Three Amazing Things About You

by Jill Mansell

  Feeling a bit weird, Flo picked up the phone. ‘Hi, Patrick’s driving at the moment. We’re twenty minutes from Bristol. He says he’ll be with you by nine.’

  ‘Ah, that’s brilliant, thanks so much. Is that Flo?’ Dawn sounded friendly. ‘Now tell me, what’s he wearing? Does he look half-decent?’

  Flo hesitated, then said, ‘He’s fine.’

  ‘Is it the grey corduroy trousers?’

  ‘Dark green corduroy.’

  ‘Red shirt?’

  ‘Red shirt,’ Flo confirmed, amused by the hint of eye-roll on Patrick’s part.

  Keeping his attention on the road ahead, he murmured, ‘She thinks she’s Gok Wan.’

  ‘I hate that red shirt. The cuffs are frayed. OK, tell him to pop home first, have a shower and change into the black trousers and striped green and white shirt I bought him. I’ve fixed him up with a hot date and he needs to impress her.’

  ‘OK, got it,’ said Flo.

  ‘Thanks. And remind him to put on some cologne, too. The good stuff, not the awful one his sister gave him for Christmas. Thanks, Flo. Have you had a good day?’

  ‘Really good.’

  ‘Excellent. Oh, and tell him her name’s Jade. She’s an aerobics instructor, thirty-three, lives in Almondsbury. And she’s great, so we’ll be keeping our fingers crossed – I’m going to get him fixed up with someone lovely if it kills me! OK, bye!’

  Flo relayed the details to Patrick, who shook his head in resignation. ‘Oh God, she’s never going to stop.’

  ‘Jade sounds nice, though.’

  ‘I know. I’m sure she is. It’s just . . . an aerobics instructor.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘Which means she’ll eat really healthy food.’

  During the course of their long day together, Flo had seen Patrick tuck into an organic bison burger, a sausage sandwich, a chicken burrito and a slice of home-made lemon drizzle cake. Which possibly explained his slight paunch.

  OK, more than slight.

  ‘You never know, you might have a great time.’

  ‘True. But it’s still a bit of a joke, being set up on blind dates by your ex-wife.’

  ‘So why not find someone yourself?’

  ‘You’d think it’d be easy, wouldn’t you?’ Patrick’s smile was rueful. ‘It isn’t. Every time I meet someone I like, she turns out to be involved with someone else.’

  ‘Really? Every time?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ He paused, then reached over to turn up the volume on the radio. ‘I like this song. You don’t mind if we listen to it, do you?’

  They carried on down the motorway to Bristol. When they finally reached Clifton, Patrick turned into Caledonia Place. ‘Can I ask you a question?’ he said.

  Expecting it to be something about Margot, Flo nodded. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Are you seeing someone at the moment?’

  Well that had come out of the blue. Caught off guard, she said, ‘Oh! Um . . . well, yes . . . yes, I am.’

  Which was eloquent.

  ‘Thought you probably would be.’ His tone wry, Patrick half smiled. ‘See? There you go, my record remains unbroken.’

  He was telling her he liked her. They’d had such a nice day together. He was good company, not unattractive, in a cosy, unthreatening way. He also had a wonderful aunt and a lovely-sounding ex-wife. For a moment Flo was envious of Jade, who would be meeting him tonight for the first time. She almost wished she could be single herself, released from the hassle of having to deal with Lena Travis, allowed instead to relax into a normal, uncomplicated, angst-free relationship . . .

  Except then she wouldn’t have Zander, which basically wasn’t an option. Nightmarish though his sister might be, Flo knew she couldn’t bear the prospect of not having him in her life. And since he and Lena came as an inescapable buy-one-get-one-free package, she had no choice in the matter other than to put up with it.

  She was in love with Zander Travis. It was as simple as that.

  Patrick brought the van to a halt outside her flat and she smiled at him. ‘Thanks. And just so you know, if you’d asked me out and I was single, I would have said yes.’

  ‘I honestly don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.’ His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘Ah well, story of my life. Thanks for helping me out today, anyway. It’s been fun working with you.’

