Chapter 21
Eva nods. ‘You’re not a fan of reality TV – are you?’
‘Reality TV?’ Oh, God, is Oliver the male version of Francesca – the potential flatmate I interviewed who was going on a reality TV show where everyone was naked?
I grip onto the doorway of my flat.
‘You need to look at the press stories from a few years ago. His girlfriend at the time, Molly, went on a reality TV show.’ I remember Jamie saying her name.
Eva continues. ‘Molly and the other contestants were flown to a villa in Ibiza, where they were given a lot of money and filmed day and night.’
‘What does Oliver have to do with this?’
‘Molly cheated on him on live TV. It was all over the press, and social media went wild.’
I stare at Eva. ‘Cheated?’
Eva lowers her voice. ‘Molly was filmed on camera with another bloke in her bed.’
‘Oh, God.’
She nods. ‘The press hounded poor Oliver. There were cruel memes all over social media. It wasn’t very nice. I think he and Molly split up. Then he disappeared, locked himself away and started writing books.’
‘Miranda never told me this.’ I think back to the lengths my boss went to to get me to take Oliver on as my flatmate.
She had admitted the bookshop had not been doing well financially and having access to bestselling romance author Oliver, via me, would give her business the boost it needed.
I can now see why she withheld information about Oliver’s scandal from me.
‘Oliver has been through a lot. I know we’ve had our differences, but I care about you, Nelly. If I were you, I would keep things strictly professional between you both.’
I arch my eyebrows at her. ‘This is me you’re talking to, Eva.’
‘That man has been through something traumatic, and I’ve heard through my book contacts that he doesn’t have the best view of relationships or love. He’s still hurting, and you can see that from his appearance.’
I think about his late-night entrances into the flat, the chaos he has managed to cause in the early hours and how Jamie mentioned Molly’s name. She must still be in Oliver’s life.
Pressing her hands together, Eva inhales deeply. ‘Nelly, I am going to fight for our friendship.’
I blink in surprise at her. I don’t recall anyone ever fighting for my friendship.
Until I met Eva, friendships had been an emotional minefield.
As I grew older, it became harder to maintain friendships, because most of the time I knew they were heading towards heartbreak.
Over time, I drifted to the edges of friendship circles.
Getting close to people meant that every day I spoke to them, I was reminded of my visions, which told me their love story would end.
Eva forced me out of my hermit-like shell.
She refused to let me stay in alone night after night.
As she hadn’t met a red-haired man called Karl, I put my vision to the back of my mind and did something I’d not done before – I started to enjoy life.
For a few cherished months, I ignored my visions.
It was bliss. Eva and I became regulars at a cocktail bar in town, we joined a yoga class, we drove to the seaside in her rusty old car, and we laughed a lot.
Everything changed the day I came home to find Karl in my kitchen.
‘What happened to you and Karl?’ I ask.
She blinks. I watch her thread her fingers together and squeeze until they turn white. ‘We moved away. I left my job, and I stopped reviewing books. All for him. He swore to me he didn’t fancy Esther, but that was a lie. I found them together in my bed.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Karl and I have broken up, and Esther has returned to New Zealand… for good. Please listen to what I have to say, Nelly. I didn’t want to hear about Karl because deep down, I already knew he would never be faithful.
Esther has no loyalty to me.’ Eva takes a deep breath. ‘She’s done that to me before.’
‘What?’
She nods. ‘It’s true. You told me what I didn’t want to face.’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
‘Esther slept with the boy I was seeing when I was eighteen. And on top of that, when I met Karl, he confessed to cheating on his last girlfriend. I stupidly assumed I would be different.’
‘You didn’t tell me this.’
She fiddles with a strand of hair. ‘It’s not something I wanted to shout about.
I still miss you, Nelly. I miss laughing so hard my belly hurts.
I miss our drunken makeovers, I miss our attempts at the latest TikTok dance craze, and I miss our cocktail nights.
I am also glad you have cured me of red-haired love rats. ’
Something inside me shifts. I realise how much I have missed her.
‘Can we start again, Nelly? Can we rewrite our friendship ending?’
‘But – what if…?’
She holds up her hand. ‘I don’t care if you touch me and never see a happy ending with a fella. Your friendship means so much more to me.’
‘Eva, I could put you off love for life.’
A grin spreads across her face. ‘I’ll still be your friend. That’s enough.’ She opens her arms to hug me.
I step back and avoid her hug. It’s too soon for physical contact. To my relief she smiles.
‘I’d like to be friends again, Eva.’
She pulls out her phone. ‘I still have you on WhatsApp, so I’ll message you and we can go out.’ A huge grin spreads across her face. ‘Speak soon, Nelly.’
After she’s gone, I head into the flat feeling lightheaded and buzzing. Eva and I are going to be friends again.
‘I’m off out,’ says Oliver, striding down the hallway and putting on his jacket.
Everything Eva told me comes rushing back. If he’s going out, that means I can do some internet sleuthing on Oliver Shadwell.
* * *
Someone is calling me. My phone is vibrating on my bedside table. Opening a bleary eye, I groan. My clock tells me it’s three in the morning. Who is calling me at this hour?
