‘Who – the other guy?’
Jamie smirked. ‘No, Ollie.’
I glanced at Oliver, who cast me one of his sorrowful looks. ‘Punching is not one of my strengths.’
By this point, I was at the end of my exhausted tether. ‘Oliver, do you think you could go out for once and not kick any kerbs, argue at a taxi rank or lose your keys? Also, could you come home QUIETLY? And not wake me up?’
Oliver hung his head and Jamie mouthed the word ‘sorry’ to me.
After I’d cleaned up my floor and Jamie had helped sort out Oliver’s nosebleed, I managed to fall back asleep.
I look at Miranda. ‘Did Oliver go out a lot when he stayed with you?’
She laughs. ‘Nelly, he’s a handsome bachelor. He’s enjoying himself with half the young female population of this town.’
From what I’ve seen of Oliver, I’m not getting the sense he’s enjoying himself with the ladies. He’s too busy causing himself unnecessary minor injuries, forgetting his keys and making a racket in the small hours.
‘He’s a bit chaotic – don’t you think?’
Miranda blinks in astonishment. ‘Nelly, he’s a bestselling author – chaos is part of the author package. Oliver can come and be chaotic with me any time he likes.’ She lets out a dreamy sigh, then tilts her head to one side and gives me a serious look. I can tell she’s about to offer some of her life advice. ‘For God’s sake, let the man live.’
I open my mouth, but she ignores me and changes the subject. ‘Rosie has spent her life studying her subject. You could write what she doesn’t know about magic on the back of a postage stamp.’
Rosie, the expert in all things magical, might have the solution to lifting my curse. Excitement takes hold of me, and I forget all about my nocturnal flatmate.
I crane my neck to look in the box Miranda is carrying. ‘What’s in there?’
‘Fairy lights, bunting that I think looks mystical and glittery things,’ explains Miranda. ‘Readers who go to Rosie’s book signing table will be in for a real treat.’
The box makes me think of Cynthia’s garage.
Miranda pauses, turns around, and approaches the counter. ‘In Rosie’s book, there’s a chapter on love pouches and spells. There are also instructions on how to make them. Last night, I made Frank a special love pouch. Nelly, I am desperate. According to Rosie’s book, the aroma will seep into his brain and make him think about love.’
‘Doesn’t Frank have a lot of allergies? Did you check the ingredients of this pouch?’
She smiles. ‘He will be fine. I have put it under his side of the mattress.’
I find something to do underneath the counter in the hope Miranda will take a hint and go away.
‘It contains rosemary, flower petals and a lock of my hair. He can’t be allergic to my hair.’
‘Oh.’ I rustle some of our paper bags to give the impression I am busy.
‘That’s not all, Nelly,’ she gushes, the excitement lifting her voice a few octaves.
Miranda is gearing up to tell me something.
‘Last night I also cast a special love spell. I lit some cinnamon sticks, whispered our names into a jar of honey and rubbed wax on my…’
Sweet Jesus! I shoot up from behind the counter too quickly and bump my head. ‘Ouch – that hurt. Miranda, I don’t want to know.’
She giggles. ‘I will let you know if all these spells work, and you can try them on Oliver.’
I groan as she walks away with a hop and a skip.
To take my mind off my exhaustion and Miranda’s attempt at a love spell, I restack the new-fiction display table and serve a few customers.
I also perform a small miracle when a woman asks me to help her find ‘that book with the blue cover that was on TV last year.’ It takes me a while to find it, but to my frustration, she buys another book.
