I gasp. It’s Oliver.
‘Hello, Nelly,’ Oliver says as my heart goes berserk. ‘I hope you don’t mind me joining you and Mr Ellis tonight.’
‘No… umm…’ I’m struggling to get my words out. He looks different. His stubble has gone, his brown hair has been styled, and he’s wearing a crisp blue shirt with beige jeans.
‘Nelly, I’m not letting you or Alfie go.’
His words rob me of my breath. ‘What?’
He nods and I notice his hands are twitching by his sides. It’s as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. ‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what’s important – or who, I should say – is important to me. I’ve also signed up for some counselling, which is something I should have done years ago, and I found a buyer for my flat.’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
He walks towards me. ‘I’m going to fight for you and Alfie. I have been behaving like a child.’
His dark eyes lock on to mine with a newfound intensity. ‘I won’t let you go. I fell in love with you over our pillow wall and I don’t want us to end.’
Tears rush to my eyes as he takes me in his arms. My heart falters. There still is no flash of light or vision.
‘Say something, Nelly.’
‘Oliver,’ I whisper.
He presses his lips against mine and his kiss is electrifying.
His words are still echoing inside my head. My heart is a gooey mess. Oliver fell in love with me over the pillow wall and he’s returned. He breaks for air and smiles. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’
I gaze into his eyes. He has come back because he loves me. This is something my curse has never shown me. It is quick to show me endings, but not what happens after two people have walked away and then realise they still love each other.
Mr Ellis starts to clap and cheer, which makes us both laugh. ‘Can we eat now?’
I bury my head in Oliver’s shoulder, and he presses his face in my hair.
We all sit down at Mr Ellis’s table and Oliver puts a plate of casserole in front of us. I look up at Mr Ellis. ‘I can’t believe you have gone to so much trouble to make this, Mr Ellis.’
He laughs. ‘Firstly, call me Roger, and secondly, it wasn’t me who cooked this.’
Oliver comes to sit next to me and squeezes my hand under the table. I turn to him. ‘Did you cook this?’
‘Nelly,’ he says, softly, ‘I had a lot of making up to do. I needed to pull together my best team. The other day I came to see Roger and we hatched a plan. Jamie brought over the ingredients last night and today I cooked the casserole.’
Roger laughs. ‘I love keeping a secret. Was I convincing in the bookshop?’
‘I didn’t suspect a thing.’
Oliver beams at Roger. ‘How is the casserole?’
‘It’s not as good as Joan’s,’ says Roger, with a wink, which makes us chuckle.
After we’ve had a cup of tea, washed up and tidied away, Oliver and I say goodbye to Roger. ‘Do you promise to visit soon?’ he asks.
Oliver nods. ‘Let’s make this a weekly visit. What do you think, Nelly?’
‘I would love that.’
‘Promise me you’ll bring your little son next time too, Oliver.’
‘I will and your tidy living room will not be the same again,’ Oliver says, jokingly.
