‘You told her about Rachel?’
‘No. Of course not. It wasn’t relevant – or businesslike.’
‘Of course not. Yet you’ve found out all abouther.’
‘I just ... wanted to tell someone about Jenna.’ Because he couldn’t possibly tell anyone else.
She sighed. ‘Come here for a hug.’
‘You don’t do hugs.’
‘I rarely do hugs, but I will break the habit of a lifetime for you and because, being brutally honest, I can’t see any solution to this. Other than you making a complete tit of yourself, telling her how you feel, and she never speaks to you again.’
Cam found himself laughing, even though he was in the depths of despair. ‘Thanks. I knew you’d make everything all right.’
Chapter Five
Jenna
Iwish you’d let me replace that window. In fact, they all need replacing.’
Nate loomed behind Jenna as she picked at a sliver of wood on the frame. It had been unseasonally stormy for July, and twilight had descended early. She hoped the weather would be kind for the Kilt Challenge.
‘It doesn’t need replacing, just a lick of paint. Which I can do.’ Jenna drew the curtains, shutting out the grey evening.
Nate slipped his arms around Jenna’s waist. He smelled of sawdust and the aftershave she’d given him for his thirty-sixth birthday the previous month. ‘I suppose you’re right. It hardly matters anyway because we’ll be moving to the Glass House.’
Jenna twisted to frown at him. ‘We can’t keep calling it that.’
‘What do you want to call it?’
‘I don’t know yet, I can’t decide. I’m going to open that bottle of Pinot Gris my mum and dad gave us. It is Thursday, after all, and I’ve had a tricky day.’
‘Shall we forget cooking and have fish and chips?’
Normally, they had fish and chips from the local chippy on Friday. Once they moved to the Glass House, Jenna was going to miss being able to nip to the Codfather and saunter down to the First & Last Inn for a pint. Nate said they’d be able to walk down to the bars in the village below the Glass House, and that they’d have a Michelin-starred hotel on the doorstep. But it didn’t feel the same.
‘Great idea.’
‘It’s pissing down, so I’ll drive down there now,’ Nate said thoughtfully.
‘OK, thanks.’ He certainly picked up on her moods and could tell when she wasn’t quite herself.
It had been a busy day. She’d had her annual appraisal, which had gone a lot better than she’d hoped but had still been stressful. Then she’d had two emotional welcome parties of end-to-enders arriving at the centre, one of whom had lost a sister to leukaemia.
The only thing that had brightened her day was a meeting with Cam, updating her that the Kilt Challenge was all set.
But then Jenna had had to write a press release about Sholto and his family’s connection to HeartBeat, detailing what they’d been through, and ... it had been impossible to remain detached. She had, in the privacy of her office, shed quite a few tears, reliving her own pain while writing about theirs. How would she feel watching Sholto doing this challenge? How would she cope when he cycled over the finish line? Which she was confident he would do; he was so motivated to succeed in memory of his brother, Keiron.
She found the corkscrew on top of the microwave and had no idea how it had got there other than Nate. He was only trying to be helpful ... though she quite missed having the cottage to herself sometimes. That was probably normal foranyone about to get married and live with someone for the rest of their life.
After opening the wine, she poured a glass, popped the bottle back in the fridge and took the glass with her into the sitting room to wait for Nate.
She ought to relax but her mind kept being pulled back to the Kilt Challenge and all its logistics. She wanted this event, of all others, to run like clockwork.
While she and Cam had their coverage planned as far as they could for the Kilt Challenge, it was always a tricky balancing act. The rides couldn’t be predicted perfectly, so even if Sholto hoped to complete the ride in fifteen days, there was no guarantee, which made planning for media slots very tricky. Though, she conceded, not as tough as actually doing the challenge. But after seeing the state of the participants, with their blisters, sprains, strains and bruises, there was no way she fancied it.
‘Shit. That bloody beam.’
