by Jill Mansell
Although if she were being really finicky, it would be nicer not to have to get up at seven tomorrow morning to go and do the make-up for a wedding in Berkshire.
At half past midnight, Rory said, ‘Shall I call a cab?’
‘No!’ This from Joe, who wasn’t nearly ready to end the evening. ‘You can’t go yet!’
‘I’m shattered,’ said Rory.
‘And I’m working tomorrow,’ said Tasha.
Joe looked at her. ‘That might be true.’ He pointed to Rory. ‘But that isn’t. There’s no way you’re shattered. You just want to slope off home and have sex with your new fiancée.’
Rory grinned. ‘It’s a possibility.’
They said their goodbyes. Reaching Joe last, Tasha gave him an extra-big hug. ‘Thank you. Really.’
He hugged her back. ‘My pleasure, darling. You two are perfect together. I’m so happy for you both.’
She kissed him on the cheek. ‘You’re brilliant.’
‘I know I am.’ Joe was indignant. ‘Could you have a word with that nightmare friend of yours and please tell her that? All this rejection’s doing nothing for my self-esteem.’
He’d deliberately said it loudly enough for Carmel to hear. She patted Joe’s arm. ‘You poor fragile flower.’
‘You’re making fun of me now, but you just wait,’ Joe told her. ‘When you’re old and all alone in your rocking chair, you’ll look back on this and regret not giving me a chance.’
‘You could be right.’ Carmel nodded. ‘Tell you what, if we’re both still single thirty years from now, we’ll get together.’
‘Great. Although we should probably have a practice beforehand, just to make sure we’re compatible. If you like,’ said Joe, ‘we could do that tonight, get it out of the way.’
‘You never give up, do you?’ Carmel gave him a good-humoured pitying look. ‘In your wildest dreams.’
‘And he has those most nights,’ said Rory with a grin.
Chapter 41
‘Hey, what’s this? Oh wow, have you just got engaged? Congratulations!’ Alice, the bride-to-be whose make-up Tasha was doing for the wedding this afternoon, spotted the ring in the mirror and twisted round in her chair to clasp Tasha’s left hand.
Tasha said joyfully, ‘It all happened yesterday. I still can’t believe it.’
‘Well that explains why you’re glowing.’ Alice’s eyes danced with mischief. ‘Now we know what you were up to last night!’
Tasha let her think it. In fact, after getting back to Rory’s flat, the wild sex everyone had assumed they’d be having hadn’t materialised. By the time she’d emerged from the bathroom, ready to celebrate, Rory had been out for the count. Well, it had been a long day; she wasn’t offended. And what did it matter anyway? They had the rest of their lives to make up for it.
They’d both slept through until the alarm had gone off at seven. Rory, leaning over for a kiss, had said, ‘Sorry about crashing out.’
‘No problem.’ Smiling, Tasha stroked his chest. ‘I was pretty tired too. What are you going to be doing today?’
He stretched experimentally, winced a bit. ‘Head to the gym. Maybe go for a run later. My muscles are aching after the jump. What time will you be back?’
‘Somewhere around five, I should think.’
‘Want me to cook a roast dinner?’
‘That sounds fantastic,’ said Tasha.
‘Roast chicken, roast potatoes, veg, bread sauce and gravy?’
‘You know what?’ She reached across and kissed him again. ‘That’s a good enough reason to marry you right there.’
‘And after dinner, we’ll make up for last night and have loads of really fantastic sex.’
If only they had time for it now. Sadly, they didn’t. Tasha slid out of bed. ‘Deal.’
But bride-to-be Alice didn’t need to know any of these finer details. Tasha said cheerily, ‘We had quite a party. And the ring’s from Tiffany’s, can you believe it?’
‘Amazing! Do you have photos? I want to see what he looks like!’
So in the middle of doing Alice’s wedding-day make-up, Tasha found herself putting down her brushes and stopping work to show her photographs of Rory.
‘He’s gorgeous. Looks like so much fun. You’ll have beautiful babies.’ Producing her own phone, Alice brought up photos of her fiancé Eric and in turn showed them off to Tasha. A human rights lawyer, Eric was thin, fair-haired and geeky.
