Chapter Four Cameron
Chapter Four
Cameron
How you feeling?’ Cam asked a week later. ‘Although I think I know the answer.’
‘Much better. Can you really tell?’ She wrinkled her nose as if to highlight that it was now a nose of normal hue.
‘You always look . . .’ – great, fantastic, gorgeous – ‘fine – but you do look really well today.’ Even though he could see that the blinds were half shut in Jenna’s office, the Cornish sunshine couldn’t be kept out entirely.
‘Oh, come on. What you really mean is that I looked awful with my Rudolph nose and the snot and the coughing and the streaming eyes?’
Cam laughed, though he thought her green eyes were still beautiful even when red-rimmed. ‘You had a bad cold. Flu, maybe?’
‘Maybe. But I’m fine now, and back in the office.
I read your report on the Kilt Challenge.
Can’t believe it’s less than four weeks away.
It’s all organised from my end too and I think the higher-ups are going to be pleased with the coverage.
I have regional print media interested for the arrival, and I’m hoping for regional TV.
They love the idea of cycling in kilts.’
‘Great. I have definite Scottish regional news for the departure and several of Sholto’s old football teammates will be there, along with a few fans, I expect. The charity itself is doing PR, of course.’
‘That sounds very positive.’ Jenna nodded. ‘I had a message back from a Midlands news channel – Sholto once played for a football team in Birmingham, and as he’s overnighting there and getting a free curry in a famous Balti restaurant, they might turn up too.’
‘Excellent.’ Cameron clicked the top of his ballpoint, which had a picture of a puffin on the side.
God, he was stressed. He needed to calm down.
‘Look . . . there’s something I didn’t put in the email because I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up until I’d had a chance to run the idea by a contact of mine. ’
‘Oh, that sounds intriguing.’
Cam swallowed discreetly. ‘Well, it’s not certain yet, as nothing ever is with national TV.’
‘National TV!’ Jenna gave a little gasp and her eyes sparkled.
Cam’s stomach did a full range of backflips that would have looked great on an Olympic floor final.
‘Like I say, it’s not guaranteed but I know how special this challenge is, to you .
. . and Sholto. I have a contact at Breakfast Today.
I don’t normally use the connection but this one time, I felt I could call in the favour. ’
‘You have a contact on a prime-time morning show and you don’t use it?’ Jenna said, aghast. ‘Who is he?’
He smiled, a little embarrassed. ‘She. We – er – went to uni together and um – dated for a bit.’
Jenna beamed. ‘Oh, you are a dark horse. First the lovely Iona and now—’ She frowned. ‘You haven’t said her name.’
‘Um. Carly DiLuca.’
‘Whatttt? You went out with Carly DiLuca?’ Jenna blinked again. ‘The Carly DiLuca?’
‘Well, that wasn’t her name back then. It was Carly Jones.
DiLuca is her professional name – her grandma is Italian.
I get that it’s impossible to believe she went out with me, but this was all way before she presented that US talent show and shot to fame and fortune.
We only dated for a couple of months in our second year . . .’
Jenna shook her head. ‘No, it’s not impossible to believe. Not at all, and I didn’t mean to sound rude, but she’s just so—’
‘Glamorous? Famous? Gorgeous?’
‘Yes. Not that you – aren’t . . .’
What was Jenna going to say? Cam wasn’t sure he wanted to know . . .
‘Any of those things?’ His wry smile was back in place, trying to keep his tone light and jokey.
She shook her head. ‘Now you’re fishing and I’m not going to bite.’
‘I hope not, with all those germs swirling around you. I might catch something.’
‘You almost certainly would have last week . . . not now, I hope. Um, should we get on with the business in hand? – i.e. your amazing coup with Carly.’
Cam realised he’d crossed a line. He’d moved a millimetre the wrong side of banter and into flirting and he could kick himself.
‘Yes. Um. Anyway, Carly said she’d love to send a reporter to do a feature. Obviously she won’t come out of the studio herself.’
‘Obviously.’ Jenna rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
‘She’d like to do a Start Line piece, then a Welcome piece at your end.
Maybe have Sholto back in the studio after it’s over and has gone well.
When it goes well. Obviously, the more money he can raise the better, and she also said, “the more he can suffer the better”.
The kilt clinched it, if I’m honest. Or rather the hint of what might be, or not be, under the kilt.
’ Cam waggled his eyebrows and then wanted to punch himself – he’d crossed the line again .
. . ‘Though it is a family show, so we won’t be going into details,’ he mumbled.
