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Authors: Jill Mansell
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glasses. ‘Make it three bottles. That’ll be perfect.’
Chapter 11
‘Ta-daaaa!’ Bea burst into the living room, where Hallie was engaged in painting her toenails bright coral. ‘Guess what I’m doing for my thirtieth birthday?’
Hallie straightened up. ‘You’ve already told me. You’re having a party at the White Hart.’
‘That
was
the plan. But now I have a new plan. I’m going to Paris.’
‘Really? Wow, fantastic. And so perfect for you,’ said Hallie. ‘I hear the men in France prefer older women.’
‘Cheek.’ Bea aimed a playful swipe at the plastic tubing snaking between Hallie’s nasal cannulae and her oxygen tank. ‘I could always unplug you, you know. Anyway, guess who’s coming along with me?’
‘Bradley Cooper again? Poor boy, hasn’t he suffered enough?’
‘This time it’s girls only. Sarah’s coming.’ Bea began counting off on her fingers. ‘And Jen. And Poppy and Carla. And me, obviously.’
‘You’ll have an amazing time.’
Bea carried on counting on her fingers. ‘And you.’
Hallie’s heart sank. ‘Oh Bea, no. I can’t.’
‘You can.’
How to explain? ‘Look, thanks for thinking of me, but it just wouldn’t . . . work.’
‘It would. I’ve checked with Luke. And I asked your mum too. There’s no reason why you can’t come along with us.’
‘It’s just so . . . complicated.’
‘But not impossible. People with cystic fibrosis can travel abroad; they do it all the time. You
know
that.’
Hallie sat back, bare legs stretched out before her, toes splayed in order not to smudge the glossy polish. ‘I know, and it’s really kind of you to invite me, but I don’t want to be the one who spoils things for everyone else. I’d just hold you back and then I’d feel guilty—’
‘Whoa. Stop it. Look at it from my point of view.’ Bea shook her head at her. ‘You’re my best friend, and if you refuse to come to Paris you
will
spoil things. I mean it,’ she went on when Hallie opened her mouth to protest. ‘My birthday will be ruined and it’ll be all
your
fault.’
She actually meant it. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure. You have to be there. I don’t want to turn thirty without you.’
Hallie was an infrequent crier, but her eyes were brimming now. Moved, she said, ‘OK. If you really mean it, I’ll come to Paris.’
‘I really
really
mean it. Come here, you.’ Careful not to dislodge the transparent oxygen tubing, or trigger a bout of coughing, Bea gave her a hug.
‘And the others don’t mind? You’re sure they’re OK with it too?’
‘Completely sure. You’re the must-have accessory of the season.’
‘I’ll have to get travel insurance.’ Which would probably cost a fortune.
‘There are specialist companies. It’s not a problem.’
Well, not quite true. It was easy for Bea to be airily dismissive, but Hallie knew it was going to involve travelling with a wheelchair, oxygen tank, nebuliser and assorted other vital bits and pieces. But if Bea was determined to have her there . . . well, she could make the effort.
‘OK, let’s do this thing.’ Paris! How glamorous! ‘Have you decided where you want to stay?’
‘I have brochures. I have chocolate.’ Bea withdrew both from her huge glittery shoulder bag. ‘And now I have you to help me choose a hotel. So,’ her eyes gleamed, ‘shall we make a start on it now?’
It was midday and there still hadn’t been any word from Rory. Tasha checked her phone for the fiftieth time to make sure a message hadn’t arrived and somehow been missed.
No, still nothing, even though he’d promised faithfully to keep her updated. Unable to help herself, she sent a text:
Please call and let me know you’re still alive. Xxx
‘You’re looking worried.’ Moira, a TV chef who was being made up for today’s photo shoot, was watching her in the mirror. ‘Everything OK?’
‘It’s just my boyfriend. He should have been in touch by now and he hasn’t
Chapter 11
‘Ta-daaaa!’ Bea burst into the living room, where Hallie was engaged in painting her toenails bright coral. ‘Guess what I’m doing for my thirtieth birthday?’
Hallie straightened up. ‘You’ve already told me. You’re having a party at the White Hart.’
‘That
was
the plan. But now I have a new plan. I’m going to Paris.’
‘Really? Wow, fantastic. And so perfect for you,’ said Hallie. ‘I hear the men in France prefer older women.’
‘Cheek.’ Bea aimed a playful swipe at the plastic tubing snaking between Hallie’s nasal cannulae and her oxygen tank. ‘I could always unplug you, you know. Anyway, guess who’s coming along with me?’
‘Bradley Cooper again? Poor boy, hasn’t he suffered enough?’
‘This time it’s girls only. Sarah’s coming.’ Bea began counting off on her fingers. ‘And Jen. And Poppy and Carla. And me, obviously.’
‘You’ll have an amazing time.’
Bea carried on counting on her fingers. ‘And you.’
Hallie’s heart sank. ‘Oh Bea, no. I can’t.’
‘You can.’
How to explain? ‘Look, thanks for thinking of me, but it just wouldn’t . . . work.’
‘It would. I’ve checked with Luke. And I asked your mum too. There’s no reason why you can’t come along with us.’
‘It’s just so . . . complicated.’
‘But not impossible. People with cystic fibrosis can travel abroad; they do it all the time. You
know
that.’
Hallie sat back, bare legs stretched out before her, toes splayed in order not to smudge the glossy polish. ‘I know, and it’s really kind of you to invite me, but I don’t want to be the one who spoils things for everyone else. I’d just hold you back and then I’d feel guilty—’
‘Whoa. Stop it. Look at it from my point of view.’ Bea shook her head at her. ‘You’re my best friend, and if you refuse to come to Paris you
will
spoil things. I mean it,’ she went on when Hallie opened her mouth to protest. ‘My birthday will be ruined and it’ll be all
your
fault.’
She actually meant it. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure. You have to be there. I don’t want to turn thirty without you.’
Hallie was an infrequent crier, but her eyes were brimming now. Moved, she said, ‘OK. If you really mean it, I’ll come to Paris.’
‘I really
really
mean it. Come here, you.’ Careful not to dislodge the transparent oxygen tubing, or trigger a bout of coughing, Bea gave her a hug.
‘And the others don’t mind? You’re sure they’re OK with it too?’
‘Completely sure. You’re the must-have accessory of the season.’
‘I’ll have to get travel insurance.’ Which would probably cost a fortune.
‘There are specialist companies. It’s not a problem.’
Well, not quite true. It was easy for Bea to be airily dismissive, but Hallie knew it was going to involve travelling with a wheelchair, oxygen tank, nebuliser and assorted other vital bits and pieces. But if Bea was determined to have her there . . . well, she could make the effort.
‘OK, let’s do this thing.’ Paris! How glamorous! ‘Have you decided where you want to stay?’
‘I have brochures. I have chocolate.’ Bea withdrew both from her huge glittery shoulder bag. ‘And now I have you to help me choose a hotel. So,’ her eyes gleamed, ‘shall we make a start on it now?’
It was midday and there still hadn’t been any word from Rory. Tasha checked her phone for the fiftieth time to make sure a message hadn’t arrived and somehow been missed.
No, still nothing, even though he’d promised faithfully to keep her updated. Unable to help herself, she sent a text:
Please call and let me know you’re still alive. Xxx
‘You’re looking worried.’ Moira, a TV chef who was being made up for today’s photo shoot, was watching her in the mirror. ‘Everything OK?’
‘It’s just my boyfriend. He should have been in touch by now and he hasn’t
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