‘What are you cooking?’
I giggle as he touches his nose and winks. ‘That’s a secret. But it will be something from Barbara’s book.’
‘I’m visiting my aunt tomorrow. I won’t be back until about six.’
He nods. ‘That’s fine with me. I will wait.’
‘Mr Ellis, Oliver has moved back to London.’
Something flickers across his face, and I detect a glint of mischief in his twinkly eyes. What is he up to?
‘We don’t need him, Nelly.’ He laughs. ‘Do you remember where I live?’
The thought of him slaving over a hot stove worries me. ‘Yes, I do. Please don’t go to a lot of trouble. I would be happy with a sandwich.’
‘I want to say thank you. I’ll see you at six.’
I watch him heave himself out of the chair and lean on his stick.
‘See you tomorrow, Mr Ellis.’
Before he hobbles away, he winks at me. ‘Looking forward to it.’
* * *
It’s early evening. I am in my happy place, the swimming pool.
I have spent the last hour or so travelling up and down the pool. It’s quiet tonight as people are outside enjoying the summer evening. I am now resting in the shallow end and thinking about my aunt and Hilary. Their story goes against everything my gift has taught me. They have shown me that love isn’t about first chances. Sometimes it’s about the second ones. The kind that proved the first heartbreak wasn’t the end, just the beginning of something more profound. Love can come back as something softer, wiser and more substantial.
Perhaps some endings are not endings. Maybe love has seasons. Some break-ups are like a plant shedding its leaves in the autumn and going back into the soil. When spring arrives, the conditions change, and love grows again.
Mum’s face flashes up inside my mind. Reading her notebook was transformational. I now know why she made me wear those awful gloves. Knowing she also had this gift has made me feel closer to her.
A man has entered the pool. He has the same black curly hair as Henry. My mind drifts back to the last time we saw each other on that dreadful day when Nigella’s tyre burst. I recall standing on the hard shoulder and him passing me the blanket and cap. I gasp as I remember the vision I saw when I touched Henry. His love for someone ended when he was on the side of the motorway watching a figure standing in front of him. My heart falters. That was me. He was looking at me.
Oh, God. The memory of him in the coffee shop and in the car trying to tell me something.
Was he going to ask me out on a date? I gulp.
Was Henry in love with me? This is new territory for me. I have seen myself in a vision.
He must have watched me stare into the distance and yearn for Oliver. Henry hasn’t been in contact since. I feel a twang of guilt. There was never an attraction on my part. He was a good friend to me, and I will always be grateful for him showing me Margo Lane’s book.
As I kick off from the side and start to swim, I think of Oliver and I hope he’s happy. It will take time for me to forget about him, but I am no longer alone. I have Lenny, Eva, Aunt Polly, Hilary, Mr Ellis and my newfound love of swimming. The water will always be my friend.
My gift is still with me, and I have accepted it will never go. With everyone’s help I am going to find a way of living with it and not let it stop me when I eventually meet Mr Right.
48
Mr Ellis answers the door. The huge smile on his face at seeing me makes me giggle. ‘Nelly,’ he cries. ‘Come inside.’
As I step inside, I notice something I missed when Oliver and I were here before. Mr Ellis’s hallway is narrow and softly lit. The pale wallpaper is slightly faded with age. A quiet gallery of memories unfolds along the length of the wall. There are framed photographs of Joan, some in black and white, others in muted colours. In one, she’s young, laughing in the sun with a book on her lap. In another, she stands in a kitchen wearing her pink apron. There are wedding photos, travel pictures, and candid moments. Joan is still here, and so is his love for her. It’s embedded in these photos, and it is between the pages of Barbara Plum’s recipe book. Love doesn’t die. It lives on.
As I head for the living room, a delicious cooking smell greets my nostrils. Mr Ellis has been busy.
I walk into the living room, and I spot the dining table is laid for… three.
Mr Ellis is standing by his mantlepiece, and someone is coming out of his kitchen.
