Last-Minute Proposal

‘Which one?’ she asked, appalled to hear that her voice came out as barely more than a croak.

‘Chocolate,’ he said, and produced a bar. ‘You can have a rest for ten minutes, too.’

Tilly didn’t know whether she was disappointed or relieved. ‘Great,’ she said weakly.

The light was already going from the sky and the air was cooling rapidly as she perched on her pack. Unwrapping the chocolate, she broke the bar in half and offered part to Campbell, who shook his head.

‘You have it,’ he said.

He was fast becoming a fantasy man in reality, thought Tilly ruefully. A man who gave you chocolate and insisted you ate it all without sharing.

Unaware of the trend of her thoughts, Campbell was unfolding the map that he had shoved carelessly into his pocket.

‘Isn’t it a bit late to be looking at that now?’ said Tilly through a mouthful of chocolate. ‘I hope you’re not about to tell me that we’ve climbed the wrong hills?’

She almost wished he would so that she could go back to feeling cross with him. It would be a lot easier than this unnerving awareness. See what happened when you let your fantasies get out of control?

‘No, we’re in the right place. I’m sure Roger’s GPS would tell us exactly the same thing.’

‘Then why aren’t they here with us?’

‘We had a head start, remember? And Roger may well take a different route to Ben Nuarrh.’

‘I bet it’s an easier one!’

‘This is quicker,’ said Campbell firmly.

He passed Tilly the map. ‘We’re here,’ he said, pointing, and Tilly found her eyes riveted on his hand. The one that had done such incredible things with the soap in her fantasy…

‘Concentrate, Jenkins!’ Campbell’s peremptory tone made her jump. ‘You’re fading out, there.’

‘Oh…um, yes…sorry…I’m just a bit tired.’

A frown touched his eyes as he glanced at her. ‘I thought we’d camp there,’ he said, moving his finger on the map. ‘Do you think you can make it, or will you need a new fantasy to get you there?’

Tilly swallowed. ‘I think I’ve done enough fantasising for today!’

‘Are you ready to get on, then? I can’t promise a bath or a bed, but we’ll have something to eat and you’ll be able to sleep.’

‘That’ll be enough for me,’ said Tilly.

It was a mistake to have stopped. She found the last leg a real struggle. The threatened blister had become a reality, and her feet were killing her. She was stiff, too, and tired and cold.

Seeing her hobbling, Campbell took her pack for her and managed to walk just as easily with two. He stayed beside her, encouraging her up the last steep slope, and refusing to let her stop when she threatened to collapse.

Tilly couldn’t have done it without him, but she was vaguely distrustful of his motives all the same. It was all very well being Mr Nice Guy now. She might appreciate his help, but she knew quite well that he was only doing it because he wanted to get to the top of Ben Nuarrh first.

Her father was just the same-determined to get his own way whatever happened. If charm was the easiest way to get what he wanted, he would lay it on with a trowel, but he would never lose sight of his goal. Tilly had learnt early to distrust men who’d do anything to win, but it was still hard not to warm treacherously at the approval in Campbell’s voice as he practically carried her the last few yards.

‘Well done.’

It was almost dark by then, so Tilly couldn’t see much. They were somewhere high on the flank of Ben Nuarrh, that much she knew, and Campbell seemed to have found a sheltered hollow where a peaty burn ran between granite outcrops and there was enough flattish, if somewhat soggy, ground to set up the tent.

He lowered her on to one of the outcrops and she sat, numb with exhaustion, and watched as he put up the tent with an efficiency that didn’t surprise her in the least. Unrolling the bedding, he backed out and held open the flap.

‘Why don’t you get in?’ he said to Tilly. ‘You can take off your boots and do your video diary while I make the stew.’

‘Stew?’ She gaped at him, wondering how on earth he was going to conjure a casserole out of his pack.

‘Don’t get excited. It’s a dehydrated pack-add to boiling water and stir, which is pretty much my level of cooking. It won’t be your fantasy, but it’ll be hot and filling.’

‘I suppose that’s better than nothing,’ she said, getting up stiffly and hobbling to the tent.

It was very small. She bent and peered inside. ‘Is there going to be room for both of us?’ she asked doubtfully.

‘It’ll be tight, but that’s a good thing. We won’t be wasting body warmth,’ said Campbell. ‘But don’t worry,’ he added ironically as she straightened. ‘We’ve separate sleeping bags.’

Tilly wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She couldn’t decide whether to make it clear that she was relieved, or play it cool, as if she took the prospect of sharing sleeping bags in her stride the whole time.

Or perhaps this was a good opportunity to find out a bit more about him?

‘Still, it’s going to be very cosy,’ she said. ‘Are you going to have some explaining to do when you get down?’

‘What do you mean?’ Campbell glanced up from where he was setting up a portable gas ring with his usual deftness and economy of movement.

‘Well, if I discovered that my husband or boyfriend had spent the night with another woman in a tent this size I wouldn’t be very happy about it.’

‘Oh, I see,’ he said, returning his attention to the gas. ‘No, there’s no one I need to explain anything to, and that’s the way I like it.’

‘You’re not married then?’

‘Not any more.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Tilly hesitated by the tent entrance. ‘What happened?’

Campbell sighed and sat back on his heels, looking up at her with a sardonic expression. ‘Does it matter?’

‘God, you can tell you’re a man who’s been trained to withstand interrogation,’ grumbled Tilly. Talk about trying to get blood out of a stone! ‘Don’t they teach you the art of conversation in the Marines? I just thought it would be nice to find out a bit more about the man I’m going to be sleeping with,’ she told him with a huffy look and then, to her fury, blushed when he lifted one amused brow at her choice of words. ‘In a manner of speaking,’ she added stiffly.

‘Lisa left me for another man who could give her more than I could. We got divorced. She’s married again and lives in the States now. End of story.’

‘Do you have any kids?’

‘Nope.’

Tilly sighed. ‘I was about to say that must make it easier because that’s what people always say when a relationship breaks down. At least there weren’t any children. As if it helps somehow,’ she remembered with a bitter edge to her voice. ‘When someone leaves you, it doesn’t hurt any less just because you haven’t got children.’

‘Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,’ Campbell commented.

‘I am.’

‘Well, you don’t need to feel sorry for me,’ he told her, ignoring the opportunity to say that he felt sorry for her, Tilly couldn’t help noting. ‘It was a disaster from the start. I should never have married her.’

‘Then why did you?’

He shrugged. ‘Why? Because Lisa was-is-the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She’s absolutely dazzling. The moment I saw her, I had to have her.’

Tilly tried-and failed-to imagine a man ever saying that about her.

‘You must have loved her.’

‘Are you going to take your boots off?’ Campbell made it plain the conversation was over by getting to his feet.

Clearly not a man who believed in talking things through.