by Nell Dixon
“Have you ever been camping?”
Gemma had been about to pull down the passenger visor to use the mirror. “Camping? No, I haven’t.” She stared at him for a moment, then he saw her make the connection. “You mean this trip to the lakes will be in canvas accommodation?”
“You get your own tent. Unless, of course, you’d rather share.” He grinned at the look on her face.
“A tent.”
“You can change your mind if you want to, but you did say you were adventurous.”
Her mouth made a perfect “o” of surprise. He fought back the urge to kiss her and started the car to take her home instead. He wasn’t sure kissing Gemma again was such a good idea. It had been far too pleasant, and self-restraint wasn’t something he was particularly blessed with.
She frowned into the visor mirror as she tidied her hair. “And you promise I’ll definitely get my own tent?”
Jerome stifled the image of Gemma cozied up to him inside a double sleeping bag. “Boy Scout’s honor.”
* * * *
“Let me get this straight. You’re going camping with Jerome?” Nathalie straightened up from where she had been tidying the racks of bridal shoes.
Gemma felt her face flush right to the roots of her hair. “It sounded like it would be fun. Something different, you know, to broaden my horizons.” All the same, she wondered if she had been quite sane when Jerome had proposed the idea. It had sounded fine on a sunny Sunday, but now it was a wet and gloomy Monday she wasn’t so certain. What if it rained the whole time they were there?
“Does this have anything to do with Carl going to Australia?” Nathalie looked concerned.
Gemma picked at the small pile of business cards next to the till, turning the top card between her fingers. “Maybe. But seriously, Tali, I enjoyed the trip to the animal park, and going to the Lake District with Jerome sounded as if it would be nice.”
“Well, you’re owed loads of holiday, so why not?” Nathalie adjusted a display stand of tiaras.
“I’m not looking for anything deep and meaningful, Tali. I just want some fun. Carl leaving made me wake up and smell the roses.” Gemma wished she could explain the restlessness she’d felt since her ex-boyfriend dumped her.
“Hey, you don’t have to justify yourself to me. You’ve known my brother too long to fall for his antics and besides, you could be right - a change might do you good.” Nathalie smiled at her, and Gemma’s spirits lifted.
“Sleeping in a tent will certainly be a change. I haven’t camped since I was about thirteen.”
Nathalie laughed. “Then, boy, are you up for some fun.”
Gemma sighed as Nathalie went through to the staff room to make their mid-morning cup of tea. The shop was deserted for once. They’d tagged all the returned hired suits ready for the dry-cleaner. The display cabinets had been polished and the even all the deliveries put away.
She walked across to the window and stared out at the rain beating down on the empty street. What had she been doing when she’d agreed to accompany Jerome halfway up a mountain? She had to be crazy.
A familiar car turned the corner at the bottom of the street. Gemma felt a funny little flutter of excitement in the pit of her stomach. She scooted away from the window, back behind the counter before the shop bell could ring.
“Hi, Gemma,” Jerome said as he stepped inside the shop and shook the water from his dark hair.
Nathalie emerged from the kitchen carrying three mugs. “Hi, bro, I heard you come in. I guessed you wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea.”
Jerome grinned. “You guessed right. I came to see if Gemma was still up for the trip this weekend.”
She caught the twinkle in his deep blue eyes. “Actually, I was just telling Nathalie how much I was looking forward to it.”
Nathalie gave a mischievous smile as she put the drinks down on the shop counter. “When were you thinking of leaving for the lakes?”
Jerome shrugged. “Whenever we can get away.”
Gemma picked up her mug to sip her tea.
“Gemma’s owed lots of holiday. Why not take this Friday and the Monday to make a long weekend of it?” Nathalie suggested.
Gemma choked on the hot drink.
“Sounds good. What do you think, Gemma?”
She finished coughing and put down her drink before she spilt tea all over the counter. “Sure, why not?”
