- -
- 100%
- +
A cold, dark feeling swirled inside his stomach. It threatened to bubble up and overwhelm him. Suddenly his legs were moving and he was striding back towards the house.
His mother, as she always was in his thoughts of her when he was half a world away, was putting the kettle on for a cup of tea. Once back inside the kitchen, he shut the back door, even though the gentle breeze and the warm, buzzing sound of the bees in the lavender below the window would have been pleasant.
‘You still miss him, don’t you?’
He shrugged with just one shoulder, then looked at his feet. Mum would scold him for not using the doormat on his way in. He went back and rectified the situation. When he looked up, she was giving him one of those don’t-think-you-can-fool-me looks.
What good would it do to tell her that, on one level, he still expected Ryan to barge in through the back door and charm his mother into giving him a slice of her famous Victoria sponge? He looked out of the window into the Chambers’s garden next door.
‘I haven’t seen Fern since I’ve been back.’
His mother reached into a cupboard and pulled out the teapot. ‘Her mother says she’s very busy at work.’
He nodded. That was Fern. Dedicated, hard-working, loyal to a fault. ‘I hope she’s not overdoing it.’
His mother laughed. ‘You’re as bad as Jim and Helen! The poor girl gets nagged and smothered at every turn. No wonder she moved out.’
Ah, but Mum didn’t know about the promise. The day of Ryan’s funeral, hidden up in the old apple tree, he’d adopted the girl next door as his honorary little sister and vowed to watch out for her. Oh, he’d teased and tormented her just as Ryan would have done, but he’d protected her too. To his own cost sometimes.
Mum reached for the tea caddy. ‘Don’t think much of her flatmate, though. A bit of a wild thing.’
His features hardened. Fern had a flatmate? Male or female?
‘Is…is she seeing anyone?’
His mother shook her head. ‘Not that I know of. There was someone serious last year. I was sure they were on the verge of settling down but then he upped and disappeared.’
‘Am I allowed to find him, then punch him?’
Billowing steam poured from the kettle, matching his mood nicely. A shrill whistle announced it was at boiling point and he automatically turned the gas off. The kitchen was silent again.
‘She’s not nine any more, you know,’ his mother said.
He knew. It was just easier to think of her that way.
‘Like I said, you’re as bad as her parents. You all want to wrap her up in cotton wool. She puts up with it for their sake, because of Ryan, but mark my words, she’s not going to thank you for joining in.’
Nonsense. Fern loved seeing him. He was her favourite honorary big brother.
Mum reached forward and ruffled his hair.
‘Mu-um!’
‘Not that I could ever pin you down long enough to wrap you up in anything.’ She walked over to the back door and opened it, letting the warm sunshine in. ‘But I’m scared to death half the time when you’re off doing those extreme sports. I can sympathise with the desire to keep your only child safe.’
‘I’ve told you before; I can look after myself.’
Time to change the subject.
‘Are you sure you won’t let me pay for that holiday, Mum? You and Dad have wanted to go back to Loch Lomond for years. It’d be five-star luxury all the way, no expense spared. Dad would get the break he needs and so would you.’
‘Tempting, but no. I’m standing firm on what I said last year. Your father and I don’t want any more of your money; we’d rather see more of you.’
‘You’re not still sticking to that stupid agreement, are you?’
‘I certainly am. For every hundred pounds you want to give us, I want an hour of your time in return. I heard that’s a pretty good deal for a major player like you.’ She winked at him. Actually winked at him.
‘Yes, Mum, but I’m supposed to get the money, not the other way round and, anyway, you’ve seen plenty of me recently.’
‘The amount you’ve been away the last few years, I reckon you still owe me plenty.’
Not for the first time, Josh regretted that he’d got his stubborn streak from his mother. He was just going to have to find a loophole.
She gave him another one of those looks. ‘Go and check on your father and see if he wants a cup of tea.’ Josh started out of the kitchen but she called him back. ‘And puts this back where it belongs!’
He grinned and took the cordless phone from her, then tiptoed back into the living room to place it in its cradle. Dad was snoring now. The paper was fluttering madly with every exhalation and Josh lifted it off him. Better to leave him. Dad needed his rest.
