Last-Minute Proposal. Jessica Hart

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      Campbell glanced down at her. Her heart-shaped face was pink with exertion and she was vainly trying to stop the breeze blowing the mass of curly brown hair into her eyes. She looked cross and ruffled and vibrant in her red ski-suit. It seemed a bizarre choice to wear for a weekend walking in the hills, but at least there was no chance of her getting lost. You could see her coming a mile away. Perhaps the television people had told her they wanted her to be noticeable—although it was hard to imagine not noticing her.

      ‘Why not?’ he asked. ‘If you didn’t want to do it, you could have just said so.’

      Of course he would say that, thought Tilly. It was easy for people like Campbell Sanderson and her father, who only ever focused on one thing. They didn’t worry about what other people would think or whether feelings would be hurt. They just said what they thought and did what they wanted and it never occurred to them to feel guilty about anything.

      ‘It would have seemed so selfish,’ she tried to explain. ‘The hospice is a really special place. It was so awful when we knew my mother was dying. She was in pain, my brothers were very young, my stepfather was distraught… I was trying to hold things together but I didn’t know what to do.’

      The dark blue eyes were sad as she remembered that terrible time. ‘I was so afraid of Mum dying,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how any of us would have got through it without the hospice. It wasn’t that we were any less bereft when she did die, but when she was there we were all calmer. They were so kind, not just to Mum, but to all of us. They helped us to understand what was happening, and accept it in a way we hadn’t been able to do before.

      ‘It was the same when my stepfather died,’ said Tilly. ‘It was still terrible, but we weren’t so scared. I owe the hospice so much that I can’t just back out. They were all so thrilled about the prospect of me taking part for them! If we win, they’ll get the prize money, which would mean so much to them. They’re building a new wing, so that other families can have the help and support we had. How could I turn round and say I wasn’t going to try and help them after all?’

      ‘There must be other ways of helping them,’ Campbell pointed out.

      ‘I volunteer in the shop,’ said Tilly, ‘but that isn’t much of a sacrifice, is it?’

      ‘It’s more than most people do.’

      ‘Maybe, but most people don’t get a chance to win a huge donation to the charity of their choice either. If an opportunity like that comes along, it’s virtually impossible to turn it down. I’d have felt worse than a piece of poo on your shoe if I had—as Harry and Seb no doubt worked out.’

      ‘Harry and Seb?’

      ‘My twin brothers,’ Tilly told him without enthusiasm. ‘This whole thing was their idea. They found out about the programme and took it upon themselves to enter me on my behalf. They sent in a photo and some spurious account of why I was so keen to take part—and then made sure everybody knew that I’d got through to the first round before I did so they were all lined up to lay on the emotional blackmail when Seb and Harry finally broke the news.

      ‘At least, they didn’t mean it as emotional blackmail,’ she amended, wanting to be fair. ‘Everyone at the hospice thought I wanted to take part and had just kept quiet in case I wasn’t picked. So of course when my brothers told them that I was going to be on the programme, they were all delighted for me and kept telling me how proud Mum would have been if she knew what I was doing, which she would have been, of course.’

      Tilly sighed. ‘I couldn’t disappoint them by telling them it was all a mistake, could I? It would have felt like letting Mum down, too.’

      Campbell frowned as he headed across the hillside, cutting down from the track so that they had to leap between clumps of heather. At least, Tilly did. Campbell just carried on walking as if he were on a pavement. Tilly had never met anyone as sure-footed. There was a kind of dangerous grace about the way he moved, and it made her feel even more of a lumbering walrus than she did normally.

      He was obviously incredibly fit, too. Look at him—he wasn’t even out of breath, thought Tilly, aggrieved, while she was puffing and panting and tripping over heather and generally making it obvious that she was extremely unfit.

      ‘Why were your brothers so keen to get you on the programme?’

      ‘They’ve got this bee in their bonnet that I’m in a rut,’ ‘puffed Tilly in their bonnet that I’m in a rut,’ puffed Tilly, struggling to keep up with him. ‘I was thirty earlier this year and you’d think I was about to cash in my pension the way they’re carrying on about my missed opportunities!’

      ‘Are you in a rut?’

      ‘If I am, it’s a very comfortable one,’ she said with an edge of defiance. ‘I’m perfectly happy doing what I’m doing, and I haven’t got time to worry about ruts. The boys only think that because they’ve been away at university, and they’ve got this idea that Allerby is boring—although I notice they don’t mind coming back when they’re short of money and in need of some good square meals,’ she added tartly.

      Of course, Campbell would probably think an attractive market town in North Yorkshire was boring, too. He didn’t look like a provincial type. He would stand out like a tiger amongst a lot of fat, pampered pets in Allerby, for instance.

      On the other hand, he didn’t look like a true townie either. Tilly couldn’t imagine him going to the theatre or sipping a cappuccino. His military background probably explained that slightly dangerous edge to him, but then what was he doing here?

      There was one easy way to find out.

      ‘So what are you doing here? You don’t seem the kind of bloke who does things he doesn’t want to do.’

      ‘I seem to have ended up doing this,’ said Campbell sourly. ‘I’m Chief Executive of Manning Securities.’

      ‘The sponsors of the show?’

      ‘Exactly,’ he said, without once breaking pace. ‘Keith, my PR Director, convinced me that the show would be good for our image. Personally, I’d have thought it was more effective just to give the money to charity, but Keith was adamant that this would have a greater impact. It fitted with our ethos of cor¬ porate social responsibility and, as I didn’t think I’d ave to be involved myself, I gave the go-ahead.’

      ‘You look pretty involved now,’ Tilly commented, and he grunted a reluctant acknowledgement.

      ‘Not out of choice. This is Keith’s fault. He rang me yesterday morning, saying that one of the contestants had had to withdraw because he’d broken his leg and that the production team were desperate for a last-minute replacement with survival skills.’

      ‘That was Greg,’ said Tilly. ‘I met him last week when I learnt I’d got through to this round. They said he was an experienced Outward Bound instructor and a vegan, so I suppose they thought he would make a good contrast with me. He seemed a nice enough guy, but I can’t tell you how relieved I was when I heard he’d broken his leg. I thought I’d have the perfect reason to withdraw, and then they partnered me with you!’ Her expression was glum.

      ‘Glad I was such a nice surprise!’ said Campbell with a touch of acid.

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