‘Yours looks lovely too.’ Tasha much preferred hers.
‘He is.’ Alice nodded happily. ‘Ah, I love him to bits. We’re so lucky, aren’t we?’
Tasha paused at one of the photos she’d taken last night in the wine bar, of Rory with his head thrown back as he laughed at something one of his friends had just said. God, he was perfect. And he was all hers.
Aloud, she said with pride, ‘Oh yes.’
The wedding had been a triumph. Apart from one bridesmaid having too much to drink and throwing up into a flower arrangement, the whole event had gone without a hitch. Having been asked to stay in order to make sure the bride, her bridesmaids and her mother looked their best for the photographs at the reception, Tasha had been kept busy mattifying faces, redoing lipstick and repairing out-of-control mascara runs.
It had been a happy day, though, and she’d sensed an instant attraction between the best man and the bride’s pretty younger sister. As she had been leaving, she’d spotted them sharing a sneaky kiss out in the hotel’s car park. And that was the brilliant thing: you never knew what might come of this newest of budding romances. Just think, a year or two from now, she could be asked to do the make-up for another wedding, only to discover it was them.
Driving home, Tasha couldn’t wait to see Rory again. Apart from a few hors d’oeuvres, she’d had nothing to eat, so she was also looking forward with a vengeance to her roast dinner. Her fiancé (ha, get me!) would be busy in the kitchen now, wearing his favourite blue T-shirt and faded jeans, singing along to the radio as he expertly basted the chicken, turned the crisped-up roast potatoes and flambéed red wine before whisking it into the gravy.
I mean, how many gorgeous adrenalin-junkie thrill-seeking super-sporty types are also capable of making stupendous gravy?
Seriously, they were pretty thin on the ground.
But when she fitted her key into the lock and pushed open the front door, the heavenly scents of roast dinner were sadly lacking. The air in the flat smelled of . . . nothing at all.
Had Rory forgotten about the meal and gone out with Joe? Could he have met up with friends at the gym and decided to join them for a drink or two afterwards? Or had he changed his mind about cooking and decided to take her out to their favourite restaurant instead?
‘Hello?’ No, the kitchen was empty, as was the living room. ‘Are you here?’
The next moment, Tasha heard the creak of the bed. So he was here. This made even less sense, unless— She froze, remembering what had happened to one of Carmel’s friends the other week. Returning home unexpectedly, she’d burst into the bedroom and caught her boyfriend in bed with the girl from the flat upstairs.
Well, hopefully she wasn’t about to walk in on that scenario, particularly since Rory’s upstairs neighbour was a sixty-year-old history teacher with a vast swollen belly and a ZZ Top beard . . .
Pushing open the bedroom door, she said, ‘OK, if you’re having sex with Beardy Bernard, you’re in big trouble.’
‘Huh? Oh God, what’s the time?’ Rory rolled over and winced as he opened his eyes. ‘Is it five o’clock already?’
‘Almost half past. You poor thing, are you ill?’
He pulled a face and nodded. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to sleep this long. I was going to cook dinner.’
‘I’ve never seen you sick before.’ Sitting on the bed next to him, Tasha smoothed his tousled hair back from his forehead.
‘That’s because I’m never sick. I started feeling a bit rough last night, thought I’d be back to normal today.’ He shif
ted his head against the squashed pillows. ‘But I’m not.’
‘How rotten.’
‘I think it’s flu.’
Tasha smiled, because she’d guessed he’d say that. ‘It’s probably not flu, not at this time of year. You’ve just caught a bug.’
‘This definitely feels like flu,’ said Rory.
He looked so sad, how could she not humour him? ‘OK, maybe it is.’
‘How was the wedding?’
‘Great. One puking bridesmaid, otherwise everything was fine. The hotel was amazing; they ran the whole event like clockwork and the staff were lovely.’
‘What does that mean?’ He broke into a wry smile. ‘You wouldn’t mind us getting married there?’
‘Who knows? It could go on the long-list.’ Tasha laced her fingers through his, admiring the look of their clasped hands and the way the diamond flashed light like a tiny sparkler.
‘Sorry I didn’t get the size right.’ Rory touched the narrow platinum band. ‘We can have it sorted, no problem.’
