My Perfect Stranger: A hilarious love story by the bestselling author of One Day in December. Kat French

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СКАЧАТЬ you’re looking for a pianist to play just for Honey?’ Lucille said.

      ‘Er, hello, I am actually here,’ Honey grumbled. ‘Now can we change the subject, please?’

      ‘Not to play for Honey,’ Tash said, completely ignoring her friend. ‘To play with Honey.’

      ‘You play the piano, dear?’ Mimi said, turning her big brown eyes to Honey. ‘How did I not know that? Billy will be thrilled. You can duet.’

      ‘Look, I don’t play the flippin’ piano, okay?’ Honey said, picking her cup up and draining it, then gathering up the empty cups and taking them into the kitchen in order to end the conversation. She realised her tactical error a few minutes later when the trio lapsed into suspicious silence on her return; the conversation had clearly carried on perfectly well without her. Surely Tash hadn’t gone into detail about the piano man mission to Lucille and Mimi?

      Lucille patted Honey’s hand. ‘We think it’s marvellous that you’re doing something about your little problem,’ she whispered the last few words conspiratorially, and Mimi covered her other hand with her own liver-spotted one. ‘Pianists are definitely good with their hands. Take it from someone who knows. Even at our age, my Billy can …’ she tailed off and shrugged her slight shoulders, thankfully drawing a veil over the finer details before she and Lucille drifted away to help customers.

      Honey shot Tash a murderous look, which she ignored with a cheeky grin.

      ‘So, as I was saying. I’ve found you a pianist.’

      ‘Tash, I don’t want one. Not really. It was a joke.’

      Tash frowned and shook her head. ‘Uh-uh. It wasn’t, and it isn’t. Anyway, you can’t back out now, because I’ve set you up on a date with him.’

      ‘What? No.’ Honey didn’t like the way this conversation was headed. ‘Who is he, anyway?’

      ‘Deano. You’re gonna love him,’ Tash said. ‘He’s one of the girls I work with’s brother’s flat mate. Or was it her brother’s friend’s flat mate?’

      ‘You’ve never even met him, have you?’

      Tash looked shifty. ‘Well, not exactly myself, but she showed me a picture and he’s hot.’

      ‘So you’ve set me up with some randomer you’ve never met called Deano. He doesn’t even sound like a pianist to me.’

      ‘Oh, he is. For deffo. Well … a synthesiser, but that’s practically the same thing, isn’t it?’ Tash held up her hand to silence the protest on Honey’s lips. ‘And here’s the best bit. He’s in a band.’

      Honey stared at her friend. ‘So. To clarify. You’ve set me up on a blind date with a bloke you’ve never met who’s in a band and isn’t even a pianist.’

      Tash nodded. ‘Friday night, half past eight at The Cock.’

      The Cock Inn was the less desirable of the two pubs in the small market town of Greyacres. Honey shook her head.

      ‘No way, Tash. I’m not doing it. You’ll have to go yourself.’

      ‘No can do. I’m seeing Yusef on Friday, a property developer I met on a flight to Dubai last week. He’s hot and loaded and he wants me bad ways. Besides, Deano’s into blondes.’

      ‘For Christ’s sake, Tash, who does he think he is? Rod bloody Stewart? Does he think I’m some sort of groupie? Is he expecting to buy me a pint and a bag of scratchings and then shag me in the alleyway behind The Cock?’ She shook her head. ‘This was hardly the idea, was it? You promised me Michael Bublé.’

      ‘I’m trying, okay?’ Tash said, all big green eyes and pouty lips. ‘Just meet him for one drink, yes? Gina said he’s a laugh and he’s lonely.’

      ‘Lonely?’ More alarm bells rang in Honey’s head.

      Tash cleared her throat and ran her fingers through the strings of beads hanging on a stand on the counter.

      ‘Mmm. He broke up with his girlfriend or something. Details, Honey, details. All you need to know is he’s hot and available.’ Tash picked up her car keys. ‘Don’t let me down, Honeysuckle. Live a little. Be in The Cock Friday night at half past eight, okay?’

      Honey pushed open the door of the house at just after six that evening, weighed down once more with shopping for both herself and her grouchy neighbour. She’d decided against more whisky. A bottle a day seemed a dangerous amount to encourage Hal to drink, or to enable him with at least. She was pretty sure he wasn’t leaving the building himself any time soon and he didn’t have a second supplier, so she was pretty much his whisky tap. That knowledge came as something of a relief because he couldn’t drink more than she gave him, but on the flip side it was a responsibility she didn’t especially want. How much was too much? A bottle a week? Every three days? She was pretty certain Hal’s answer would be every day if she asked him, which she wasn’t about to do. So she’d brought him different things today. Orange juice. Milk. Cereal. Bread. Cheese slices. Ham. Cans of cola. Crisps. Chocolate bars. Her shopping for him resembled a cross between stuff for a kids’ tea party and a welcome pack at a holiday cottage. She’d wandered the aisles looking for things that came in easy portions, hampered by the fact that she didn’t have a clue either what Hal liked or how someone visually impaired dealt with food preparation. On impulse she’d picked up a couple of bags of chips from the local chippy too, and after nipping into her own flat to deposit her junk and her jacket, she schlepped across the hallway to Hal’s door.

      ‘Hey, rock star,’ she called out, tapping her knuckles lightly on the wood. Silence, and after a little while, more of the same. No great shock there then. ‘Come on Hal, I know you’re in there. I bought you stuff.’ She turned her head so that her ear was close to the door. Still nothing. She counted to sixty and then tried again. ‘Please? I’ve got takeaway, and it’s burning my fingers, so if you could just …’ She stopped speaking at the sound of movement in the hallway behind the door.

      ‘What is it today? Meals on fucking wheels?’

      Honey raised her eyebrows at his closed door. ‘Hello to you too, neighbour. Open the door?’ She felt him deliberating in the lengthening silence. ‘Please? It’s only a bag of chips, but they’re good.’

      The door inched open just enough for Hal to put his hand out.

      ‘That’s not exactly polite, is it?’ she said, holding on to his food. He gestured with his middle finger in a way that left her in no way confused about his irritation, and then opened his palm for a second time. Honey flicked her eyes at the ceiling and then gave up, placing the wrapped packet in his hand.

      ‘I have some too,’ she said through the gap. ‘Want to invite me in and we can eat together?’

      ‘Not unless you bought more whisky.’

      Honey sighed and slid down the wall beside his door. ‘I guess I’ll just sit out here and eat them then.’ She ripped a hole in the top of her paper parcel to eat them the old-fashioned way, as if she were sitting down on the seafront watching the waves instead of on the Minton-tiled floor of her own hallway. As hallways went, it was quite pretty, square and airy with a big sash window and original flooring, but as views went it wasn’t spectacular. On the other side of the door Honey heard Hal settling СКАЧАТЬ