Three Amazing Things About You (7 page)

Carmel spluttered with laughter. ‘You’re asking Tasha? Marathon lying down, more like. Marathon TV watching with a packet of crisps—’

‘OK,’ Tasha hastily cut in, ‘that’s enough.’

‘Ha ha.’ Carmel’s eyes danced. ‘I’m just trying to imagine you being sporty.’

‘No, but seriously.’ Joe was looking genuinely taken aback. ‘You must do something.’

Tasha shrugged. ‘I do plenty. Just not necessarily . . . those kinds of things.’ Was this going to put him off her?

‘Do you swim?’

‘I
can
swim. I prefer to sunbathe. I’ll jump into the water to cool down, but I wouldn’t do fifty lengths of the pool.’

‘Did you know about this?’ Joe switched his attention to Rory.

‘Yes, she told me.’

‘And?’

Rory shrugged. ‘It’s fine.’

‘So let me get this straight. You’re an adrenalin junkie.’ Joe tapped his friend on the forearm. ‘A non-stop action man. And you’re completely crazy about this girl here, but she’s inaction girl.’ He tilted his head apologetically in Tasha’s direction. ‘No offence, I’m sure you’re a lovely person, but you’re not remotely sporty and you don’t do any of the stuff Rory likes doing.’ The look on his face was frankly dubious as he sat back and took a gulp of his pint.

‘Hey,’ Carmel said heatedly, leaping to Tasha’s defence. ‘Why are you making it sound like it’s all
her
fault? Is your precious friend interested in literary festivals and art galleries and Ancient Egypt? No, I’m guessing he probably isn’t, but that doesn’t make him a lesser person, or a better one. They’re just different. Opposites attract, OK? And these two opposites are attracted to each other.’ Her gaze narrowed. ‘So we’re just going to have to make the best of it.’

Oh dear, imminent warfare.

‘Where did
that
come from?’ Joe was instantly on the defensive. ‘You were the one who started it,’ he pointed out, ‘making fun of her marathon TV watching.’

‘Tasha’s my oldest friend.’ Carmel gave him a withering, don’t-you-understand? look. ‘I’m allowed to make fun of her. You don’t get to do that until you’ve known her a lot longer than this, OK?’

For a few seconds they glared at each other. Finally Joe said, ‘When, then?’

‘Another year,’ said Carmel. ‘At least.’

He shook his head. ‘No way. I can’t wait that long. At the rate these two have been carrying on, they could be married with kids by then.’

Tasha held her breath.
Imagine . . .

‘Just be nice to my friend, that’s all I’m saying.’ Carmel still had the proprietorial light of combat about her. ‘Or you’ll have me to answer to.’

‘Right.’ Joe raised his hands in defeat. ‘I’m sorry, OK? God, you’re terrifying.’ But there was a twinkle in his eye as he said it. Returning his attention to Tasha, he added, ‘Bin Girl, I apologise, OK? Most sincerely.’

‘And don’t call her Bin Girl any more either.’

‘Actually,’ said Tasha, ‘I’m starting to quite like it.’

Joe said solemnly, ‘You’ll always be Bin Girl to me.’

‘So how would we say this is going, then?’ Rory enquired.

‘They want us to get on well together,’ Joe told Carmel. ‘It means a lot to them.’

‘You’re right.’ Carmel nodded. ‘We should probably be nice to each other, for their sakes.’

‘Give us a kiss then,’ said Joe.

He’d been joking, but Carmel reached across the table, grabbed his face between her hands and fastened her lips on his.

‘Blimey,’ said Joe when she let him go and sat back in her chair. ‘Well, that defused the sexual tension.’

Carmel grinned. ‘There is no sexual tension. I don’t fancy you one bit and you don’t fancy me. But I like you. I think we can be friends, don’t you?’

Tasha hid a smile as Joe, still knocked for six by the kiss, raked his rugby player’s fingers through his tufty reddish-gold hair. ‘We could probably manage that. Uhh . . . those eyelashes of yours. Are they real?’

‘Of course they’re not real, you plank. Even a monkey could tell they were fake.’

‘And are you always this polite?’

‘I like to call it refreshingly frank,’ said Carmel.

‘You’re certainly that.’ Joe raised his glass and clinked it against hers. ‘Cheers, Frank.’

‘Cheers. Will I like your friend Rory, do you think?’

‘I can’t see why you wouldn’t. He’s a good guy.’

‘Ah, but will he break my friend’s heart?’

‘Hello, excuse me?’ Tasha cleared her throat. ‘We are here, you know. Within . . . what’s it called? Oh yes,
earshot
.’

