He let his pace flounder for a brief instant while he unfastened his water bottle and she took advantage of the situation to catch him up.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly, before he could stride off again. ‘For what I said before. I didn’t realise your kids’ course was non-profit. And all your charity stuff... I read about that on the Internet. I didn’t mean to disrespect all that.’
There. Job done. She felt better for it. The public might still want to hang her out to dry but at least in her own mind she wouldn’t be Evil Evie, undermining charitable benefits for the nation’s kids. He was staring at her in surprise and she shifted her backpack a little, uncomfortable under his gaze.
He recapped the water bottle and swiped the back of his hand across his lips, one eye on her, sizing her up. An apology? He hadn’t seen that coming.
He inclined his head a little in acknowledgement and she offered him a cautious smile.
‘Look, I know neither of us would be in this situation if it weren’t for me,’ she said. ‘I made this mess and I’ll sort it out. I’m not about to walk off set. I’ll finish the show, make it clear what I said wasn’t true, and hopefully your kids’ courses won’t be affected.’ She unfastened her backpack and fished her own water bottle from inside it. ‘Just don’t expect me to exclaim in delight for the camera when I have to roll in the mud or eat bugs. I’ll do the tasks and at the end we’ll be all square—right?’
She kept her eyes on him as she took a sip of the drink, clearly gauging his reaction. Jack was surprised. She’d held her hands up instead of letting it slide. He’d regretted his outburst as soon as it happened, regretted losing it when he’d never expected her to give a flying toss about his charity work anyway.
‘I may have overreacted,’ he conceded carefully.
She frowned at him questioningly as she recapped her water bottle.
‘How so?’
He leaned down to his backpack and shifted the contents around a little for a better fit.
‘I don’t exactly have a fantastic track record with people in the public eye.’
The frown stayed in place as she waited for him to elaborate.
‘I ran a charity expedition a couple of years ago,’ he said, glancing up at her. ‘A trek to the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro. I managed to garner quite a bit of interest, had a few army mates going, a couple of ex sports stars.’ He paused. ‘And a TV presenter. Great for raising public awareness if you can persuade a few people in the public eye to do it, really increases the money raised.’
He didn’t name names although his irritation had never gone away.
‘Anyway, an outing like that takes a lot of organisation. Safety planning, travel costs. I was quite en vogue at the time. The Extreme TV shows had just taken off.’ He gave a wry smile at the thought. The whole TV personality thing had come as quite a shock at the time. He hadn’t reckoned on the hungry public interest in outdoor pursuits at a time when online gaming and technology had opened up access for kids to a whole new world without even leaving the house. ‘The TV presenter who was coming along had just written his autobiography. He obviously saw it as a way of getting a bit more exposure. I was fine with that. His coming along would raise awareness of the cause—publicity works both ways, right?’
She nodded.
‘Anyway, everything was in place, we were just getting ready to announce our line-up, hoping the sponsorships would roll in, and the TV guy drops out.’
He stood up and hefted his backpack into place.
‘At the last minute?’ She shoved her water bottle back in her own bag and hauled it onto her shoulders.
He nodded and began walking. He took it easier, letting her stay alongside him.
‘If it had been an injury or something, it wouldn’t have been an issue. Last thing I would have done is taken someone along who wasn’t physically fit. He’d apparently decided that the nature of the charitable cause wasn’t a good enough fit.’
‘You’re kidding?’ There was incredulous laughter in her voice.
He nodded his head.
‘I know. I couldn’t believe it. Young people’s drug rehabilitation was “too gritty”.’ He held up his hands and made sarcastic speech marks in the air. ‘Next thing I know, he’s taking part in some cycle ride for a children’s hospital. I know that’s a perfectly great cause, and good luck to them. What I’m saying is, for this person, it had nothing to do with supporting a charity. He wanted the publicity for his own end. And at the last minute support for teenagers with drug problems wasn’t sympathetic enough for him so he looked for another cause that was a bit more fluffy bunny.’
‘That’s absolutely outrageous,’ she said. ‘What happened to the expedition?’
He shrugged.
‘It went ahead. But we definitely lost out on publicity. Ergo we lost out on donations. I wasn’t happy.’
His rabid drive when it came to his charity work had never been stronger than, ironically, when there was someone else letting the side down.
‘I can imagine.’
‘It was basically all about him. All about his image.’ He looked at her, walking alongside him with her hands hooked into her backpack straps. ‘You started out here acting the diva after your comments had caused all this trouble for my kids’ initiative and then you go and imply I’m just in it all for the profits. I saw red.’ He paused. ‘I appreciate the apologies. All of them. And that you’re prepared to do all you can to redress the situation.’
He looked sideways at her, at the heart-shaped face with its smears of mud as she kept up the pace. She smiled at him as she nodded her acknowledgement and his stomach softened. She looked much younger and more fragile without make-up and with the huge backpack weighing her down. She seemed determined to try and put things right, to rectify the damage she’d caused. He of all people could respect that and respond to it. He smiled back.