But there was only so much rest Josh could take. He was used to excitement. Action. Adventure. Yes, he wanted to be home and help Mum out while Dad recovered, but the biggest thrill he’d had in his six weeks here had been the rumour of a burglary at number forty-three. He needed something to do before he went insane. Something he could do in London for a few days, just to stop himself going stark raving bonkers.
Funnily enough, it was as he was folding Dad’s paper up to put it in the recycling bin that he noticed the advert, tucked away at the back. His adrenaline levels rose just reading it.
It was Tuesday already and she was still alive. Not only that, but she was starting to enjoy herself. Okay, she’d had a couple of meals she’d rather forget and had hidden behind her hands at a horror movie but, on the flip side, she’d unearthed a talent for salsa dancing. Who would have known her hips could swish and swirl like that? Even after one lesson she could feel the difference in the way she walked.
She smiled across the small round café table at Lisette and took another bite out of her wrap. Her friend had been on to something after all. Only she wasn’t going to confess that to Lisette. It would only spark off another round of crazy ideas.
Still, she was looking forward to Sunday morning, when her life would be her own again. Only four more days. How hard could it be?
‘Here’s Simon now,’ Lisette said, waving towards the doorway.
Fern turned round and smiled. Simon was a nice guy. She’d got to know him quite well, planning various fundraising activities for their local volunteer group.
‘All set for tomorrow?’ she asked as he pulled out a chair and crumpled into it.
He nodded and added a breathless, ‘Yes’ for good measure. ‘Sorry I’m late. We had a last-minute person sign up to do the bungee jump and I had to sort out the paperwork.’
Lisette grinned. ‘Is he hot?’
Simon looked blankly at her.
‘Only asking!’ She stood up and pulled her purse out of her handbag. ‘I’m going to be decadent and have a triple caramel muffin. Anyone else want one?’ She looked pointedly at Fern. ‘Fern?’
See? This was easy, if not downright enjoyable. A guilt-free muffin. She couldn’t say no, after all, could she?
‘Yes.’ She said the word slowly, giving it added weight, and Lisette’s eyes lit up with a mischievous twinkle. ‘I would love a muffin. Thank you very much.’
Simon coughed and shook his head. Lisette wiggled off to the counter.
‘Fern?’ His pale blond hair flopped over his forehead and he pushed it back. He was wearing his trademark earnest look.
‘Yes, Simon?’
‘I was wondering what time you’d be able to get there tomorrow to help with the registration forms and everything.’
‘Okay. What time do you want me?’
Oh, dear! That had been such an innocent remark and still a blush crept up Simon’s neck and stained his cheeks.
‘I mean, how early do I need to be there?’
His hair flopped over his face again and this time he didn’t bother to push it back. He shrugged and looked back at her through his fringe. ‘Eight o’clock? If that’s not too early?’
Actually, she’d been hoping that it’d be more like ten o’clock. This was the first day she’d taken off work in months and she’d really been looking forward to a lie-in.
‘That’s fine. It’s all in a good cause, isn’t it?’
Simon looked nervously towards the counter, where Lisette was flirting shamelessly with the barista. ‘Actually, Fern, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you…’
Uh-oh.
‘Simon, I…Oh, look! Here comes Lisette!’
Her flatmate returned, grinning, with two caramel muffins and the barista’s phone number on a scrap of paper. Just in time! She had a sneaking suspicion she knew what Simon had been about to ask her and she really didn’t want to hear that question, not this week.
He was a nice enough guy: polite, sensitive, cared about other people. She guessed he’d been on the verge of asking her out for about two months now. Why, oh why, did he have to pick this week to pluck up his courage? They’d be together all morning tomorrow, organising the charity bungee jump, and she was sure this wouldn’t be the last she’d hear of it. She knew she’d have to say yes to a date.
Would that really be so horrible? He was good company—a little intense at times, maybe, but he was fairly good-looking in a public schoolboy kind of way.
It was just that there was no zap. No chemistry. But, then again, she’d only felt that little lightning strike once in her life so far. She shook her head. Zap didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean long-term. It didn’t even signal compatibility on more than a physical level. And it certainly didn’t stop you getting your heart broken and withering away from an unrequited teenage crush. Zap, in other words, was dangerous.
