‘Mum and I moved away after my father…’ He pauses and strokes the spine of the book he’s holding. I read the title:The Water Holds Me, by Margo Lane. My eyes flick to Henry’s smile, which has almost gone. I tactfully change the subject. ‘Do you still swim, Henry?’
He laughs. ‘No. After we moved away, swimming wasn’t the same.’ I can hear a phone bleeping. ‘I had no one to mess around with,’ he beams, while reaching for his phone in his back pocket. Henry sends whoever is calling him to voicemail. He lifts his gaze to mine. ‘I must dash as I have a train to catch. Listen, I’m back here in a few weeks with work. Do you fancy going for a coffee sometime? We can reminisce about old times.’
Words jostle on my tongue. I can’t seem to push them out of my mouth.
‘It’s okay, no pressure about the coffee. Hey – do you still have that weird touchy thing?’
My heart grinds to a halt. ‘What?’
He nods. ‘You told me once about how you touch…’
I can’t remember confiding in Henry. My nervous laugh makes him stop talking. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Henry. You must be mistaking me for someone else.’
The urge to get away from him is strong. How dare he call my curse a weird touchy thing! ‘Look, I’m busy…’
His face has dimmed. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. It was nice seeing you, Penelope. I’d better go as I can’t miss my train. Can you keep this book for me? I will collect when I return.’ He hands me Margo’s book. ‘It’s for my mum.’
‘Nelly,’ I mumble. ‘My name is now Nelly.’ After casting him an awkward smile, I flick my eyes to the display table. ‘I will put this book aside. I’d better do some work.’
‘Bye, Nelly.’ He walks away and stops. ‘Say hello to your mum for me.’
My heart stops beating. I spin around to see him standing at the entrance of the section.
‘I know our mothers argued,’ he says, ‘but it was years ago, and my mum says she wishes she’d listened to her…’
Memories of Mum rush into my mind. Henry left the swimming club a few months before the car crash. He doesn’t know what happened to my parents. Tears prick my eyes. If I explain, I will get upset. ‘Goodbye, Henry,’ I say and turn my back on him.
I close my eyes and take some deep breaths. Henry needs to stay in the past. It was a good decision of mine to not accept his coffee offer.
Miranda wanders over. ‘Oliver is excited about moving in tomorrow. Will you be on hand with tea, coffee, and perhaps a light lunch for him?’
I bite my lip and shake my head. ‘Oliver will be moving in by himself. I am out for the day.’
Tomorrow is Aunt Polly’s first chemo session. I told Oliver he could move in alone and get accustomed to the flat. He agreed and asked if he could prepare a meal for both of us when I get home. ‘A moving-in celebratory meal,’ he said, his eyes twinkling. I tried to put him off by saying I wouldn’t be in the mood for celebrations when I get home, but he was annoyingly persistent. He doesn’t know about Aunt Polly, and I don’t plan on telling him. There are many things that I don’t want Oliver to know, and this is one of them.
Miranda gasps. ‘You’re not going to help him settle in?’
‘Oliver is a grown man, Miranda,’ I snap. ‘I am sure he can move a few boxes from his car and carry them up to my flat. If you’re so concerned about Oliver’s welfare, why don’t you let him live with you?’
She lets out a heavy sigh. ‘Frank’s mother is moving in with us for a while. She hasn’t been the same since her hip operation.’
‘How do you feel about that?’
With a shake of her head, she sighs. ‘His mother is a difficult and bitter woman. Nothing positive has come out of her mouth for decades.’
‘I’m sure she’ll be grateful that you’re looking after her.’
Miranda scoffs. ‘Pigs might fly.’
We are distracted by a customer: an elderly man with tufty white hair and twinkling pale-blue eyes. Miranda leaves me to deal with him while she sorts out paperwork in the back room.
‘Can I help you?’ I beam at the old man.
‘Hello,’ he says in a gravelly voice. ‘I am trying to track down a book.’
He hands me a crumpled piece of paper. In scrawly handwriting, it says,Barbara Plum’s Family Cookbook.
‘I’ve never heard of Barbara Plum. Let me have a look.’ I gesture for him to follow me to the till. Once there, I type the title into the laptop.
