She smiles. ‘One day you will see that love is about the glorious starts and the lovely middle bits.’
‘But what about the pain and heartbreak?’
She shrugs. ‘We all get through it, Nelly. Yes, there are days when you’re going through that, and all you want to do is lie on the sofa, eat cereal and binge-watch sad films, but it’s survivable. It also teaches you things like if you have suspicions about your boyfriend fancying your sister, it’s probably best to do something about them as opposed to ignoring the smell of her perfume on his clothes and pretending he didn’t murmur her name when he was asleep.’
An awkward feeling passes over me. ‘Really?’
‘Nelly, I blamed you when I had been ignoring the signs for ages. I got through the break-up. It was hard, but I did it, and I am still here smiling – aren’t I?’
‘You are, Eva.’
‘Sometimes, heartbreak is nothing more than a few days wandering around the house feeling sad and eating cereal. Sometimes you don’t feel right for a few months, like an annoying dose of the flu. Sometimes it is like standing in the eye of a hurricane as, once the winds stop, your old world has been destroyed.’ She looks at me. ‘But you will get through it. How was the picnic? You never updated me.’
‘There was nothing to tell. He does know how to put a good picnic spread together, though.’
She giggles. ‘I love it.’
‘I’m sorry about my curse, Eva.’
‘I don’t care about your curse, Nelly. You are more important than Rex’s secret dating profiles.’
We both laugh and I am flooded with a lovely warm feeling. Eva is back in my life and she’s not afraid or angry about my curse.
As I head back to the bookshop, I find myself reflecting on what she said about heartbreak. She says it’s survivable and love isn’t about the endings. Maybe there is hope for me?
38
‘Happy birthday, Nelly,’ gushes Aunt Polly as she opens the door. She goes to hug me but sees my wet hair. ‘I see you’ve been for an early morning swim.’
‘It was my birthday, so I thought – why not? The water was lovely, and I swam for ages. I could do with a shower, though.’
She laughs. ‘Come inside, go get freshened up and we will go to The Sailing Boat café for a birthday treat.’
‘Are you sure?’
She nods. ‘The fresh sea air will do me good.’
Once I have showered and washed my hair I come downstairs.
I watch as my aunt surveys my outfit. ‘Nelly, you look great.’
This morning, after I woke up, I put on my swimming costume under my clothes, and I also decided to pack a different outfit for once I’d showered after my swim. I remembered the other evening, of the picnic, standing in front of my mirror and feeling good. I also recall the look Oliver gave me when he saw me step out of my bedroom. I return to the part of my wardrobe I had once closed off after Eva left. My fingers flicked through the hangers. I pulled out a white shirt and some blue jeans, folded them neatly and put them in my bag.
I do feel different standing in my aunt’s hallway, wearing my white shirt and smart blue jeans. I have also let my hair down and not put it into a bun.
It’s a slow walk to the café, but it’s nice as Aunt Polly and I walk arm in arm along the promenade. We make frequent stops to watch the salty waves break on the shore, while excited children race across the golden sand. I recall floating in the sea earlier, watching the sunshine dance on the surface like golden glitter being poured onto blue paint. I remember feeling a sense of relief as I let the sea hold me. I’d seen an upsetting vision on the train, and it had been on my mind as I entered the water; a woman finding her husband in bed with her boss. The water seemed to carry away my sad thoughts. When I got out, I felt lighter and excited about my birthday.
On the last stop, Aunt Polly turns to me with watery eyes. ‘I tried to bake you a birthday cake, but I felt so terrible this morning and…’
‘What is it?’
She puts her hands over her face. ‘I had a disaster. The kitchen is a mess,’ she says through her fingers.
‘You don’t need to bake me a cake, and I’ll clear everything away.’
She takes her hands away and shakes her head. ‘You’re not tidying up the kitchen on your birthday, Nelly.’
I smile at her. ‘I am, and you’re too weak to fight me.’
