‘Nelly, you and I need to start giving love a chance,’ says Oliver.
His words make my body tense. ‘But we know what?—’
He interrupts me. ‘We both need to heal, and I believe helping people like Mr Ellis and Juliet will be good for us.’
I think about Juliet and how she’s had no contact with Miguel for twenty-five years. ‘Oliver, it’s been years since she saw Miguel.’
He pauses and then says, ‘Love has a way of lingering. Years pass; lives change but our hearts still remember.’
I think of Mr Ellis and how the love for his wife has lingered. It’s still in his eyes and between the pages of Barbara Plum’s recipe book. ‘You might have a point.’
‘Are you going to see your aunt tomorrow?’
‘Yes, she has chemo.’
‘What’s her name?’
I smile into the darkness. He wants to know my aunt’s name.
‘She’s always been Aunt Polly to me.’
I can feel Oliver turning over. I think he might be facing the pillow wall. ‘Does Aunt Polly live on her own?’
‘Yes, she does – in Tide-Leigh which is on the coast. Years ago, she lived with her girlfriend, Sandra, but they split up.’
‘Oh, I see. Did you like Sandra?’
‘She had hair like Rapunzel. That was the only good thing about her. She was seeing the woman across the street behind my aunt’s back.’
‘I don’t like Sandra now either,’ he says, making me smile. ‘Tell me about Aunt Polly.’
‘She’s Dad’s sister and became my legal guardian when I was nine. I barely knew her before the crash.’
‘Wow – so she raised you?’
‘Yes. She’s sweet, lovely, and funny.’
I can hear him turning over his pillow. ‘Is there anyone special in Aunt Polly’s life?’
‘Not romantically.’ I think about Hilary and the letter tucked inside the photo album. ‘My aunt had a best friend called Hilary who was terrific. She and my aunt fell out ten years ago and they haven’t spoken since.’
‘That’s sad. Do you know why they fell out?’
‘No idea. I wish I knew because I know Hilary would want to know Aunt Polly’s having chemo. My aunt used to call Hilary her fourth emergency service.’
I hear him chuckle. ‘I need a Hilary in my life.’
Happy memories of my aunt and Hilary deluge my mind. ‘The two of them were always going on holiday and having wild times. They were the best of friends, and no problem was ever too big for Hilary to solve. My aunt would call Hilary and six minutes later we would hear a screech of tyres, a car door slam and the sound of Hilary’s heels coming up the garden path. Hilary was like our version of the cavalry.’
‘Hilary sounds like a legend. Have you ever thought about tracking her down?’
‘I think my aunt would be cross. Every time I mention Hilary, she looks like she’s angry with me. What I don’t understand is why she’s decorated her hallway with photos of them when they were younger.’
I explain about how I found a photo album, and behind one of the photos was an envelope containing a letter from Hilary.
He gasps. ‘Oh. Did you look inside?’
‘No, I felt like I was invading Aunt Polly’s privacy.’
