Has she not listened to anything I have said?
‘Think about the money we could both earn from your gift.’
‘You don’t understand.’ My voice wobbles. Irritation bubbles inside me. ‘Every time I meet someone, I see how love ends.’ The face of the man from the bookshop who bought his wife a cycling book comes rushing back to me, triggering a series of aches in my chest.
She lets out an excited shriek. ‘We could be rich. I can see the advert now.’ I watch as a dreamy, faraway expression takes hold of her face. ‘Meet Mystic…’ She falters. ‘Sorry, what’s your name again?’
‘Nelly.’
To my horror, she screws up her face. ‘Nelly? We would have to give you a magical name.’ She draws an imaginary poster square in the air with her fingers. ‘The poster would read: “Meet Mystic Nelwynna, who will predict how your love will end.”’ She lets out a contented sigh.
I am wasting my time here, and I am not being called Nelwynna as it would sound like I sing to woodland creatures in my spare time.
My face feels hot and my heart is thudding.
Before she can say another word, I leave and hurry out of her garage in tears.
4
I wake up frightened after a cold drop of water lands squarely on my forehead. The brown stain on my ceiling, which I reported to Gary, my landlord, a few months ago, is now leaking. I told him it had started after a bad storm and that I thought it was a roof issue. He dismissed what I said with a shrug and a grin. ‘Old buildings get stains, Penelope,’ he’d said. ‘It’s all part of their character.’
He didn’t hear me mutter under my breath, ‘Character, my arse, Gary.’
After showering and dressing, I go downstairs to his basement flat to report the leak and gloat. A small, petty part of me enjoys being right, but that joy only lasts a few seconds.
Gary comes to the door in a grubby dressing gown and old slippers that look like they’ve been half-chewed by a pack of wild dogs. His wiry black hair appears slicked back with grease. He casts me a creepy smile, revealing a row of his yellow-stained teeth, and says, ‘Calm down, Penelope.’
The familiar prickle of agitation I get when I speak with Gary makes me clench my fists. I have told him countless times that I am called Nelly. My parents named me Penelope. Becoming Nelly after the car crash made my life easier. Gary, however, continues to ignore my wishes regarding my name.
‘I’ll look at your ceiling later.’ He hands me an envelope, as if it were a birthday card. ‘You’ve saved me a trip,’ he said. ‘It’s a rent increase. Sorry.’
Gary is never sorry.
My name, Penelope Blake, is scrawled across the front in his distinctive, messy handwriting, which always gives me serial killer vibes.
I rip open the envelope in front of him. My heart is pounding. The rent is already extortionate on my bookshop wage. Once the numbers stop dancing, my mind begins to process the increase. The extra amount I will need to find makes my stomach drop.
‘I know it’s an increase, but times are hard.’
Tears rush to my eyes. I blink furiously to stop them from rolling down my cheeks.
‘Tell you what,’ says Gary. ‘If you have a friend who wants to share, I am happy for you to split the pain.’ Something flickers across his face. ‘There were two of you when you moved in. You and… Eva.’
The way he softly pronounces my ex-flatmate’s name is tinged with creepiness and turns my stomach.
Gary had a soft spot for Eva. When Eva and I were flatmates, the rent never increased. Any issue, no matter how small, was resolved seconds after Eva complained. Gary couldn’t do enough for her, and the flat practically glowed.
Waves of guilt still crash over me when I think about how my friendship with Eva ended. She was one of my few friends, and I ruined it. I want to blame my curse, but honestly, it was me.
‘Would Eva come back?’ Gary’s beady, dark eyes have grown wide. ‘I miss seeing her smiling face.’
I don’t want to discuss Eva with Gary, and I don’t want a new flatmate either.
Feeling gloomy, I return to my flat and rest Gary’s letter against Mum’s vase on my hallway table. The slender white vase always lifts my spirits. I stare at it for a few moments, and a smile spreads across my face. It’s one of the few keepsakes that remind me of my parents. Dad used to come home with flowers, and Mum would laugh about not having a lovely enough vase for them – especially when they were tulips, her favourites. One evening, he brought home both a colourful bunch and this slender white vase. We had a lot of fun arranging them.
I will deal with the rent increase later. Grabbing my bag, I spot a flash of silvery, grey fur out of the corner of my eye. My heart sinks, and I get ready to stop Lenny, my cat, from escaping. He’s been doing this a lot lately. I’ve told him repeatedly that he’s an indoor cat, but he thinks he knows best. If only he could understand that I don’t have many people in my life, mainly because of my curse, and that if he ever escaped, my heart would break.
I am quicker than him, and I win the battle. Holding him in my arms, I bury my face in his fur as he emits engine-like purrs. ‘Mummy needs you, Lenny Spartapuss.’
