Last-Minute Proposal

CHAPTER NINE

CAMPBELL pulled out after the policeman, who was already speeding ahead along the dual carriageway, siren blaring, to clear the traffic out of their way, and for a good minute there was utter silence in the van.

Then they both started to laugh at the same time.

‘I can’t believe you got away with that!’ said Campbell, still laughing but trying to sound disapproving. ‘I’ve never seen such a revolting display! I’m so sorry, officer,’ he mimicked her breathy voice. ‘Please look down my cleavage instead of writing a speeding ticket.’

Tilly wiped her eyes. ‘It worked, didn’t it? It’s not as if you were getting far.’ She burst into giggles again. ‘I wish you could have seen your face when he asked if you were Mr Sweet!’

Campbell snorted and shook his head. ‘That was your fault for making me wear that stupid apron!’ he said but his attempt at disgust was short-lived in the face of Tilly’s infectious laughter, and in the end he gave in and laughed too as they sped after the policeman.

Thanks to their escort, they arrived bare moments before the bridal party. Waving a grateful farewell to their policeman, Tilly and Campbell hurried in and were just lifting the cover off the cake when the television crew turned up, all ready to record Cleo’s reaction.

She didn’t disappoint, squealing with delight when she clapped eyes on the cake and throwing her arms around Campbell’s neck.

‘It’s so fabulous! You clever thing!’ she exclaimed as she planted a resounding kiss on his cheek. ‘Thank you so much, Campbell. It’s the best wedding cake ever! I’m never going to be able to cut it. Oh, I think I might be going to cry, it’s so perfect.’

Alarmed at the prospect of tears, Campbell patted her gingerly and rolled his eyes over her shoulder at Tilly in a silent plea for help.

‘Cleo, what do you think of Antony’s costume?’ she asked, coming to his rescue. ‘Campbell researched it down to the last detail. He’s even got the shoes right!’

To Campbell’s relief, Cleo let go of him and bent to examine the cake in more detail. ‘It’s incredible. I can’t believe you’ve learnt to do this in just two weeks, Campbell! Tony, come and look at this.’

Fortunately for Campbell, her groom restrained himself from hugging, but he was equally complimentary. ‘This is really impressive,’ he said to Campbell. ‘I can see a hell of a lot of research has gone into it.’ He walked round the cake, inspecting it closely. ‘Isn’t Cleopatra’s Antony spelt without an “h”, though?’

Tilly met Campbell’s gaze across the cake. A definite smile was tugging at his mouth, and the sight of it unlocked something deep in her chest, releasing a disquieting tingle that seeped slowly along her veins.

‘Could we have a quick interview?’

Suzy’s voice at her elbow startled Tilly out of her thoughts. The producer drew her and Campbell away from the crowd gathering round the cake and beckoned Jim, the cameraman, over.

‘It’s certainly a wonderful cake, Campbell,’ Suzy began. ‘Is it really all your own work?’

‘Yes,’ said Tilly, as Campbell said, ‘No.’

Suzy looked from one to the other.

‘I had to have Tilly’s help in the end,’ he told her. ‘I’d made a mistake, and Tilly put it right.’

‘Why did you say that?’ Tilly demanded crossly under her breath while Suzy was conferring with the cameraman. ‘Now we’ll lose points! I thought you wanted to win.’

‘I do, but I’m not going to cheat to do it. The rules were clear. I had to make the cake entirely myself.’

‘You did that! It was perfect.’

‘It wasn’t perfect. I spelt the name wrong, and you had to put it right.’

Tilly chewed her lip. ‘No one would ever have known it wasn’t you. You’d done it exactly the same, just without the “h”.’

‘I would have known,’ said Campbell. He looked at her curiously. ‘You’ve changed your tune, haven’t you? I thought you didn’t care whether we won or not?’

Tilly couldn’t meet his eyes. She couldn’t tell him that she only wanted to win for his sake. ‘We’ve gone to all this effort,’ she said. ‘It just seems a shame to blow it now.’

