull up my duvet, I cuddle Lenny.
This won’t be a regular occurrence, I tell myself. This was a one-off. Oliver probably got carried away with catching up with his friend.
There’s no need to panic, Nelly.