‘She had hair like Rapunzel. That was the only good thing about her. She was seeing the woman across the street behind my aunt’s back.’
‘I don’t like Sandra now either,’ he says, making me smile. ‘Tell me about Aunt Polly.’
‘She’s Dad’s sister and became my legal guardian when I was nine. I barely knew her before the crash.’
‘Wow – so she raised you?’
‘Yes. She’s sweet, lovely, and funny.’
I can hear him turning over his pillow. ‘Is there anyone special in Aunt Polly’s life?’
‘Not romantically.’ I think about Hilary and the letter tucked inside the photo album. ‘My aunt had a best friend called Hilary who was terrific. She and my aunt fell out ten years ago and they haven’t spoken since.’
‘That’s sad. Do you know why they fell out?’
‘No idea. I wish I knew because I know Hilary would want to know Aunt Polly’s having chemo. My aunt used to call Hilary her fourth emergency service.’
I hear him chuckle. ‘I need a Hilary in my life.’
Happy memories of my aunt and Hilary deluge my mind. ‘The two of them were always going on holiday and having wild times. They were the best of friends, and no problem was ever too big for Hilary to solve. My aunt would call Hilary and six minutes later we would hear a screech of tyres, a car door slam and the sound of Hilary’s heels coming up the garden path. Hilary was like our version of the cavalry.’
‘Hilary sounds like a legend. Have you ever thought about tracking her down?’
‘I think my aunt would be cross. Every time I mention Hilary, she looks like she’s angry with me. What I don’t understand is why she’s decorated her hallway with photos of them when they were younger.’
I explain about how I found a photo album, and behind one of the photos was an envelope containing a letter from Hilary.
He gasps. ‘Oh. Did you look inside?’
‘No, I felt like I was invading Aunt Polly’s privacy.’
He pauses before saying, ‘I would have looked inside. In that envelope could be a clue as to why they fell out.’
‘Would you?’
‘Yes. They could have fallen out over something insignificant and now be too stubborn to apologise. I already feel strongly about Aunt Polly, and she needs all the support she can get right now.’
‘You might have a point.’
‘If I had someone as special as Aunt Polly in my life, I would move mountains for them.’
I lie awake for ages thinking about Aunt Polly, Hilary, and what he said earlier about healing. The word ‘healing’ makes me think of Margo’s book.
Once again, I hear him talking in his sleep. This time, he’s murmuring something about big red trucks. I lie awake for a few moments and wonder whether he is a fan of them. He’s never mentioned this. I make a mental note to ask him.
30
There’s a time and a place for Oliver James’s dazzling smile, and seven in the morning, after he’s spent over an hour in the bathroom, is not it.
‘Good morning, Nelly,’ he chirps.
I’ve been waiting outside the bathroom door like a Dickensian orphan, listening to him apply a hair mask and talk to himself about how long his bout of writer’s block will last.
My eyes are puffy, my patience is wearing thin, and he’s standing there dripping, fresh from the shower, his damp hair cascading down his forehead like he’s stepped out of a romantic comedy. His dressing gown slips slightly. Just enough to reveal a triangle of tanned skin on the chest. Something inside me stirs. It looks divine. I try to suppress it. I tear my eyes away, my cheeks flushing.
‘Everything okay, Nelly?’
‘Yes,’ I mumble, and he walks away whistling.
