Eva and her boyfriend, Rex, are here somewhere but keep sneaking off to the quieter book sections.
Aunt Polly and Hilary are standing behind me. They have been like two lovestruck teenagers ever since I reunited them, and there’s talk of a wedding once my aunt is in remission. They’ve come over specially to see Oliver’s author talk. Hilary drove, and according to my aunt, she never left the fast lane.
I feel a tug on my hand. Alfie looks up at me with his huge brown eyes and outstretches his little arm. With a smile, I pull him up into my arms. Getting to know Alfie has been great for me. Oliver and Molly have agreed a co-parenting rota and Oliver now has Alfie for two full days. Alfie has helped me to stop paying attention to other people’s love stories and he’s shown me a different type of love.
Oliver walks out to a warm burst of applause, looking like a fashion model who accidentally wandered into a bookshop. His white fitted shirt is rolled up to his sleeves, his hair is wavy, and he’s beaming from ear to ear.
He waves and sits down. Miranda rushes over with a mic. He takes it from her. ‘Hello, I’m Oliver James and I write love stories.’
Everyone claps, and a few of the girls on the rugs give him a whistle.
‘Thank you for coming to this event. It means a lot to me. Writing about love is one of my passions in life because love is everywhere. It’s in the stolen glances, shared coffees and the holding of someone’s hand.’
He goes on to talk about his journey as an author and how he achieved publication. Miranda has placed a stack of his pink books by the chair, and he explains the story behind each one. He comes across as comfortable and at ease. The audience loves him, and they laugh at all his jokes and the funny story about the time he met his agent and accidentally knocked coffee all over her. Once he concludes his talk, he asks for questions.
Hands shoot up across the bookshop. He picks a woman from the second row of chairs. Miranda races over with a mic.
She smooths down her frizzy brown hair and takes a breath. ‘In a recent interview, you said you’d stopped writing. Are you back to writing now, and what made you return to it?’
He glances over at me, standing by the display table. ‘For a long time, I stopped writing. I had stopped believing in the very thing I was writing about. Love had started to feel like fiction. And then a special person entered my life. She became a voice in the darkness that made me want to listen more, so I returned to the page.’ He holds my gaze. ‘To the woman who made me believe again and reignited my heart. I know how difficult it has been for you to take a chance on me, and I love you so much, Nelly.’
My heart swells as Alfie whispers, ‘Daddy.’
Oliver will never know how different my life was before he entered it. He made me break free from the shackles of my gift and believe in love. My gift will always be a part of me, but Oliver has shown me it’s not about the ending of love that matters, but everything in between. It’s about deciding to give love a chance and choosing to start. I have also learnt that heartbreak hurts, but it is survivable. I know now that if he had not come back into my life, I would have been okay. My gift will continue to show me the dangers of heartbreak, but it will never again have as much power over me. I, Nelly Blake, am a believer in love.
* * *
1
‘Could you order this book for me, please?’ the man asks. ‘It’s titledCurses and How to Break Them, by the author J.K. Fielding.’
I flinch, accidentally knocking the box of glittery pens off the till counter and onto the floor. There’s no time to pick them up. A man and a woman are standing in front of me. He is in his mid-twenties with pale blue eyes and styled blond hair. The woman is about his age, with wavy brown hair and is gazing adoringly at him. She turns to me and gushes with pride, ‘Marcus is doing some research on curses.’
Raising an eyebrow at Marcus, I ask, ‘Academic interest or personal issue?’
I already know the answer to this. He’s not battling a troubling curse dressed in a designer short-sleeved polo shirt, sunglasses perched on his head and flashing me that charming, lopsided smile.
He chuckles. ‘Academic. I’ve heard this book on curses is…’
My brain loses control of my mouth, and words I would never dream of saying to a customer fly off my tongue. ‘Save your money. It’s not that good. This author, J.K. Fielding, doesn’t know what he’s talking about.’
Marcus blinks, caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting me to have read J.K. Fielding’s lengthy book and to have formed an opinion on the author’s thoughts about curses.
The young woman rushes to Marcus’s aid like she’s his own personal bodyguard. Casting me a frosty look, she says, ‘I think Marcus will be the judge of the book, thanks.’
Her clipped tone spikes my agitation. Marcus rewards her with a kiss.
I tap the book’s details into the computer and request a copy. ‘It will take three to five working days. Do you want to collect, or shall I get it delivered?’
‘I will collect,’ he says, reaching for one of the bookmarks that are on sale at the till counter.
His girlfriend pulls a disapproving look. ‘They look trashy, Marcus.’
He waves his phone near the card machine while words jostle on my tongue. I want to tell her that the bookmarks are not trashy, and, if she must know, I spent hours painstakingly searching for a local supplier who could make bookmarks with the name ‘Once Upon a Spine’ on the front.
As they walk away, I bend down to pick up the glittery pens and hear Marcus’s girlfriend. ‘So rude. What would that woman on the till know about curses anyway?’
Her words echo inside my head. What would I know about curses?
