Fiona Harper Read online

  ‘No!’ What kind of sap did her flatmate think she was? But, then again…She buried her head in her hands, her shoulder-length blonde hair swinging forward to hide her face. ‘Oh, all right. Yes, I would.’

  ‘If there’s one person in this crazy world who is guaranteed to do the right thing, the sensible thing, it’s you.’

  Fern picked up the dessert menu and stared at it. ‘And that’s exactly why I’m not going to take any part in your crazy scheme.’

  ‘Really? I mean, really?’ Lisette dipped the menu down with the tip of one of her fingers so she could look into Fern’s eyes. ‘Think of it as another sponsored event. I’m sponsoring you to prise yourself from your rut for one week. Just one week. You can do that, can’t you? For charity?’ She batted her eyelids, a completely ridiculous gesture, but somehow it always worked on Fern.

  Drat that woman! After living with her for three years, she knew exactly where Fern’s weak points were. And raising money to prevent any more children going through the pain and sickness that her brother had endured before his death, to stop any more families being left with a large gaping hole that could never be filled, was something she couldn’t walk away from.

  ‘I can walk away at any time?’

  Lisette shrugged. ‘You can. But you won’t get the money. It’ll be up to you.’

  Fern picked up a wineglass and sloshed back the rest of the contents. ‘Okay. Yes. I’ll do it.’ For Ryan. Here’s to you, big brother, she thought as she swallowed the Chardonnay.

  Lisette clapped her hands and rubbed them together with glee. ‘I’m going to make sure you have the most exciting week of your life!’

  Fern reached for the wine bottle and poured herself another glass. That was exactly what she’d been afraid of.

  ‘Sorry, Callum. You’re going to have to take the New York meeting on your own.’ Josh stuck his head through the doorway into the living room and spotted his father dozing on the sofa with the paper over his face. He nudged the door closed and lowered his voice. ‘My dad is getting better—slowly—but I’m going to stick around for at least another fortnight.’

  While his business partner lamented that he was going to miss a vital appointment with the head of an exclusive hotel chain, Josh wandered from the hallway into the kitchen and stared out of the window into the garden. Callum would cope fine without him; he was such a worrier. Personally, Josh was more disappointed at abandoning the trip he’d had planned after New York—a planned visit to one of his pet projects.

  Recently One Life Travel had opened a non-profit making arm that organised charity expeditions. Want to walk the Great Wall of China to help save the whales? Or canoe up the Amazon to raise funds to fight heart disease? Then the new One Life Expeditions was the place to go.

  The Amazon. He sighed. He’d been really looking forward to a spot of canoeing. He’d planned to join one of the latest expeditions to personally see if the company was getting it right—if the guides were good, the equipment safe, the staff knowledgeable.

  This hands-on personal touch, a rigid policy of road-testing absolutely everything, was why what had started as a simple website offering good advice and cheap deals for backpackers had mushroomed into an award-winning travel corporation. They were in the business of offering once-in-a-lifetime trips, whether that be cheap flights and even cheaper hostels for the backpackers, or exclusive individually tailored trips with five-star elegance for a more discerning clientele.

  He could see his mother kneeling on the lawn, planting petunias. His parents’ garden was beautiful, no doubt about that. But it was too…tame. And too small. No chance of running into snakes on the bowling green lawn or piranhas in the fish pond, more’s the pity.

  ‘It’ll be fine. Take Sara with you,’ he told Callum. His PA was so efficient it would almost be as if he were there in person. ‘She knows the deal inside out. I’ll call you in a week and give you an update.’

  He said his goodbyes and left the cordless phone on the kitchen counter. Mum would nag him about that in a minute.

  It seemed odd being back in this house, even sleeping in his old bedroom rather than in his own house on the other side of town. Nothing had changed here. Oh, there were different kitchen cabinets and a new three-piece suite, but the atmosphere, the essence of the place was the same. Comforting and stifling all at the same time.

  Of course, Mum was delighted to have him here. She hardly let him out of her sight. But maybe that was to be expected. Nowadays he only really made it home for big celebrations, like dad’s sixtieth—had that really been six months ago?—and Christmas dinner. Well, most Christmas dinners. Last December he’d been left stranded in Nepal after a trek through the Himalayan foothills, his flight cancelled.

  It was good to see his parents again, but he’d rather it had been under different circumstances. Six weeks ago, he’d got a frantic call from his mother letting him know that his father was undergoing emergency heart surgery. He’d flown straight home. It had been touch and go for a few days, but Dad was pulling through.

  He didn’t want to think about the ten-hour flight home. It had been the first time in years that he hadn’t enjoyed the rush of take-off. All he’d been able to think about was how little he’d seen his parents in the last few months and how awful it would be if…

  He shook his head and stepped through the open back door and walked towards his mother, leaving that thought behind in the bright and cheery kitchen. His feet were itchy. He wanted to be here for his father but, at the same time, now that Dad was on the mend he was starting to feel like a spare part.

  Mum was now standing on the lawn, hands on hips, surveying her handiwork.

  ‘They look nice, Mum.’

  She turned and looked at him, her face screwed up against the bright sunshine. ‘Not very exotic, I know, but I like them. It makes the place feel like home.’

  Josh smiled back at her and his gaze drifted down the garden. It was a good-sized plot for a semi-detached house of this size, stretching back more than a hundred feet. A big garden, in London suburb terms. It looked lighter, somehow. The bottom of the garden had always seemed so shady in his childhood memories.

  And then he realised something was missing.

  ‘Mum? What happened to the old apple tree?’

  She wiped her hands on the front of her old gardening jeans and walked over to stand by his side. ‘We had some heavy winds this spring. Eighty mile an hour gusts at times.’ She shrugged. ‘Woke up the next morning to find most of the apple tree in next door’s garden.’

  He instantly set off walking towards where the apple tree had once been. Only a stump was left. Suddenly he felt angry. That tree had been a huge part of his childhood. He and Ryan, the boy next door and his best friend, had spent more time in its branches during the summer months than they had with their feet on the earth. If he’d known the last time he’d been here that it would be the last time he’d see it, he would have…dunno…said a prayer or something.

  He didn’t like graveyards. They were way too permanent. And he hadn’t been to visit the small marble headstone in St Mark’s churchyard, not even on the day of Ryan’s funeral. Instead, he’d come here to the apple tree. He’d climbed up into the highest branches and sat silently with his legs swinging. If only…

  If only he’d realised that summer, when he’d been thirteen and Ryan had been fourteen, that it would be their last one together. He would have made sure they finished the tree-house they’d been planning to build in those old branches, not just left it as a few planks nailed in strategic places.

  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 bel
ow 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.