‘We’ve done what we can,’ he said carelessly. ‘It’s down to the viewers now. One way or another, it’ll be over soon.’

Tilly looked away. Yes, it would all be over soon, and that was probably just as well. The tension over the last few days had been almost unendurable, erupting at last in that stupid row over how to spell Anthony. She had been torn between not wanting their time together to end and wishing that it would so that she wouldn’t have to live any longer with the breathless churning that gripped her whenever she looked at Campbell.

She was going to miss him so much, but there would be a certain relief in not having to fight the attraction any more. She had to think about that, and not about how empty the kitchen was going to be without his solid, straight but somehow steadying presence. She couldn’t allow herself to think about how the severe expression relaxed when he was amused, crinkling the corners of his eyes and deepening the creases on either side of his mouth.

His mouth…she definitely couldn’t afford to let herself think about that. Or his hands. Or the whole lean, muscled length of him.

It was extraordinary how a man so austere and restrained-looking on the surface could have reduced her to a state of feverish desire where the most casual brush against each other left her boneless, a smile would stop the breath in her throat and the touch of his hand was like a jolt of electricity.

Campbell wasn’t romantic, he wasn’t passionate, he wasn’t any of the things Tilly yearned for in a man. He was tough and terse and acerbic, and she wanted him in a way she had never wanted anyone before.

But she couldn’t have him. He was leaving. Remember that, Tilly?

She wished now that she had ignored his reluctance and told him how she felt after that kiss. At least they could have had a week together and she would have had some memories. But it was too late now. Tomorrow he would be gone.

There was no point being miserable about it, Tilly decided, forcing her shoulders back and fixing on a bright smile. She had made a choice and now she had to live with it. In the meantime, it was Cleo’s wedding, and Cleo would want her to enjoy herself.

She threw herself into the party spirit with a touch of desperation, and it wasn’t, after all, that hard. She knew lots of people and there was a very happy atmosphere, especially after Cleo and Tony performed a dance routine for all their guests. This seemed to involve Cleo pushing Tony around the floor and hissing exasperated instructions at him. Clearly, he didn’t have a clue what he was supposed to be doing, and their audience was soon laughing uproariously.

Campbell looked at Tilly beside him. She was almost doubled over, helpless with laughter. Her face was alight, her eyes glowing, and he was seized by the urge to touch her, to hold her, to draw her warmth and her light around him.

So strong was the impulse that he had to make himself move away, but the more he tried to concentrate on making conversation with the other guests, the more aware he was of Tilly, scintillating, sparkling, in the background. She was talking and laughing, smiling, hugging friends, kissing acquaintances on the cheeks, and Campbell was gradually consumed by the longing to stride over, take hold of her and pull her away, outside.

To make her smile at him. Touch him. Kiss him.

By the time Tilly danced over to him at last, he was in no state to be sensible. He couldn’t remember why resisting her had ever seemed like an option, let alone a necessity, and every stern resolution evaporated as she stopped in front of him. Buoyed up by champagne and the party atmosphere, she was attempting to belly dance but succeeding only in looking faintly ridiculous and yet incredibly sexy at the same time.

‘Come on, Campbell,’ she cried over the throb of the music. ‘Show us what you’re made of!’

And Campbell gave in to the terrible temptation that had been tormenting him all evening and took her by the waist.

‘How can I refuse an invitation like that?’

At the touch of his hands, Tilly abruptly lost her rhythm. She stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t been holding her and instinctively she put her hands on his arms to balance herself.

And then she was lost.

The feverish gaiety that had swept her through the evening evaporated without warning, sucked away with the music and the laughter and the other guests behind some invisible barrier where everything was muted, leaving the two of them stranded and alone, while the space shrank around them, shortening the air and making her heart boom and thump and thunder in her ears.

It felt as if an insistent hand in the small of her back was pushing her towards Campbell, and it was a relief to give in, to let herself lean against him with a tiny sigh, knowing there was nothing else that she could do, that there was something more powerful than either of them forcing them together, insisting on balancing his hard strength and solidity with her softness and her warmth.

