Loving Our Heroes. Jessica Hart

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      ‘Fortunately for you, I can’t.’

      Ducking into the tent, he handed her an enamel mug of black tea. ‘Have this to warm you up while I get the stew going.’

      ‘Warm? Warm? What’s warm?’ She shivered but took the tea gratefully. ‘The only trouble with stopping is realising how cold you are.’

      Campbell tsk-tsked. ‘Stop complaining,’ he said ‘Have one of your fantasies instead—or, better still, do the video diary.’ He dug around in his rucksack for the camera.

      ‘Why do I have to do it?’ grumbled Tilly as he held it to the light so that he could see how it worked.’

      ‘Because you’ll be better at that than me.’

      ‘I won’t. I’d feel a complete idiot talking to a camera,’ she protested. ‘I wouldn’t know what to say.’

      ‘Just carry on wittering the way you’ve been doing all day,’ suggested Campbell with a touch of acid. ‘Tell them one of your fantasies—that should win a few votes!’

      ‘I’m not going to do that!’ She flopped back down on to the sleeping bag. ‘Why don’t we pretend we forgot about the video diary business?’

      He shook his head firmly. ‘We can’t do that. The diary is part of the challenge.’ Propping the camera on top of his rucksack, he bent down to peer through it and check that it was pointing at Tilly. ‘You heard what Suzy said. We’re going to be judged on the video diary and film clips as well as on who gets back down from Ben Nuarrh first.’

      ‘If you care so much about winning, you do it,’ said Tilly crossly.

      ‘I’ve got to make the stew.’ Campbell moved the lamp so that the light fell on her. ‘Look, just talk for a minute and then it’s done. You don’t even have to get up. I promise I won’t listen, so you can be as horrible about me as you want.’

      He pointed at a button on top of the camera. ‘I’ll set it going. Just press this when you’ve finished.’

      ‘Hang on!’ Tilly started to struggle up in protest, but he was already crawling out of the tent, leaving the red light beckoning encouragingly.

       Tilly’s video diary:

      [Staring at camera with a hunted look] Oh, God, I suppose I’ll have to say something … Um … [Long pause] OK, here I am, halfway up a Scottish mountain with a man I’d never met before this morning. It’s funny to think that this time last night I’d never even heard of Campbell, and now it seems as if I’ve known him for ever. And tonight we’re going to sleep together…well, not sleep together, except of course we will be sleeping … oh, you know what I mean. Can whoever’s watching this edit that bit out? [Yawns hugely] I’m so tired, I can’t think straight!

       Where was I? Oh, yes, Campbell … Well, he was a terrible bully this morning. You should have seen him making me abseil down that cliff—two cliffs! Talk about competitive! And he’s not exactly chatty. I’ve never met a man who talks so little about himself, to be honest. His middle name must be Clam. Campbell the Clam Sanderson. [Giggles]

       At least they’d never have to worry about him blabbing operational secrets. I bet he was in one of those special units, you know. No point in asking him, though. He’d just say he could tell me, but he’d have to kill me. He probably would, too. Still, I’m sure Suzy’s assistant is right. He’s got that steely-eyed thing going that’s quite exciting when he’s not pushing you down a cliff [Pauses, looks doubtful] Actually, could you cut that bit, too?

       [Yawns again, belatedly covering mouth] Anyway, he wasn’t so bad this afternoon. In fact, he was really quite nice, especially the last few miles. [Pauses again, remembering] Yes, surprisingly nice. And now he’s making me supper. I’m not sure what this stew is going to be like, though. Dehydrated doesn’t sound very nice, but I’m so hungry I’ll eat it. I ought to offer to help, but I really don’t think I’ve got the energy to get out of the tent. [Slides out of view of camera] Perhaps if I just closed my eyes for a moment, and then I’ll go and give him a hand…

      Campbell looked up from the pot he was stirring, suddenly alert. He could hear the wind whistling around the crags, the canvas flapping, the hiss of the gas, but when he listened, he realised there was something missing.

      No Tilly. How long was it since he had heard her voice?

      ‘Tilly?’

      He bent down to peer into the tent. She had crashed out over both sleeping bags, and appeared to have simply toppled from where she had been sitting talking to the camera and was sound asleep.

      Shaking his head, Campbell turned off the camera.

      Tilly was still fully dressed apart from her boots, and he contemplated her slumped form with a slight frown. How was he going to get her into her sleeping bag? He had no intention of undressing her, but she would be better off without her jacket. Its stiff fabric was digging into her face as it was. It would certainly be uncomfortable if she did wake up and, besides, she would need the jacket as an extra layer to put on in the morning.

      ‘Tilly?’ he tried again, but she was dead to the world and didn’t even stir when he lifted her up to pull her arms out of the sleeves and get rid of the jacket.

      It was like dealing with a very large floppy doll, although he imagined dolls weren’t usually that warm and soft. Not having had even a sister, Campbell’s experience of dolls was negligible, but he was fairly sure they didn’t smell faintly of…what was it? He sniffed. Some flower. Roses, perhaps? He had never been very good on flowers but something about the fragrance of Tilly’s hair reminded him of his mother’s garden on a summer evening long ago.

      The thought made Campbell frown. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about things like that. Unzipping one of the sleeping bags, he manoeuvred Tilly inside it, not without difficulty. Quite a bit of manhandling was required and he was very aware of her lush body even through the layers of clothing. It was all very well staying focused but it was hard not to be distracted by the fact that, whatever else Tilly might be, she was all woman.

      An exasperating one, Campbell reminded himself. At least she was quiet now that she was sleeping. He had never met anyone quite so chatty. Lisa had been mistress of icy silence, and he wasn’t at all sure which was worse.

      Tilly stirred and mumbled something as he tucked her legs into the sleeping bag and zipped her up. The next moment she was turning and snuggling down like a child with more unintelligible mumbling and some smacking of her lips before she sank back into a deep sleep.

      Campbell sat back on his heels and watched her for a moment. It was the first chance he had had to look at her properly, he realised, and without that challenging blue gaze fixed on him he could see that she had lovely creamy skin and beautiful eyebrows. The heart-shaped face was slack with sleep, but her generous mouth still had a humorous curve to it, as if she were on the point of smiling.

      Even now, sound asleep, there was something disorderly

      about her, Campbell decided. She was all softness and curves and curls, and it made him twitchy. There were no straight lines with Tilly, no logic, no control. She talked the whole time and her imagination was so vivid he wasn’t sure whether she was talking nonsense or not half the time.

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