Chapter 31
When I get home, the flat is empty apart from Lenny.
Oliver must be out. I’m looking forward to another night of sharing a bed with him.
I want to tell him about my swim. I wish I could say that after my unexpected dip in the sea, all my worries were washed away, and when I emerged, I gained a new perspective on life.
However, that’s not what happened. I was so cold that I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering; it took me over an hour to warm up, and every part of me ached.
As I trudged back to Aunt Polly’s, my shoes squelched and I questioned whether going swimming had done me any good.
What I didn’t expect was Aunt Polly’s reaction when I told her.
She pulled back her bed covers, hauled herself up and pulled me into the biggest hug ever.
As the padlock vision returned and my world became muffled, I let my body relax in her warm embrace.
‘Nelly,’ she said when sound had returned, ‘I am so proud of you for doing that. This is the first step towards healing.’
I noted the return of that word.
By the time I go to bed, Oliver still isn’t back. I lie on my side of the pillow wall and wonder whether he’ll break our agreement of not waking me up. My heart aches at the thought. I try to stay awake for as long as possible. Eventually, sleep finds me.
In the morning, when I wake, his side is empty.
My mind begins to consider possible reasons why he didn’t come home.
Maybe he met someone and went home with her.
Maybe Rory’s sister made a reappearance.
This unsettles me. I tell myself that Oliver is a single man, and he can do whatever he wants.
Just because we happen to have a bizarre bed-sharing agreement doesn’t mean he has to live the life of a monk.
I get up and get myself ready for work.
On the way to the bookshop, I look for a suitable song to soothe my anxious mind – the trouble is, there are zero songs about sharing a bed with your handsome male flatmate due to a plumbing leak – while also wondering, purely hypothetically of course, if he’s seeing other women.
‘Hello, Nelly,’ says a familiar male voice. The bookshop has been quiet. Miranda is coming in later after she’s talked to Frank, so I am sneakily trying to finish Margo’s book behind the counter. I look up to see Ben, Amber’s father, standing by the till.
Ben has always looked as if he has been carved straight out of the wild.
He’s built like he could lift a fallen tree and yet possesses a surprising gentleness.
Kate used to say that her husband talks to trees as if they were old friends.
He’s been known to talk terrified cats down from the highest branches, which always earns him a tick in my book.
‘Do you have any maths books for primary school kids?’
I go to show him where the educational section is. I’m about to step out from behind the counter when the doorbell jangles and in walks Alice. She’s wearing wide-legged denim jeans, a white T-shirt and sunglasses perched on the top of her head.
I glance at Alice and then at Ben, who looks mesmerised by her. It’s like he’s witnessing a miracle unfolding before his eyes.
‘Do you want to follow me?’
He’s still staring at Alice, and she’s gazing longingly at his giant forearms, built through years of scaling trees.
‘Earth to—’
‘Uh… Oh yes. I need a maths book for an eight-year-old boy who doesn’t like maths.’
Alice hears this and giggles at Ben. ‘That’s a tall order.’
He smiles and gestures to me. ‘I have faith in Nelly.’
‘Do you want me to show you where the educational books are?’
Ben nods. As we walk past Alice, she grins. ‘Good luck.’
I look back to see if he’s still following me and he’s stood staring at Alice. After an impatient sigh from me, he catches up. ‘Who was that, Nelly?’
‘That’s Alice.’
He seems distracted when I point to the education section.
‘Is she new? I haven’t seen her around.’
‘She’s just moved here.’
I remember the bag behind the counter. I could tell him that someone has found the balloon and miss out the part about Amber’s message.
He spots the maths books and bends down to get a closer look.
Once he picks one – which makes the bold claim that it can get any child interested in maths – we walk back to the counter. I glance back at Ben, who’s still surveying the bookshop.
‘You okay there?’
‘I’m looking for Alice. Is she still here?’
Inwardly, I groan. The last thing this poor man needs is romance. ‘She’s probably got somewhere else better to go.’
He pays for the book, and before I get a chance to give him the bag with the balloon inside, he has hurried away.
I think about Alice and what I said about Kate’s kids.
Was it wrong of me to say they were a handful?
I shake off a twinge of guilt as I recall both Alice and Ben’s faces earlier when they saw each other for the first time.
They couldn’t stop looking at each other.
There was a definite spark of attraction.
I recall what Oliver said about giving love a chance. No, I can’t do it.
Henry enters the shop at the same time Miranda appears to relieve me for my lunch break. ‘Good timing,’ he beams. ‘How about that coffee now?’
Half of me wants to make an excuse but the other half of me wants to have a coffee with an old friend. ‘Let me grab my bag.’
As we leave the book shop, I think about my theory, and I make sure my wrist brushes Henry’s hand. The vision featuring him watching the person wearing the cap on the hard shoulder of a motorway remains unchanged. I can add Henry’s name to my list.
We sit by the window in the café, which is off the main high street.
He sits opposite me, and I find myself comparing him to Oliver.