Tasha shook her head. ‘No way, I’m not giving it back to them, not even for a day. I’d rather stop eating until my fingers get thinner.’
He stroked the back of her hand. ‘Sorry about dinner too.’
‘Don’t be daft, doesn’t matter at all. I’ll make something quick. How about you, are you hungry?’
Rory coughed and wearily shook his head. ‘Wouldn’t mind a cup of tea, though.’
Tasha left him to rest and went into the kitchen. But a couple of minutes after she’d started frying bacon and buttering bread, she heard him call out, ‘Are you doing bacon sandwiches? I could probably manage one of those.’
Of course he could. Amused, she peeled off extra rashers and added them to the sizzling pan.
Men: they were never quite as ill as they liked to make out.
Chapter 42
Bea hadn’t got any better at keeping secrets.
‘Is everything OK?’ said Hallie, watching with interest as she sat on the end of the bed and fiddled with a toffee eclair wrapper.
‘Everything’s great.’ Bea nodded over-brightly. ‘Yes, great!’
She might as well be holding up a placard that said: FEELING GUILTY AND TRYING TO HIDE IT.
‘You can have another toffee eclair if you want.’ Hallie pushed the bag across the duvet towards her. ‘Help yourself.’
Bea had tied the wrapper from the first one into a tight knot. She shook her head.
‘Look, something’s up,’ said Hallie. ‘Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Just say it.’
‘OK, something is up.’ Bea expelled a long breath and began twisting the bangles on her wrist.
‘I know. It’s pretty obvious. Also, it’s Tuesday and I haven’t seen you since Saturday.’ Hallie gave her a playful nudge with her foot. ‘Have you gone and found yourself a new best friend?’
‘No.’ Bea pulled a regretful face. ‘But I’ve kind of got a boyfriend.’
‘You have? Yay, that’s brilliant! Why didn’t you tell me before?’
There it was again, the guilty grimace. Bea took another deep breath. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I feel really bad about this. It’s someone you know.’
OK, she hadn’t been expecting that. Hallie’s heart began to race, because there was only one person she could think of who might be causing Bea to feel bad about the situation.
Luke.
Surely it wasn’t him?
Except why would Bea feel bad, when she didn’t know about her secret feelings for Luke anyway?
Apart from anything else, Luke was with Christina now. They were a proper couple once more. So it definitely couldn’t be him.
‘I can’t guess.’ Hallie shrugged. ‘No idea. You’ll have to tell me.’
Bea swallowed. ‘It’s Ross.’
Ross. For a second, Hallie was none the wiser. Then it clicked.
‘The one at Marilyn’s birthday? Estate agent from Oxford? That Ross?’
‘OK, I know, just let me explain what happened,’ Bea blurted out. ‘I saw what was going on that night and I knew you liked him, so after you left the party I had a bit of a go at him for the way he treated you. And the thing was, he was so apologetic . . . he really felt bad about it, but the whole wheelchair and oxygen thing completely freaked him out. Anyway, he was sorry, and we carried on chatting and he seemed like a nice guy, but then he asked me if I wanted to meet up some other time and I said no way, because of what he’d done to you, and—’
‘Hey,’ said Hallie, because Bea was babbling and getting flustered. ‘It’s fine. Really. He didn’t do anything to me.’
‘Well anyway, he kept asking but I kept saying no, then he wanted my phone number so I gave it to him because I thought that was harmless enough. Then the party ended and he left and I thought that was that, I’d never hear from him again, he was just one of those flirty types.’
‘But you did hear from him,’ said Hallie.
‘He started sending me these texts. Not those kind of texts. Just, like, really funny and sweet messages. And after a few days he asked me out again and I suppose I was just curious . . . so I ended up saying yes.’
‘And you had a good time.’
‘Oh God, we had the best time. There’s just something about him that makes me feel . . . you know . . .’ Bea clapped her hand to her chest. ‘But I felt so guilty, because I knew you liked him too . . .’
‘I didn’t really,’ said Hallie. ‘I liked talking to him, that was all. He’s pretty to look at but really not my type. I promise you, it’s fine. I’m not jealous or upset or anything like that.’ She smiled. ‘He’s all yours to enjoy.’
