The Distance Between Us

Chapter One Jenna – Land’s End, Cornwall 874 miles apart

Chapter One

Jenna

Land’s End, Cornwall

Sorry. Hold on. Wee issue with the camera again.’

‘Oh, no. The Cam cam again? Who’d have thought it! Can you call Tech?’

‘Ha ha. Of course I can call Tech. I have a whole Google-HQ-sized department of techies waiting for me to call because I can’t get the video to work.’

Jenna tried not to laugh. She’d been video-calling Cameron Munro several times a week for ages.

They both worked for the not-for-profit organisation End-to-End, helping walkers and cyclists undertake the longest route in the United Kingdom – from the very top of Scotland to England’s south-westerly tip – to raise money for charity.

Jenna was based in the Land’s End head office at the ‘toe’ of Cornwall, while Cameron lived in the village of John O’Groats, in the far northern tip of Scotland.

Helping people to make this challenging journey and raise awareness for the good causes and charities they supported made Jenna happier than almost anything.

Approximately twenty per cent of their calls began with Cam’s voice emerging from her laptop screen, usually frustrated, sometimes resigned – but always sexy.

Not that she would ever dream of telling him, or anyone else, that she found his Highlands accent sexy.

It would be highly inappropriate in the circumstances, even if every syllable conjured up images of rugged moorland, granite rocks covered in velvety lichen and soft rain falling as an autumn day drew to a close.

‘Sh—’ Cameron bit back the expletive and Jenna could hear furious tapping from the laptop. ‘Aha! All righty. Here I am. Sorry for the scruffy appearance. I literally just got back from a run.’

‘Literally?’ Jenna raised her eyebrows.

Cameron blinked at her from the screen, shoving a damp lock of toffee-brown hair off his face. ‘Yes. Obviously I’ve had a shower first, otherwise it would have been weird. I was all sweaty.’

All sweaty. Hmm. Jenna rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t know why you bothered. Teams hasn’t created a multisensory video call function yet, as far as I know.’

‘Thank God.’

He peered into the camera, treating her to a close-up of the light sprinkling of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

‘Um. Jenna.’

‘What?’

‘You have – um – some cream on the end of your nose.’

‘What?’ Jenna grabbed a tissue from the box on her desk and dabbed hastily at the tip of her nose.

‘Sorry. Very unprofessional of me. The boss bought us all 99 ice cream cones to celebrate the Big Teddy Bear Hike to support the hospice in Cardiff. They raised over fifty grand and were delighted with the feature we got on breakfast telly.’

‘I saw it. Great result and lucky you. No one bought me anything to celebrate and besides, I’ve no boss and it’s not ice cream weather. It’s lashing down outside and blowing a hoolie. It’s more like December than late May.’

‘Oh. It’s quite breezy here, but it always is. Being Land’s End, of course,’ Jenna added. ‘I’ll send you a virtual ice cream up to Scotland anyway.’

‘A virtual hot chocolate might be a better idea. With a dram in it.’

Jenna laughed. Cam gave his trademark lopsided, half-ironic smile. They chatted a little more about the weather, how the bluebells were almost finished in Cornwall while Scottish primroses had just begun to show their yellow faces on the wild moorland around John O’Groats.

Then they moved on to the purpose of the call: updates on the current End-to-End challenges they were coordinating. The iconic route was officially 874 miles by motorway, but many people taking on the challenge followed the scenic route, which increased the distance to well over a thousand miles.

Some ran, some walked. On foot, it took two to three months along rugged trails and country roads, though a keen runner had once done it in under ten days.

Others chose to bike, usually spending two to three bum-numbing weeks in the saddle.

A few took to unicycles, tricycles, penny farthings – one man had even pogo-sticked the whole route.

It was their choice whether to do the Jogle – from John O’Groats to Cornwall – or the Lejog – starting at Land’s End and ending up in John O’Groats, with its scattering of gift shops, cafés and apparently a beautiful Victorian hotel clustered around a tiny harbour. Not that Jenna would know.

As well as helping to coordinate the journeys, Cam did his best to greet every end-to-ender, cheering them on, taking photos and trying to get as much press and online coverage as he could.

Unlike Jenna, who worked at the much larger Land’s End attraction, which drew in thousands of tourists every day in the summer, Cam worked freelance for the End-to-End organisation.

He’d told Jenna over their many calls that he lived in a cottage along the coast, half a mile from the tourist attractions yet within a ten-minute walk of the village, where his parents and his sister, Hannah, and nephew, Lachlan, were based.