“In fact, if we could leave on Friday morning that would give us plenty of time for travelling and setting up camp.” Jerome took a drink from his mug.
“Wonderful,” she said, thinking it was too late to back out now.
He handed her a card. “If you need to talk to me before Friday, call me on my mobile. I’m staying at Mum and Dad’s this week.”
Nathalie frowned. “Why aren’t you at the cottage?”
Gemma knew Jerome owned a small house just outside town.
“There was a small problem when I got back after taking Gemma home yesterday.”
Nathalie placed her hand on her brother’s arm. “What kind of problem?”
Gemma watched as he shuffled his feet, avoiding his sister’s gaze. “Nothing much, just some vandalism. Looks like some moron got a bit slap-happy with the spray paint around the front of my house.”
“Is it connected to the radio talks?” Gemma was concerned. It didn’t sound like nothing to her. She suspected he had played down the seriousness of the damage so as not to alarm her or Nathalie.
“Probably. I thought it better to lay low for a while. It’s a good time to disappear up a mountain.” He grinned as he finished his tea.
“I don’t think it’s a laughing matter, J. You never take anything seriously,” Nathalie complained.
His handsome face sobered. “You’re wrong, sis. I promise you I’m taking this very seriously indeed.”
Gemma hoped he was, because she didn’t like the sound of the damage to Jerome’s home. “Have you told the police?”
“It’s all in hand. I promise you there’s nothing to worry about.”
She felt a little cheered by the sincerity in his voice.
Nathalie still looked doubtful. “I hope so.”
He placed his empty mug down on the counter. “Tali, stop worrying.” He ruffled his sister’s hair, disturbing her neat chignon, causing her to scowl at him.
“Gemma, I’ll call for you at about half-past nine on Friday morning, if that’s alright. We’ll be hiking so pack light.” The twinkle in his eyes made her heartbeat quicken.
“Yes, sir.” She snapped a mock salute as she tried to calculate how many pairs of knickers she could fit into her backpack and still have room for chocolate. It didn’t sound as if there would be a corner shop where they were heading.
Jerome laughed and headed for the door. “See you Friday!”
She watched him duck back out into the rain. “What do you think about the vandalism, Tali?”
Nathalie frowned. “I don’t know. Jerome won’t tell me the whole story about these protesters. That pretend bomb thing was very scary and now it sounds as if they’ve attacked his house. I’m glad he’s going away this weekend.”
Gemma cupped her hands around her cooling mug of tea. “Apparently the location he’s using for the filming is top secret. Only the forest rangers will know exactly where we are, so I guess we’ll be safe enough.” She hoped they would be. She was no coward, but she didn’t fancy coming face-to-face with unhinged activists on an isolated lakeside fell.
“Are you sure you still want to go with him?” Nathalie’s blue eyes, so much like Jerome’s, appraised her.
“Hey, I wanted adventure and excitement, didn’t I?” Gemma squashed her reservations to the back of her mind and smiled at her friend.
“I think you two deserve one another. You’re both equally crazy.” Nathalie shook her head and held out her hand for Gemma’s empty mug. The shop bell pealed once more as new customers stepped inside.
* * * *
Gemma packe
d carefully for her trip. Jerome had rung her during the week with a list of things she would need to take. Now that her backpack was stuffed to capacity and having felt its weight, she hoped they weren’t going to be hiking too far up the mountainside.
A rummage in the cupboard under the stairs had unearthed her old walking boots. She’d been wearing them around the house every night when she’d got home from the shop to soften the leather so her feet wouldn’t blister. With the dust polished off them and some thick socks they were almost comfortable again.
While she had been seeing Carl, she’d given up a lot of the things she used to enjoy just so she could be with him. She sank down on the sofa and stared at the nut-brown toes of her boots as she realized just how much she’d altered in trying to be the perfect woman for Carl.
Was that when she’d become boring? When she’d stopped going walking because Carl preferred to go out to watch football games? When she’d stopped going to her readers’ group because Carl liked to go to the pub on Monday nights?
