Three Amazing Things About You (27 page)

BOOK: Three Amazing Things About You
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‘THERE SHE IS,’ bellowed a voice at the other end of the garden. ‘It’s OK, I’ve found her! She’s out here!’

And that was the end of feeling normal. Hallie turned to see Bea standing in the doorway to the pub, opening the door wide so that the wheelchair could fit through it.

‘My God, you gave us the fright of our lives,’ Bea shouted, hair flying as she raced across the grass. ‘We were on the dance floor and I thought you were in the corner talking to the Wilkinsons, then they moved away and I saw they’d been standing in front of an empty chair. And nobody knew where you’d got to! You can’t
do
this . . .’

Hot on Bea’s heels was Luke, pushing the wheelchair at speed over the bumpy ground so that the portable oxygen cylinder clanked against the back of it. And completing the entourage came Christina, wobbling in her elegant stilettos and looking concerned.

It was like a team of paramedics arriving at the scene of an accident. The look on Ross’s face was a picture as they came hurtling down the garden towards him.

‘Can you stand? Bea, take her other arm. Careful . . .’ Luke was lifting her out of her seat, manoeuvring her across into the wheelchair, uncoiling the plastic tubing and fitting the nasal specs on her face. He turned up the oxygen and stood back to watch her intakes of breath.

Hallie knew she’d left it too long. As the minutes had ticked by, each breath had become that little bit harder to draw in, but she’d forced herself to resist the urge to take massive, gasping gulps of air because that would have given the game away and had Ross wondering what on earth she was playing at.

As if he weren’t doing that now.

‘Don’t ever do something so stupid again,’ Bea ordered. ‘We were so
worried
. Anything could have happened and we wouldn’t have known about it!’

Hallie gazed past them and said nothing, concentrating on sucking the oxygen back into her lungs.

‘Jesus,’ Ross said finally. He looked over at Luke. ‘What’s
wrong
with her?’

There it was. How many times had she experienced this over the years, since the wheelchair had come into her life? Pair it up with oxygen canisters and tubes across the face and so many people – not everyone, but more than you’d think – automatically assumed you were incapable of answering simple questions.

She looked at Ross. ‘I have CF.’

He actually seemed surprised she could still speak. ‘What’s that?’

‘Cystic fibrosis. Have you heard of it?’

‘Of course I’ve heard of it. Lungs, right?’ A mixture of horror and sympathy flickered across his face as the information sank in.

‘Correct.’ Hallie nodded. ‘Well done.’

‘Wow.’ He leaned forward, picked up the pint of lager from the table, then put it down again. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Did he really not have a clue? She shrugged. ‘Sorry. Slipped my mind.’

‘How are you feeling?’ Luke had his professional face on.

How am I feeling? Disappointed
.

Oh well, at least it hadn’t come as any great surprise.

Aloud, she said, ‘I’m OK.’

There followed a brief awkward silence, broken by Bea saying, ‘Well, what are you going to do now? Do you want to come back inside with us? Or stay out here for a bit longer?’ She glanced at Ross. ‘Because if you do, that’s fine . . .’

Ross had the kind of body language going on that indicated he’d been having fun getting flirty with a girl and had just discovered she was his half-sister.

To put him out of his misery, Hallie said to Bea, ‘It’s all right, I’ll come back in with you.’

‘Sure?’

‘Very sure.’ She met Ross’s uncomfortable, trying-not-to-look-shifty gaze and managed a brief smile to let him know she understood. ‘It’s fine. I’d rather be inside. Bye.’ She did a little wave as Luke swung her chair round, ready to push her back up the garden. ‘It’s been nice talking to you.’

‘Yes. You too.’ Ross nodded; the relief was there in his voice, in the relaxation of his broad shoulders beneath that crisply ironed pink Ralph Lauren shirt.

They were, Hallie noted, physically broad shoulders rather than metaphorical ones.

Ah well, what could you expect? He was an estate agent.

Chapter 36

The party over at the White Hart was still going strong. Hallie could hear the music, the whoops of laughter and other sounds of revelry through her open bedroom window. Everyone was having a great time; yet again Marilyn was celebrating her birthday in style.

And Ross would undoubtedly have found another girl to chat up by now.