He’d left his tech job in Edinburgh to head back home to John O’Groats and work for End-to-End.

Since Jenna’s boss had met Cam at a tourism conference and suggested they work together, Jenna’s job had got a lot easier.

He just seemed to get that they needed to be quick to respond, that the job would be busy .

. . and, well, it wasn’t a straightforward nine to five.

Cam, like Jenna, was always ready to go the extra mile.

He sipped from his Powerade bottle and they discussed the various challenges happening in the following weeks.

Jenna slurped the dregs of her iced coffee, drawing a smile from him. ‘Sorry, what a noise,’ she said, embarrassed.

Cam laughed. ‘I’ve heard much worse,’ he said. ‘I must go. I’ve to see off a boy band – ex-boy band, as they’re all over fifty now – who are hiking across the country for the Birmingham cats’ charity. They’re all going to be dressed as cats. Which figures.’

Jenna wrinkled her nose. ‘Ouch, imagine all that fur dripping wet.’

Cam looked thoughtful. ‘I know – I have warned them, but people do the challenge in their own way. That’s what appeals, I guess. They’re always on some kind of quest, trying to find meaning in chaos.’

‘Or comfort or solace or a way to say thank you,’ Jenna replied, recalling the mum who had unicycled the route to raise money for the air ambulance who had saved her son’s life after a motorbike crash.

People did the route for a thousand different reasons in a thousand different ways. ‘I don’t think I could ever do it.’

‘I bet you could if you really wanted to.’

‘I don’t think so . . . I’m not cut out for that kind of masochism.

’ She hesitated. ‘But some people are and actually, I’ve saved my biggest news until last.’ She paused for breath.

‘I’ve just been contacted for a special event that could attract a lot of great coverage.

My boss is really excited about it and it’s going to give us plenty of opportunities for fantastic PR. It’s for a brilliant cause too . . .’

His eyes lit up. ‘Oh? I’m intrigued. What is it?’

‘It’s called the Kilt Challenge. It’s happening in six weeks’ time – and in fact it’s starting at your end. The ex-Scottish football team captain Sholto Mackenzie is going to cycle the route in a kilt!’

‘The Sholto Mackenzie?’ Cam gasped. ‘Oh wow. He’s an icon up here. Over a hundred caps for Scotland, that match-winning goal against England . . . when did you hear about this?’

‘Only this afternoon. It’s for a charity called HeartBeat that raises money for research into sudden heart failure in young people.’

Cam blew out a breath. ‘A fantastic cause and a great challenge. A retired Scottish soccer player, riding in a kilt and arriving in Land’s End? That’s a gold-plated PR hook, especially north of the border. Everyone for miles around will be out to see him set off. Can you email me the details asap?’

‘Of course. The charity’s going to send more info through.

It’s all been a bit last-minute. Sholto’s been training and thinking about it, but he wanted to do it before he starts his TV commitments during the football season.

I’ll send all the info the moment I get it, and we can discuss after the weekend? ’

‘Yeah. The sooner the better. We need to get our skates on with the media.’

‘Absolutely. I know we can do it. You’re brilliant at getting the word out, Cam.’

‘You too.’ Cam laughed. ‘Hmm. Sholto has certainly got some balls.’

‘In every way.’ Jenna laughed too and her stomach flipped. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the excitement of being involved in a challenge that was so close to her own heart, even if Cam didn’t fully realise why.

‘I can hear something in the background . . .’ Cam said. ‘Sounds like a party . . .’

Jenna turned. She could hear laughter and shrieks of excitement outside her office. When she turned back, the sun had changed its angle, making it harder to see Cam on the screen.

‘Wow, it’s past five.’ She narrowed her eyes to try to see him better. ‘Better let you go and— do whatever you do.’

‘It’s not sunset here until after ten and it never really gets properly dark at this time of year. I’ll probably head out with my camera. Lachlan – my nephew – has spotted a pod of orcas and I’d love to get pics. What about you?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. It’s Friday, but a quiet night in.’

‘What, no Leffe in the First & Last?’ Cam asked with a cheeky eyebrow raise, knowing that Jenna enjoyed the Belgian beer.

‘Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow,’ Jenna said. ‘No Westmalle while you’re photographing orcas?’

‘I might take a bottle, though I’ll have Lachlan with me. He’s seven, so a bit too young to have developed a taste for beer.’

‘Actually, I might go for a walk on the beach later too, and watch the sunset. Should be a stunner tonight.’ She shaded her eyes with her hands against the sun and sighed in pleasure. ‘I love these long late-May evenings . . .’