Chapter 23
For the past few days, I’ve slept in Oliver’s bedroom, and he has taken the sofa.
He’s maintained his social schedule but hasn’t woken me up. I’ve slept like the dead and feel human again. He’s also cooked some excellent meals, and last night I found myself telling him that if the romance-writing career doesn’t work out, he should go into food.
Today was spent with Aunt Polly. I read Margo Lane’s book on the train to Tide-Leigh.
It was a good distraction from the tragic visions I observed.
Water was on my mind when I got off the train and spotted the shimmering blue horizon in the distance.
I found myself delaying going to Aunt Polly’s house and walking down to the pier.
Watching the salty waves break along the shore made my hunched shoulders sink.
A mischievous sea breeze raced around me, and I could feel it encouraging me to step onto the beach and head for the water.
For the first time in years, I felt the pull of the sea.
My mind reminded me that Aunt Polly, and her new hairstyle, were waiting, so I told the waves I would come back soon.
Thoughts of the water stayed with me like a loyal friend as I stood on the doorstep, staring in shock at my aunt’s newly shaved head while she grinned.
One of her friends, a hairdresser, had taken some clippers to her black hair, which was looking patchier by the day.
‘I feel like I am young again,’ she gushed.
‘A skinhead at my age.’ I was still thinking about swimming when I took her to chemo, bought her a cap because her head was cold, and when she cried in the car afterwards.
The thoughts of the sea have been stronger than those of my curse, which has been refreshing. For once, I have been consumed by something other than all the sad things about love I have seen.
I’ve just entered the flat. Oliver greets me from the far end of the hallway. ‘I’ve made you dinner. Come and eat.’
As I walk down the hallway, I smell the familiar scents of bleach and furniture polish. He’s been tidying up. The living room appears spotless. He has vacuumed the floor and polished all the surfaces to a shine.
The kitchen is relatively tidy for Oliver. I can see he’s trying. His French chicken casserole is divine and makes all my frustration with him slip away.
I join Oliver in the living room. He waits for me to pull my chair over and sit opposite him.
‘You didn’t need to sort the kitchen,’ I say. ‘I was going to do that.’
‘It’s okay, I like cleaning.’
He reaches behind the sofa and brings out Mum’s vase. It’s been glued back together, and he’s done a fantastic job. The sight of it makes my eyes water. He stands it on the coffee table. For a few seconds, the white vase goes blurry. After wiping my eyes, I inspect it. ‘Oliver, you’ve mended it.’
‘I’m glad you’re happy with it.’ He smiles at me, and I find myself wondering whether he’s a decent guy who’s just going through a tough time. ‘I’ve seen a few flats today, and none are as lovely as this. They’re either miles outside of town or are in a bit of a state.’
‘Oh.’
We both go silent until he says, ‘Gary came again today with a builder.’
‘Did they start work on fixing my ceiling?’
Oliver shakes his head. ‘They need to sort out the roof. It’s a loose tile which has caused this. Once the roof is done, they need to put in a new ceiling board and plaster and paint it.’
‘That’s going to take longer than a few days.’
Oliver nods. ‘We’re talking ten days minimum. More like two weeks and Gary kept saying there was no rush.’
My heart sinks.
Oliver points to the half of the sofa he’s not sat on. I can see a mound under the material.
‘A spring has come loose. It happened last night and gave me the fright of my life.’
There’s no way Oliver can continue sleeping in here. He’s too big for the sofa, and now this loose spring will make sleeping difficult. I am very angry with Gary for not resolving the issue in the first place.
‘I need more time to find somewhere to live, but we need another sleeping arrangement.’
‘Yes, we do.’
He clears his throat. ‘Look, this is going to sound crazy, and I will respect it if it is… but my bed is big enough for two if we share…’
My eyebrows have risen so far up my forehead they are now in my hairline.
I hope he’s not expecting us to share a bed.
I have standards, and they are sky-high.
‘Hear me out, Nelly. I’ll be fully clothed, in full pyjamas, and I’ll build you the biggest wall made of pillows. It’ll be an impressive barricade.’
I think about his proposal. On two occasions, I haven’t seen anything when we have touched due to my glitchy curse. At some point, my curse will show me something about Oliver, and I am not sure I want to risk seeing something upsetting in bed, which has always been one of my safe places.
I think of his nocturnal habits. ‘Oliver, you are out late every night,’ I exclaim.
‘You typically arrive home in the early hours. What you do in your spare time is your business, but I have a full-time job, an aunt who is undergoing chemo, and I need my sleep.’ I let out a heavy sigh.
If I am honest with myself, the threat of my curse is my biggest issue with his idea, but I am not about to tell him that.
‘Sharing a bed will be a nightmare as you will continually wake me up.’
My eyes roam over his messy bed hair, his fitted white T-shirt, which is hiding a defined physique, and his arms, which are a beautiful golden-brown colour. I lift my gaze to his dark, captivating eyes as my treacherous body silently screams, SAY YES!
To my surprise, he nods. ‘You make a fair point.’ He rises from the sofa and walks over to the large sash window. I watch him lean against it and look down at the busy street below.
‘I’m not partying. I want to make that clear.’
‘Oh.’ If he’s not partying – what is he doing?
‘Coming back here has been more complicated than I expected. I won’t bore you with my life story, but it’s been a struggle.’
‘Okay.’
Moving away from the window, he starts to pace. ‘The other night was a bit of a wake-up call for me.’
Was that when he lost the keys to my flat, chose not to sleep with Rory’s sister (whoever Rory is) and came home to have a crisis in my kitchen?
‘I need to stop going out all the time and, as Jamie says, “causing drama”. I am not going to lie, I have a lot on my mind, and I think I have been letting my emotions get the better of me. It’s not just causing me issues with you but with others as well.’
I nod, and he comes back to sit on the sofa.
‘Sharing a bed with you will force me to get out of this negative cycle. I’ll build the wall tonight.
It will be so high they will be able to see it in space.
’ He’s looking at me. ‘What do you think? I’m a decent person, and I respect your concerns about physical contact.
I’m brilliant at building things. If my writing career dries up, I’ll turn to food and… bricklaying.’
The words ‘no way’ are jostling around on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t push them out.
I yawn and wonder whether this will result in me getting a good night’s sleep.
He can read my mind as he says, ‘No more middle-of-the-night wake-ups. I will be the perfect flatmate and bed sharer.’
I wish he wouldn’t make bold claims and follow them up with that dangerous smile of his.
‘If you wake me up in the early hours again this arrangement is over. I mean it, Oliver.’
‘Nelly, if that happens, I will return to this sofa and sleep with a loose spring digging into my bottom as punishment. In years to come, you’ll see me struggling to sit down at author events because of my injured behind.’
My face is getting warm at the thought of his rear end. ‘Can you stop talking about your bottom?’
He smiles. ‘What do you think?’
All want is a good night’s sleep. I can’t believe I am going to agree to this. ‘Yes.’
A huge smile spreads across his face. ‘That’s great. I will build the wall. Nelly, I need something like this as I can’t carry on living the way I have been, and I need to start writing again.’
‘Make sure it is a high wall.’
He chuckles and gets to his feet. ‘Don’t worry, it will be.’
Oh, God, what have I agreed to?