Page 128 of Guilty Pleasures

Honey! thought Emma, her heart lurching again.

‘… I think we might have to skip dinner.’

‘But I thought you said they were the best steaks in the west.’

‘They are,’ said Rob with a frown. ‘But there’s bad weather on the way. If we leave now and don’t stop off at Lucknam Park we should just miss it. I have to fly to New York tomorrow afternoon. The last thing I need is to get stuck here.’

Emma tried to hide her disappointment, hoping that he might even suggest staying at the studio overnight.

‘Well, I don’t fancy being up there in a storm,’ she said pointing towards the sky. ‘It is getting dark.’

‘You mean am I night-rated?’ he grinned handing her a pair of headphones to block out the noise of the flight.

‘Night-rated?’

‘Qualified for flying in the dark. Don’t worry, you’re in safe hands.’

The whoop-whoop of the blades grew into a roar and the helicopter pulled away from the ground, dipping and bobbing until the studio grew smaller and smaller in the growing dark. They flew low and rain began spotting on the window. Rob had a frown of concentration between his eyebrows and she felt a rush of lust.

It was five-thirty and the ground was almost invisible except for the odd twinkle of a village beneath them. The clouds in the sky looked very big now, like thick puddles of tar. For twenty minutes the journey was fairly smooth. Despite the chugging of the blades overhead, Emma felt remarkably peaceful, as if she were floating in a little bubble. Then she felt a jolt from under her seat, followed by a mechanical clunking sound. She looked at Rob and saw anxiety on his face.

Emma was not easily scared but her hands gripped the edge of her seat.

‘What was that?’ she asked.

‘Nothing to worry about,’ said Rob’s voice crackling through the headphones, not sounding too convincing. ‘Just turbulence.’

The wind was now whipping furiously around the helicopter so it was bobbing around like a cork at sea. When it suddenly dropped thirty feet Emma felt her breathing almost stop.

Rob’s eyes scanned the instrument panel in front of him. ‘I’m going to have to land,’ he said, his voice calm despite the danger. Emma scrunched her eyes tightly and prayed.

They were now only a hundred feet from the ground and Emma squealed involuntarily as the wheels of the helicopter clipped the top of a tall tree. She saw a dark open field spin below them, the craft swinging violently as the strong winds swirled around it, then the glare of the landing lights on the grass that was blown flat by the helicopter. And then they were down. She exhaled several quick, sharp breaths and Rob reached over and grabbed her hand.

‘It’s fine, honey. It’s fine,’ he said, his face pale. ‘We’re on the ground.’

Rob cut the engines and the blades slowly whirled to a stop. Suddenly they were wrapped in an eerie silence.

‘Where are we?’

‘In a field,’ said Rob with the hint of a smile. ‘I’d guess somewhere in west Somerset, we weren’t blown too far off course.’

He got out of the craft and went round to her side, helping her out onto the damp grass, the rain and wind biting at her legs.

‘This is where we get killed by a raging bull,’ said Emma grimly, looking around for signs of life.

‘Are you OK?’ asked Rob.

She nodded and he pulled her close then took her hand and they began walking towards some lights, the mud squelching all over her shoes. After a few minutes they reached a small farmhouse. The door opened immediately and a man of about fifty in a thick coat and Wellington boots stepped out.

‘What the bloody hell has happened?’ he blustered.

‘I’m sorry, I had to emergency-land my helicopter in your field,’ said Rob politely. ‘My mobile has no reception and I need to call for help.’

A lady with grey fluffy hair popped her head around the doorframe.

‘Come in, it’s filthy out there. This is Alan and I’m Joan. Now what did you say? You’ve crashed your helicopter?’ she asked with wide-open eyes.

‘Not crashed exactly,’ said Emma as they stepped inside the warm house. ‘But we won’t be able to take off again in this weather.’