Gemma sighed. Carl had been wrong about her being boring - she’d been worse. She’d been clingy and spineless. She absent-mindedly chewed on her thumbnail. The challenge wouldn’t be climbing a mountain and spending time alone with Jerome. The real challenge would be in rediscovering herself.
The purr of her doorbell jerked her out of her reverie, sending her hurrying into the hall.
“Are you all set to go?” Jerome leaned against the doorjamb.
“All packed and done. I’ll get my jacket.” She wished her voice didn’t sound so breathily excited. She’d opened the door with the resolve of appearing cool and prepared, like the kind of girl who thought nothing of living out of a backpack or eating beans around a campfire. Then she saw Jerome, dark and brooding on her doorstep, and she morphed into a girly-girl once more.
“You did remember to pack light, didn’t you?” Jerome raised an eyebrow as he watched her strain to lift the backpack from the floor of her lounge.
“Essentials only, just like you said.” Gemma hoped he wasn’t about to insist on a kit inspection. He might not agree with some of the items she classed as essential.
“Okay, but I’ll remind you that you’re the one who’s going to be carrying it.”
Gemma smiled by way of a reply and picked her keys up from the coffee table. “I’m ready.”
Jerome shook his head, a small smile playing about his lips as he joined her in the hallway. Gemma set her house alarm and followed Jerome out to his car. The boot and the backseat were packed full of equipment. Tents, sleeping bags, and camera bags jostled for space. Jerome took her backpack from her as if it were as light as a feather and secured it in place.
* * * *
Jerome sneaked a quick glance at Gemma once they were safely on the motorway. She was dressed appropriately for their trip. Denim jeans moulded to her every curve, a warm-looking fluffy sweater in a soft pale pink and her hiking boots.
He could smell her faintly spicy perfume; it teased his senses as she gazed out of the window at the passing scenery. Usually he travelled alone when he did these trips. Perhaps he had grown softer as he’d got older.
A trip like this normally meant a chance to be alone, to enjoy the solitude of the mountains and the beauty of the wildlife. When he was at home he had a busy social life, seeing friends and family. And numerous women, his conscience reminded him.
Jerome forced himself to concentrate on his driving. After all, they would soon be off the motorway and onto the twisting side roads that led up into the lakes.
“Did you want to call in somewhere for lunch?” He took the turn leading toward the valley.
Gemma wriggled on her seat, stretching her legs as far as the passenger footwell would allow. “That would be nice.”
He knew of a small tearoom on the shore of one of the lakes - the last time he’d been in the area he’d stopped and eaten there. Gemma would probably like the beautiful setting, with the ducks that waddled up from the water, searching for crumbs around the outdoor tables.
The car park appeared busy when he pulled in, though it wasn’t full. Gemma looked about her with interest as she unclipped her seatbelt.
“Oh, this is lovely!” She beamed at him in approval. His pulse quickened.
“We’d better go inside. The tables get taken quickly.” There were a few clouds gathering above the tops of the mountains on the far side of the water. The forecast for the weekend had predicted a high possibility of showers.
Gemma climbed out of the car and stretched her arms upwards. Jerome swallowed as her fluffy jumper rose upwards with her movement, exposing the gentle rounded curve of her bare stomach over the waistband of her jeans.
“Whew, that’s better. Travelling always gives me cramp in my back.” She dropped her arms back by her sides.
“Yeah, I, er… need a bigger car.” Jerome hastily forced himself to focus on locking the car door before leading the way into the tearoom.
A window table for two became vacant just as they walked in. Jerome took the seat opposite Gemma and passed her the menu.
“This is really beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here.” She looked out of the window at the view across the water with a dreamy expression on her face.
“You can thank me later when you’ve helped me carry all the camping gear up the mountainside.”
A faint flush of color crept along her cheekbones as she opened her menu. “I’d better choose something to build up my strength, then,” she said sweetly.
