We sit by the window in the café, which is off the main high street. He sits opposite me, and I find myself comparing him to Oliver. Henry’s mass of unruly black curls is striking to look at, but they don’t have the same pull as Oliver’s wavy brown hair. Oh, God, what is happening to me? I am becoming obsessed with Oliver James. This must stop. Our coffees arrive, and I notice Henry is staring at me. His blue eyes are warm and friendly, but they don’t hold the same intensity as Oliver’s dark eyes.
Henry lives in West London but works away a lot, and his job involves data and things I will never understand. His mum lives nearby in London, and what makes me smile is that he’s still close to his nan. He always used to talk about his nan when we were at the swimming club. Back then, she had a motorbike and many tattoos, which Henry thought was cool. He asks me about life in the bookshop. I talk about Miranda and what it’s like to work for her. He chuckles often. ‘You haven’t lost your sense of humour, Nelly. Miranda sounds like an interesting person. Can I ask what made you change your name?’
My chest tightens and I take a breath. Henry listens intently as I tell him about how my parents died and how I went to live with Aunt Polly, how Mum and Dad called me Penelope and how I found life easier being called Nelly after they died. For a moment, he doesn’t speak or blink; he just stares at me. ‘Nelly, I’m so sorry,’ he says, softly. ‘That must have been so hard for you.’
‘My aunt was amazing. She was my rock.’ I sense I need to lighten the tone as Henry looks like he’s on the verge of tears. ‘She also made me throw away my little gloves.’
He smiles. ‘I liked your white gloves. You should have said you had a calling to be a mime artist.’
We both giggle. The conversation lightens when Henry talks about his memories of the swimming club. We laugh at our younger selves and how we thought we were amazing at crawl.
‘You were much better than me at crawl,’ says Henry, before sipping his coffee. ‘I remember wondering whether you were half girl, half fish.’
I smile and think back to how good it feels to be swimming again.
‘Do you remember when you beat that girl in a race – the one who we hated?’ he asks. ‘She was in our group and had short black hair. Was she called Suzie? She teased you about your gloves in the café afterwards?’
The memory of Suzie making everyone laugh at my gloves makes me feel uncomfortable.
‘Why did your mum force you to wear them?’
I fidget in my chair. ‘A skin condition on my hands.’ I check my phone and realise I need to get back to the bookshop. Henry nods as I get to my feet.
‘I’m sorry about what happened to your parents. I will tell my mum, and I know she will be upset. She and your mum had a terrible argument which I know she now regrets.’
I recall him saying this when he first came into the shop, but I was too mixed up with everything to notice. ‘What was the argument about?’
Something flickers across his face. ‘Dad was having an affair with someone from his office and your mum knew about it.’
How did Mum know about this? I blink several times. ‘Really? How did my mother know your father? He never came to watch you swim.’
He shakes his head. ‘That was the odd thing. Your mum had never met my dad. It was a shock. I mean, you can imagine my mother’s reaction when someone who didn’t know our family started saying these things…’
I gulp as the café goes on a nauseating tilt. Reaching out, I grab onto a chair. Why does this sound familiar? Did Mum have my curse as well? Surely she would have said something. Mum loved me. She wouldn’t have let me battle my curse alone. No, she did not have my curse. I shove the idea to the darkest depths of my mind.
‘Nelly, are you okay?’ Henry looks concerned. ‘Have I said something to upset you?’
I shake my head. ‘No. I need to get back. Thanks for the coffee.’
We say our goodbyes, and he promises to call into the bookshop again. I hurry back to work, telling myself repeatedly that Mum did not have my curse.
The bookshop is busy and the afternoon flies by. When I get home and enter the living room, Oliver is sitting on the sofa. He looks up as I walk over to my chair.
‘Hi, Nelly. How are you?’
‘Good,’ I say, which is a lie. Ever since my coffee with Henry, my mind has been awash with thoughts about Mum and my curse. I need to lock them away at the back of my mind and perhaps mention what Henry said to Aunt Polly.
He rubs his face. ‘I fell asleep on Jamie’s sofa. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I thought about coming home, but I didn’t want to break our agreement, so I stayed where I was.’
At least he’s now thinking of me and being considerate. I am also a little relieved that he didn’t go home with another woman.
‘Oh, okay, thanks.’
He passes me the book which is balancing on his knee. ‘It’s Miguel’s book.’
I gasp. ‘How did you get a copy?’
‘I spoke to my editor, who is Spanish, and she managed to get hold of a copy.’ His face lights up. ‘We can help Juliet. I will say this is my gift to her.’
