Fiona Harper - Best of Fiona Harper

So when Finn asked her to clear a patch of ground with a stick, she cleared a patch of ground with a stick, and she didn’t think about snakes. And when he showed her how to make rope out of vines and creepers, she plaited until her fingers were sore and numb with cold.

Meanwhile, Finn and Dave rigged up a simple triangular structure by lashing the bamboo poles together with her lumpily woven twine. It had a raised platform and a sloping roof frame that rose high at the front and joined the base at the back. Once it was steady enough, they blinked against the rain and worked on thatching the roof with the leaves she’d collected.

It was dry inside. Warm might have been stretching it a little.

They climbed inside, all three of them soaked to the skin, and sat in silence watching the water tip from the sky in skip loads.

You couldn’t call it rain. Rain didn’t blur the vision and make the sea boil. Rain was that delicate grey drizzle on a November afternoon in London. Or the short-lived exuberance of an April shower. This water falling from the sky with such weight and ferocity deserved another name entirely.

It might have been just bearable if she’d been sitting next to Finn, but Dave had barged his way between them when they’d climbed in, and she could hardly even see Finn past the cameraman’s muscular bulk.

‘Don’t suppose you could build a fire, could you?’ Dave asked hopefully.

‘Too wet,’ Finn replied. ‘We’ll have to wait for a break in the weather.’

Dave humphed. ‘Thought Fearless Finn’s motto was “Expect the impossible!”’

Finn just grinned back at him, then leaned forward to look at the sky again. ‘Just as well it isn’t rainy season,’ he said quite seriously.

Allegra was tempted to laugh. Really throw her head back and howl.

She didn’t, of course.

Instead she shifted from one buttock to the other. The only thing between her and the ground was a floor of hard bamboo poles. Finn had said they’d make it more comfortable with leaves and moss when there was dry foliage to be found, but until then it was bamboo or nothing. However, Allegra had very little in the way of padding on her derrière to make the former an attractive proposition.

Finn looked back at the pair of them, huddled nearer the back of the shelter. ‘Don’t think this is going to let off while it’s still light, though.’ He slapped Dave sympathetically on the shoulder. ‘You’re definitely stuck with us for the night.’

The hulk sitting next to her grunted again.

Hang on.

What had Finn said earlier?

‘D-did…’

Oh, bother. Her teeth were chattering. She clenched her jaw shut in an effort to still them, then tried again.

‘Did y-you say something about a hotel?’

Finn sighed. He had that bewildered-concerned-uncertain look on his face again. ‘Don’t believe all that internet chatter about me staying in five-star hotels and pretending I’m roughing it. On Fearless Finn, it’s the real deal.’

She’d said something wrong, hadn’t she? She looked at Dave. She was sure that Finn had said something about a hotel. Surely, they did something like that in emergencies? At times like this?

Finn caught her looking at Dave and read her mind. ‘Only the crew get that luxury. Dave needs to go back to base every evening to charge his batteries, get fresh tapes and to deliver the footage so Simon can watch the rushes. At night it should just be you, me, a night-vision camera rigged to a tree and a hand-held for us to use in case anything interesting happens.

Allegra felt her shoulders sag.

If that wasn’t bad enough news, she had a sneaking suspicion that her version of interesting when she and Finn were left here alone might be vastly different from his.

Just at that moment a crack of thunder split the sky above their heads, accompanied by a flash of lightning that seemed to arc from one edge of the horizon to the other. Allegra jumped so high she rattled the shelter. If it were possible, it began to rain even harder.

Finn stayed crouching at the front of the shelter, peering into the darkening chaos outside with a strange light in his eyes.

‘Isn’t it amazing?’ he asked, unable to tear his gaze away from the meteorological light show that was shaking the ground and rattling the very heavens.

‘Bloody fabulous,’ said Dave in a weary voice and flopped backward to sprawl on the bamboo poles.

Allegra really wanted to want to join Finn at the edge of the shelter, to mirror back to him the strange sense of awe in his eyes, but her bones felt so cold and damp she was sure they’d locked into position. So she didn’t do anything but sit huddled in a ball while the bamboo left permanent dents in her bottom, and tried to ignore the feeling she’d just made the worst mistake of her life.

The thunder was easing now, much to Finn’s disappointment. The rain continued, however. That he could have lived without. He and his two companions were still mighty damp, and there’d be no hope of drying out fully until the sun came up or he managed to build a fire. From the taste of the air, the smell of the bulbous clouds still dropping their loads, he’d guess the possibility was still hours away. That was a long time to wait with an out-of-sorts camera operator and a mouse-like ballerina.

Thinking of the ballerina… Night had fallen while the storm had been raging and she didn’t have much in the way of body fat to keep her warm. Dave, meanwhile, had more than enough. She’d be better off between the two of them.

‘Hey, Dave,’ he called into the darkness. ‘Why don’t you swap places with—’ what was her name again? ‘—Allegra?’

