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
