Three Amazing Things About You (6 page)

Eight.

‘Oh
nooo
.’ Hallie was struggling to release the wire around the cork of her mini bottle of champagne. ‘I can’t get it undone . . .’

Seven
.

‘Here, give it to me.’ Luke took the bottle from her.

Six
.

‘You’re twisting the wire the wrong way!’

Five
.

‘The foil won’t tear, I can’t see which way to – ah, got it!’

Four
.

‘Good job you’re not a surgeon. Ooh, glasses . . .’

Three
.

‘The cork won’t come out!’

Two
.

‘Let me do it!’ Hallie grabbed the bottle back and twisted the cork with all her might.

One
.

Pop
went the cork as the new year began and the cheers outside rose to a crescendo. Hallie gave a whoop of delight as champagne foam fountained out of the bottle and the cork, having ricocheted off the ceiling, landed on the bed. On the TV, everyone was yelling and laughing and kissing each other. Through the open window they could see and hear the inhabitants of Carranford carousing in similar fashion. In her bedroom, since exchanging a celebratory kiss with your doctor clearly
wasn’t
the done thing – even if you did have a crush on him – Hallie splashed the remainder of the Moët into two glasses and said, ‘Cheers. Happy new year!’

‘Happy new year.’ Luke clinked his glass against hers as, on the TV and below them on the bridge, the firework displays punctuated the energetic singing of ‘Auld Lang Syne’.

‘To the best year possible.’ Hallie clinked again, the side of her hand brushing against his fingers.

‘Definitely,’ said Luke.

‘Their fireworks might be bigger,’ she pointed to the TV, alive with the spectacular display lighting up London, ‘but I like ours better.’

There were oohs and aahs from the onlookers outside as rockets shot into the darkness, rising high above the trees and illuminating the inky Gloucestershire sky. Squiggly white serpents mingled with fizzing red and yellow Roman candles, machine-gun bursts of green light rat-tat-tatted like gunfire and –
boom
– a fabulous blue and orange chrysanthemum exploded overhead, causing the onlookers to cheer and applaud.

The display on TV was still in full flow, but fireworks were expensive and the one in Carranford was now over.

‘Ours were best,’ said Luke.

‘Goes without saying.’ Hallie took another sip of champagne. ‘Well, thanks for keeping me company.’

He smiled. ‘No problem. Where’s your mum this evening?’

‘Friends invited her to a party in Tetbury. I told her I’d be over at the pub, otherwise she’d never have agreed to go.’

‘Is the smoke bothering you? Shall I close the window now?’

Hallie shook her head. ‘I love the smell of fireworks. Makes me feel young again.’

‘You’re still young,’ said Luke.

‘I know. I just act like an old person. Look at us, sat here now like a couple of geriatrics.’ Except she was never going to
be
an actual geriatric, was she? Would never get to have a face mapped with saggy skin, wrinkles and unexpected whiskers. Ha, not that anyone looked forward to
that
.

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Luke was watching her again, evidently reading her mind. His voice softening, he said, ‘One day at a time.’

What would it be like to kiss him? How would his mouth feel against hers? The thought had crossed her mind before, but the longing to discover the answer was growing stronger.

Not that she would ever find out, of course. This was strictly a fantasy and there was no way in the world she’d ever act upon it. Feeling a bit hot, Hallie reminded herself that Luke was her doctor and, as such, was completely and utterly off-limits . . .

No, it was never going to happen. Before he’d come to Carranford and joined the practice, she’d been stuck with Jennifer West as her GP, and that was a situation she definitely didn’t want to return to. Besides, her little crush was a secret for another very good reason: basically, she was hardly what you’d call a catch. It wasn’t as if Luke would be even remotely interested in any kind of involvement.

Let’s face it, when you were a manky-lunged twenty-eight-year-old perilously close to your sell-by date . . . well, you weren’t exactly overwhelmed with lustful attention from the opposite sex.

‘What are you thinking?’ said Luke.

Ha, no chance
.

‘Just wondering what I’d look like if I was eighty-three. I really hope I wouldn’t wear wrinkly old tights and ugly slippers.’

‘Me too. Especially the tights.’ As he said it, they both heard the sound of rapid clattery footsteps on the pavement outside. The next moment the doorbell rang: DINGDINGDINGDINGDINNGGG . . .

Hallie pressed the intercom. ‘Hello?’

‘Happy new yeeeeear! It’s us! Are you asleep?’

