Down to Earth

Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Forty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Forty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Forty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Forty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Forty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Forty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Forty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Forty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Forty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

One Year Later (#litres_trial_promo)

IN CONVERSATION WITH MELANIE ROSE (#litres_trial_promo)

DOWN TO EARTH (#litres_trial_promo)

By the same author

About the Publisher

Chapter One (#ulink_50a5e78a-45cd-5fd6-ad44-9c5dbd0533f4)

April 2002

Blood pounded in my head and I thought I might be sick at any minute. The parachute felt surprisingly heavy on my back as I followed Ingrid through the hangar doors and out into the bright, spring sunshine. Ingrid, who had been making little quips and jokes during the six-hour training session, had fallen ominously silent as we followed the jumpmaster towards a light aircraft, which was parked a short way away on the grassy field.

‘Maybe we should have waited until more of the group could make it.’ I swallowed nervously, wishing I was anywhere but here right now. ‘The whole office signed up for this and now there’s only the four of us.’

One of my mum’s favourite sayings flickered into my mind; be careful what you wish for, sometimes the cosmos is listening.

Shaking the thought away with a tremor of unease, I glanced over my shoulder, pausing in mid-stride to let Graham, the red faced, rather rotund chief administrator catch up to us. I wondered briefly if he’d lied on his ‘declaration of fitness’ form. If not, he must have only just squeezed within the 15 stone limit for a solo static line jump. In Graham’s wake dithered the angular Kevin, the youngest and newest member of our group. He’d only joined Wayfarers insurance company a few weeks ago as an IT support technician and had been keen to sign up to what the boss had billed as a ‘team-building charity parachute jump’. Looking at his pale face now, I wondered if he was questioning his decision.

Kevin definitely looked as sick as I felt, but before I could commiserate I realised his eyes were fixed miserably on the back of Ingrid’s flaxen head. My best friend, in true Ingrid-fashion was sticking close to the jumpmaster and as she turned and tossed her silky hair, I could see her blue eyes dancing animatedly on his.

‘She’s nervous, that’s all,’ I managed a weak smile as Kevin lowered his eyes to the ground as if unable to watch his office crush flirt a moment longer.

‘Yeah, right,’ he mumbled under his breath.

Matt, our instructor and jumpmaster was helping Ingrid into the plane. As she disappeared inside the small white hull, he turned his grey eyes on me and held out his hand. My pulse quickened a little further as I placed my hand in his. He reminded me a little of the French footballer David Ginola, but younger, somewhere in his early to mid-twenties, around my own age, I guessed. He had been kind but thoroughly professional all morning as he’d put us through our paces. He gave my hand a light squeeze.

‘Don’t look so worried, Michaela, you’ll be fine. The first time is scary, but I promise you’ll love it.’

Yeah, right, sprang to mind again but as I looked into his eyes I found that I believed him.

‘Just remember the briefing video and your roll technique for landing. And do everything I tell you, when I tell you. You have to trust yourself to me, OK?’

He fished a scruffy piece of paper from his pocket and tucked it into the breast pocket of my jumpsuit. ‘My phone number,’ he whispered conspiratorially. ‘Maybe you’d like to have a drink with me sometime.’