Three Amazing Things About You

by Jill Mansell

  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.

  Goosebumps sprang up on her thighs; what if it was Lena with a bread knife? The next moment, Jeremy’s furry face poked around the door and he padded into the bathroom, tail swishing and green eyes gleaming as he met her gaze.

  He wasn’t carrying a bread knife.

  Flo exhaled and shook her head at him as he jumped up and made himself comfortable on the padded lid of the laundry basket. ‘You gave me a start. I thought you were Lena.’

  Jeremy twitched first one ear then the other, and gave her one of those disdainful looks that said, For goodness’ sake, how can you be so stupid?

  He was right, of course. Lena wouldn’t really do something like that. Fingers crossed, she’d had time now to get used to the idea that Flo and Zander were a couple and weren’t going to stop seeing each other just because she didn’t approve.

  You never could tell: as the weeks and months went by, she might even realise that she’d been wrong, that her brother had fallen in love with a nice person. They didn’t need to be enemies . . . they could become friends, meet up for girlie lunches, go shopping together . . .

  OK, that was taking weird fantasies too far. Dismissing the idea, Flo returned to cheerier thoughts of Patrick and Jade and their blossoming relationship. She was genuinely happy for Patrick. You never knew, did you, when a couple might hit it off?

  The doorbell rang twenty minutes later. As luck would have it, Flo was out of the bath and wearing her dressing gown. As luck wouldn’t have it, she’d just applied a thick layer of moisturiser to her feet, which necessitated waddling like a duck across the wooden floorboards and doing her best to stay upright.

  Pressing the intercom, she said, ‘Yes?’

  ‘Hello, my name’s Julia. I wonder if I could speak with you about Zander Travis?’

  Taken aback, Flo said, ‘Zander? What about him?’

  ‘Please. I just need a quick word. Or if you don’t want to let me in, we could meet in the coffee shop on the corner.’

  The coffee shop on the corner would mean getting dressed, drying her hair and putting on at least a modicum of make-up. She would also have to wipe all the moisturiser off her feet. After a brief hesitation, Flo pressed the button to buzz open the door downstairs and said, ‘Come on up.’

  Julia was slim, pretty, possibly a couple of years younger than herself. She was wearing an expensive blue shirt, cream trousers and a tan suede gilet. Her streaked blond hair swung past her shoulders. She had good teeth.

  She also looked slightly – very slightly – familiar.

  Were they meant to be shaking hands? Unsure, Flo waited for Julia to make the first move.

  OK, they weren’t going to shake hands.

  ‘Thanks for seeing me,’ said Julia. And waited.

  ‘I don’t know why I am seeing you.’ Flo shoved her hands deep into the fluffy pockets of her dressing gown.

  ‘Well . . . you might not want to hear this, but it’s only fair that you know.’ Lifting her chin, Julia said, ‘The thing is, Zander’s been cheating on you.’

&n
bsp; ‘He has? Who with?’

  ‘Me.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Sorry. But it’s true.’

  Flo’s heart was racing as she experienced an odd mixture of emotions. On the one hand, this was shocking news, devastating even. On the other hand, a little voice was nudging at her subconscious, whispering that something wasn’t quite adding up.

  Apart from anything else, Zander simply didn’t seem like the cheating type.

  ‘He’s been lying to you,’ said Julia. ‘And to me too. He told me he was single. Then someone told me he’d been playing the two of us off against each other. You didn’t see him on Monday night, did you?’

  Monday, Monday . . .

  ‘No, I didn’t.’ Flo shook her head.

  ‘That’s because he was seeing me. He’s a liar and a cheat,’ said Julia. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I found out, but it’s true.’

  She knew that face from somewhere, but where? Not being able to place her was driving Flo nuts.

  ‘You must be devastated,’ Julia continued. ‘I was too. Why do men think they can get away with it? Because they always do, don’t they! I challenged Zander and he flat-out denied he was seeing anyone else. I bet if you asked him he’d say the same thing. What a bastard. He just wants to have his cake and eat it!’

