‘It’s okay,’ I mumble.
‘It meant a lot to you – the vase – yes?’
I nod and wipe a stray tear. ‘It belonged to my mum. She’s no longer with us.’
Jamie lets out a heavy sigh. ‘He got a text message from someone who had upset him. We ended up drinking back at my flat.’
‘Thanks for apologising.’
‘It’s no excuse, but he’s going through a rough time.’
I watch my tea bag tear apart in my mug of hot water and spew its tea leaves, which adds to my frustration. This flat share with Oliver isn’t working. I can’t carry on like this. Maybe having a flatmate wasn’t a great idea. Perhaps I should have tried to cope with my financial woes differently.
‘He’s a good guy – honest.’
‘Is this why he’s not writing?’
Jamie sighs. ‘Yes. I wish he would talk about what’s going on in his life as even I am getting tired of this non-stop drama.’
‘Is there something I should know about?’
‘Molly…’ He stops. ‘I am going to let Oliver tell you himself. Goodnight, Nelly.’
I sit at the kitchen table with my notebook, sipping my tea, and make a list of all the things that are not working with this flat-sharing arrangement. After jotting down all the times Oliver has woken me up, the secret cuddles he’s given Lenny when I am not around and him knocking over Mum’s vase, my mind wanders. I picture him and find myself writing – ‘buttons undone on shirt a lot’ and ‘dangerous smile’.
* * *
I didn’t get back to sleep until five. My eyes feel puffy, and it’s an effort to haul my tired body out of bed. The pungent aroma of bay leaves greets my nostrils and makes me gag as I leave my bedroom and head for the bathroom.
Luckily, there is no sign of Oliver. As I pass his closed bedroom door, I think about Mum’s smashed vase. Maybe I could find some glue and piece it back together?
Jamie’s voice echoes inside my head. Who is Molly, and what has happened between her and Oliver? Is she the reason why he doesn’t believe in love?
After I’ve showered, fed Lenny, and grabbed my bag, I head to work. Outside, I’m greeted by a bright blue sky and golden sun rays, which take away my sadness about Mum’s vase.
I wonder whether the bay leaves lifted my curse. This could be the start of my new curse-free life. It’s time to get a takeaway coffee and somehow touch the young barista’s hand to see if the bay leaves worked. My hopes soar as he prepares my drink.
Behind him is a noticeboard with a photo of him and an attractive young woman with long blonde hair pinned up. They seem to be in the middle of a jungle, surrounded by thick green vines. Their cheeks are pressed together, and they’re both wearing huge ear-to-ear smiles. I feel they are madly in love.
This is my pivotal moment. All those stinky bay leaves under my mattress must have got rid of my curse. I could touch his hand and see nothing. He and his adventurous love interest look happy together. I don’t want to know how their love ends. I take a deep breath and pray that Rosie Flint knew what she was talking about when she suggested my friend stick bay leaves under her mattress. I recall Miranda telling me that Rosie was knowledgeable about hexes and magic. I am feeling confident.
I ensure our hands briefly brush as he passes me my cup, and my heart sinks. A flash of white light captures my attention.
I see him performing CPR on the young woman with blonde hair. They are at the edge of a rainforest and on the bank of a fast-flowing river. Her hair is wet, and her clothes are sodden. He has pulled her from the river. The CPR doesn’t work, and I watch him start to sob over her lifeless body.
Excellent – a flat white, flavoured with disappointment at Rosie Flint’s naff advice and an extra shot of tragedy.
I should never have listened to Rosie Flint. Embarrassment for believing in the magical power of bay leaves engulfs me. Why did I waste so much money on so many of them? I did the same after I’d read J.K. Fielding’s book and got my hopes up about herbal cleansing baths and trails of salt. A little voice from deep inside me whispers back,You’re desperate, Nelly. You want to be normal like everyone else.
Perhaps it’s time to accept that I will always have my curse.
Maybe I am destined to be on my own for the rest of my life?
Tears sting my eyes as I make my way to work. After wiping my eyes, I take my mind off bay leaves, Rosie Flint, Oliver’s late-night shenanigans, and my curse by sending a text message to Aunt Polly to ask how she is and tell her that I’ll be over to see her tomorrow.
It’s been a busy morning. I haven’t had a chance to give Miranda feedback on today’s outfit – a tiny black dress that’s more like a belt. She keeps strutting past me and gesturing towards it. ‘Before you ask, Nelly, Frank was too busy this morning lubricating his bike chain with WD40 to notice what I am wearing. My online stylist thinks he’s a lost cause.’ She lets out a fake laugh. I know she’s hurting.
There’s a queue at the till. Waves of exhaustion are crashing over me. I might have to ask Miranda for a nap at lunch.