No, Simon was a good choice, a safe bet. Maybe she would say yes when he asked, even if he stuttered and stalled until after midnight on Saturday. There’d be time to generate a zap. Sexual chemistry was supposed to be all between the ears, anyway. That was what Lisette had said after she’d finished reading her latest self-help book.
She unwrapped her muffin carefully and placed it on a plate. ‘Simon says we need to be there at eight tomorrow, Lis.’
Simon shuffled in his seat. ‘Actually, those who are actually doing the jump probably don’t need to turn up until nine-thirty.’
Lisette, who had just bitten into her muffin—still in its case—swallowed and flicked the crumbs away from the corner of her mouth with a finger. ‘Actually…’ her voice was muffled as she chewed and swallowed her mouthful ‘…I have some bad news about that.’ She scrunched up her face and looked at Fern through half an eyelid.
Oh, no. She had a really bad feeling about this.
‘Don’t look at me like that. “Bad Cop, Good Cop” want to do more scenes than originally planned and we’re starting filming tomorrow instead of Thursday. It’s not something I could have predicted and I can’t afford to turn the job down.’
Simon looked panic-stricken. ‘What about all your sponsor money?’
‘Well, I had an idea about that…’ She turned to look at Fern and Fern’s skin broke out in goosebumps. ‘Fern, my old buddy, my old friend—’
Fern jumped out of her seat and pressed the fingers of one hand flat against Lisette’s mouth.
No! No way!
Her voice was reedy and shrill, and much louder than she’d anticipated, when she finally got it to work. ‘Lisette, don’t you dare…!’
CHAPTER TWO
THE noise in the coffee shop instantly dropped to a dull murmur. A teaspoon clinked against a saucer. Fern froze and noticed that not a few pairs of eyes were looking in her direction. She sat down with a bump, her fingers still in contact with Lisette’s lips in a vain attempt to hold back her question.
It did no good; Lisette just mumbled against them, her lips squashing into odd shapes. ‘Will you take my place and do the jump for me?’
Fern glared at her flatmate. Slowly, she pulled her fingers away and folded her hands in her lap, never once blinking or breaking eye contact with Lisette. It was only when she heard a rustle to her left that she remembered Simon was still there.
‘Would you, Fern?’ he said meekly.
She turned sharply to look at him and he shrank back. Better downgrade that glare to a firm-and-in-control look. She took a few seconds to make the adjustment. Simon breathed out.
‘Go on. Answer the man’s question.’ Was that a tremor she could hear in Lisette’s voice? Fern flicked a look in her soon-to-be-ex-flatmate’s direction. Lisette had the good sense to stop grinning.
She took a deep breath. Any other week and there was no way this would have even figured on her radar. A bungee jump! She couldn’t do a bungee jump. What was Lisette thinking?
But the question had been asked and Simon was looking at her so hopefully. He was counting on her—the Leukaemia Research Trust was counting on her. And if she refused, they’d also lose out on the five hundred pounds Lisette had promised her if she fulfilled her stupid challenge.
She blew a breath out and let her body sag into the hard chair.
‘Yes. I’ll do it.’
Simon looked ready to hug her. After a few moments’ awkward hesitation, he lurched forward and planted a wet kiss on her cheek. She looked at him. Not so much a zap as a squelch.
‘Thank you so much! If you take Lisette’s place we should still reach our target.’
She felt numb and could hardly listen to the rest of the conversation as Simon grabbed a cup of coffee and wittered on about how great it was going to be tomorrow. By the time he’d finished she only had five minutes of her break left. For the first time in her life she was going to be late back from lunch, because there were some things she needed to say to Lisette that just couldn’t wait.
They both watched in silence as Simon mumbled his goodbyes and flapped through the coffee shop door, narrowly avoiding sending an elderly woman flying.
‘There is no way I can do a bungee jump!’
‘Yes, you can!’
‘No. I can’t.’
Lisette raised her eyebrows and pressed her mouth together in a rueful expression. ‘Too late. You’ve already said you’ll do it.’