  She was saying the words but they didn’t sound completely authentic. Flo stared at her ears, her neck, her earnestly outraged expression. Something was missing, but she still couldn’t work out what it was. Julia’s hands were tanned, her wrists narrow. She had a well-elocuted voice and was clutching the strap of a small cream leather bag. Something about her was making Flo think of flowers . . .

  ‘How did you know where to find me?’

  ‘I don’t think I should say. I wouldn’t want to get anyone into trouble. So what are you going to do?’ said Julia. ‘Once a cheat, always a cheat. You’ll never be able to trust him again. I think we should both dump him, don’t you? That’d serve him right!’

  Flowers . . . flowers . . . and for some reason camels kept sliding into Flo’s mind. Honestly, this was infuriating. She cleared her throat. ‘Have we met before?’

  ‘What, us? You and me? No, definitely not.’ Julia was shaking her head. ‘Never.’

  ‘Are you a florist?’

  ‘No.’

  OK, in for a penny. ‘Do you work at the zoo?’

  Now Julia looked offended. ‘God, no, I do not!’

  It was the squeak of outrage that did it, prompting Flo to realise that it was only the face she recognised, not the voice. The next moment, in a flash, she knew where she’d seen Julia before.

  Chapter 38

  OK, she was almost completely sure. Maybe best to double-check. Reaching for her phone, Flo checked the time – yes, Margot would be in her room now – and fired off a quick text.

  ‘What are you doing?’ said Julia. ‘Asking Zander about me? I’ve already told you, he’ll just deny everything. He’s a complete weasel.’

  More to pass the time than anything else, Flo said, ‘Tell me how the two of you met,’ and Julia began burbling away about the night she’d been chatted up by Zander in a bar on Park Street.

  Luckily Margot didn’t hang around. The attachments popped up on her phone and Flo opened them.

  And there it was, the confirmation she needed. She’d been right after all.

  ‘What?’ Julia tried to peer over the top of the phone. ‘What are you looking at?’

  ‘Photos of you,’ said Flo.

  Julia’s face instantly flooded with colour. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘No? Maybe it’s just someone who looks like you. Ooh,’ said Flo, ‘or maybe your mum had twins and gave one of you away!’

  ‘Let me see,’ said Julia.

  ‘I like this one, of you in Egypt with the pyramids in the background. You’re standing next to a camel.’

  Julia rubbed the base of her throat, which had gone all blotchy. ‘This is ridiculous.’

  ‘And I really like this one, taken on your wedding day. Last summer, wasn’t it? You look beautiful,’ said Flo. ‘And your husband seems so nice. Does he know about you and Zander?’ She held out the phone to show Julia the wedding photo, taken in the porch of a village church. There were garlands of flowers wound around the wooden posts on each side of the ancient oak door, yellow rosebuds in Julia’s headdress and more arrangements of pink and yellow roses in tall silver vases on the deep stone ledges behind her.

  Flowers.

  And camels.

  The brain was indeed a wondrous thing.

  ‘Oh God, I don’t believe this.’ Julia’s haughty demeanour had crumbled. Flushed and mortified, she shook her head. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I’m not having an affair with your boyfriend.’

  ‘I know,’ said Flo.

  ‘How on earth did you get hold of those pictures?’

  ‘I couldn’t work it out at first. I knew I’d seen you somewhere before.’ Flo paused, briefly wondering whether to keep her in suspense. But no, she couldn’t do it. ‘I work at Nairn House.’

  ‘Nairn . . . oh.’ Julia’s face cleared. ‘My grandmother’s at Nairn House.’

  Flo nodded. ‘Beryl. She has photos of you in white frames lined up on her living-room wall. I see them every day.’

  ‘Right.’ Julia managed a wry smile. ‘Busted. I really am sorry.’

  ‘Just a wild guess,’ said Flo, ‘but was it Lena who put you up to doing this?’

  Embarrassed, Julia nodded. ‘She’s a friend. Well, more a friend of a friend. Her chap Giles plays cricket with my husband. The moment she heard I belonged to an amateur dramatics group, she decided I had to come and see you and pretend I was Zander’s other girlfriend. The thing is, once Lena gets an idea into her head, she doesn’t give up. I didn’t want to do it, but she isn’t an easy person to say no to.’