Joe and Carmel completely ignored her. ‘Honestly?’ said Joe. ‘Well, he’s had his share of girls and played his share of games in the past. But the way he’s been talking about this one . . . she’s definitely in a whole different league. I’ve never seen him like this before.’

‘If he gives her any grief,’ Carmel said pointedly, ‘he’ll have me to answer to.’

His breath warm on her cheek, Rory murmured in Tasha’s ear, ‘I wasn’t planning on giving you any grief.’

‘Just as well.’ Tasha was tingling all over at his proximity. ‘Carmel has a black belt in karate.’

Overhearing this, Joe turned and regarded Carmel with new respect. ‘You do? Wow.’

‘I can be quite annoying,’ said Carmel. ‘It makes sense to be able to defend myself.’

‘Ha.’ He was clearly impressed. ‘I have a feeling you’d win.’

‘Oh yes.’ Carmel crossed her long legs and surveyed him with cool amusement. ‘I always do.’

Was she being deliberately ambiguous? Most probably. Tasha watched as Joe, caught off guard, visibly wondered the same thing. After a second or two, he turned to her and said, ‘How about you then, Bin Girl? Are you a martial artist too?’

‘I’m a make-up artist.’ Tasha added flippantly, ‘If anyone tried to attack me, I’d jab them in the eye with a mascara brush.’

Twenty minutes later, Rory and Joe went over to queue at the bar for more drinks.

The moment they were alone, Tasha said, ‘They’ll be talking about us now.’

‘That’s OK. We’re going to be talking about them too.’

‘And?’ Tasha had been bursting to know. ‘What’s the verdict?’

‘I like him! He’s great.’ Carmel’s eyes were bright. ‘I really like him a
lot
.’

‘I knew it, I knew it, I’m so glad!’
Phew
. Beaming with relief, Tasha said, ‘Thank goodness for that. And how about Joe?’

‘Oh.’ Carmel looked confused. ‘I thought we were talking about Joe.’

‘No, you dingbat! Never mind him – I want to know what you think of Rory!’

Carmel shrugged. ‘Well, I like him too. He’s really nice. Good-looking, fun, I can see why you’re so keen . . .’

‘But,’ Tasha prompted, feeling sick. ‘There’s a
but
coming. Tell me what it is.’

‘Oh come on, you already know what it is. Don’t look at me like that . . . oh please, not the Bambi eyes. But Joe said it too, didn’t he?’ Carmel lowered her voice. ‘I know you’re crazy about each other and it’s all new and exciting, but the two of you are kind of polar opposites. All those extreme sports he’s addicted to . . . I mean, it’s not as if you’re ever going to do anything like that.’

‘Does it really matter? You said opposites attract.’ The panicky sensation was rising up inside her ribcage now; she had been working so hard to keep it squashed down. ‘People don’t have to be exactly like each other to make a good couple . . . we
laugh
at married people who wear matching outfits and end up turning into one person . . .’

‘I know, I know, and I do understand how you feel about him. I’m just a bit worried that you two are
so
completely different . . . Oh God, sorry, just ignore me.’ Carmel flapped her hands by way of apology. ‘He’s great and I do like him. I’m sure you’ll be able to work things out. And I haven’t spotted any annoying habits like stroking his chin in a creepy way or laughing like a camel with hiccups.’

The camel laugh had belonged to Harry, the stockbroker Tasha had gone out with for a couple of weeks last year; cunningly, he’d managed to hide it at first. But once apparent, it had been a definite deal breaker. He’d had to go.

‘And he doesn’t wear Cornish pasty shoes.’ Tasha joined in to show she wasn’t offended by Carmel’s bluntness. ‘Look, I know we’re different, but it’ll be OK. Maybe I’ll learn to like extreme sports.’

‘
What?
’ Carmel boggled in shock and fell back in her chair.

‘I mean watching them. Not doing them.’ Tasha pulled a face. ‘Obviously. So, you like Joe too. That’s good.’

‘I do.’

‘As a friend? Or more?’

‘Just as a friend.’

‘Really? But you kissed him.’

‘I know. That was just for fun, though. He’s not my type.’

‘You see, I think he
could
be your type.’

Carmel shrugged. ‘Let’s leave things as they are for now. If I change my mind about him . . . well, all kinds of stuff could have happened by then . . .’

They’d known each other for fifteen years. Tasha raised an eyebrow. ‘You mean me and Rory could have broken up by then? Is that what you’re thinking?’

‘Possibly.’ Carmel’s grin was unrepentant.

‘Except we’re not going to break up.’ Tasha didn’t expect Carmel to believe her, but she knew it was true. ‘Really.’ She nodded at her oldest friend. ‘I promise. It’s not going to happen.’

Over at the crowded bar, still waiting to be served, Joe said, ‘So how long d’you think this thing with you and Bin Girl is going to last?’

