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,
