She gestures towards the romance display table. ‘Oliver is an international best-selling author who has been struggling for some time to write. You need to do all you can to help him create those wonderful romance books of his.’
‘Oliver has a desk in his bedroom. If he’s desperate to write, he can do it in there.’
With a flutter of her false eyelashes, she offers me a saccharine smile and tilts her head in a patronising way. ‘If I were in my thirties, single and sharing a flat with Oliver, I would do whatever he wanted.’ Her eyes brighten and she giggles like a lovesick teenager.
I can’t listen to this. Grabbing my coffee, I go and calm down in the science fiction and fantasy section. It takes a good hour of shelf tidying to bury my agitation over Oliver James wanting to use my chair.
As I tidy up the display table, I sense someone staring at me. Looking up, I see a young man with black curly hair and blue eyes, wearing designer glasses with thick, square frames. A feeling of familiarity washes over me. I recognise him from somewhere. A friendly smile breaks out across his face. ‘Penelope Blake,’ he gushes. ‘It’s you. Wow – I didn’t expect to find you here.’
I blink several times. He knows my old name. My brain frantically tries to remember who he is.
‘We were at the old swimming club together. Our mothers used to sit next to each other when they watched us train,’ he beams. ‘Don’t you remember me – Henry Stevens?’
I can feel my eyes widening with surprise. My mind has become awash with memories of Henry, the skinny little lad who was my friend at the swimming club and gave me his sweets after training. We used to laugh and fool around when the coaches weren’t looking. I remember Henry left before my world turned upside down. ‘Henry? Is that you?’
‘Yes, it’s me. Do you remember eating all my sweets?’
I giggle. ‘My dentist and I both blame you for my boiled sweet addiction.’
He laughs. ‘We would sit in the sports centre café before training, and you used to hide my bag. I would then get in trouble for being late.’
‘You gave me unnecessary feedback on my crawl stroke.’
He grins. ‘My mum said you were a bad influence.’
We both chuckle. ‘How are you doing?’ I ask. ‘You moved away – right?’
‘Mum and I moved away after my father…’ He pauses and strokes the spine of the book he’s holding. I read the title:The Water Holds Me, by Margo Lane. My eyes flick to Henry’s smile, which has almost gone. I tactfully change the subject. ‘Do you still swim, Henry?’
He laughs. ‘No. After we moved away, swimming wasn’t the same.’ I can hear a phone bleeping. ‘I had no one to mess around with,’ he beams, while reaching for his phone in his back pocket. Henry sends whoever is calling him to voicemail. He lifts his gaze to mine. ‘I must dash as I have a train to catch. Listen, I’m back here in a few weeks with work. Do you fancy going for a coffee sometime? We can reminisce about old times.’
Words jostle on my tongue. I can’t seem to push them out of my mouth.
‘It’s okay, no pressure about the coffee. Hey – do you still have that weird touchy thing?’
My heart grinds to a halt. ‘What?’
He nods. ‘You told me once about how you touch…’
I can’t remember confiding in Henry. My nervous laugh makes him stop talking. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Henry. You must be mistaking me for someone else.’
The urge to get away from him is strong. How dare he call my curse a weird touchy thing! ‘Look, I’m busy…’
His face has dimmed. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. It was nice seeing you, Penelope. I’d better go as I can’t miss my train. Can you keep this book for me? I will collect when I return.’ He hands me Margo’s book. ‘It’s for my mum.’
‘Nelly,’ I mumble. ‘My name is now Nelly.’ After casting him an awkward smile, I flick my eyes to the display table. ‘I will put this book aside. I’d better do some work.’
‘Bye, Nelly.’ He walks away and stops. ‘Say hello to your mum for me.’
My heart stops beating. I spin around to see him standing at the entrance of the section.
‘I know our mothers argued,’ he says, ‘but it was years ago, and my mum says she wishes she’d listened to her…’
Memories of Mum rush into my mind. Henry left the swimming club a few months before the car crash. He doesn’t know what happened to my parents. Tears prick my eyes. If I explain, I will get upset. ‘Goodbye, Henry,’ I say and turn my back on him.
I close my eyes and take some deep breaths. Henry needs to stay in the past. It was a good decision of mine to not accept his coffee offer.
Miranda wanders over. ‘Oliver is excited about moving in tomorrow. Will you be on hand with tea, coffee, and perhaps a light lunch for him?’
