Saying Yes to the Millionaire

Fern really should have listened to her instinct to get up and sprint out of the restaurant door at that point but she was too intrigued to miss out on the last part of her character assassination.

Lisette nodded to herself and then looked Fern square in the eye. ‘I challenge you to say yes to every question you are asked for one whole week.’

Fern laughed so hard that a couple of other diners turned round to stare at her and she clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘And why on earth would I accept a challenge like that?’

A glint appeared in Lisette’s eye. Fern’s stomach dropped. When Lis thought on the hop like this, there was normally trouble to follow. Her brain was likely to kangaroo off in all sorts of directions and come up with some really stupid ideas.

‘Because I will donate five hundred pounds to your Leukaemia Research thingy if you do it.’

That was below the belt. How was she going to refuse an offer like that? The cancer research charity she championed desperately needed more funds for vital research—research into treatments that might have saved Ryan’s life all those years ago, if they’d been available. The charity was asking its volunteer fundraisers to try and raise one hundred thousand pounds. She’d been on countless fun runs, had sponsored this-and-thats, all to hike the total up—and they were so close now. Five thousand pounds to go. What Lisette was offering was a tenth of that. More than she could ever hope to raise by herself in one week.

‘You’re insane.’

‘Quite possibly. But I’d quite happily hand over the cash if I got to see you take a few chances, live life a little. You’re stuck in a rut, darling.’

No, she wasn’t! She opened her mouth to tell Lisette so, but then realised she’d just be using that word again and it would only encourage her.

‘Perhaps I like my rut.’

Lisette leaned back to let the waiter clear their plates. ‘That, my dear Fern, is the heart of the problem. You need to break out of it now, before you hit middle age and get stuck in it for ever.’

If her insides hadn’t been churning, the dramatic look on Lisette’s face would have made her want to laugh. She took a deep breath. Her friend might be letting her imagination run away with her, but she still had some weapons of her own. Logic. Good sense. Sanity, even.

‘You haven’t thought this through at all. I couldn’t possibly say yes to every question somebody asked me in a week. What if somebody asked me if I wanted to rob a bank, or set myself on fire?’

‘Yes, complete strangers always wander up to you in London and ask you to join them in a spot of light burglary.’

Fern looked heavenwards and pushed her plate even further away from her. It was invading her personal space, making her feel uncomfortable. ‘You’re over-dramatising again. You know what I’m talking about. Someone could ask me to look the other way while they stole something or ask me to do something risky. I know the rest of the world might see London as being so very proper and a little bit stuffy but, let’s face it, there are nutters roaming the streets of this city.’

Lisette should know. She’d dated half of them.

‘You’re right.’ Lisette dug in her handbag for a pen and started doodling on a napkin. Really not a good idea as this was the sort of establishment that didn’t use paper napkins but linen ones. ‘We need some ground rules.’

‘We don’t need any rules at all. I’m not doing it.’

Lisette carried on scribbling. ‘Okay, there are some get out clauses. Nothing illegal. Nothing truly dangerous.’

‘Nothing immoral.’ Why was she joining in? This wasn’t going to go anywhere.

Lisette looked up at that point. ‘Nothing immoral? Pity. You’re cancelling out a whole lot of fun that way.’

‘It might sound fun to you, but I’m certainly not going to say yes if some guy walks up to me and asks me to…you know.’

‘Like I said, cancelling out a whole lot of fun, but I’ll concede. You’re allowed to say no if it’s something truly against your conscience.’

‘Gee, thanks.’ A cheeky smile spread across her lips and lifted her cheeks. ‘How are you going to keep a check on me? You can’t follow me round all week. What if I cheat?’

Lisette went so still for a second that Fern thought her heart must have stopped, and then she laughed so loudly that the man behind Fern turned round again and glared at her. Fern gave him an it-wasn’t-me-this-time shrug and turned back to face Lisette, who was wiping her eyes. There was a smudge of mascara on Lis’s cheek. She decided not to tell her about it.

‘Nah. Don’t think so, my little Fern. Even if you were tempted, you’d cave in when I handed you the cheque and you’d confess all, wouldn’t you?’

‘No!’ What kind of sap did her flatmate think she was? But, then again…She buried her head in her hands, her shoulder-length blonde hair swinging forward to hide her face. ‘Oh, all right. Yes, I would.’

‘If there’s one person in this crazy world who is guaranteed to do the right thing, the sensible thing, it’s you.’

Fern picked up the dessert menu and stared at it. ‘And that’s exactly why I’m not going to take any part in your crazy scheme.’

