Before we left, I sent Eva a text message to ask if she can feed Lenny. She has a key to the flat and was going over today to say hello to Gary, who I am sure will be elated.
I need some music. I turn on the car radio and find a decent station playing eighties hits. Aunt Polly often sleeps through my music when I take her back from chemo, so I know she won’t mind. I’m halfway through enjoying a Duran Duran song when Nigella decides she’s heard enough and switches off the radio. I try to turn it back on, and a few seconds later Nigella switches it off again. Muttering under my breath, I reach into the glove compartment and pull out an eighties CD. After shoving it in and pressing play, the sound of A-Ha fills the car and soothe my anxious mind.
She’s just spat out the CD and now I cannot get the radio or the CD player to work. ‘You are a nasty piece of work, Nigella,’ I mutter under my breath as I’m forced to drive the rest of the journey in silence.
Aunt Polly wakes up as Nigella stalls for the third time at a roundabout. I’m close to losing my rag with this car. We’re on the outskirts of Exeter, and Nigella has misbehaved non-stop for the past ten miles. The air in the car is blue.
‘Talk nicely to her, Nelly,’ my aunt advises from the back of the car. ‘Nigella is a delicate soul.’
‘She’s a car,’ I groan as I feel my seatbelt starting to tighten. This is Nigella’s payback.
Aunt Polly looks out of the window and sees a sign for Exeter. ‘Nelly… where are you taking me?’
‘It’s a surprise,’ I say, getting Nigella to start and trying to make it across the roundabout.
She gasps. ‘Please tell me you’re not?—’
I interrupt her. ‘Taking matters into my own hands. Yes, I am doing that.’
‘No,’ she says. ‘Hilary can’t see me at my worst. I want to wait until I’m in remission, and I have hair.’
‘You’re not at your worst.’
‘I don’t have any hair.’
I shake my head. ‘Love can’t wait for your hair to grow back.’
‘This is madness, Nelly.’
I look at her shocked face in the rearview mirror. ‘You’re right about that. I’m becoming a supporter of love and romance.’
As we pull into Hilary’s street, I send a load of silent prayers to God.
Please let Hilary be home. Please let Hilary be home.
I park Nigella opposite number 43 and look up at the little terraced house. My heart has started to pound away inside my chest, and all the saliva in my mouth has evaporated.
For a few seconds, I grip the steering wheel and close my eyes. ‘Believe, Nelly,’ I whisper. ‘Believe.’
I flick my eyes open and clamber out. I help Aunt Polly out of the back seat. She casts me a look of terror. ‘I can’t do this.’
I stroke her face, and as she’s trembling, I put my arms around her. There is a flash of light and when it clears, I see the hand with the silver padlock bracelet. The world goes quiet as my vision passes and Aunt Polly looks up at Hilary’s house. When the sound of the wind rustling the trees and a distant police siren returns, I look at my aunt. ‘When I touch you, I see a hand holding yours. The owner of the hand is wearing a silver bracelet with a padlock charm.’
She smiles at me. ‘I bought it for Hilary many years ago. I have the same one but from mine hangs a tiny key.’ To my surprise she pulls up her jumper sleeve and there it is.
‘Wow.’
‘It’s not a curse that you have, Nelly. It’s a wonderful gift.’
As we walk up the path, someone clears their throat in the garden opposite. I turn to see an older man pruning his roses. ‘Hilary’s out. She left early this morning.’
My stomach takes a nosedive. Driving all this way without checking to see whether Hilary was home was a stupid idea.
I feel Aunt Polly’s hand on my shoulder. ‘Let’s go home. She could be anywhere.’
We walk back to the car. ‘I think we should wait for a bit.’
‘It wasn’t meant to be.’