Panic takes hold of me.
It could be Aunt Polly.
Oh, God.
Grabbing my phone, I stare at the screen. It’s Oliver. Irritation courses through my veins. This is it – he will have to leave. I can’t carry on like this.
I haven’t had a good night’s sleep as my ceiling started leaking at midnight due to the heavy rain outside. Once I’d pushed a bowl under it to catch the drops, it took me ages to fall back asleep. Now this.
‘Nelly,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve lost my flat keys. Could you let me in?’
After I open the door and perform a merry dance to stop Lenny from escaping, Oliver enters. He’s drenched. His jacket is soaked and hair is plastered across his forehead. Flicking his gaze to the floor, he bows his head. ‘Nelly,’ he murmurs. ‘I’m so sorry.’
I am so annoyed that I don’t say anything. I open the door wide, so I don’t have any physical contact, and let him in. His trainers squelch as he passes me. ‘Did you lose your umbrella as well?’
He looks at me and there is a ghost of a smile. But then it fades. ‘I’ve been walking and thinking.’
‘In the pouring rain?’
He gives me a sad nod and squelches up the hallway.
I think back to the press articles I read before going to bed. The ones from a few years ago, which showed Oliver’s pain and suffering after photos and videos of Molly having sex on TV circulated the country.
The photos of Molly depicted a glamorous blonde young woman with long, voluminous, curly hair, dressed in a tiny bikini.
In the articles I read, she chose to appear on the TV show to chase a dream of fame – and to see if she could stay loyal to her boyfriend.
Some of the photos from her early days in the luxury villa showed her lying on a sun lounger while a French male model applied suntan lotion to her thighs.
They must have been excruciating for Oliver to see.
The French model was the man Molly fell for and she ended up in his bed on day five.
One article claimed the TV crew had to turn off the cameras as things between the model and Molly became too raunchy.
In the days after the scandal, the only images Oliver was pictured in were of him going to his local shop and talking to a friend in a café. His face was chalky white, and there was a haunting look about him. He was going through hell.
What is clear is that he’s still suffering. She must still be in his life, although I can’t think why she would be after what she did to him.
This is a personal reminder to me that heartbreak can happen to anyone, and it manifests in various forms for years afterwards.
I do feel sorry for him, but I’m worried he needs a therapist and not a flatmate.
I can’t get back to sleep, which is annoying, so I go to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. To my horror, he’s slumped over the kitchen table and asleep. There are a series of little puddles around his chair from his wet clothes.
For a few moments, I stand at the doorway and try to stifle my agitation. Why can’t he go to sleep in his bedroom?
He wakes up with a fright, and this makes me yelp.
‘Nelly…’ he gasps. ‘Oh, God, have I been asleep?’
I nod. ‘I’m awake and wanted a cuppa.’
He rubs his face. ‘This is my fault. Oh, God, I will need to move out.’
‘Let’s talk in the morning, Oliver.’
He hauls himself to his feet and falls over the chair. Both he and the chair crash to the floor. I watch as he groans and stands up. ‘This is embarrassing.’
‘Go to bed, Oliver.’
‘I’ve had a terrible night, Nelly. I’m sorry.’ He scratches his messy brown hair. ‘I went home with someone. Not just anyone. It was Rory’s sister.’
He thinks I know who Rory is. I don’t.
‘I knew it was wrong, so I left her house and have spent the last few hours walking in the rain.’
‘Okay, why don’t you go to bed?’ I point across the hallway to his bedroom.
Something flickers across his face. ‘Ah – yes. You’re right. I need to go to bed.’
I stand back as he squelches out of the kitchen. ‘I didn’t sleep with her though.’
This is now incredibly awkward. I don’t want to know about his love life.
‘Oliver, go to bed.’
‘I told her it wouldn’t be a good idea.’
Oh, God, this man is annoying. I’m so tired, and I have work in a few hours. ‘Oliver – go to bed.’ My voice is firm and makes him look at me.
‘I just want to see Alfie, Nelly.’ He rests his forehead against the wall in the hallway.
I have no idea who Alfie is, and right now, I don’t care. My anger is simmering.
‘Oh, God, Nelly – what am I doing with my life?’ He plunges his face into his hands.
That’s it – my head is going to explode. ‘GO TO BED!’ I yell, which makes him jump and look at me like a startled wild animal.
He mumbles, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.
‘Oliver – it’s four in the morning.’
‘My life is crumbling, Nelly,’ he moans. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ His brow is deeply furrowed, and he looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
I know he’s struggling, but I am too. ‘Oliver, I spent today with my poor aunt, who has a daily battle with the effects of chemo and every evening must inject herself.’
He nods. ‘That’s tough. I’m sorry.’
‘I have had no sleep due to my leaking ceiling and your lost keys. In a few hours, I must go to work. Please go to bed before I say something I will regret.’
‘I didn’t sleep with…’
‘I don’t care, Oliver. GO TO BED!’ I roar so loud he scurries away into his bedroom and closes the door.