‘Really? I mean, really?’ Lisette dipped the menu down with the tip of one of her fingers so she could look into Fern’s eyes. ‘Think of it as another sponsored event. I’m sponsoring you to prise yourself from your rut for one week. Just one week. You can do that, can’t you? For charity?’ She batted her eyelids, a completely ridiculous gesture, but somehow it always worked on Fern.

Drat that woman! After living with her for three years, she knew exactly where Fern’s weak points were. And raising money to prevent any more children going through the pain and sickness that her brother had endured before his death, to stop any more families being left with a large gaping hole that could never be filled, was something she couldn’t walk away from.

‘I can walk away at any time?’

Lisette shrugged. ‘You can. But you won’t get the money. It’ll be up to you.’

Fern picked up a wineglass and sloshed back the rest of the contents. ‘Okay. Yes. I’ll do it.’ For Ryan. Here’s to you, big brother, she thought as she swallowed the Chardonnay.

Lisette clapped her hands and rubbed them together with glee. ‘I’m going to make sure you have the most exciting week of your life!’

Fern reached for the wine bottle and poured herself another glass. That was exactly what she’d been afraid of.

‘Sorry, Callum. You’re going to have to take the New York meeting on your own.’ Josh stuck his head through the doorway into the living room and spotted his father dozing on the sofa with the paper over his face. He nudged the door closed and lowered his voice. ‘My dad is getting better—slowly—but I’m going to stick around for at least another fortnight.’

While his business partner lamented that he was going to miss a vital appointment with the head of an exclusive hotel chain, Josh wandered from the hallway into the kitchen and stared out of the window into the garden. Callum would cope fine without him; he was such a worrier. Personally, Josh was more disappointed at abandoning the trip he’d had planned after New York—a planned visit to one of his pet projects.

Recently One Life Travel had opened a non-profit making arm that organised charity expeditions. Want to walk the Great Wall of China to help save the whales? Or canoe up the Amazon to raise funds to fight heart disease? Then the new One Life Expeditions was the place to go.

The Amazon. He sighed. He’d been really looking forward to a spot of canoeing. He’d planned to join one of the latest expeditions to personally see if the company was getting it right—if the guides were good, the equipment safe, the staff knowledgeable.

This hands-on personal touch, a rigid policy of road-testing absolutely everything, was why what had started as a simple website offering good advice and cheap deals for backpackers had mushroomed into an award-winning travel corporation. They were in the business of offering once-in-a-lifetime trips, whether that be cheap flights and even cheaper hostels for the backpackers, or exclusive individually tailored trips with five-star elegance for a more discerning clientele.

He could see his mother kneeling on the lawn, planting petunias. His parents’ garden was beautiful, no doubt about that. But it was too…tame. And too small. No chance of running into snakes on the bowling green lawn or piranhas in the fish pond, more’s the pity.

‘It’ll be fine. Take Sara with you,’ he told Callum. His PA was so efficient it would almost be as if he were there in person. ‘She knows the deal inside out. I’ll call you in a week and give you an update.’

He said his goodbyes and left the cordless phone on the kitchen counter. Mum would nag him about that in a minute.

It seemed odd being back in this house, even sleeping in his old bedroom rather than in his own house on the other side of town. Nothing had changed here. Oh, there were different kitchen cabinets and a new three-piece suite, but the atmosphere, the essence of the place was the same. Comforting and stifling all at the same time.

Of course, Mum was delighted to have him here. She hardly let him out of her sight. But maybe that was to be expected. Nowadays he only really made it home for big celebrations, like dad’s sixtieth—had that really been six months ago?—and Christmas dinner. Well, most Christmas dinners. Last December he’d been left stranded in Nepal after a trek through the Himalayan foothills, his flight cancelled.

It was good to see his parents again, but he’d rather it had been under different circumstances. Six weeks ago, he’d got a frantic call from his mother letting him know that his father was undergoing emergency heart surgery. He’d flown straight home. It had been touch and go for a few days, but Dad was pulling through.

He didn’t want to think about the ten-hour flight home. It had been the first time in years that he hadn’t enjoyed the rush of take-off. All he’d been able to think about was how little he’d seen his parents in the last few months and how awful it would be if…

He shook his head and stepped through the open back door and walked towards his mother, leaving that thought behind in the bright and cheery kitchen. His feet were itchy. He wanted to be here for his father but, at the same time, now that Dad was on the mend he was starting to feel like a spare part.

Mum was now standing on the lawn, hands on hips, surveying her handiwork.