I have spent the last hour or so travelling up and down the pool. It’s quiet tonight as people are outside enjoying the summer evening. I am now resting in the shallow end and thinking about my aunt and Hilary. Their story goes against everything my gift has taught me. They have shown me that love isn’t about first chances. Sometimes it’s about the second ones. The kind that proved the first heartbreak wasn’t the end, just the beginning of something more profound. Love can come back as something softer, wiser and more substantial.
Perhaps some endings are not endings. Maybe love has seasons. Some break-ups are like a plant shedding its leaves in the autumn and going back into the soil. When spring arrives, the conditions change, and love grows again.
Mum’s face flashes up inside my mind. Reading her notebook was transformational. I now know why she made me wear those awful gloves. Knowing she also had this gift has made me feel closer to her.
A man has entered the pool. He has the same black curly hair as Henry. My mind drifts back to the last time we saw each other on that dreadful day when Nigella’s tyre burst. I recall standing on the hard shoulder and him passing me the blanket and cap. I gasp as I remember the vision I saw when I touched Henry. His love for someone ended when he was on the side of the motorway watching a figure standing in front of him. My heart falters. That was me. He was looking at me.
Oh, God. The memory of him in the coffee shop and in the car trying to tell me something.
Was he going to ask me out on a date? I gulp.
Was Henry in love with me? This is new territory for me. I have seen myself in a vision.
He must have watched me stare into the distance and yearn for Oliver. Henry hasn’t been in contact since. I feel a twang of guilt. There was never an attraction on my part. He was a good friend to me, and I will always be grateful for him showing me Margo Lane’s book.
As I kick off from the side and start to swim, I think of Oliver and I hope he’s happy. It will take time for me to forget about him, but I am no longer alone. I have Lenny, Eva, Aunt Polly, Hilary, Mr Ellis and my newfound love of swimming. The water will always be my friend.
My gift is still with me, and I have accepted it will never go. With everyone’s help I am going to find a way of living with it and not let it stop me when I eventually meet Mr Right.
48
Mr Ellis answers the door. The huge smile on his face at seeing me makes me giggle. ‘Nelly,’ he cries. ‘Come inside.’
As I step inside, I notice something I missed when Oliver and I were here before. Mr Ellis’s hallway is narrow and softly lit. The pale wallpaper is slightly faded with age. A quiet gallery of memories unfolds along the length of the wall. There are framed photographs of Joan, some in black and white, others in muted colours. In one, she’s young, laughing in the sun with a book on her lap. In another, she stands in a kitchen wearing her pink apron. There are wedding photos, travel pictures, and candid moments. Joan is still here, and so is his love for her. It’s embedded in these photos, and it is between the pages of Barbara Plum’s recipe book. Love doesn’t die. It lives on.
As I head for the living room, a delicious cooking smell greets my nostrils. Mr Ellis has been busy.
I walk into the living room, and I spot the dining table is laid for… three.
Mr Ellis is standing by his mantlepiece, and someone is coming out of his kitchen.
I gasp. It’s Oliver.
‘Hello, Nelly,’ Oliver says as my heart goes berserk. ‘I hope you don’t mind me joining you and Mr Ellis tonight.’
‘No… umm…’ I’m struggling to get my words out. He looks different. His stubble has gone, his brown hair has been styled, and he’s wearing a crisp blue shirt with beige jeans.
‘Nelly, I’m not letting you or Alfie go.’
His words rob me of my breath. ‘What?’
He nods and I notice his hands are twitching by his sides. It’s as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. ‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what’s important – or who, I should say – is important to me. I’ve also signed up for some counselling, which is something I should have done years ago, and I found a buyer for my flat.’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
He walks towards me. ‘I’m going to fight for you and Alfie. I have been behaving like a child.’
His dark eyes lock on to mine with a newfound intensity. ‘I won’t let you go. I fell in love with you over our pillow wall and I don’t want us to end.’
Tears rush to my eyes as he takes me in his arms. My heart falters. There still is no flash of light or vision.
‘Say something, Nelly.’
‘Oliver,’ I whisper.
He presses his lips against mine and his kiss is electrifying.
His words are still echoing inside my head. My heart is a gooey mess. Oliver fell in love with me over the pillow wall and he’s returned. He breaks for air and smiles. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’
