Chapter 14
There is no noise coming from Oliver’s room when I wake, which is a relief. I plan to forget about the celebratory drink. He must have had fun. Normal people do that when they are not living under a curse.
My head feels a lot better, and to my surprise, there’s only a tiny purple bruise on my forehead. After getting dressed, feeding Lenny and making myself some breakfast, I grab my bag and leave the flat. I call Aunt Polly, who sounds surprisingly upbeat.
‘I’m feeling good, Nelly,’ she says. This makes me smile, and I pray it continues.
I pass a queue of tired commuters at the bus stop.
A young woman reading a pink romance book catches my eye.
I recognise the cover – it’s Oliver’s. My mind replays Oliver and me banging heads and the strange absence of a vision.
I’m not looking where I’m going when a woman rushing for the bus and talking on her phone about French lessons collides with me.
A bright flash of white light zips behind my eyes.
I hold my breath as the light fades, revealing her opening what appears to be a bedroom door to see a man in bed with a dark-haired woman who, it seems, lives at number forty-two on their street.
Her love story ends abruptly when she discovers her husband is taking more than just French lessons.
The world becomes muffled. I reach in my bag for a boiled sweet. My head is back to normal. This is good news.
The bookshop is quiet. I’m restacking books in the young adult section.
In one of the saggy armchairs is Amber, a local teenage girl, who’s seemingly pretending to be engrossed in a young adult fantasy novel but keeps glancing at me. On the table next to her is Miranda’s old lava lamp and a replica crystal ball.
Amber’s mum, Kate, used to be a regular at Miranda’s book club.
I liked Kate; she was funny and always told us hilarious stories about her three children.
She was married to Ben, a local tree surgeon, and her retellings of their family life were like listening to a comedy show.
The kids would always be causing some sort of chaos, Ben would be escaping up the nearest tree, and Kate would always be locking herself in the loo to read a book in peace.
She was a huge fan of romance novels and would always encourage me to start reading them.
I tried my hardest to avoid physical contact with the people from Miranda’s book club.
They were all lovely, and I didn’t want my curse to spoil things.
But one evening, Kate accidentally knocked into me.
I saw how her love story with Ben would end: her in a hospital bed, him holding her hand.
That night I went back to my flat and cried for hours.
It wasn’t a shock when, six months later, Kate came to book club and announced she had been diagnosed with skin cancer. She put up a brave fight, but sadly, the cancer was too aggressive, and she passed away two years after she got her diagnosis.
Amber’s long blonde hair is twisted into a bun on top of her head.
She’s clasping the book with long pink nails and fiercely chewing on a piece of gum.
I often see Amber here. Miranda always says that Amber is skipping school; however, I often wonder whether Amber feels closer to Kate here.
Kate used to say Once Upon a Spine was one of her favourite places.
‘You okay, Amber?’ I ask, while slotting a book onto the shelf.
Amber shrugs. ‘Sort of.’
‘No school today?’
She grins. ‘I’m studying.’
I survey the book she’s reading. ‘I didn’t know dragons were on the curriculum nowadays?’
Amber giggles. ‘They’re a vital part of my education, Nelly.’
I go to stand near the armchair and tidy up a shelf opposite.
‘I’ve done something bad,’ says Amber.
Every part of me tenses. ‘Bad?’ Oh God, at fifteen, ‘bad’ could mean anything; binge drinking, smoking, drug-taking, underage sex or something else like a criminal act. I turn around, and I must look panic-stricken as she laughs. ‘Calm down, I haven’t broken any laws.’
I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Are you going to tell me what you’ve done?’
‘I put a message inside Mum’s birthday balloon.’
‘Birthday balloon?’
Shaking her head, she sighs. ‘Dad does it every year to remember Mum. He gets us all to watch him let go of this balloon. It has Mum’s face on it.
Mum would be pleased as it’s a nice photo of her.
I chose it as the one Dad initially picked was her in her PJs with no make-up, and she was wearing my brother’s hat as her hair was falling out.
Dad said she looked beautiful. I had to tell him that Mum would not be happy with that photo plastered on the front of a balloon.
’ She sighs. ‘Mum might not be here, but she still has photo standards.’
‘Your mum loved balloons,’ I say, remembering Kate telling us about how her obsession with pretty balloons always went wild on family birthdays.
Amber nods. ‘This year I stuck a message inside.’
‘Okay – something your mum would have liked? A verse or a poem, maybe?’
She grins, making me feel a little anxious. ‘No. The message said that my dad needs a girlfriend and that I am sick of him being miserable. I hoped a suitable girlfriend for Dad would find it, contact me and work her magic with him.’
‘Contact you? How?’
‘Duh!’ she exclaims. ‘I put his name, and I said that Mum died and now he’s miserable. I also wrote that he’s kind, funny and grumpy in the morning before his coffee. At the bottom, I put my email address and asked any suitable woman to contact me.’
I stare at her in bewilderment. ‘You put your email address on this bit of paper and stuck it in your mum’s birthday balloon?’
‘Yeah… I need to vet these women for Dad. If I don’t do this, he’ll end up with this boy called Finn’s mum, who fights outside the pub.’
‘Please tell me you didn’t add anything else?’
She rolls her eyes. ‘Duh – yeah, of course I did. I added my name and age. These women need to know they’re not dealing with a child. I am fifteen, for God’s sake.’
I turn back to the shelf, close my eyes, and take a few deep breaths.
Kate always said Amber had her way of doing things.
Anyone could find that balloon, burst it, and read her message.
They could then contact her and put her in danger.
I take a few more deep breaths. Realistically, the balloon will get stuck somewhere, and if someone found it, their first thought wouldn’t be to burst it and then hunt for a message.
‘No one is going to look inside it,’ I say, my eyes still closed.
I hear a book being shut. ‘You’re right, Nelly.’
Opening my eyes, I turn around. ‘Will you promise me something?’
‘Please don’t tell Dad.’
‘Don’t ever do this again. Call me the second anyone messages your email account who you don’t recognise. Do you understand?’
She smiles and I see that she has inherited her mother’s curvy lips and sparkly blue eyes. For a fleeting second, it’s like I’m talking to her mother, Kate.
‘Will do.’ I watch her flick her eyes to the floor. ‘I did it because Dad is lonely.’
As she gathers her things, I begin to lecture her about my beliefs on love. ‘Maybe your father doesn’t want to find love again? Life is much easier when you’re on your own. Relationships should come with health warnings. In my experience, love never ends—’
Fortunately, I stop myself from telling her that love never ends well.
She doesn’t need to hear that. She has zoned out and is gazing at the romance book section.
As she walks away, I pray the balloon is stuck in a tree and is never found.
Amber doesn’t need someone creepy contacting her, and her father has had enough heartbreak for one lifetime.