And, once she had given in, it felt so wonderful that Tilly wondered why she had ever believed that she ought to resist.

Afterwards, she could remember nothing about the music they danced to that evening. She knew only that she was holding Campbell at last, that he was holding her, and that they were dancing together.

Her arms slid up to his shoulders, savouring the feel of the powerful muscles beneath his jacket. Her face was almost touching his throat. She could see the pulse beating below his ear, and she breathed in the scent of clean skin and clean shirt and something that was purely Campbell.

Close to him, she felt light and shimmery, lit by the glow spreading through her, a glow that was burning brighter and brighter the tighter he held her. They were barely dancing, barely swaying, but his lips were against her hair, drifting downwards, and Tilly’s mouth curved expectantly. They would reach her cheek soon. They would graze her jaw, would nuzzle the lobe of her ear until she gasped and arched, and then she would turn her head and they would kiss, and that glow would ignite into a flame, a fire…

Adrift in anticipation, Tilly didn’t realise that the music had stopped until Campbell straightened slowly. His hands fell from her, but he held her still with his eyes, eyes that could look deep inside her and could surely see the desire beating there.

‘Shall we go?’ he asked, his voice deep and low, and Tilly nodded.

Still snared in the magic of the dance, she sat wordlessly beside Campbell as he drove the van back to the house. It seemed a long time since they had driven in the other direction, laughing helplessly as they’d followed their police escort.

Campbell was silent, too. They hadn’t spoken at all, as if something stronger than both of them had them in its grip, but perhaps she had it wrong? The headlights from passing cars swept over them, illuminating the austere profile, and Tilly’s stomach hollowed.

It won’t happen again, he had told her after that one devastating kiss, and she knew instinctively that he would keep that promise. If she wanted him, it would be up to her to tell him that. Did she dare?

Careful, her heart reminded her. Remember how much it hurt last time. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. The choice was hers.

But with every sense, every cell in her body, clamouring for his touch, it didn’t feel like much of a choice to Tilly. She had gone too far to turn back now. The best she could do was protect herself as best she could.

Just one night…What harm could there be in that? Her heart was on guard, so if she could just keep her emotions in check and make it clear to Campbell that she wasn’t looking for anything more than a night together, surely that wouldn’t be risking too much?

Campbell turned into her drive and parked outside the front door. He cut the lights and turned off the engine, plunging them into darkness and utter silence. For a moment, they both sat completely still, staring straight ahead through the windscreen.

It was up to her, Tilly remembered.

She moistened her lips. ‘Do you remember being on that mountain?’ she asked. She wanted to sound cool, but of course her voice came out thready and wavering.

‘Ben Nuarrh?’ Campbell turned to look at her, his expression impossible to read in the darkness, but she thought she detected an undercurrent of amusement. ‘How could I forget?’

‘Do…you remember how we talked about fantasies?’ Tilly made herself persevere.

‘Yes,’ he said cautiously.

She took a deep breath. ‘I’ve got a fantasy now.’

‘Does it involve food?’

That was definitely a smile in his voice. Tilly wasn’t sure whether that was an encouraging sign or not.

‘Not this time.’ She hesitated. ‘It involves you.’

Campbell stilled, and this time when he spoke the laughter had vanished. ‘Tell me.’

And, suddenly, it was easy after all.

‘Well, in my fantasy we’re here, like we are now, in the dark, but there’s no future, no plans, no responsibilities, no being sensible. There’s just the two of us and one night together.’

She swallowed. ‘In my fantasy, you reach out and lay your palm against my cheek,’ she said, and Campbell lifted his arm slowly and caressed her face.

The warmth of his hand made Tilly suck in a breath. ‘You tell me that you’re leaving tomorrow, but you want to spend tonight with me.’

‘I want to spend tonight with you.’ His voice was so low, it seemed to reverberate down her spine. ‘I haven’t been able to think about anything else for weeks now.’