* * *
Evie concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. No wonder Jack hadn’t exactly been Mr Supportive so far—he’d probably been waiting for her to jump ship like that awful TV person he’d mentioned. Her disgust at the story he’d told her mingled with uneasiness that he’d so easily been able to form that exact same conclusion about her. In it for herself, with no thought or regard for anyone else. Despite the success of her TV show and the independence it had brought her, did she really want to be that person?
She could see the minimal film crew up ahead way before she reached them and her stomach began to lurch hideously. There was obviously some kind of task just ready and waiting for her to make a fool of herself on camera. She arranged her face carefully into a neutral couldn’t-give-a-toss-what-you-throw-at-me expression.
As she neared the group she could see the ground beyond falling away, and then the tangled pile of harnesses at the foot of the launch area. A zip wire had been constructed, clearly to transport them down to the lower level where the terrain looked even more craggy and damp than it did up here. If that was possible. Worst of all, the zip was massively long and at least fifty feet off the ground. It felt suddenly as if her bladder were gripped in a vice, and she turned away, trying to get her nerves under control, trying not to hyperventilate and give herself away.
‘Everything all right?’ Jack put a hand on her arm and as she glanced down at it he squeezed gently. Genuine concern. His voice was perfectly calm. ‘This is absolutely safe. Tried and tested. Nothing to worry about, you just step off the edge and enjoy the ride.’ He smiled at her encouragingly and she attempted a smile in return that came out as more of a grimace.
‘Enjoy it?’ Was he mad?
‘We can take as long as you need.’
He searched her face, his expression serious, and the nervous churning in her stomach subsided slightly. Of course, he was the consummate professional. This care and concern was
nothing special, certainly not just for her; he was probably like it with everyone. People needed to be able to look at that face and trust that when they stepped off that edge on his watch, they wouldn’t plummet fifty feet to the ground.
‘And you don’t have to do this,’ he added. ‘It’s not set in stone.’
Did she imagine the edge in his voice there? No, it wasn’t set in stone but they both knew what was at stake here. Yes, she could still back out; no one was making her do this. She thought of that selfish TV presenter who screwed Jack Trent over for his own benefit. She could be that person. All she’d need to do was call this whole thing off.
She could disappear from the show and take the sacking from Purple Productions. Let the lease on her jewellery shop go and return to living off her allowance. Her father would be happy. She would be under control. He probably wouldn’t need to contact her for a couple of years if she behaved well enough. With a fifty-foot drop just feet away that thought lost some of its usual sting. Walking away would be so easy.
From somewhere deep inside enough pride bubbled up to counteract the temptation.
‘I’m good,’ she managed. ‘What do I have to do?’
* * *
For all the bravado and the breezy smile she flashed at the camera, he could tell she was nervous. It was in her eyes when she approached the edge of the drop to put the harness on.
‘OK?’ he said, kneeling down. She leaned on him for balance and he was suddenly very aware of her hand as it crept around his neck in a shaky grip and those long, long legs as he helped her step into the harness. When he stood up to slip the straps high up on her thighs they seemed to go on for ever. Another strap circled her waist and his mind insisted on registering how slender she was beneath the loose outdoor clothing as he held her steady and tightened the fastening. His mouth felt oddly dry.
‘I’m fine.’ Her voice was pinched and brittle. Not fine.
He glanced up from the harness to see her looking up at him, her face just inches from his own, the high cheekbones pale, and she offered him a smile that smacked of fright. His heart skipped a little at that. He liked her for not being that person who backed out.
‘Just lean back into it and let yourself go,’ he said, reaching up to clip her harness to the metal pulley on the wire.
Channelling outdoor girl as if her life depended on it, Evie pressed her lips together and vice-gripped the line attaching her harness to the zip wire. She locked her eyes with Jack’s green ones and tried to focus on how calm he was. His career was obviously everything to him; he wasn’t about to let her die on his watch. She leaned back, as instructed, and as her boots left solid ground she couldn’t hold in a scream.
‘Oh, bloody heeeeeeellllll...’
Her voice was swept away by the wind the instant it left her lips.
Back on the ledge, the director let out an exasperated noise.
‘Oh, that’s just great. We’ll have to bleep that out. Did no one tell her about swearing before the watershed?’
* * *
At the end of the landing site one of Jack’s outward-bound crew unfastened Evie from the wire and she immediately sank to the ankle into the boggy ground. Even feet soaked in mud couldn’t detract from the utter, unexpected triumph she felt at having got through the task without looking too much of a sap. She punched the air in victory. She could do this. She was owning this experience.
Two minutes later and she watched Jack speed down the wire, posture perfect, not a flailing limb or a yell in sight, unclipping himself expertly the moment he hit the end. He handed his harness to the crew and headed towards her. She couldn’t stop a smile bubbling onto her lips.
