Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [139]
`Don't tell me,' he sneered, `a virgin.'
`It's her first time,' Johnnie agreed.
`It bloody well isn't,' said Bev, `because I'm not doing
it.'
She shrank back, clutching at the sides of the leather seat as the man leaned into the car. Without warning, his hand shot past her, whisking the keys from the ignition with awesome dexterity. As Bev let out a squeak of horror, he pulled out the waistband of his camouflage trousers and dropped the keys - with a cheery clink - out of sight.
She blinked. Crikey, what a six-pack.
`You can't do that!'
`I can do anything I want.' The terrifying sergeant major gave her a grim smile. `I'm in charge here. Now, seeing as you're not going anywhere else, perhaps you'd like to make your way over to the tent and get changed.'
Bev gave him a mutinous look.
`Or would you prefer me to carry you?'
Her eyes slithered across to Johnnie.
`I'm never going to forgive you for this. You do know that, don't you?'
`I'm sorry.' He shrugged. `It was Miranda. She said you'd love it.'
`And I'm never going to speak to bloody Miranda again as long as I live.'
I'm having a nightmare, thought Bev, jolting along in the back of the truck as it headed ever deeper into the forest. Changing into army fatigues behind a Blind Date-style partition in the communal tent had only been the start. There were no mirrors on the site. The gunk everyone had been so energetically slapping on to their faces wasn't cosmetic mud, it was the real stuff, scooped out of real puddles. What was more, the helmets were unflattering, the lace-up boots diabolical, and when she had tried to clamber into the truck she had slipped and fallen on her backside into a sea of churned-up mud.
Why everyone else seemed to be so damn cheerful, Bev couldn't imagine. It was bizarre - they actually appeared to be having a whale of a time, chattering noisily to each other, catching up on all the gossip and enthusiastically discussing the day ahead.
`New to this, are you?'
Startled, Bev realised that the girl on her left was talking to her.
`Just a bit.'
`You're going to love it.'
`Actually,' said Bev, `I'm not. All this…' she gestured around the lorry, `… really isn't me at all.'
The girl, clearly missing the point completely, exclaimed, `I know, me neither! Isn't it great?'
Worse was to come. When the lorry finally slithered to a halt and everyone leapt out, the organiser handed out instructions to two burly individuals and announced, `Okay, these are your leaders. Now line up and move to one side as soon as you've been chosen.'
Bev shuddered. Years of suppressed humiliation came 'flooding back as she remembered the games lessons at school, being picked for teams - or rather, standing there like a total lemon while everyone else was picked ahead of you.
And now, ten years later, it was happening all over again. Oh no, this was too much.
`You!' yelled the leader of the red team, and it wasn't until someone gave her a hefty shove that Bev realised he'd been pointing at her. The reason she hadn't noticed was because her eyes had been swimming with tears, but now she didn't have to cry because - thank you, God, oh thank you - she hadn't been picked last of all. She wasn't the booby prize, left till the end. She'd even been chosen before some of the men.
`You!' the yellow team leader shouted at Johnnie. He grinned at Bev and moved to the other side.
Perfect, thought Bev, adrenalin beginning to pump through her chilly veins. Now I can kill you.
`Aaargh! Help me - they're coming over the hill!' Hearing the voice, Bev darted through the trees towards
it. She threw herself on to her stomach as two members of the enemy team raced past in pursuit of someone else. A frond of wet fern tickled Bev's nose. She waited until the coast was clear, then half slid, half ran down to the river where Stuart - a fellow red - was fishing frantically in the water for his pistol.
`I dropped it,' he hissed, and Bev plunged into the icy water, feeling around with her feet until she hit something metallic.
`You're a star,' gasped Stuart, refilling the