‘Hey, this is my fantasy,’ said Tilly shakily. ‘No improvising.’

‘Sorry.’ Even in the dim light she could see the quiver at the corner of his mouth, and she felt her bones liquefy.

‘Then you tell me you haven’t been able to think about anything else for weeks now.’

The quiver deepened. ‘Then what?’

‘Then…then you kiss me.’

There was a pause, then Campbell let his hand drift down to her throat, where it curved beneath her silky hair so that he could pull her with a breathless lack of speed towards him. Very, very slowly, he bent his head until their mouths met.

‘Like this?’ he murmured.

His lips were gentle at first, tantalising and persuasive, until Tilly leant into him with a tiny sigh as she parted her own and wound her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

It was so delicious to be able to kiss him, to taste him, to feel his hand at her knee, sliding insistently under her skirt as they kissed and kissed and kissed again-deep, sweet kisses that grew harder and hungrier with every moment.

‘Yes, like that,’ she said unsteadily, tipping back her head as Campbell’s lips trailed down her throat, and his free hand flicked open the buttons on her jacket. ‘Exactly like that.’

She gasped as she felt him smile against her skin, and his fingers tightened possessively on her thigh.

Kissing his way lazily back up to her earlobe, Campbell let his hands continue their delicious exploration. ‘Do I get to tell you my fantasy yet?’ he whispered in her ear and it was Tilly’s turn to smile.

‘What’s yours?’

‘You beg me to take you inside, right now, and make love to you all night.’

‘I’m not sure I like the idea of begging,’ Tilly managed and a laugh shook his big frame.

‘It’s my fantasy now,’ he pointed out. ‘Fair’s fair.’

‘How about if I ask nicely instead?’

‘How nicely?’

She laughed, intoxicated with his touch. ‘Very nicely,’ she said. ‘I’ll ask very, very nicely.’

Pushing him back into his seat, she clambered into his lap so that she was straddling him, and took his face between her palms, covering it with teasing kisses, tickling him with her tongue.

‘Please,’ she whispered, kissing her way down his throat in her turn. ‘Please, Campbell. Please take me to bed and make love to me all night.’

‘That’s quite nice,’ said Campbell in a ragged voice. ‘Ask me again.’

He was pushing aside her jacket, tugging up her silk camisole, and Tilly shuddered and writhed with pleasure as his hands closed on her bare skin.

‘Please,’ she gasped again. ‘You don’t need to pretend anything. It’s not about love. It’s not about forever. It’s just you and me and one night together. Make love to me, please.’

‘Well, since you asked so nicely…’

Somehow they got out of the van, but they couldn’t bear to let go of each other, couldn’t bear to stop kissing. For long, mindless minutes, Campbell pressed her against the driver’s door and Tilly didn’t care that the handle was digging into her hip, cared only that she could hold him and touch him and kiss him back.

At last they made it to the front door. There was a short delay while Tilly fumbled for keys, distracted by Campbell kissing her shoulder and the nape of her neck, as his hot, hungry hands explored beneath her open jacket. Her fingers shook as she inserted the key impatiently and they practically fell through the door, still kissing.

Unheeded, Tilly’s bag fell to the floor, closely followed by the jacket Campbell was peeling from her shoulders. He pushed her back against the door and she arched beneath his touch, gasping his name as she clutched her fingers in his hair, incoherent with desire.

‘What happens in your fantasy now?’ Tilly asked shakily when he raised his head at last, and Campbell took her by the hand and tugged her towards her bedroom.

‘I’ll show you.’

Tilly mumbled and brushed at something on her face before rolling over to bury her face in a pillow.

‘Wake up, Jenkins. It’s breakfast time.’ Campbell’s voice, warm and threaded with laughter, slowly penetrated her sleep and she stirred, opening sleep-clouded eyes to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, tickling her cheek with a finger.

He smiled at her. ‘I thought I’d make your fantasy come true.’