  ‘I’ve noticed,’ said Flo.

  ‘She can be a bit scary, to be honest.’

  ‘I’ve noticed that too.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Julia said again.

  ‘It’s OK.’

  ‘From all the things Lena’s been telling us about you, we thought you were a complete monster. But you don’t seem . . .’

  ‘Very monstery?’

  Julia pulled a face. ‘Well, yes.’

  ‘Lena doesn’t like me. Nor does Giles,’ Flo added.

  ‘Giles is ghastly. I can’t stand him.’

  A new message popped up on Flo’s phone: Dying of curiosity here! Why did you want the pics?

  Flo smiled; she’d asked Margot to pay a visit to Beryl’s flat, take the necessary photos and send them to her. She messaged back: Bumped into Beryl’s granddaughter and recognised her, that’s all. Thanks for doing it!

  Seconds later, Margot’s reply appeared: My pleasure! Think I might become an international spy when I grow up.

  A couple of hours after Julia had left, Flo’s phone rang.

  ‘Hello,’ said Lena. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m great. Why?’

  ‘I just wondered if you’d heard the rumours about Zander. I’m not a great one for spreading gossip, but I thought you should know what people are saying.’

  ‘Gosh. What are they saying?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know if it’s true, but apparently he’s been seeing someone else behind your back.’

  ‘Ah, you mean Julia,’ said Flo. ‘Yes, she came to see me tonight. It is all true.’

  ‘Oh!’ Taken aback, Lena said, ‘So . . . that’s awful, then. Poor you! You must be devastated.’

  ‘Well, I was a bit shocked when she first told me, but then I stopped and thought about it, and I decided it wasn’t so bad after all.’

  ‘Are you out of your mind?’ Lena sounded as if her eyebrows had disappeared into her hairline. ‘My God, he’s cheating on you! How is that not bad?’

  ‘Yes, but I love him. And I think he loves me. So I’m not going to let it bother me,’ said Flo. ‘I’m sure he’ll get tired of Julia
soon, then I’ll have him all to myself.’

  ‘So he’s sleeping with another woman and you’re just going to put up with it? That is ridiculous,’ said Lena. ‘He’s making a fool of you!’

  ‘I don’t care,’ said Flo. ‘I’ll win in the end. He’s worth it.’

  Outraged by the failure of her plan, Lena said, ‘Well you’re a complete loser,’ and furiously hung up.

  Flo put the phone down and realised that she was smiling to herself. Was she turning into Lena? Talk about one-upmanship. And telling lies was naughty.

  Oh, but sometimes being naughty was fun.

  Arriving back at his flat at midnight, Zander unlocked the front door and knew at once from the mingled scents of burnt toast and Chanel No. 5 that Lena was home.

  He experienced the familiar sensations of resignation, bafflement and despair. What must it be like to have a sister who didn’t perpetually make life difficult?

  ‘Hello! You’re late! Does it smell of burnt toast in here? I tried to cover it up with perfume . . . I don’t know why the stupid toaster always does that to me. Are you hungry? Would you like some toast? There’s a little bit of apricot jam left if you—’

  ‘I’ve spoken to Flo.’ Zander gave her a steady look as he took off his jacket. ‘I know it was you.’

  As he’d known she would, Lena looked utterly mystified. ‘Excuse me? I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Look, this is me. I know I’m not cheating on Flo. Who else would even want to make up a story like that?’

  And as quickly as she’d denied it, Lena shrugged and said, ‘Oh please, she’s ridiculous. She wouldn’t even care if you did have an affair with someone else. Talk about pathetic. Anyway, I hate her.’

  How many times had they gone over this? ‘Flo hasn’t done anything to you,’ said Zander.

  ‘Er, hello? She’s living in our flat!’

  This was the thing about Lena: listening to the voice of reason simply didn’t feature on her radar. The fact that their grandmother had made the relevant specifications in her will was irrelevant as far as his sister was concerned.

  ‘Officially, she’s living in Jeremy’s flat. It’s his for the rest of his life.’