Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine

‘Raymond,’ I said, ‘it’s really not that unusual a story. Plenty of people grow up in far, far more challenging circumstances; it’s simply a fact of life.’

‘Doesn’t make it right, though,’ he said.

‘I always had a bed to sleep in, food to eat, clothes and shoes to wear. I was always supervised by an adult. There are millions of children in the world who can’t say the same, unfortunately. I’m a very lucky person, when you think about it.’

He looked like he was going to cry – it must be all the wine. It does make people overly emotional, so they say. I could feel the unasked question hovering between us like a ghost. Don’t ask, don’t ask, I thought, wishing as hard as I could, crossing my fingers under the blanket.

‘What about your mum, Eleanor? What happened to her?’ I gulped the rest of my wine down as fast as I could.

‘I’d prefer not to discuss Mummy, if that’s all right, Raymond.’

He looked surprised, and – a familiar response, this – slightly disappointed. To his credit, he didn’t pursue the topic.

‘Whatever you want, Eleanor. You can talk to me any time, you know that, don’t you?’

I nodded; I found, to my surprise, that I did.

‘I mean it, Eleanor,’ he said, the wine making him more earnest than usual. ‘We’re pals now, right?’

‘Right,’ I said, beaming. My first pal! Granted, he was a poorly turned out computer repair man with a range of unfortunate social habits, but still – pals! It had certainly taken me a long, long time to acquire one; I was well aware that people of my age usually had at least one or two friends. I hadn’t tried to shun them, and neither had I sought them out; it had just always been so difficult to meet like-minded people. After the fire, I never managed to find anyone who could fit the spaces that had been created inside me. I can’t complain; it was entirely my own fault, after all. And anyway, I’d moved around so much during my childhood that it was hard to keep in touch with people, even if I’d wanted to. So many foster placements, all those new schools. At university, I’d fallen in love with classics, happily devoting myself to my work. Missing a few nights out at the Union to get top marks and generous praise from my tutors had felt like a fair exchange. And, of course, for a few years, there had been Declan. He didn’t like me to socialize without him. Or, indeed, with him.

After graduating, I’d gone straight to working at Bob’s firm, and heaven knew there were no like-minded people there. Once you get used to being on your own, it becomes normal. It certainly had become so for me.

Why, now, did Raymond want to be my friend? Perhaps he was lonely too. Perhaps he felt sorry for me. Perhaps – incredible, this, but, I supposed, possible – he actually found me likeable. Who knew? I turned towards him, wanting to ask why, wanting to tell him how glad I was to have finally found a friend, but his head had fallen onto his chest and his mouth was slightly open. He sprang back to life quickly, though.

‘Wasn’t sleeping,’ he said, ‘just … resting my eyes for a minute. It’s been a hell of a day.’

‘It has,’ I said, and I meant it. I slipped my kitten heels on and asked if he could call me a taxi. I was horrified to see that it was almost nine. I peered anxiously between the curtains. It was dark now. It would be safe in the taxi, though. The drivers were all checked by the police, weren’t they?

Raymond walked me down to the front of the building and opened the cab door.

‘Safe home, Eleanor,’ he said. ‘Have a good weekend. See you Monday, yeah?’

‘See you Monday, Raymond,’ I said, and I waved until the taxi turned the corner and I could no longer see him.

24

@johnnieLrocks

Farewell Pilgrim Pioneers gig alert! Ending on a bang not a whimper. Details to follow.

#dontmissit #gigofthecentury #ditchingthedeadwood

THIS TIME, IT WAS going to be perfect. I’d seen his tweet, and then, only hours later, my eyes locked onto the small poster in the window of the independent record shop near the office. His handsome face stopped me dead in my tracks. Two weeks’ time. A Tuesday night. Perfect. The hand of fate once again, moving us like chesspieces. I had the king in my sight.

Remembering my error from The Cuttings, I memorized the name of the venue and, as soon as I got home, booked two tickets via their website, the second one as backup in case I lost the first. Perhaps Raymond could use it, come with me; although, on reflection, perhaps not. I wouldn’t want him cramping my style. Purchasing two tickets turned out to be unnecessary, however, as it was only after the transaction was completed that I noticed the tickets were to be collected in person on the night. No matter.