He studied the menu with unseeing eyes. One of the things he liked best about Gemma was her changing nature. She could be as fierce and prickly as a hedgehog one minute, giving him as good as he gave with her quick wit. But then she would look at him with that soft expression on her face that she had right now, as she looked out at the mountains. Each change made his heart beat just that little bit faster.
“I’ll have the chicken, please. Jerome, what are you going to eat?” Gemma’s voice brought him back down to earth.
A waitress had appeared at the side of the table, notepad in hand and looking expectantly in his direction. He ordered the first thing off the top of the menu, closing the book with a little snap.
The waitress scribbled down the order and left. Gemma leaned her elbow on the table resting her cheek on the palm of her hand. He watched as she rearranged the sugar sachets in the bowl with the other.
“What are we going to be photographing this weekend?”
“Deer, with any luck. Plus some night time shots of badgers. Those are the main ones I need to get, although anything else would be useful.”
A crease appeared on Gemma’s forehead. “Who are these pictures for? Are they on commission or just speculative?” She lined the pink sweetener sachets up behind the white sugar.
“These are commissioned. They’re for the local wildlife trust.”
She finished organizing the sugar and he smiled at her. “Are those all displayed to your taste now?”
She straightened in her seat, dropping her hands below the table and onto her lap. “Sorry. I can’t resist fiddling.”
Jerome was about to tease her some more, since he enjoyed the reaction he got to his remarks, but just then a movement by the tearoom door caught his eye and his hackles rose. Of all the people to run into while on his trip, the man he least wanted to see had just entered the café.
Chapter Four
Gemma saw Jerome’s expression change. The line of his jaw hardened and a glint of steel appeared in his dark blue eyes.
“Who is it? What’s the matter?” She followed his gaze. A portly man stood by the doorway, divesting himself of an expensive cashmere overcoat. Two other men, also dressed in suits and overcoats, stood nearby.
“Gerald Shakespeare.” Jerome ground out the man’s name with pure venom.
Gemma knew who Gerald Shakespeare was. It would be hard not to. His name was all over the press and on the television.
“Isn’t he the man who wants t
o develop the land where all those endangered species live? The place you were talking about in your radio broadcasts?”
“The very same. I’m afraid those two gentlemen accompanying him look too familiar.” Jerome’s face was thoughtful.
The waitress appeared and slid steaming plates of food in front of them both.
“Thank you,” Gemma said distractedly, her attention focused on the three men, who had now taken a table on the far side of the restaurant. “What do you think they’re doing here?” she asked Jerome as she picked up her cutlery.
“Having some kind of meeting, by the looks of it. Shakespeare appears to be far too pleased with himself.” He scowled.
Gemma gathered a forkful of food. She could see what he meant. There seemed to be lots of mutual backslapping and jollity going on at Gerald Shakespeare’s table.
“Do you think they’re celebrating something?”
Jerome’s mouth quirked, but Gemma didn’t think it was with amusement. “It would seem so.”
Her appetite for her meal had diminished, but she forced herself to eat. Jerome spoke little, his attention clearly taken up by Gerald Shakespeare’s party.
“They’re coming over,” Gemma whispered in alarm. She placed her knife and fork down on her plate. Jerome leaned back in his chair, his casual stance belying the icy gleam in his eyes.
“Well, if it isn’t Tarzan! And which one of nature’s innocent creatures have you come to save this time?” Shakespeare rocked on the balls of his feet, his hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets.
Jerome smiled at him, but Gemma felt a shiver run along her spine.
“It depends what sort of creature needs help. Snakes, for instance, seem to have a good sense of self-preservation and self-interest. As does the common rat.”
An unhealthy flush the color of port wine darkened Gerald Shakespeare’s cheeks and his jowls wobbled with indignation at the implied insult. “One of these days, Mayer, that tongue of yours will get you into serious trouble.”