‘Oh God, that is such a relief. I’ve been dreading telling you.’ Bea threw herself down on the bed, arms outstretched, legs kicking in the air. ‘It’s been horrible this last week, dying to talk about him and not being able to. And you’re right, he’s so pretty to look at.’
Outside the open window, a dog barked and a woman’s voice said, ‘Daley, no, stop that!’
Jackknifing into a sitting position and bouncing off the bed, Bea peered out and waved down at Christina. ‘Hey, we’re up here! What’s Daley doing?’
‘Hello! Oh, he’s being naughty and trying to chase the ducks. Daley, sit. Behave yourself, wicked boy. How’s Hallie?’
‘She’s good. Everything’s great.’
‘It’s quiz night at the pub this evening,’ said Christina. ‘Are you coming along?’
‘Ooh, that’s an idea. We could make up a team between us. Brilliant,’ Bea said cheerily. ‘See you later.’ She waved again, then jumped back on to Hallie’s bed. ‘That’ll be fun, won’t it? And Luke’s dead clever, so we might even stand a chance of winning. Are you completely sure you’re OK with me seeing Ross?’
‘Absolutely.’ Hallie offered her the bag of toffee eclairs and this time Bea took one.
‘Well he could come along to the quiz then, couldn’t he? He’s clever too. We can be an unbeatable team of five!’
Hallie hesitated. In due course, if her intuition told her anything, handsome charmer Ross would inevitably move on to the next girl in his life, leaving Bea in pieces and vowing never to fall for such a handsome, charming bastard ever again. For now, though, she was in the midst of that giddy, swooshing-with-adrenalin honeymoon stage. And Hallie wasn’t sure she felt like being the odd one out at a table of ecstatically happy couples.
‘I don’t know. To be honest, I’m not feeling that great.’ Was it tempting fate to get out of it by pretending to be iller than she was? Rubbing her throat and looking poorly-but-brave, she coughed a bit and said, ‘I think I might be coming down with something. Probably best if I stay in tonight.’
‘Oh no, poor you! Shall I cancel Ross? If you want me to stay in and keep you company, I will.’
She would, too. Hallie smiled, because Bea was a good friend, and she loved her. She shook her head. ‘No, don’t cancel him. I’m going to have an early night. You all have fun at the pub and
win the quiz as an unbeatable team of four.’
Arriving home from work, Tasha found Rory asleep on the sofa, looking sicker than ever. OK, this was the fourth day now. No more excuses. She gently shook his shoulder until he opened his eyes.
‘Hmm? Oh, hi. How was work?’
‘Never mind me. How are you? Did you make that appointment with the doctor?’
Rory grimaced and shook his head. ‘There’s no point. It’s just flu.’
‘Maybe, but you need to get checked out.’ A warning signal was niggling away inside her. She flipped open her phone. ‘I’m calling the surgery now.’
‘I don’t need to see a doctor. You’re just making a fuss over nothing. Give me a couple more days and I’ll be fine.’ As she began to make the call, he protested, ‘I won’t go.’
‘OK, now listen to me. You’re ill.’ Tasha gave him a look to show that this time she really meant business. ‘You either see someone at the surgery, or I get one of the doctors to come here.’
Rory closed his eyes in defeat. ‘OK, OK. Make an appointment. I’ll go.’
‘Thank you.’ Exhaling with relief, Tasha disguised her growing concern with a weak grin. ‘It’s like a miracle – man agrees to see GP. I’ll alert the media.’
‘Very funny,’ croaked Rory.
‘Luke? Before you go, Dr West wants a word.’
Luke nodded at Susie on reception. ‘OK, thanks.’
It was telling that everyone else in the surgery called each other by their first names but he was the only one brave enough to call Jennifer Jennifer. And it still didn’t come naturally. He was sure she’d probably rather be referred to as ma’am.
‘Come in,’ said Jennifer when he knocked on her office door. ‘Ah, Luke. Sit down. I have something to tell you.’
‘OK.’ Was there a problem of some sort? Had there been a complaint made against the practice? Jennifer’s customary brisk manner and general lack of warmth meant it was impossible to tell.