Rory gave him a pitying look. ‘Trust me. It’s going to last.’

‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like her a lot. But she’s so not your type. She isn’t sporty
at all
.’

‘I really don’t care.’

‘Blimey, you’ve got it bad.’

‘I have.’ Rory nodded happily in agreement. ‘What do you think of her friend?’

‘Carmel? Fancies me rotten.’

‘Does that mean you’re going to sleep with her?’

‘Might do, might not. See how we go.’ Joe paused. ‘Is that OK with you?’

‘Do whatever you like.’ With a shrug, Rory said, ‘Probably best not to upset her, though, what with her black belt in karate.’

When they left the bar at midnight, Rory and Tasha led the way down the side street, heading for the main road where there would be cabs to flag down.

‘Hey.’ Joe drew Carmel to the side of the pavement, his breath visible in the icy night air. ‘Do you want to come back to my place for a drink?’

Carmel stopped walking. ‘You mean sex?’

‘Well, OK then.’ His mouth curved up at the corners. ‘If you absolutely insist.’

‘Listen to me.’ Patiently, Carmel pointed to Rory and Tasha, ahead of them. ‘See them? Love’s young dream. Now see us?
Not
love’s young dream. Absolutely nothing of a romantic nature is ever going to happen between us, I can promise you that.’

‘Oh.’ He looked crestfallen, then hopeful. ‘Are you playing hard to get?’

‘No.’

‘That’s disappointing, then.’

‘I can see that it would be. Don’t worry, you’ll survive. We’re just going to be friends and make life easier for those two.’

‘They’re not going to last five minutes. You do realise that, don’t you?’

‘Of course,’ said Carmel. ‘But we’re going to humour them. It’s called being kind. Like when little kids get all excited about Father Christmas. You don’t spoil things for them.’

‘OK.’ Joe nodded. ‘Yes, you’re right.’

‘I’m always right,’ said Carmel.

At the end of the road, Rory and Tasha had managed to flag down a cab and were yelling at them to hurry up if they wanted a lift.

‘Actually, I’m going in the other direction,’ said Joe. He stuck out his hand and solemnly shook hers. ‘Friendly enough for you?’

Carmel smiled. ‘Perfect. See you again.’

As she caught up with the others, Joe yelled down the road after her, ‘Carmel!’

She turned. ‘Yes?’

‘He’s OK, isn’t he?’

‘Who?’

‘Father Christmas.’

He was completely mad. Carmel smiled and called back, ‘Don’t worry. He’s fine.’

In the seven years since Flo had started working as a care assistant at Nairn House retirement home, overlooking the Clifton Downs, there had been one noticeable change in the habits of the residents.

Before, they’d read newspapers and books when they weren’t socialising with each other, playing whip-smart games of racing demon and canasta, watching TV or listening to music.

Then technology had entered their lives, following the installation of lightning-fast Wi-Fi, and nowadays, more than fifty per cent of the residents had their own tablets.

And not the kind you swilled down with a cup of tea either.

It never failed to entertain Flo to see ninety-year-olds overcoming their fear of the unknown and launching themselves into the brave new electronic world of the internet.

Margot, one of her favourite residents, was simultaneously chatting on Skype with a retired Italian archaeologist, completing a cryptic crossword online and debating the merits of Bombay Sapphire gin versus Tanqueray London Dry with a history professor in Zagreb on Twitter.

If only Elsa could have been persuaded to come and live here in one of Nairn House’s stunning garden apartments. Flo just knew she and Margot would have got on like a house on fire.

‘Seven across. Switched palms, illuminating. Five letters.’ As she said it, Margot glanced up at Flo. ‘Any ideas, darling?’

‘Oh God, you know how hopeless I am with crosswords.’ Flo was busy changing the water in the crystal vase and preparing to rearrange the out-of-season white roses. ‘Um, something to do with light?’

‘I know ze answer to zat.’ The Italian archaeologist with the deliciously accented voice came to the rescue via Skype’s audio feed on Margot’s trusty iPad. ‘Eet ees lamps.’

‘Of course. Thanks, Paolo. OK now, twelve down, seven letters. Sheepish puff is violent.’

Honestly, how did people
do
these things? Flo was completely lacking in the cryptic gene.

‘Ha, too easy,’ said Paolo from his villa in Florence. ‘Eet is rampant.’

And it wasn’t even his first language.

‘You know, you’re not bad at this, for a foreigner!’ Having chuckled and tapped in the answer on the screen, Margot switched back to her Twitter conversation with Erik in Zagreb and deftly typed:
You’ve just reminded me, I once drank martinis with David Niven at the Hotel du Cap. Such a charming man. #happydays