  ‘Same.’ As she climbed out of the van, Flo said, ‘And good luck with your blind date tonight.’

  Patrick grinned at her. ‘Knowing my luck, she’ll make me do sit-ups.’

  Chapter 31

  It was Sunday the twenty-eighth of April, they were a party of ten at the River Restaurant at the Savoy, and through the windows sunlight was bouncing off the surface of the Thames. Boats were making their way up and down the river, tourists were taking photos of the iconic skyline, and on the South Bank, the Millennium Wheel slowly revolved against a cloud-scattered milky-blue sky.

  Inside the restaurant, Joe was rising to his feet, tapping a fork against his glass and clearing his throat for attention.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, or thereabouts, we’re here today to celebrate my best friend Rory McAndrew’s birthday, and I feel the need to make a speech.’

  ‘Oh God,’ Tasha murmured to Carmel as the rest of the table cheered; there was something about Joe today that was making her nervous.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Carmel was in control as always. ‘I won’t let him say anything embarrassing.’

  ‘Joe?’ Tasha needed to just warn him. ‘You’re not going to tell everyone the story of Rupert’s stag do in Amsterdam, are you.’ It was a statement rather than a question, to indicate just how serious she was.

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’ It was a funny story, but really not suitable for the Savoy.

  ‘It’s OK, I wasn’t going to tell them that one.’ Joe grinned at her.

  ‘Well, good.’

  He winked. ‘They already know about that, anyway.’

  He was impossible. Tasha smiled, gave in and sat back. Basically, if Joe was up to mischief, there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it; he’d say whatever he liked.

  ‘Right, here we go. Rory is my best friend and we’ve known each other for some years now. He’s an excellent chap, always up for a laugh and a dare, and we’ve had our fair share of . . . adventures.’ Pausing to raise a well-timed eyebrow, Joe added, ‘There may have been a few girls involved too, along the way.’

  Oh God, what are you about to come out with?

  ‘Then just a few months ago, on Christmas Eve, in fact, he met a girl who was different from the rest. Her name was . . . dammit, her name was . . .’ He pretended to rack his brains as laughter erupted around the table. ‘OK, got it now, her name was Tasha, and since meeting her, Rory’s been a changed man. As we all know, he fell in love with this girl. And to begin with, I’ll admit I was worried. Because what if my best friend didn’t want to spend time with me any more? What if Tasha didn’t want me spending time with her boyfriend? What if she tried to fob me off with her best friend and I couldn’t stand the sight of her – ow.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ Carmel, having prodded the back of his hand with her fork, smiled sweetly up at him. ‘That was an accident.’

  ‘But luckily, very luckily, none of those things happened. Tasha is wonderful and I love her like a sister. She and Rory are perfect for each other, as we all know. And Carmel has a huge crush on me, which is perfectly understandable but I’m playing it cool for the moment, because . . . well, just because I’m a pretty cool kind of guy.’

  More laughter greeted this statement, because if there was one thing Joe wasn’t, it was cool.

  ‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘Rory is twenty-six today, and life continues to be a brilliant adventure. So can we all raise our glasses to the birthday boy and wish him well?’ Holding his glass aloft, Joe solemnly pronounced the toast: ‘Happy birthday to you, and may the next year be even better than the last.’

  Everyone at the table clinked glasses and choru
sed, ‘Better than the last.’ Then they sang ‘Happy Birthday’, ending with cheers and a round of applause. Even some of the other diners joined in.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Rory when the noise had died down. ‘Nice speech. I could kiss you, but I’d rather kiss my girlfriend instead.’

  ‘That’s unfair,’ said Joe. ‘In fact, it’s sexist.’

  Tasha kissed Rory on the mouth – mwah – then said, ‘It’s because I’m less stubbly.’

  ‘I call it discrimination against men who forgot to shave this morning. Anyway.’ Producing an envelope from his jacket pocket, Joe handed it to his friend. ‘Here’s your birthday present.’

  Rory opened the envelope, took a look at what was inside and started to laugh.

  ‘What is it?’ Carmel leaned past Joe, trying to get a glimpse.

