‘Does Lenny go outside?’ Oliver asks. ‘Figgy went outside, and despite only having three legs, she was a phenomenal hunter.’
‘Three legs?’
He nods. ‘I got her from a cat rescue place ten years ago, as no one wanted her.’
I’m staring at him while my hand is frantically giving him loads of ticks for this act of kindness.
‘So Lenny? Does he go outside?’
‘Lenny is an indoor cat, although lately he’s been trying to escape.’
Oliver nods and says with an air of confidence, ‘He won’t get past me, so don’t worry.’
‘What’s your daily routine?’
He sits up straight. ‘I get up at a reasonable hour.’
That’s another tick from me.
‘I spend the rest of my day staring at a blank laptop screen,’ he continues, ‘doomscrolling on social media and watching YouTube videos about how to write books.’
Glancing up from my notepad, I cast him a quizzical look. ‘You have written many books. Why do you watch YouTube videos on how to write? Surely, once you’ve written one, you know how to do it again.’
He shakes his head. ‘My brain blocks out the trauma of writing my previous books, so when I sit down to write something new, it’s like I am starting as a new writer.’
‘Have you had writer’s block before?’
‘Nope.’
‘What do you like to do on an evening?’
‘Well, as I’ve just moved back to this part of the world, I’ve been catching up with my mate, Jamie, a lot. He’s just bought a flat in town, which he’s renovating. We also like a game of pool.’
Hearing about his friend and their love of playing pool earns him another tick in my book. This could be an advantage for me. We wouldn’t have to interact much, as I work during the day, and he would go out in the evening.
‘You’ve lived here before?’
He nods. ‘I grew up in Bristol. My mates and I used to come here for a night out. I moved to London after university, and then Dad moved to Cornwall.’
He smiles at Lenny and scratches him under the chin.
‘Why have you moved back here?’ I ask.
He pauses and the light dims in his face. ‘The London life wasn’t for me any more.’
There’s more to that answer, but he doesn’t elaborate. I make a mental note and move on to the next question. ‘How neat or messy are you?’
He runs a hand through his wavy hair. ‘I’m mostly a tidy guy.’
‘Mostly?’
I observe a mischievous glint in his eyes. ‘Nobody’s perfect.’ He grins, which makes my heartbeat accelerate. I find myself scribbling down the words,Watch his dangerous smile, Nelly.
I look down at the next question. ‘What would you say are your annoying habits?’
He crosses his legs. ‘I’ve been told I talk in my sleep.’
‘Well, if you don’t talk too loudly, I’ll be happy. Any other bad habits?’