Fern sighed and her brows crinkled together until a small crease appeared at the top of her nose. There had to be some way out of this. Some legitimate way that she could pull out without jeopardising all the money. Hang on a second…
She relaxed back into her chair and folded her arms. ‘When we discussed terms and conditions, you said I could refuse to do anything dangerous.’
Lisette raised one eyebrow. ‘Nice try, but the jump has been approved health-and-safety-wise. You double checked all the paperwork yourself, remember? So why, if it’s safe for all the other volunteers, would it not be safe for you?’
Drat! Caught out by her own efficiency.
‘You don’t have to do it, if you really don’t want to.’ Lisette scraped around her cappuccino cup with a teaspoon.
‘I don’t?’ The sense of relief was like the sun coming out unexpectedly on a cloudy day.
The teaspoon made its way into Lisette’s mouth upside down and she licked the foam off it. ‘No one is forcing you to do anything. But you will forfeit my five hundred pounds and the four hundred pounds in sponsor money people have pledged me.’
Fern spluttered. ‘Four hundred pounds! How did you manage that?’
‘Remember that period drama I did last month when I was an eighteenth-century milkmaid?’
Fern nodded, not exactly sure where this was going.
‘Okay, well, that corset made my boobs look really great. And there were lots of hunky male villagers with nothing to do but mill around for hours and stare at my cleavage…’
Josh ran up the escalator stairs two at a time and considered vaulting over the ticket barrier at the top. Under the watchful gaze of the London Underground official, he jammed his ticket through the machine and sprinted across the ticket hall and out on to the busy street.
He was late. Almost.
People were rushing past him, eyes down towards the pavement. He stopped and let them flow around him. Although London was technically home and, by definition, should be classed as boring, he couldn’t help loving the bustle and excitement of the city.
He turned round on the spot, scanning the horizon. All those pavement-gazers took it all for granted. They weren’t paying attention to the beautiful architecture or the clear blue sky criss-crossed with aeroplane trails, or even the two hundred foot crane towering by the bank of the Thames. He grinned to himself and set off towards it.
Good old Mum. She’d heard about this charity bungee jump from Helen Chambers and knew it would be just up his street. This was just for starters. Main course was the torn-out advert sitting in his back pocket.
He’d been working non-stop for the last six months and desperately needed some fun. Why work hard unless he could play hard? He hadn’t had time in his schedule to go snowboarding or white-water rafting recently. The South America trip would have been a good substitute, but he’d just have to have an adventure in London instead.
By the time he reached the foot of the crane, the first couple of volunteers had already jumped and another was dangling upside down while he was lowered to the ground. Josh scanned the crowd as he registered and started towards the little lift that would take him to the top of the crane.
He needed a partner for his next project and there must be at least one guy here who was up for an impromptu escapade. Someone physically fit with half a brain. Someone who’d be prepared to hare around the city for four days and possibly go home with five thousand pounds in his pocket.
Once he was at the top of the crane and waiting in line, he checked out his fellow jumpers more carefully. He made a little face to himself. Not really what he’d expected. A couple of senior citizens, a lanky guy with the look of a frozen rabbit and a few girls.
Another person jumped and the line shuffled forward. Seven more people to go and then he’d have his adrenaline high. There was nothing to beat it. He watched as the next volunteer had her ankles strapped into the harness.
She was standing stock still, staring out across the city. A lot of the others had clucked and fidgeted as the safety checks had been made, but not her. He tipped his head slightly on one side. Not bad legs either. And beautiful pale blonde hair that the wind was teasing bit by bit out of her ponytail. He allowed himself a small smile. Perhaps he’d try and get her number when they were both on terra firma again.
He liked his women brave and feisty. Sure, the relationships didn’t last long, fizzling out quickly, but it was a heck of a ride while it lasted. He had a few more weeks to kill in London. Why not?
And then she turned to look back at the line of people behind her and he knew exactly why not.
He didn’t need to know her number when he already knew her middle name. Not only that, but he knew that she hated Brussels sprouts, loved vanilla ice cream and had a tiny crescent-shaped scar on her temple. Knew it because he’d put it there accidentally when she’d been seven and he’d been messing around with an old tennis racquet.
Fern? Ryan’s shy little sister was doing a bungee jump? He shook his head.