She switched on her laptop and concentrated on not feeling as if she were missing out on all the fun. It was an indication of the worsening condition of her lungs that those twenty minutes off oxygen had wiped her out to such an extent. Tomorrow, she knew from experience, she’d be feeling even more exhausted.

Had it been worth all that effort, just to be treated like a normal person for once and receive a bit of attention from someone who, once the truth had come out, couldn’t have gone off her quicker if she’d told him she had suppurating leprosy?

Yes, in all honesty it had. Poor Ross, she’d almost felt sorry for him after that. On a couple of occasions, once they were back in the pub, she’d caught him looking over at her, and he’d given her an embarrassed nod and a smile. What he didn’t understand was that she hadn’t expected anything different, hadn’t even secretly yearned for him to say, ‘Who cares if you have cystic fibrosis? I want to see you again anyway!’

Because she didn’t want to see him again. He had been fun, but he wasn’t her type. He might be physically attractive, but she hadn’t
been
attracted to him, either physically or mentally.

That dubious honour – sadly for her and unbeknown to everyone else – appeared to be reserved solely for Luke Hilton.

Hallie gave herself a mental shake. OK, don’t even think about it. Luke had Christina now. They were a happily reunited couple. And since there was no point in being jealous of Christina – because it simply wasn’t one of those me-or-her situations – she might as well be as pleased for them, as she’d pretended to be earlier.

It might even make a difficult situation easier and put a stop to the hopeless fantasies that could never be more than fantasies anyway.

She turned her attention to her emails; several new letters had come in and she began skimming through them:

Dear Rose,

  1. I’m thirty-seven years old and would love to settle down and have a family.
  2. I love my three cats more than anything.
  3. Six months ago, I met the most wonderful man.

So here’s the thing: he’s perfect in every way . . . except one.

He really hates all animals, especially cats.

He says we can move in together but only if I get rid of them. Rose, this is so hard for me. It’s like asking me to give up my children. He’s such a lovely man, I know we could be happy together, but the thought of never having another cat in my life is hard to imagine. (He’s not allergic to them, he just doesn’t like them.)

This situation is breaking my heart. If we don’t move in together, he says we’ll have to call it a day. But this could be my last chance to have children. I’m so confused. What do you think I should do?

Yours, Maggie

Sometimes the answers were
so
easy they wrote themselves. Hallie rapidly typed:

Dear Maggie,

Oh dear, I don’t mean to doubt your judgement, but are you sure this new boyfriend of yours is wonderful, lovely and perfect in every way? Because I can’t say he sounds it. If someone issued those kinds of ultimatums to me, I’m afraid I’d retaliate with one of my own, along the lines of: Please get out of my life and never even
try
to contact me again.

I certainly wouldn’t want to hang around in the hope of getting my eggs fertilised by such a charmer – imagine what kind of a father he might turn out to be. If he decides he doesn’t much like his children, he might order you to give them away too.

Seriously, you deserve so much better than a man like that.

Was that too harsh? Hallie saved the reply but didn’t send it. Tomorrow morning she’d read it again before deciding whether or not to upload it to the site.

OK, next:

Dear Rose,

  1. When I was twelve I was involved in a terrible car crash.
  2. I know how lucky I am to still be alive.
  3. Sometimes when people tell me how lucky I am, I just want to scream at them to shut up.

I suppose that makes me a horrible person. I think I probably am. You see, I’m twenty-three years old now, and last year I met – but didn’t go out with – the man of my dreams.

The problem is, he turned out to be the man of my best friend’s dreams as well, and now they’re really happy together. I’m crying as I’m writing this, because I feel so mean, but just for once I wish someone could fancy me. Except it’s never going to happen because of my face. It got badly injured in the car accident and I’ll never look normal. I’m so ugly I could burst into tears every time I see myself in the mirror. No one is ever going to look at me and think, Wow, she’s nice. Instead, people point and whisper. Some laugh and do Quasimodo impressions. Other people give me sympathetic smiles. (Sometimes that makes me feel even worse.)

So anyway, I suppose there isn’t any answer. I am glad to be alive but I wish my face wasn’t such a mess. I love my best friend and she has no idea how I feel about her boyfriend. He’s nice to me too, because he’s a nice person. I wish I could just be happy for them. Do you think it will get easier to bear or am I doomed to feel this way for ever?