‘Well I was, but some idiots just rang the doorbell.’

‘Let us in! Let us in!’

‘Is this how old people feel when their noisy grandchildren come to visit?’ Luke’s tone was dry as they listened to what sounded like a herd of cows galloping up the stairs.

‘It’s worse. Noisy grandchildren haven’t usually downed seven pints of cider and a load of shots.’

‘Ta-daaah!’ The door flew open and six of her friends burst into the room. Bea, swaying on her high heels, held her arms out wide. ‘You said you’d come back to the party and you didn’t! So we thought we’d bring the party to you! Happy new yeeeeeaar!’

When she’d hugged and kissed everyone, Hallie said, ‘There’s wine in the fridge downstairs if you want to go and get it. And more glasses in the cupboard next to the sink.’

‘Why’s Luke here? Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine. He’s just been keeping me company. We watched the fireworks together.’

‘And I’d better be going.’ Luke rose to his feet. ‘I’m still on call. Getting a couple of hours’ sleep might be an idea.’

‘Bye. Thanks.’ Hallie gave a little wave while her stomach did a secret backflip. ‘See you again soon.’

‘Oh, you opened it!’ Bea had spotted the mini bottle of Moët. ‘And it’s empty – you drank it all!’

Confused, Hallie said, ‘Was it not meant to be drunk?’

‘It was really expensive,’ Bea wailed. ‘You were supposed to save it for a special occasion!’

‘Sorry.’ Hallie loved Bea to bits, even if she did sometimes fail to think things through.
Because who knows how many special occasions some of us have left?

‘That’s OK, I forgive you. Don’t do it again, though.’ As Luke attempted to squeeze past her, Bea’s arm shot out, barring his exit. ‘Hey-hey-hey, not so fast, Dr Hilton. I think there’s something important you’re forgetting, don’t you?’

‘What?’ Luke looked baffled.

‘This!’ Throwing both arms around his neck, Bea planted a kiss on his unsuspecting mouth, and this time Hallie’s stomach did a much bigger and frankly jealous triple somersault.

‘
Mwah
.’ Beaming and swaying, Bea let him go. ‘Happy new year. Sorry, just had to do that! Couldn’t resist!’

‘Look at this.’ Rory showed Tasha the text that had just come through on his phone:
Mate, where are you? You’re missing a bloody brilliant party. Get yourself down here NOW!!!

‘Who’s it from?’

‘My oldest friend, Joe. Now watch this.’

Tasha watched as he began to compose his reply. It was five o’clock in the morning, and she was still struggling to believe the last seven hours had actually happened. What she’d expected to be an entirely uneventful New Year’s Eve had turned out to be the most eventful, most extraordinary, most utterly
magical
one ever. She felt as if she were in a dream.

OK, this really had better not be a dream. That would be too cruel.

Superstitiously, she pinched her left wrist, just to make sure.
Ow
, good.

Rory finished writing the text and angled the phone so she could read it:
Joe, I’m not missing out on anything. I’m with an amazing, incredible girl. This is it, she’s the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. Will you be my best man?

Every centimetre of Tasha’s skin tingled as she read it. OK, the best man bit was a joke . . . maybe the third sentence was a joke too, but that didn’t matter. It was enough that he thought she was amazing and incredible.

Aloud, she said, ‘You’re going to frighten the life out of him.’

‘True.’ Rory pressed send.

‘Poor Joe.’

‘And I meant it.’ He looked at her. ‘In case you were wondering.’

‘You did?’
Zinnnggg
. . .

‘Every word. I don’t even know how I know. I just know.’

‘Men don’t usually come out and say that kind of stuff.’

‘I
know
.’ His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘I’ve never done anything like this before in my life. I can’t believe it isn’t freaking me out.’

His phone beeped and together they read Joe’s text:
Shit, are you completely smashed? Do you need rescuing?

Rory messaged back:
Haven’t had anything to drink. Definitely don’t need rescuing.

Less than twenty seconds later, his mobile rang.

‘Here we go.’ Rory switched on speakerphone so she could hear it too. ‘Brace yourself.’

Tasha clutched his hand. ‘I’m braced.’

‘Oh man, what is going
on
?’ Joe’s voice was raised over the noise of the party continuing in the background.

‘Like I told you,’ said Rory. ‘It’s happened. I found her.’

‘Found her where? And who the hell is she? Are you telling me this is someone you just met tonight? Have you had sex with her yet?’