  ‘I’m going for a skydive. We’re going for a skydive,’ Rory corrected himself. He held the vouchers up so they could all see. ‘Joe’s bought two, to make sure he doesn’t miss out. As if I’d dream of taking anyone else.’ Clapping his hand on his friend’s shoulder, he said, ‘Joe, this is fantastic. Brilliant. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. Really, thank you.’

  ‘Glad you like it. And of course I’ll be coming along with you. But I won’t be doing the skydive,’ said Joe.

  ‘What? Why not?’ Rory laughed. ‘Oh God, don’t tell me you’re pregnant.’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s all food and beer.’ Joe patted his paunch with pride, then glanced over in Tasha’s direction, and in that moment she knew exactly what he was going to say next. ‘No, I’m not going to be the one jumping out of the plane with Rory. I think Tasha should do it.’

  There it was. She’d been right. Bastard.

  ‘No way,’ she said.

  ‘You might love it,’ said Joe.

  ‘I won’t love it, because I’m not going to do it.’

  ‘Come on, you’re not even giving yourself a chance. Live a little, feel the adrenalin, experience the buzz. You told Rory you aren’t scared to do things, you just don’t want to do them.’

  ‘True.’ Tasha nodded, but beneath the table her palms were prickling with alarm.

  ‘I just think the time has come to give it a go, see if you might have changed your mind. You never know, it could happen. And then you’d be able to share the experience with Rory. Wouldn’t that be better than always saying no to everything?’

  Joe was evidently a man with a mission. Tasha said, ‘You can’t make me do something I don’t want to do.’

  He shrugged. ‘I know that. I’m just giving you the opportunity to surprise us. And yourself. OK, here’s a thought, you could do it for charity. Raise money for a cause you care about. I’d sponsor you.’ He glanced around the table. ‘We all would.’

  Double bastard.

  ‘Hell, kid, you jump out of a plane and I’ll sponsor you.’ An enormous bearded American at the next table waved an arm in the air. ‘Five hundred dollars to start you off, how’s that?’

  The man’s wife chimed in helpfully. ‘You need to set up a JustGiving page so people can donate online. Oh honey, don’t look so alarmed, it’s really easy to do. Only takes a couple of minutes!’

  As if the fact that her heart was jackhammering away inside her ribcage was down to fear of setting up a donation page. And now everyone around her was nodding enthusiastically and promising to sponsor her . . . but only if she wanted to do it, obviously.

  A few seconds later, one of Rory’s other friends said happily, ‘So we’re already up to three thousand pounds. This is brilliant.’

  Which wasn’t the word currently running through Tasha’s mind.

  Rory gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Don’t worry, you can just say no. It’s fine,’ he murmured.

  ‘Let me have a couple of minutes.’ Pushing her chair back, Tasha excused herself and headed for the ladies’ loo. Once inside, she rested her damp palms on the cool marbled sink and studied her face in the mirror. So much for thinking she’d never taken part in adventure sports simply because they didn’t interest her. Because when it came down to it, and the challenge was put to her, it had become blindingly apparent that she’d been kidding herself. What she was feeling now was an overwhelming sense of fear.

  Well? What are you going to do?

  Say no, of course.

  Really? Really-really?

  Yes, because I’m not completely insane. Why on earth would I want to throw myself out of a plane?

  Fine then. Just say no.

  She nodded firmly at her reflection. Thank you. I will.

  The door swung open and Carmel burst in. ‘Honestly, he’s such a dick. Are you OK?’

  Tasha nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I suppose he thought that by doing it like this, you’d be more likely to go along with the idea. But you don’t have to at all . . . Just tell him to get lost.’

  Tasha’s phone beeped. She looked at the text Joe had just sent her: Sorry, do you hate me? I’m not really a horrible person out to embarrass you. I honestly thought it was a good idea. Rory loves you. I just wondered if this might make him love you even more. Xx

  ‘Hmm,’ said Carmel when she’d read it too.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Well what?’

  Tasha turned to look at her. ‘Is he right?’

  ‘Look, just ignore him.’

  ‘Yes, but is he right?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I think you do,’ said Tasha.

  ‘OK, he might be a little bit right. But that still doesn’t mean you have to take any notice of him.’

