Three Amazing Things About You(72)

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.