Free The Boy I Loved Before by Jenny Colgan Page B

her. Then I became aware of somebody sitting next to me. I turned, slowly, scarcely able to believe that somebody I knew so well was right there. And she would never know it was me. Not only that, but she was crying too.
    Tashy sniffed loudly. I stared at her from out of the corner of my eye. My heart was thudding like a drum. It took every ounce of strength I had not to leap on her and smother her with kisses.
    â€˜Sorry to bother you,’ I said, which sounded ridiculously weird. ‘Are you alright?’
    She turned round and, I swear to God, she nearly leaped straight up in the air.
    â€˜Oh my God,’ she said, trying to catch her breath. I kept looking at her, feeling as miserable as I ever had in my life.
    â€˜I’m sorry, but you look just like a friend of mine. Sorry, it’s the strangest thing.’
    â€˜What’s your friend like?’ I asked, my heart racing suddenly.

    â€˜Oh, it doesn’t matter. You’re much younger than her.’
    â€˜Is … what’s her name?’
    Tashy stood up, roughly rubbing her eyes. She was looking paler than of late – must be all the subsequent sunbed sessions. Her small solitaire ring glinted sadly.
    â€˜Why?’
    I swallowed hard. ‘Tashy.’
    â€˜How do you know my name?’ she said, suddenly looking very frightened.
    â€˜Please …’ I said. ‘Flora …’
    â€˜What’s going on here?’ She looked around her, holding on very tightly to her handbag.
    â€˜When did you last see her?’ I croaked. My heart was in my throat and I could hardly get the words out.
    â€˜What’s going on?’ Tashy peered at me. ‘What have you done? The likeness is unbelievable.’
    I heaved a big sigh. I couldn’t believe somebody recognised me. Or, she didn’t yet, but she would.
    â€˜Look. This is going to be really difficult to explain.’
    â€˜Are you a gang of fiendishly evil Eastern Europeans who have kidnapped her identity? Because if you are I’m telling the police.’
    At that, I was tempted to tell her her PIN number, which I knew in case of emergencies but, I figured, best not.
    â€˜No,’ I said. ‘I swear on Dave Grohl’s life.’
    She shook her head, dazed.
    â€˜Tashy, remember when we were fourteen and we swore faithfully the only man we’d sleep with before marriage was Prince Edward?’
    She stared at me.
    â€˜Remember when you got locked in a toilet with that boy
at McKaskill’s party? You weren’t really locked in, were you?’
    She shook her head.
    â€˜Remember when we tried to drink your parents’ creme de menthe and hurled all over the shagpile rug?’
    â€˜We were never going to tell anyone about that.’
    â€˜We never did. What about the time you …’
    â€˜OK, what? WHAT?!’
    Her face was a picture of confusion and despair. I took a deep breath. She was staring at me, eyes and mouth wide.
    I lowered my voice. ‘A certain tampon withdrawal failure? Being discovered on the end of a certain man’s …’
    Her hands went to her face. ‘OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. It’s you. WHAT HAPPENED?’
    â€˜I don’t know.’
    â€˜It just – can’t be.’
    â€˜I know.’
    She came up to me and squinted right in my face. I tried to keep still.
    â€˜God,’ she said. ‘What the hell have you done now?’
    â€˜So, I couldn’t get away with it just being a very good facelift and lots of healthy living?’ I said glumly.
    â€˜Who would believe that of you anyway?’ She was staring at my face in a quite unnerving manner, and put her hands up to touch it. ‘My God …’ she said.
    â€˜I know.’
    â€˜What … what happened?’
    â€˜I wish I knew,’ I said.
    â€˜I saw you just a couple of days ago.’
    â€˜No! That’s the thing. I just woke up this morning. Well, when I say “this