Fran x

Dearest Fran,

Oh darling, if only I had a magic wand I could wave, but I don’t. As you say, there is no definitive answer, but I want you to know that you’re not alone. I know exactly how you feel. And I agree, it’s miserable to feel unwanted for reasons beyond your control.

But but but . . . you have to remind yourself that this still happens to those who don’t have damaged faces or anything else wrong with them. All over the world, millions of people are secretly in love with their friend’s partner. You are not alone!

Secondly, your friend’s relationship might not last. It’s perfectly possible that they won’t be together for ever. (Yes, this might be sad for her, but it would make things an awful lot easier for you.)

Thirdly, you sound really lovely and I can understand how rejected you feel right now, but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t fall in love one day and be loved in return by someone wonderful. Search the internet and you’ll find hundreds of stories about people whose physical appearance had them worrying they’d never find a partner. But . . . guess what? They did! Because there are plenty of human beings in the world capable of seeing beyond a bit of surface damage. And these human beings are all the better for having been blessed with that ability.

Carry on being your own beautiful self, Fran, and one day it will happen, I know it will.

Promise me you’ll let us know when it does!

Love,

Rose xxx

Hallie read through what she’d written, then added:
PS No, in case you’re wondering, I don’t have facial scars myself. But trust me, I do have a condition that enables me to understand how you feel.

This time she didn’t leave it until the morning. She uploaded Fran’s problem and her own reply. Then she shut down the computer and wondered if Fran would let her know when she did eventually find love.

What she deliberately didn’t wonder was whether she’d still be around to find out.

Chapter 37

‘Ooh, you should have been here yesterday,’ Margot exclaimed the moment Flo arrived in her apartment. ‘You’ll never guess who turned up!’

‘Donald Trump,’ said Flo. ‘Barbara Windsor. Jeremy Paxman.’

‘Better than all of those.’ Margot put down the glossy magazine she’d been reading and reached for her iPad. ‘Patrick brought Jade to meet me. Such a lovely surprise!’

‘Really? Great.’ Against all the odds, the blind date arranged six weeks ago by Patrick’s ex-wife had paid off; the fact that Jade was an aerobics instructor hadn’t meant she was a nightmare after all. She’d actually turned out to be a thoroughly nice person who didn’t mind a bit if other people weren’t as crazy about aerobics as she was.

‘She’s charming,’ Margot said happily. ‘I liked her a lot. And she brought me those flowers on the table. Here, come and have a look before you start in the kitchen.’

Flo went over to look at the photos on the iPad. Margot had been keeping her updated on the budding relationship since the first unexpectedly successful dinner party following the day at Denleigh Horse Trials. She’d heard about their subsequent dates and been delighted for Patrick. It just went to show, you never knew who was going to turn out to be a good match or where you might meet them.

She knelt beside the velvet armchair and watched as Margot scrolled back to yesterday’s photos of Patrick and Jade outside the apartment. There was Patrick with his tousled hair, beaming smile and favourite baggy green corduroy trousers. And there was Jade in a neat fitted pink sundress and pretty flower-print ballet shoes, her hair tied back in a glossy ponytail. Not the most obviously matched couple, but they were visibly happy together.

‘Fingers crossed it’ll work out for them,’ said Margot. ‘He deserves it.’

‘He really does.’

‘And how about you and your lovely man? All going well?’

‘Very well.’ Flo smiled, because there had been no more visits from Lena, which had to be a good thing. With a bit of luck, she’d decided to give in gracefully and accept the situation. Well, you could always hope.

‘Excellent. Looks like I could be buying myself a new hat, then. Maybe even two.’ Margot’s dark eyes flashed with mischief. ‘I love a good wedding, me.’

Ten hours later, back in her own flat, Flo was lying in the bath when she heard the bathroom door begin to slowly creak open. For a split second she thought of a horror film she’d seen years ago, when a demented-with-jealousy woman had broken into her ex-husband’s house and crept into the bathroom where the new wife lay, happily oblivious that the next few moments would be her last.

BOOK: Three Amazing Things About You
11.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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