Three Amazing Things About You(5)

Fabulous, just what she needed. A gaggle of teenage boys with skateboards and micro-scooters had gathered round to watch.

‘I saw an old drunk bloke puking up in that bin earlier,’ one of the boys called out.

‘He had a piss in it too.’ His friend, joining in, caused the rest of them to crack up.

OK, that wasn’t true, they were just saying it to wind her up. Pointedly ignoring them, Tasha knelt down and leaned against the icy cast-iron bin, pushing her arm further into its grim depths. The boys were still sniggering, other shoppers were stopping to stare and she was floundering helplessly in the dark, trying to feel for a lone credit card inside a scrunched-up plastic bag . . .

‘Could you get your hand out of there?’ barked a hatchet-faced woman holding a coffee cup.

‘I’m just looking for something.’

‘Well I need to throw this in the bin and I’m in a hurry.’

‘Sorry, but—’

Too late: the woman had already lobbed the cardboard cup into the bin, leaving Tasha with an arm drenched in lukewarm cappuccino.

Under her breath she muttered, ‘And a very merry Christmas to you too.’

‘I bet there’s dog crap in there an’ all.’ The boys were by this time helpless with laughter, competing to come up with more and more stomach-churning ideas. One of them had started skateboarding in circles around the bin, and the sound of the wheels whizzing menacingly round her feet, missing her by inches, was making it all that much harder to bear.

‘Right, you lot, that’s enough. Off you go now.’

It was an in-control voice, belonging to someone not remotely fazed by a bunch of hoody-wearing teenagers and effortlessly taking command of the situation. Since it was coming from directly behind her, Tasha couldn’t see the owner of the voice, but she was certainly glad he’d turned up.





Chapter 3


‘So,’ said the male voice when the teens had reluctantly skated off, ‘do you want to tell me what’s going on here?’

‘I missed breakfast, was just looking for some chips.’ Pulling out her arm and twisting round to get a look at him, Tasha discovered that the authoritative voice didn’t belong to a police constable. Well, not one in uniform, at least. Her rescuer was around her own age, mid to late twenties, and he was actually pretty good-looking in a dressed-down, sporty kind of way.

He was also grinning at her flippant remark.

‘You’re in luck, found one.’ He pointed helpfully to her arm. ‘There’s a French fry stuck to your elbow.’

Oh, perfect. Tasha held her contaminated arm out in front of her and shook the chip off.

His grin broadened. ‘You know what you look like?’

‘Like a vet about to stick my hand up a cow’s bottom, probably.’

‘That’s exactly what I was going to say. We’ve been watching you from the café across the road, by the way. Taking bets on what you’re trying to do.’

‘And laughing at me.’

He looked wounded. ‘Nooo. Well, maybe a bit. That was mainly the others, though. Not me.’

‘Well I’m so glad I managed to keep you entertained. It’s like all my wildest Christmas dreams come true.’

‘Hey, I came out to see if you needed any help.’

Tasha gazed up at him. ‘If you’re offering to rummage round and see if you can find my credit card, that would be fantastic.’ Now that she was paying proper attention, it struck her that he had amazing eyes; they were a clear, light shade of green, with darker rings around the iris. He also had incredibly thick dark lashes, like a girl.

‘Note that I didn’t actually offer to lend you a hand.’ His mouth twitched as he pulled a folded black bin bag from his jacket pocket and shook it out. ‘But I’m happy to hold this open so you can empty everything into it. Otherwise you could be just feeling your way around in there indefinitely.’

This made sense. It was a good idea. They got to work. Tasha said, ‘Do you carry a bin bag around with you wherever you go, in case of emergencies?’

‘Always.’ He caught her eye. ‘OK, I asked the waitress in the café if I could have one.’

‘And then you came swooping to the rescue like Superman.’

‘Something like that. Thanks,’ he added drily as she pulled the polystyrene kebab box out through the gap, splattering his wrist with chilli sauce.

‘Sorry.’ She wasn’t that sorry.

‘Is your credit card definitely in here, by the way?’

‘I really hope so.’ The back of Tasha’s neck was prickling with perspiration. She dragged out a handful of wet rubbish and managed to splash more sauce over the front of her dress.