Гейл Ханимен - Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine

Copyright

Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2017

Copyright © Gail Honeyman 2017

Cover design: Holly MacDonald © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2017

Jacket photography © Plain Picture / Hanka Steidle

Extract of The Lonely City (2016) by Olivia Laing reproduced by permission from Canongate Books Ltd

Gail Honeyman asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008172114

Ebook Edition © May 2017 ISBN: 9780008172138

Version 2017-04-10

Praise for Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine

‘Eleanor Oliphant is a truly original literary creation: funny, touching, and unpredictable. Her journey out of dark shadows is expertly woven and absolutely gripping’

Jojo Moyes, Me Before You

‘A highly readable but beautifully written story that’s as perceptive and wise as it is funny and endearing … warm, funny and thought-provoking’

Observer

‘At times dark and poignant, at others bright and blissfully funny … a story about loneliness and friendship, and a careful study of abuse, buried grief and resilience. A debut to treasure’

Gavin Extence, The Universe Versus Alex Woods

‘Gail Honeyman’s Eleanor Oliphant is a woman scarred by profound loneliness, and the shadow of a harrowing childhood she can’t even bear to remember. Deft, compassionate and deeply moving — Honeyman’s debut will have you rooting for Eleanor with every turning page’

Paula McClain, The Paris Wife

‘So powerful — I completely loved Eleanor Oliphant ’

Fiona Barton, The Widow

‘An absolute joy, laugh-out-loud funny but deeply moving’

Daily Express

‘One of the most eagerly anticipated debuts of 2017 … heartbreaking’

Bryony Gordon, Mad Girl

‘Unusual and arresting’

Rosie Thomas, The Kashmir Shawl

‘Warm, quirky and fun with a real poignancy underneath’

Julie Cohen, Falling

‘Dark, funny and brave. I loved being with Eleanor as she found her voice’

Ali Land, Good Me Bad Me

‘A roaring success. Readers will fall in love with this quirky, yet loveable character and celebrate as life turns out a little differently than she anticipated’

Instyle.co.uk

Dedication

For my family

‘ … loneliness is hallmarked by an intense desire to bring the experience to a close; something which cannot be achieved by sheer willpower or by simply getting out more, but only by developing intimate connections. This is far easier said than done, especially for people whose loneliness arises from a state of loss or exile or prejudice, who have reason to fear or mistrust as well as long for the society of others.

‘ … the lonelier a person gets, the less adept they become at navigating social currents. Loneliness grows around them, like mould or fur, a prophylactic that inhibits contact, no matter how badly contact is desired. Loneliness is accretive, extending and perpetuating itself. Once it becomes impacted, it is by no means easy to dislodge.’

Olivia Laing, The Lonely City

WHEN PEOPLE ASK ME what I do — taxi drivers, dental hygienists — I tell them I work in an office. In almost nine years, no one’s ever asked what kind of office, or what sort of job I do there. I can’t decide whether that’s because I fit perfectly with their idea of what an office worker looks like, or whether people hear the phrase work in an office and automatically fill in the blanks themselves — lady doing photocopying, man tapping at a keyboard. I’m not complaining. I’m delighted that I don’t have to get into the fascinating intricacies of accounts receivable with them. When I first started working here, whenever anyone asked, I used to tell them that I worked for a graphic design company, but then they assumed I was a creative type. It became a bit boring to see their faces blank over when I explained that it was back office stuff, that I didn’t get to use the fine-tipped pens and the fancy software.

I’m nearly thirty years old now and I’ve been working here since I was twenty-one. Bob, the owner, took me on not long after the office opened. I suppose he felt sorry for me. I had a degree in Classics and no work experience to speak of, and I turned up for the interview with a black eye, a couple of missing teeth and a broken arm. Maybe he sensed, back then, that I would never aspire to anything more than a poorly paid office job, that I would be content to stay with the company and save him the bother of ever having to recruit a replacement. Perhaps he could also tell that I’d never need to take time off to go on honeymoon, or request maternity leave. I don’t know.

It’s definitely a two-tier system in the office; the creatives are the film stars, the rest of us merely supporting artists. You can tell by looking at us which category we fall into. To be fair, part of that is salary-related. The back office staff get paid a pittance, and so we can’t afford much in the way of sharp haircuts and nerdy glasses. Clothes, music, gadgets — although the designers are desperate to be seen as freethinkers with unique ideas, they all adhere to a strict uniform. Graphic design is of no interest to me. I’m a finance clerk. I could be issuing invoices for anything, really: armaments, Rohypnol, coconuts.

From Monday to Friday, I come in at 8.30. I take an hour for lunch. I used to bring in my own sandwiches, but the food at home always went off before I could use it up, so now I get something from the high street. I always finish with a trip to Marks and Spencer on a Friday, which rounds off the week nicely. I sit in the staffroom with my sandwich and I read the newspaper from cover to cover, and then I do the crosswords. I take the Daily Telegraph , not because I like it particularly, but because it has the best cryptic crossword. I don’t talk to anyone — by the time I’ve bought my Meal Deal, read the paper and finished both crosswords, the hour is almost up. I go back to my desk and work till 5.30. The bus home takes half an hour.