Tilly pulled herself blearily up on to the pillows. She felt boneless with pleasure still, as if she had been drenched in honeyed delight, and the colour rose in her cheeks as the memories of the night before flooded back.

‘I think you’ve already done that,’ she said, and he smiled.

‘This is a different fantasy. You told me all about it on Ben Nuarrh. Don’t you remember? You wanted to wake up with coffee and croissants.’

Brought by a gorgeous lover. Tilly did remember, and the fact that he did, too, made her heart turn over.

‘Look,’ said Campbell as he laid the tray on the bed. ‘The sun’s even shining.’

There was a ridiculous lump in her throat. Tilly swallowed. ‘So it is.’ Leaning forward, she made a big deal of breathing in the smell of coffee. ‘Mmm,’ she murmured appreciatively and unfolded a tea towel to find the promised croissants. They were even warm.

She lifted her eyes to his green ones and wondered how she could ever have thought of them as cold.

‘Where did you find these?’

‘At the shop on the corner. You were dead to the world so I thought it would be worth a trip.’ He nodded down at the tray. ‘I realise the orange juice wasn’t specified in your fantasy. That’s my own innovation.’

Tilly was overwhelmed. Nobody had ever done anything like this for her before.

Last night, he had made her feel beautiful and desirable; this morning, instead of being desperate to leave, as she had half expected, he had gone to all this trouble to make her a special breakfast. He had remembered something she had once said and acted on it to make her feel special.

He made her feel loved.

If you were talking fantasies, this one was hard to beat.

‘Hey, stop that!’ she said, deciding that her only option was to make a joke of it. It was that or cry. ‘It’s not fair to start being thoughtful and perfect now you’re about to go!’

‘You could come with me.’

‘What, to the States?’ she asked, keeping the smile fixed on her face and assuming that he was joking as well.

‘Why not?’

Her smile faded as they looked at each other. He couldn’t mean it.

Tilly didn’t want to think that making love had been a mistake, but she was afraid that it probably had been. Now she was going to have to live with the memory of the heart-stopping rapture, of the consuming pleasure and the heady delight of touching and being touched, of the fierceness of the passion they had discovered together. Night after night, she would have to lie in this bed and remember and know that she would never feel that again. She would never hold him again, never kiss him again.

She would have to say goodbye and it would hurt.

She was a fool, in fact, but Tilly couldn’t regret it. Just one night, they had agreed, and what a night it had been.

And now Campbell was suggesting-seriously?-that she wouldn’t need to say goodbye after all.

There was no point in denying that she was tempted, but deep down Tilly knew this was just another fantasy. Maybe fantasies could come true for a night, even for a morning, but how could they endure day after day, in the harsh realities of life?

She couldn’t go to the States with Campbell. Her business was here, her friends were here. And what would he do with her over there? He was a high-powered businessman, she was a homely cake-maker. Their lives would barely coincide. Tilly had seen what different aspirations had done to her parents’ marriage.

No, she had ignored her sensible side long enough. This was no time to believe in fantasies. It could never work. Campbell was driven by the need to win. His priorities were different, his life was different.

And he had an ex-wife to get out of his system.

Tilly had forgotten Lisa for a while, but now she remembered the way Campbell had talked about her. He might not love Lisa any more, but there was definitely some unresolved business there, and Tilly had no intention of being a distraction until he found out what he really wanted. She had been that for Olivier, and she wasn’t doing it again.

‘I don’t think that would work,’ she told Campbell, choosing her words carefully.

‘Because…?’

‘Because we’re too different. Last night was wonderful, but perhaps it was wonderful because it was just one night,’ she tried to explain. ‘We both got what we needed without having to think about the consequences.’

Campbell eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Did we? What did you get?’

‘I got Olivier out of my system,’ she told him, lifting her chin slightly. It was the truth, but not the whole truth, as they said. ‘My friends have had this theory that I’d never get over him properly until I had a fling with someone to restore my confidence. And I’ve done that now,’ she finished.