OK,
slightly
embarrassing.

‘No,’ said Rory. ‘I haven’t.’

‘Ha! So, are you even sure she’s female?’

Rory mouthed,
Sorry
at Tasha, who nodded reassuringly and mouthed back,
I am female
.

‘I’m pretty sure she is. Joe, listen, it’s the one I told you about. From last week. I found her again.’

There was a long silence. For several seconds, all they could hear in the background was music and laughter from the party. Then Joe said, ‘You mean Bin Girl?’

Tasha looked at Rory. Bin Girl? Oh, the glamour . . .

‘Yes.’ Rory grimaced apologetically. ‘Her name’s Tasha.’

‘And you found her again. How?’

‘I staked out the airport until she came home. Didn’t have to wait long,’ said Rory. ‘Only fourteen hours.’

‘You hung out at the airport for fourteen
hours
? You’re mad.’

‘No I’m not. It’s the best thing I ever did.’

‘You’re still missing a cracking party. And she’s there with you now?’

‘She is.’

‘Let me speak to her.’

Rory handed over the phone.

‘Hi, Joe,’ said Tasha. ‘It’s me, Bin Girl.’

He laughed. ‘Hey, Bin Girl. What the hell have you done to my boy?’

‘I have no idea. It’s been quite a night.’

‘And you’re not a bloke?’

‘Definitely not a bloke.’

‘Any other guilty secrets you might want to share with me? It’s OK, I won’t breathe a word.’

‘Do you promise?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘OK. I do have a secret,’ said Tasha.

‘Six kids? Scary husband? Serious drug habit?’

‘Nope.’

‘Go ahead then. Tell me,’ said Joe.

‘I think I’ve found the man I’ve been waiting for.’ As she said the words, Tasha’s gaze met Rory’s and a smile spread across his face.

‘Ah Jesus, you’re a pair of hopeless cases, both as bad as each other.’ With mock disgust, Joe said, ‘I’m going to leave you to it and head back to the party. Happy new year, Bin Girl.’

Tasha grinned. ‘Thanks, Joe. You too.’

‘This is scary,’ said Tasha. ‘I can’t believe how nervous I am.’

‘I know.’ Rory held her hand under the table. ‘Me too. It’s never bothered me before.’ He took another drink. ‘Basically because it didn’t matter.’

The door to the pub swung open and Tasha’s fingers tightened around his. ‘OK, here we go. Here’s Carmel now.’

It was like a cross between a fait accompli and a really important job interview. Falling in love with Rory had been the easy bit; now they had to meet each other’s best friends and hope that went well too. Everyone knew there was nothing worse than your oldest friends not getting on with your new partner. Occasionally they couldn’t stand them. And sometimes the best friends downright hated each other too.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time to get the whole thing over with in one go. It was now eight o’clock in the evening on Wednesday the third of January, and Rory had arranged for Joe to meet them here at the Frog and Shovel in Hampstead. Tasha had done the same with Carmel. Talk about kill or cure; it was either going to go brilliantly or turn into the night of a thousand knives.

Tasha rose to her feet and waved, and Carmel made her way over towards them. Then the door opened again and Rory said, ‘Well that’s a first; Joe’s turned up on time too.’

Carmel was tall and narrow-hipped, with a curtain of Scandinavian white-blond hair falling down her back; she wore black flicky eyeliner, pale pinky-beige lipstick and an impractical cream coat over jeans and a black sweater. They’d been best friends since school and had met all of each other’s boyfriends over the years, with varying degrees of success.

Tasha mentally crossed her fingers that this evening’s meet-up would go well. She couldn’t think, offhand, of any reason why Carmel might not like Rory, but you never knew; before now, Carmel had taken against one boyfriend purely because she didn’t like the way he stroked his chin. But that had been Colin, who’d turned out to be a complete dick anyway. And to be fair, Tasha remembered, she’d once had a similarly strong aversion to one of Carmel’s boyfriends because he’d worn Cornish-pasty-style shoes.

Honestly, between the two of them and their peccadilloes, was it any wonder she was nervous?

The four of them sat down, everyone was introduced – ‘Hello, Bin Girl!’ – drinks were ordered and the serious business of getting to know each other began.

‘So you must be incredibly sporty.’ Kicking off proceedings, Joe turned to Tasha. ‘What are you into? Snowboarding? Paragliding? Marathon running?’