There was a short silence and then Dave sighed. The shelter shook, there was a whole lot of shuffling noises, an outraged female gasp followed by a mumbled apology, and then a reluctant Dave-type chuckle.

‘Just as well Anya Pirelli pulled out last minute,’ he muttered. ‘My missus would have confiscated certain parts of my anatomy and fried them up for breakfast if that had just happened with her.’

The taut little figure who was now beside Finn stiffened further and he winced on her behalf.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t feminine or attractive in her own understated, lean way. It was just that she wasn’t…well, Anya Pirelli. And there was nothing that she, or the other three billion women on the planet, could do about it.

‘I’m surprised Nat let you sign old Anya up in the first place,’ Dave added, snorting dryly.

A quiet voice murmured beside him in the blackness, almost as if she was speaking to herself and hadn’t meant to be overheard. ‘Nat?’

‘His fiancée,’ Dave said matter-of-factly. ‘Been engaged a while now. Took his time asking her, though. How long was it you’d been together? Three years? Four?’

The completeness of the tropical night meant he didn’t see the hearty slap Dave delivered to his shoulder coming.

‘Five,’ Finn said, noticing the defensive tone in his voice with no visuals to distract him. He really didn’t want to get into this right now. Having to build a shelter in the pouring rain had been a lovely distraction from the gaping chasm that had recently opened up in his personal life, thank you very much. And what business of Dave’s was it, anyway?

He shouldn’t be bothered by it, but people like Dave didn’t realise that he and Nat hadn’t had a traditional relationship. Their work schedules had meant they’d been apart more than they’d been together in five years, so it had been closer to one and a half years in normal people’s terms.

Dave sighed, his voice still tinged with good humour. ‘Didn’t think there was a woman alive who’d make old Finn here settle down!’

‘I’m not settling anywhere,’ Finn said quickly. And then he remembered his promise to Nat to keep quiet about the split and decided not to elaborate further. Settling down… Ugh. He hated that phrase, and probably would have reacted to it anyway. ‘I just felt I’d reached an age when it was time to stop wandering around and put down some roots.’

Nat’s comments from the previous evening started to swirl around his head, but he batted them away as if they were mosquitoes.

There was a mournful little sound from the huddled figure beside him. It started off almost like a moan but ended like a yawn. She must be exhausted. He and Dave were used to this relentless schedule, but it was hard on their guests. There wasn’t much to do now but wait until the rain stopped and talk amongst themselves, but Dave was as subtle—and as discreet—as a foghorn, and the sooner they ended this topic of conversation the better.

‘We might as well try to get some rest,’ Finn said.

All three of them shuffled until they were lying on the bamboo floor of the shelter. Finn was instantly still, but the other two fidgeted for quite some time. Hardly surprising, on a bed like this. Eventually, though, everything went still and quiet.

They weren’t quite touching, but he could sense Allegra was as stiff horizontal as she had been vertical. How odd. He was sure her name was more familiar now he thought about it, that Nat had dragged him along to watch her perform when they’d first been seeing each other.

Allegra Martin. That was her name.

He tried to sharpen the brief, fuzzy snatches of memory from that night. There wasn’t much to go on. He couldn’t remember where he and Nat had gone for dinner before the performance, or what either of them had worn, or even if they’d gone home together afterwards, but he remembered Allegra’s dancing.

Despite the fact he’d moaned loud and long about being dragged to Covent Garden, he’d actually been struck by the unexpected beauty of it all. Odd, really. Because to Finn McLeod beauty wasn’t normally found caged within four walls and a ceiling, no matter how grand the old building was. True beauty was usually found in wild, open spaces.

She must have been really young then. Little more than a kid. And yet he’d never seen something move that way before—so free and fluid and graceful. Except maybe the Northern Lights over the Arctic.

Didn’t seem to have much of that fluidity about her now, though, which was a pity. In the wild, you had to go with the flow. She was going to need every bit of flexibility she possessed if she was going to survive the challenges of the coming week.

He sighed, folded his hands behind his head and peered up into the featureless sky, hoping to see the twinkle of a star eventually. Perhaps conversation would have been better, because now the other two castaways were asleep he was left alone with his thoughts.

He’d thought he and Nat were the perfect couple. What on earth had gone wrong? He just didn’t get it.

Must still be numb, though, because he wasn’t feeling half as crushed as he’d expected to. Sad and disappointed, yes, but not devastated. But that was because he was strong, he supposed. Resilient.

He thought he saw a pinprick of light up above and stilled his thoughts for a few seconds while he tried to focus on it.

Hmm. Having a broken heart wasn’t nearly as bad as people said it was. He’d always thought those people who sang the whiny love ballads on the radio were being overly dramatic, and now he felt justifiably superior about being right about it all along.

He had a feeling his heart was mending already. In true Fearless Finn style, he was sure he’d survive.

The drip of water on the leaves above her head was keeping Allegra awake. At least, that was what she was telling herself. Drips and the cold. And the ridges of the bamboo poles, of course. It certainly wasn’t anything else.