There was a tiny pause. ‘I’m glad I was able to help,’ said Campbell with a touch of acid.

‘You know what I mean,’ said Tilly. ‘I mean, come on, Campbell, you know I’m right. You’re leaving the country, we’ve got completely different lives. How could it ever be more than a night?’

All right, maybe she was right, thought Campbell. The trouble was that it didn’t feel right. It felt all wrong.

But what could he do? He could hardly force her to go with him. He wasn’t sure where the idea that she could go to the States with him had come from. The truth was that he had been almost as surprised by his suggestion as Tilly had been. The words seemed to have come from nowhere, and yet once they were out, they made perfect sense and Campbell had been taken aback by how badly he’d wanted Tilly to agree, how disappointed he had been when she’d said no.

Of course she was right. There was no way it could work. It was madness to even think about it. He would leave here and go to his new life in the States, and he would be grateful then that she had saved them both a lot of awkwardness by rejecting his impulsive offer.

‘OK,’ he admitted, ‘you’re right. It was just a night, but it was a great one.’

Smiling, Tilly relaxed back against the pillows. ‘Yes, it was,’ she said softly, ‘and now you’ve brought breakfast, it’s a wonderful morning.’

‘Then let’s make the most of it,’ said Campbell, leaning across the tray to kiss her. ‘It’s not over yet.’

That had been a mistake, too, he realised much later as he watched the taxi draw up outside the house.

Had they really thought making love again would make it easier to say goodbye? Breakfast had been ruined, of course, but neither of them had cared. They had made fresh coffee eventually and reheated the croissants and ate them together, neither of them wanting to think about the minutes ticking away.

Now the moment they had both been dreading all morning had arrived.

Tilly came outside to the taxi with him. She watched as he threw his bag into the back and then turned to her.

‘Well, I guess this is it,’ he said.

‘Yes.’ Her throat tightened painfully. ‘But I’ll see you at the ceremony when they announce the winners. You are coming back for that, aren’t you?’

‘Of course,’ he said, thinking that was not for another three months.

Once he would have been impatient to find out whether he had won. Now all he could think was that it meant three months without Tilly.

And, after that, the rest of his life without her.

It would be fine, he told himself. Once he was in New York, there would be so much to do, he wouldn’t have time to miss her. He would be making a new life, being even more successful than before. He would be relieved that Tilly had been sensible.

He wouldn’t feel the way he did now.

He looked for the last time into Tilly’s dark, beautiful blue eyes, knowing that he could never tell her how he felt. So he reached for her instead, and she melted into him and they kissed, a bittersweet kiss that went on and on because neither could bear to let the other go.

‘I’m glad Keith pushed me into taking part in this stupid programme,’ Campbell confessed against her hair at last. ‘I’m glad Greg broke his leg.’

‘I’m glad you were the one who got to push me down that cliff,’ said Tilly.

‘I’m glad about last night, too.’

Tilly was terribly afraid that she was going to cry. She couldn’t do that, not after being so brave all morning. ‘Me, too.’ She swallowed, hard. ‘Now, get in that taxi and go before I start getting all sloppy!’

‘All right,’ said Campbell.

He held her tight against him for one last hard kiss and then he let her go. ‘Goodbye, Jenkins. Don’t go fulfilling any more fantasies without me.’

Tilly’s determined smile wobbled. ‘Don’t call me Jenkins,’ she managed with difficulty.

Her heart was cracking, tearing, as she watched him get into the taxi. ‘Goodbye,’ she said, but it was barely more than a whisper.

Campbell leant forward to tell the driver to take him to the station, then he looked back at Tilly and lifted a hand in farewell. She waved back, barely able to see through her tears, and then the taxi was pulling away, turning on to the street, and he was gone.

Tilly took a fortifying gulp of champagne. She probably shouldn’t have ordered a glass in her room, but she badly needed something to steady her nerves. In a few minutes, she would have to go downstairs and see Campbell again, and she had no idea how she was going to handle it. For three months now, she had longed to see him, but now the moment was almost upon her she was terrified that she would simply go to pieces.