‘That’s . . . definitely too much information.’ Jenna started laughing again and they moved on to finalise the details, promising to email minutes of the meetings and their action list. They had almost finished when Jenna heard rattling and nagging noises from behind Cam.
‘Is that Lachlan chucking stones at your windows?’
Cam glanced at the gunmetal sky outside. ‘I’m afraid it’s hail. The sun was out earlier for an hour, then this storm blew in.’
‘But it’s still June.’
‘Actually, it’s July. Just.’ Cam nodded over her shoulder and she twisted around.
The calendar behind her had moved to a background of sea pinks and two black birds with red feet and a red beak. Cam knew they were choughs, a rare type of crow found in very few places in the UK and one of Jenna’s favourite birds.
They were very lucky to live in such wild and beautiful locations, even if they were so far apart.
Perhaps, he thought, 874 miles would seem like nothing to someone living in a big country rather than on a small island .
. . His spirits sank as he reminded himself that it wasn’t just the physical distance keeping them apart.
‘Time flies,’ Jenna said, returning her focus to Cam with a weary expression.
‘I knew it was July – I’m just having trouble accepting it.
I’ve already made appointments at a couple of boutiques to try on dresses.
Apparently, if I want a summer wedding next year, I’m supposed to have everything booked by now!
Planning a wedding isn’t for the faint-hearted. ’
Cameron’s stomach turned over again but not in the pleasantly painful way it had previously.
This was a sick feeling plunging him into an instant gloom deeper than any Atlantic storm could ever produce.
A gloom he had no right to feel because he ought never to harbour a shred of hope where Jenna was concerned.
She was getting married to a man she loved, someone who had supported her and her family in the aftermath of the worst of circumstances.
Circumstances he knew only too well could destroy the strongest character. What Jenna didn’t know – would never know, now – was that he had also lost someone in sudden and tragic circumstances.
He’d been planning to propose to Rachel.
He’d had the ring in his pocket, but she’d died crossing the road in Edinburgh.
It was the main reason he’d had to move away from the city, change his job, his entire life.
The long hours, the corporate grind and the city buzz had no longer held any appeal, not when compared to being present for his family and friends – and them being there for him.
‘Earth to Cam?’
‘Oh. Yes. Sorry. You froze there for a couple of seconds. Probably the – er – environmental conditions my end.’ He checked his watch, even though he had the time at the bottom of his screen.
‘I should wind things up, if you don’t mind.
I have to do the school run today. My sister, Hannah, is on shift. ’
‘Oh . . . have fun. I expect you’ll be seeing Iona tonight?’ Jenna said, and for a second he wondered if she was sad to see him go. ‘Isn’t it your bird-watching club night?’
‘Oh, er – yes. Maybe. Though maybe not with this storm.’
She laughed. ‘You definitely don’t want to be out for a walk in that.’ She lifted her eyebrows as the rain lashed Cam’s window.
‘Aye, that’s true. We won’t.’
‘But then again,’ Jenna added wistfully, ‘it could blow over and the sun could come back out. It always does, eventually.’
‘How are you?’ Iona planted a flat white in front of Cam and took a deep breath.
She looked harassed, red-faced, her auburn hair escaping its scrunchie.
The café was heaving – as it inevitably was in summer since John O’Groats had become one of the ‘must-dos’ on Scotland’s north coast tourist route.
Fortunately, Iona kept a wee space at the rear for locals, with cosy seats and a permanent reserved sign on the communal wooden table.
‘I’m OK.’
‘You look wet.’
‘Ha ha. I’ve been out running.’
Iona sniffed the air. ‘Thought I could smell something.’
‘Thanks. I did change my top in the loo before I sat down.’
‘Should have changed out here. Given the tourists a thrill. I could have charged.’
‘I think they’d have paid me to leave.’
Iona gave him that look, the one that had cemented their friendship at primary school, that said I can see right through you. ‘I won’t flatter you further. You know how hot you are.’
Cam felt his cheeks flush, and his run had nothing to do with it. ‘Um, are you very busy?’
‘Not at all.’ She sat down on the bench next to him, wafting her hand towards the boisterous crowd queuing out the door. ‘You can see I have nothing to do and no customers.’
Cam refused to bottle it. ‘I could do with a friendly ear. Not now, obviously.’
‘I can take a break after the lunchtime rush. Wanna meet by the signpost – if the weather improves? Or the pub, if not?’
‘Signpost. Two thirty?’