Henry’s mass of unruly black curls is striking to look at, but they don’t have the same pull as Oliver’s wavy brown hair.
Oh, God, what is happening to me? I am becoming obsessed with Oliver James.
This must stop. Our coffees arrive, and I notice Henry is staring at me.
His blue eyes are warm and friendly, but they don’t hold the same intensity as Oliver’s dark eyes.
Henry lives in West London but works away a lot, and his job involves data and things I will never understand.
His mum lives nearby in London, and what makes me smile is that he’s still close to his nan.
He always used to talk about his nan when we were at the swimming club.
Back then, she had a motorbike and many tattoos, which Henry thought was cool.
He asks me about life in the bookshop. I talk about Miranda and what it’s like to work for her.
He chuckles often. ‘You haven’t lost your sense of humour, Nelly.
Miranda sounds like an interesting person.
Can I ask what made you change your name? ’
My chest tightens and I take a breath. Henry listens intently as I tell him about how my parents died and how I went to live with Aunt Polly, how Mum and Dad called me Penelope and how I found life easier being called Nelly after they died.
For a moment, he doesn’t speak or blink; he just stares at me.
‘Nelly, I’m so sorry,’ he says, softly. ‘That must have been so hard for you.’
‘My aunt was amazing. She was my rock.’ I sense I need to lighten the tone as Henry looks like he’s on the verge of tears. ‘She also made me throw away my little gloves.’
He smiles. ‘I liked your white gloves. You should have said you had a calling to be a mime artist.’
We both giggle. The conversation lightens when Henry talks about his memories of the swimming club. We laugh at our younger selves and how we thought we were amazing at crawl.
‘You were much better than me at crawl,’ says Henry, before sipping his coffee. ‘I remember wondering whether you were half girl, half fish.’
I smile and think back to how good it feels to be swimming again.
‘Do you remember when you beat that girl in a race – the one who we hated?’ he asks. ‘She was in our group and had short black hair. Was she called Suzie? She teased you about your gloves in the café afterwards?’
The memory of Suzie making everyone laugh at my gloves makes me feel uncomfortable.
‘Why did your mum force you to wear them?’
I fidget in my chair. ‘A skin condition on my hands.’ I check my phone and realise I need to get back to the bookshop. Henry nods as I get to my feet.
‘I’m sorry about what happened to your parents. I will tell my mum, and I know she will be upset. She and your mum had a terrible argument which I know she now regrets.’
I recall him saying this when he first came into the shop, but I was too mixed up with everything to notice. ‘What was the argument about?’
Something flickers across his face. ‘Dad was having an affair with someone from his office and your mum knew about it.’
How did Mum know about this? I blink several times. ‘Really? How did my mother know your father? He never came to watch you swim.’
He shakes his head. ‘That was the odd thing. Your mum had never met my dad. It was a shock. I mean, you can imagine my mother’s reaction when someone who didn’t know our family started saying these things…’
I gulp as the café goes on a nauseating tilt.
Reaching out, I grab onto a chair. Why does this sound familiar?
Did Mum have my curse as well? Surely she would have said something.
Mum loved me. She wouldn’t have let me battle my curse alone.
No, she did not have my curse. I shove the idea to the darkest depths of my mind.
‘Nelly, are you okay?’ Henry looks concerned. ‘Have I said something to upset you?’
I shake my head. ‘No. I need to get back. Thanks for the coffee.’
We say our goodbyes, and he promises to call into the bookshop again. I hurry back to work, telling myself repeatedly that Mum did not have my curse.
The bookshop is busy and the afternoon flies by. When I get home and enter the living room, Oliver is sitting on the sofa. He looks up as I walk over to my chair.
‘Hi, Nelly. How are you?’
‘Good,’ I say, which is a lie. Ever since my coffee with Henry, my mind has been awash with thoughts about Mum and my curse. I need to lock them away at the back of my mind and perhaps mention what Henry said to Aunt Polly.
He rubs his face. ‘I fell asleep on Jamie’s sofa. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I thought about coming home, but I didn’t want to break our agreement, so I stayed where I was.’
At least he’s now thinking of me and being considerate. I am also a little relieved that he didn’t go home with another woman.
‘Oh, okay, thanks.’
He passes me the book which is balancing on his knee. ‘It’s Miguel’s book.’
I gasp. ‘How did you get a copy?’
‘I spoke to my editor, who is Spanish, and she managed to get hold of a copy.’ His face lights up. ‘We can help Juliet. I will say this is my gift to her.’
‘But what if Miguel is happily married and…’
He stands up. ‘Nelly, we have to give a love a chance.’
His words echo inside my head. We have to give love a chance. This still sounds alien to me.
His dark eyes hold my gaze for longer than necessary. A fluttery sensation takes over my chest.
‘I’m going to cook some tea,’ he says softly. ‘Do you want some?’
‘What are you making?’
He smiles. ‘I took a screenshot of Barbara Plum’s chicken casserole and I have the ingredients.’ My heart swells.