The programme had been screened the week before. Suzy had done a good job and it had been very cleverly edited, with a fair balance between all the contestants at each stage and good coverage of their chosen charities.

Expecting it to be hidden in the daytime schedule somewhere, Tilly had been taken aback at how popular the programme had proved, and she had been overwhelmed at how many viewers had voted. Perfect strangers had come up to her in the street and told her that they hoped she would win, and the hospice had reported a flood of donations since they had been featured.

Tonight was the final ceremony when they would announce the winners, and the charities who would receive the winning donations. Tilly knew she ought to be nervous about the results, but all she could think about was seeing Campbell.

It had been three months. Three months of telling herself it was all for the best. Three months of trying to forget the night they had spent together.

Three months of missing him.

‘That’s what comes of forcing people out of their ruts,’ she had raged to her brothers. ‘I was perfectly happy until you made me do that stupid television programme.’

‘We were only trying to help you get over Olivier,’ they protested.

‘Well, don’t help any more!’

The kitchen was so empty without Campbell, her bed so lonely. It wasn’t just a physical ache either. Tilly hadn’t realised how alive she had felt in his presence, how everything had seemed to click into place when he’d been there. She missed talking to him, arguing with him, laughing with him…She even missed being exasperated by him. That was how bad it was.

Time and again, she’d tried to convince herself that she didn’t really know Campbell at all. They had spent a matter of days together. She knew nothing about his life, his home, his friends. It was silly to build one night into such a huge deal. Much better to treat it as the brief fling she had insisted it was.

But deep down, she was convinced that she did know him. She knew the way the crease at the corner of his mouth deepened when he was amused. She knew exactly how he turned his head, how his brows contracted, the way he would look at her and shake his head in exasperated disbelief. There had been so many times when she’d wanted to turn to him and tell him her thoughts, and she’d always known exactly how he would reply-usually irritably, of course, but Tilly wouldn’t have cared if only he had been there to reply for himself.

All the participants had been sent a copy of the final programme in advance. Tilly had watched it with Cleo and Tony, although she’d longed to be able to see it on her own so that she could freeze the picture whenever Campbell was on the screen.

Most of the shots were of the two of them together. There she was, clutching Campbell’s neck at the top of that wretched cliff, falling on to the muddy river bank, playing the fool on the mountain top.

Tilly’s throat had ached as she’d watched herself. She remembered it all so clearly. She could practically smell the air and feel the breeze in her face. It was as if Campbell were still beside her, making her tingle with the astringency of his presence, the touch of his hand, the heart-twisting quiver of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

There were clips from the video diaries, too. She rambled and Campbell was cool and concise. Everyone laughed at Campbell in the pink apron, but the most telling scene was at Cleo and Tony’s wedding when the camera caught Tilly looking at Campbell with her heart in her eyes.

Cleo had turned and fixed her with an accusing expression. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were in love with him?’ she demanded.

Tilly squirmed, but couldn’t deny it. ‘Because there’s no point in loving him,’ she tried to explain. ‘Nothing’s going to change. Campbell’s living in the States now. Even if his ex-wife doesn’t want him, there’ll be any number of single women in New York waiting to snap him up.’

‘You should tell him how you feel,’ said Cleo, but Tilly shook her head.

‘It’s too late for that.’

She had heard from Suzy that Campbell would only be in the country for a couple of nights. He would come to the awards ceremony, but then he had some important meeting to get back to. They wouldn’t have time to do more than say hello. There was no use expecting anything else.

That didn’t stop Tilly from hoping, of course. Oh, she wasn’t stupid. She knew nothing lasting could come of it, but that one night had been so special, she couldn’t help wanting it again. If Campbell was still single, she had decided, she was going to suggest it to him. She was staying in the hotel where the ceremony was taking place. She would have a room, if he wanted to share it with her.