‘I’m impressed,’ he said, grinning back. ‘I could tell you were nervous but I knew you could do it.’
That gorgeous lopsided grin and those crinkling eyes instantly made her stomach flip and she pressed her hands against her middle. That she was liking him more had nothing to do with finding him attractive. It was just the novelty of having someone believe in her and encourage her for once. The real her too, in a situation that stripped bare any made-for-TV bravado. Not the invented designer version of her in an invented designer situation.
‘I was not nervous,’ she said, then realised how mad that sounded. She’d screamed the entire distance of the zip. She shrugged. ‘Maybe I was, a little. I never did anything like that before. Even the times I went camping as a kid, something like that would have been way out of my league.’ She pulled her water bottle from her backpack and took a sip. ‘Maybe you’re onto something with those kids’ courses of yours. My brother would have been mad for that zip wire experience when we were kids.’
She thought briefly of Will, away on tour in the Middle East. Not that he needed to be thrill seeking now. He had enough danger in his working life.
‘You went camping as a kid? You?’
Jack was looking at her in surprise and she held out a hand, mildly exasperated.
‘No need to look so amazed. You’d never know it to look at me now but I could climb a tree with the best of them,’ she said. ‘I was a real tomboy.’
‘Some rich campsite on the sunny continent?’ he asked.
‘No. Come rain or shine, in Devon or Cornwall,’ she countered, noticing the raise of his eyebrows. ‘My mother liked traditional seaside holidays at home. Rock pools, ice cream, camping. Just like the ones she’d had as a kid. She was quite big on building family traditions.’
An unexpected prickle of dull longing made her press her lips together hard. She didn’t revisit the past very much in her mind, certainly not out loud. Looking back didn’t change anything; there was no point pining now for what might have been. No choice but to make the best of what was left.
‘Sounds great,’ he said, zipping up his backpack.
‘It was.’
A tug of nostalgia made her mouth feel dry and she swallowed hard. How long had it been since she’d thought of those times? Climbing trees, pestering Will to let her go fishing with him. The fun and closeness of her early childhood had degenerated until her part in the family was now little more than a public façade. There was no sense of belonging, no matter how hard she looked for it.
‘I assumed you would have a holiday home in Barbados or something.’ His tone was matter-of-fact. It seemed that for him she really was that stereotype. Rich holidays, luxury lifestyle. He thought he knew her already because her TV image preceded her. She found she didn’t like that one bit. ‘Sounds like you spent more time in the great outdoors as a kid than I did,’ he said.
‘I imagined you to be outside in all weathers virtually from babyhood,’ she said. ‘Practically born in a tent. Or maybe a shelter built from sticks. Aren’t your family all mad for the outdoor life too?’
He replaced his jacket and hauled his backpack into place, not looking at her. She did the same, ready to get moving, spurred on now by the adrenaline of doing the zip-wire plunge, by the reassuring thought that she could do this.
He shook his head as they left the zip wire behind them, equipment being packed up now by the production team.
‘We didn’t really do family holidays,’ Jack said shortly. They hadn’t done an awful lot of family anything.
Onward now just the two of them for a while, a cameraman lagging behind. He was tensely aware of her, walking next to him with a new burst of confidence after going through with the zip wire. It was one of the highlights of his work, watching people overcome their fears and push themselves, watching them be pleased with the results. Encouraging people to see their potential. Redress on some small level, he hoped, for caring only about his own potential in the past.
‘The outdoor stuff came about more from my army years,’ he said, steering the conversation neatly around his childhood. Not his finest years. ‘I was in the forces for a long time.’
She nodded.
‘I knew you were in the army,’ she said. ‘I read it online. There’s stuff on there about your survival courses, a little bit about your background.’ She paused. ‘If you pick your way between the photos of you with starlets and models on your arm, that is.’
He glanced her way in time to see her wink at him. It never failed to amaze him the ludicrous media interest that was shown in who he happened to be dating. If only the same publicity could be given to his fund-raising. His mind lit on the fact that she’d done some research on him, surprised that she would take the time. His overall assumption about her had been that she was too absorbed by her own life to think about anyone or anything else.
‘The army is...’ He searched for the right words to describe that section of his life, long behind him now. It had been an escape route at first. And later much more than that. ‘A way of life,’ he said eventually. ‘I worked abroad a lot, in some very isolated places for long periods of time. You’re cut off from reality in situations like that.’
‘Reality?’
‘Family,’ he said briefly. ‘The day-to-day stuff.’
He really had no desire to discuss his background with anyone, let alone with someone who could hardly relate to a need to escape from anything. She was born into a rich family and she’d had the best of everything delivered to her on a plate. He doubted she’d ever had to fight for anything or anyone.
‘That sounds familiar,’ she said. He looked at her in surprise and she shrugged. ‘My father is ex-army too. My brother’s still serving. Uncles and grandfather. Military is a big watchword in my family.’
Man vs. Socialite Page 6