Chapter 46
Aunt Polly texted me while I was on my way to work.
She apologised for missing my message last night and was glad Nigella had got me home safely.
I left out the part where I screamed and hit the steering wheel every time Nigella spat out a CD, turned off her radio, or stalled whenever she felt like it.
Aunt Polly didn’t need to know that. She and Hilary had a lovely time together after I left, although she had to go to bed at eight because she was exhausted.
She told me she’s had the best Monday morning in ages as Hilary made her breakfast in bed. That brought a smile to my face.
‘Are you missing him?’ Miranda is meant to be opening the bookshop doors but is lingering near the till where I am standing. ‘I hear he’s returned to London. It didn’t work out.’
I lie and shake my head. She doesn’t need to know that he has never left my mind for more than ten minutes.
‘He has a few issues,’ says Miranda. ‘Let’s hope being back in London will help.’
I feel a prickle of irritation and recall how little she told me about him. ‘You didn’t say anything about all that scandal he went through a few years ago.’
She lets out a nervous laugh. ‘Didn’t I? Sorry about that.’
She gestures to her outfit. A floaty floral dress and sandals. ‘My stylist’s advice for this week is for me to look like a romcom goddess who’s just been frolicking in a meadow.’
‘That’s lovely,’ I say, forcing out a smile.
In my lunch break, I sit in the back room and read Mum’s notebook.
I get to the last few pages and then her entries change.
1st July 2001
I watched a couple on the bus today. She was laughing at something he whispered. Her face was open and unguarded. Everything changed when I got off the bus and touched her arm.
I blink and stare at Mum’s words.
After rubbing my eyes, I reread the last sentence. My heart is hammering inside my chest. All saliva in my throat has evaporated. The word ‘touched’ is triggering for me. It makes me think of my curse.
The question that is on my mind is whether Mum was cursed too. I assumed it had started in me because of the car crash, but recently, since Henry mentioned the argument between our mothers, I’ve been considering that Mum had it too.
With a trembling hand, I turn over the page.
2nd July 2001
Some people believe love is like a form of light. It burns so brightly until it flickers out. But for people like Penelope and me, it isn’t light we see, it’s endings. Quiet, inevitable endings of love. Some gentle. Some brutal. Some that never have the chance to have a proper beginning.
My jaw is hanging open, and my eyes are so wide with shock they are almost popping out of their sockets. Mum and I share a curse.
I thought it made me cold towards others and isolated. I thought I was unlovable. But it wasn’t me. It was the knowing. I know how things fall apart. When you possess this ability, it’s hard not to become wary of people and terrified of forming connections. You learn to look and not touch.
Mum’s handwriting has become blurry. Tears have rushed to my eyes. They start to pour down my cheeks. I try to wipe them, but more keep coming.
I reach out and run my finger over the pages. ‘Oh, Mum, you don’t know what this means to me. Knowing you suffered with this curse means that I am not alone.’
There is no date.
I didn’t understand the gift at first. I thought I was cursed. I have spent years pretending I didn’t feel the weight of it, but I know now that pretending doesn’t make it go away. I can’t take back all the moments I held myself back from love. But I can write this now for you, Penelope.
It doesn’t have to make you afraid. One day, someone will hold out their hand, and you’ll want to take it. You’ll want to try – even if you don’t know how the story ends.
Maybe you’ll be lucky to touch someone and see nothing at all.
I’m sorry I force you to wear those awful white gloves. You don’t have a skin condition. I was protecting you. I knew you had the gift from a young age, and I didn’t want you to suffer like I have done. When you’re older, we will talk about it.
I never saw anything when I touched your father. It was the most terrifying thing of my life, but he showed me that it’s not the ending that matters. It’s everything in between. It’s about deciding to begin.
Much love, Mum.
P.S. Swimming helps with the gift. It helps our minds find peace, and in the water we don’t have to worry so much about touching anyone.