It was her turn to jump but she seemed frozen. A picture flashed in his brain—Fern, standing at the end of the diving board on a joint family holiday, her tiny arms clamped to her sides and her chin tipped up. He’d seen the look of fear in her eyes then and he didn’t have to see all of her face to know it was there now. He knew what he had to do.
The other jumpers were starting to mutter and he pushed past them until he was standing directly behind her. She jerked her head round and a small croak came out of her mouth. Her eyes were glazed over and she hadn’t even registered his presence.
He knew she’d kick herself if she didn’t do this, just the same way that she had sulked for three days after he’d talked her down from the high diving board. Ryan had teased her mercilessly, forgetting—as Ryan conveniently often had—that it had been his goading that had forced her up there in the first place.
He stepped forward and placed his hands around her waist and whispered encouraging words in her ear. Exactly what words he wasn’t sure, because all he could think about was how warm she felt beneath his fingers and how there definitely hadn’t been that much curve there last time he’d grabbed her round the middle.
He’d done so many jumps like this he couldn’t even count them, but he was pretty sure it was Fern’s first time. So he carefully talked her through it, all the time trying to keep his voice steady and soothing, which was harder than anticipated, because he kept getting distracted by the smell of her hair.
He felt her muscles relax as he counted her down and then, before he could analyse the sudden urge to grab on to her and squeeze her close to him, she had fallen away from him and he was left hugging empty space.
He spread his arms wide—stretching to the tips of his fingers—lifted his face to the sun, rocked forward on to the balls of his feet and let gravity do the rest. A yell of pure joy erupted from deep inside his chest. He loved the first moments of a bungee jump, when the exquisite sense of freedom tangled with the natural human desire for self-preservation. Man, it was a rush!
He wondered if Fern had felt the same way. He hoped so. And, as the elastic tugged tight, giving him a split-second of stillness before he was propelled upwards again, he had an epiphany.
He didn’t need a man to help him win the ten thousand pounds; he needed a woman. A woman who was clever and resilient and knew this city inside out. A woman he could trust.
He needed Fern.
The small stones on the dusty ground were starting to dig into her bottom, but she didn’t care. She was going to be filthy when she stood up, but she didn’t care about that either. All that mattered was that large sections of her body’s surface area—namely, her rear end, legs and feet—were in contact with solid ground.
Her back was hunched forward and she was staring at her knees as she sat there motionless, dragging in deep breaths.
She’d never realised how much she loved the ground before now. She’d always taken it for granted—had stomped on it, had walked along it in spiky high heels, had generally ignored it. It had taken being spectacularly separated from it to make her realise how precious it really was.
After another minute she was ready to take her eyes off the dirt and focus on the horizon. The sight of the base of the great crane made her feel all fluttery again.
Had it really been Josh up there?
She deliberately kept her gaze level with the skyline, the sparkling office blocks and grand old buildings that dared to reach heavenwards. The bungee cord was free of any weight and swung aimlessly in the breeze. It must be over. She dragged herself to standing and brushed the grit off her bottom and the backs of her thighs with a few quick swipes of her hands.
That voice in her ear, those hands around her waist—had they been real? Now she was back with her feet planted on the earth it seemed like a half-remembered dream. She must have conjured the image up, been subconsciously taken back in time to a similar incident when he’d been there to help her. Funnily enough, in comparison, the memory of the diving board incident was fresh and clear: Bournemouth, over twenty years ago. That day, an unsuspecting eleven-year-old boy had won the eternal admiration of one small girl.
The murmur of voices behind her disturbed her thoughts. She put her hands on her hips and stared up at the crane.
He still had it. Her admiration. That and a bucketload more.
But she hadn’t seen Josh in more than a year and he was more likely in Timbuktu or Bora Bora, working to put One Life Travel more firmly on the map. His mother was always boasting about her son’s new millionaire status and the last time the Adamses and the Chamberses had had a get-together—without Josh, of course—Pauline had been full of Josh’s new venture. Now, by helping charities organise and run expeditions, he could help hundreds of people every day, not only the people who took part in the expeditions, giving them an experience of a lifetime, but also the charities they raised money for.