Three Amazing Things About You(24)

Did he think she was a complete madwoman? Had she managed to scare him off completely? ‘I’m sorry too. I can’t help being like this. I hate it.’ Tasha held him tightly, inhaling the mingled smells of leather, engine oil and warm skin. ‘I worry too much and I have too much imagination.’ She didn’t say it, but she’d even envisaged his funeral; if he knew that, he’d definitely dump her.

Oh, but when all the old feelings came rushing back, it was hard to ignore them. She was going to have to explain. Helplessly she said, ‘You know I told you my mum and dad split up when I was six? Well the thing is, my mum didn’t know how to tell me he’d gone, so she pretended he was working abroad. And I kept waiting for him to come back but it just didn’t happen . . . I had months of feeling all knotted up inside, wondering if I’d done something wrong or if he was even still alive . . .’ She trailed off, embarrassed by the admission. ‘Of course he was still alive. He was just far too busy being besotted with his new girlfriend to bother with his old family.’

‘What a bastard. Jesus. Now listen to me.’ Rory exhaled. ‘I’m selfish and I don’t stop to think things through. It honestly didn’t occur to me that you’d be worried.’ He gazed deep into her eyes. ‘I’ll never do that to you again, I promise. I’m going to learn your number off by heart, so I can always get hold of you. And I’ll keep in touch so you don’t have to get yourself into a state.’

‘Thank you.’ Tasha tilted her face back, reaching up to kiss him. ‘Has this put you off me? You can say it.’

‘Honestly? No.’ He was smiling again now. ‘Play your cards right and you’re still in with a chance.’

‘That’s good news. Are you staying tonight?’

‘I’d like to. Very much.’ Rory stroked the side of her face. ‘But I need to go home first, have a shower and change. I’ll be back in an hour, OK?’

He left. Twenty-five minutes later, Tasha’s phone rang.

‘It’s me. I’ve had my shower. I’m getting dressed now.’

‘Great.’

‘Just putting a clean shirt on.’

‘Excellent.’

‘I’ll be there by ten past nine.’ Pause. ‘Maybe twelve minutes past. Definitely no later than nine fifteen.’

‘Don’t make fun of me,’ said Tasha. ‘I know I’m a hopeless case.’

‘There was a message on my phone from Joe saying you were worried about me.’

‘I know, I phoned him. I was desperate.’

Rory sounded amused. ‘I also had another forty-six missed calls.’

That many? Alone in her flat, Tasha’s cheeks burned; this was definitely a neurosis she was going to have to overcome. ‘Just some nutter, I expect. Ignore them.’

‘I’m heading back now in the car. Want me to give you a call when I’m halfway?’

‘Just get yourself over here and stop taking the mickey,’ said Tasha. ‘Or you might find yourself waking up tomorrow with your eyebrows waxed off.’





Chapter 12


There was a homeless man sitting on the cold pavement, middle-aged and resigned, with a hat in front of him containing a few scattered coins. It was growing dark as Flo made her way past him on Saturday afternoon, but light from the street lamp and from the windows of the pub spilled over him, illuminating his messy greying hair and his shoulders hunched in defeat. She paused, searched in her coat pockets and found a stray pound coin.

‘Thanks very much.’ The man gave a nod of appreciation.

Flo hoped he wouldn’t spend it on lager or drugs.

At that moment, a huge roar went up in the pub, practically rattling the windows. Inside, the bar was heaving with rugby fans following the big game on the TV.

‘Is it frustrating, having to listen to the match and not being able to watch it?’

The man shook his head. ‘Not a rugby fan. But if they’re happy with the way it’s going, that’s hopefully good news for me.’

Flo nodded; it was worth putting up with the racket if it meant that cheerful punters with a few drinks inside them came out of the pub and chucked a bit of extra cash into the hat. She said, ‘Bye then,’ and made her way down the street as more shouts and yells of approval emanated from inside. From the sound of it, everyone was supporting the winning team.

In the supermarket, she picked up the little bottles of Tabasco for Margot, then added soup and a bag of toffees, and some of the tins of tuna Jeremy liked best. Followed by a baguette, a ripe Camembert, red grapes and a tub of honeycomb ice cream. For her, not Jeremy. Tonight was going to be a staying-in-and-being-blissfully-lazy night, just the two of them and a pile of DVDs.