  Tasha thought about her current nemesis, with his big brash exterior, loud voice and laddish ways. Last week he’d come over to Rory’s flat for supper; when she’d gone into the kitchen, she had found him crouched down, attempting to coax a woodlouse into his hand so he could move it out of the way before it accidentally got stepped on.

  Because that was the thing about Joe James. He wasn’t always subtle, but he undoubtedly had a kind heart.

  He also had a point. Not that she agreed with the idea that Rory would love her more if she did the skydive. But he might respect her more.

  Everyone might.

  Including herself.

  Oh fuck.

  Tasha was aware of all eyes upon her as she made her way back to their table. She and Carmel sat themselves down. She took a sip of wine. ‘It’s all gone quiet. Is everyone all right?’ she asked brightly.

  Rory’s friend Niall said, in a voice loaded with meaning: ‘Well?’

  If her heart had been thumping before, it was going twice as fast now. Maintaining an entirely false air of calm, she shook back her hair and said, ‘Oh, you mean the skydive? I’ve decided to do it.’

  For the second time, everyone erupted in cheers.

  Joe was grinning. ‘You’re a star. Plus we’re up to four and a half grand now.’

  Rory hugged her. ‘You don’t have to,’ he said again.

  ‘I know. But I want to,’ said Tasha.

  Which definitely wasn’t true.

  Chapter 32

  Since taking over as landlady of the White Hart, Marilyn had made very sure indeed that none of the residents of Carranford ever missed her birthday. This year was no exception. Waking up late on the morning of Friday the seventeenth of May, Hallie saw from her bedroom window that the front of the pub had already been liberally decorated with banners, bunting and giant balloons. People would be popping in and out all day to wish their vivacious landlady well, and this evening, Marilyn, whose stamina knew no bounds, would be hosting a huge party to celebrate the fact that she might now be fifty-five but in the glamour stakes she could still give the Hollywood movie stars a run for their money.

  Well, the more mature ones anyway.

  Bea called in at lunchtime to see how Hallie was. ‘How are you doing? Feeling better?’

  ‘Feeling better. Don’t know about looking it,’ said Hallie. Exhausted yesterday, she’d had an early night and slept for twelve
hours, which had helped a bit.

  ‘Shut up, you’ll be fine. I’ll come over after work and we can get ready together. What time d’you want to get there?’

  Marilyn’s party would carry on until the small hours. Hallie needed to pace herself. ‘I was thinking nine, but you can go earlier than me if you like.’

  ‘No way, we’re going together. But I think we should head over at eight. Don’t want to miss out on anything.’

  ‘Are you talking about the party now? Or the buffet?’ It was a standing joke that Bea had once been distraught to discover she’d missed the last of the home-made Scotch eggs.

  ‘How can you even ask that?’ Filled with indignation, Bea said, ‘Both!’

  ‘Come on then, let’s go, we don’t want to be late.’

  This was especially rich coming from the girl who’d never been on time for anything in her life.

  ‘Two more minutes,’ said Hallie. It was still only ten to eight.

  ‘One more minute.’ Bea emphasised her point with an index finger raised. ‘People could be over there finishing the Scotch eggs as we speak.’

  Hallie turned back to the mirror above the fireplace, unable to resist admiring her reflection for a few seconds more. God knows, it didn’t happen often these days, but this evening was getting off to a good start; by some happy accident, she was actually looking . . . well, not too bad at all. The fitted primrose-yellow dress suited her figure and gave her some shape. The sun had shone for the last week and she’d got a bit of a tan, which definitely helped. Best of all, her short hair had gone right when she’d dried it this evening, and with Bea’s assistance her make-up was extra-flattering. BB cream, blusher and mineral powder had made her skin look flawless. Her eyes were huge and luminous, the violet shadows beneath them expertly disguised with concealer, which made a big difference. Together with the smoky eye make-up Bea had proved so adept at applying, the end result was . . . good.

  For once, she actually gave the impression of glowing with health.

  ‘Ready?’ said Bea.

  ‘I look nice.’ It wasn’t the kind of thing you could say in front of just anyone, but Bea was her best friend.