The Wedding Proposal

by Sue Moorcroft

  ‘Right,’ Elle murmured, hit forcibly by what it would mean to be ‘responsible for the Internet Cafe’, as she’d proudly told Lucas she was. It was a far cry from ranks of up-to-date machines gracing matching desks.

  Joseph chuckled. ‘The equipment isn’t pretty, but it works. I have a tiny budget put aside to improve things, but I have waited for you to tell me how to spend it.’ He unlocked a pair of cupboard doors to display more monitors and computer towers, keyboards and a straggle of wires. ‘The equipment that doesn’t work is in here.’

  Weakly, Elle laughed. ‘Well, OK. I have plenty to go at.’

  Joseph passed her a bunch of three keys. ‘Room key, big cupboard and small cupboard, where the printer paper’s kept. You know where the kitchen is – get yourself a drink when you want one. I’ll be in my office—’ He paused, took a step towards the open door and peered around it. ‘Carmelo?’

  After a moment, a young Maltese boy stepped out of the shadows with a shy smile. His eyes were wide and bright, his hair unkempt. His sand-coloured shorts were too well washed and too big, and his once-white shirt was too small. His bare feet were in sandals, also too big. He looked to be about eight years old and his face was alive with intelligence.

  ‘Hello,’ said Elle encouragingly. And then, remembering her phrase book, ‘Bonġu.’

  ‘Hello.’ His smile widened. ‘I am Carmelo.’

  ‘I’m Elle.’

  ‘I like computers.’

  ‘So do I.’

  Joseph broke in. ‘Carmelo is usually at school at this time.’ He cocked a quizzical eye at the young boy, who instantly gazed down at his worn sandals. ‘Carmelo, you know that I must not let you come here during the hours you should be at school.’

  Carmelo stepped on the bare toes of one foot with the heel of the other and pressed down, as if punishing himself.

  Elle’s heart went out to him. ‘I need somebody to help me in the computer room this morning.’ Then, as Carmelo looked up, hopefully, ‘But I’m not happy about children missing school.’

  The boy looked down again. ‘I help today. I go to school tomorrow.’

  Over Carmelo’s head, Joseph glanced at Elle and nodded slightly.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, to Carmelo. ‘Just this one time, OK? And after that you need to go to school when you should.’

  Carmelo peeped through his hair at her with an expression that suggested he wasn’t overly fond of the idea.

  She decided to take it as acquiescence. She’d requested his co-operation; now she could only await the result. ‘Let’s go and ask Maria for cleaning things.’

  Soon, they were back in the computer room armed with cloths and hot soapy water, cola for Carmelo and water for Elle.

  ‘I will switch them on?’ Carmelo gazed greedily at the computers as Elle opened the windows in an effort to let some of the heat out of the room.

  ‘In a while. Other things to do first.’ Elle began to unplug leads from the backs of monitors.

  Carmelo gasped. ‘We will not know how to put the wires again!’

  Elle grinned. ‘Don’t worry. I know. I don’t like leads that look like spaghetti.’

  Carmelo laughed, eyes shining.

  Working steadily, they soon had the monitors lined up at the side of the room as if they were queuing for something, then a row of computer towers, each with a keyboard on top, and a nest of computer mice. They wiped down the tables and rearranged them in an island, back-to-back and side-to-side.

  ‘They don’t fit,’ observed Carmelo, sliding his fingers down one of the gaps created by differing heights and shapes.

  ‘The gaps will come in useful.’ Elle surveyed her collection of monitors and began lifting – heaving in the case of the older, heavy models – them into place, one on each table. She wrung out a cloth and put Carmelo in charge of wiping the monitor cases, allocating each table a keyboard and a CPU. Then they began on the wires, swiftly plugging in and screwing into place, dropping cables between tables, looping surplus and securing it with ties.

  She looked at her watch. And yelped. ‘I have to go.’

  Carmelo looked disappointed. ‘Tomorrow—’

  ‘School.’ She fixed him with a beady eye. Then, as he nodded in resignation, she asked, ‘What time will you finish?’

  He looked suddenly hopeful. ‘Twelve o’clock.’

  ‘I’ll wait for you here and you can show me how much you can do on a computer.’

  ‘Yes, I will like to!’ His thin, big-eyed face glowed.

  ‘After you’ve been to school,’ she emphasised.

  He sighed. ‘OK. I will do it.’

  ‘But now I’ve got to rush. See you tomorrow, Carmelo.’ Elle grabbed her things, ran downstairs and gabbled a quick update to Joseph as she returned the computer room keys so that he could lock up, later; then she rushed out across the courtyard and back towards the yacht marina.

  Inevitably, because she was in a hurry, she missed a turn and came out too far along the waterfront, breathless and sweating, but she followed the creek back to the Shady Lady, taking her life in her hands when a car suddenly swerved off the seafront road to cross Manoel Bridge.

  The boat was as she had left it. She wondered where Lucas was, and then reminded herself that there was no reason for her to know.

  It felt almost familiar, now, to shove the gangplank into place and unlock the door to the saloon. She flicked the isolator switches and activated the air con to counteract the sweltering heat that had built up aboard before jumping down the steps and into her cabin. A knee-length summer dress might be suitable for the Nicholas Centre but she was pretty sure it would be a pain when cleaning a yacht, so she wriggled quickly out of the dress and into denim shorts and a sleeveless top. She found her oldest flip-flops, purple with cheerful blue beads, and then whisked back through the cabin, switched everything off, locked up, and hurried along the hot concrete of the quayside to where Seadancer was moored.

  This time, Elle went straight up the gangplank, shouting her hellos. Loz appeared from the forward deck. ‘Just in time for a glass of wine.’

  Elle giggled. ‘I’m supposed to be working.’

  Loz looked struck, before her face broke into a beaming smile. ‘Oh yes. We’ll get lunch together, then. Why are you out of breath? You didn’t rush, did you?’

  ‘I was only just going to make it—’

  ‘Make what? Slow down, Elle. You’re in Malta. It’s hot. The boat would still have been here in five minutes. Don’t worry.’

  Don’t worry wasn’t a philosophy that Elle had ever lived by, especially since Ricky. But it sounded attractive. She resolved to try to apply it.

  The Seadancer’s galley was considerably larger than the Shady Lady’s. Elle got Loz to sit down at the dinette and began to wash and slice salad things, cutting cooked chicken breasts into neat fans and buttering crusty bread – ‘Ħobż,’ said Loz – and arranging it on two plates.

  Loz looked aghast. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’ll have a sandwich while I clear up.’ Elle needed the money from Loz and Davie and didn’t want them to think she was only playing at working for them. Being domestic help was new to her but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be the best domestic help possible.

  ‘I’ll eat here, then,’ said Loz, immediately. She disappeared up on deck and Elle heard her calling to Davie. ‘I’m eating in the galley so that I can chat to Elle. Do you want to join us or stay there? Oh good, bring the wine, darling.’

  She reappeared in the galley and flumped herself comfortably down. ‘Davie’s coming.’

  ‘Right,’ said Elle, wondering how she was ever going to actually achieve anything.

  When Davie ambled in he poured Elle a glass of cold white Frascati before she could ask him not to, and she found herself cleaning down
the galley as she munched a chicken salad sandwich and sipped wine that she was sure was much too expensive to be treated so casually.

  ‘Your ex was a bit of a shock.’ Loz dipped chicken in a swirl of mayonnaise. ‘But, ooh.’ She gave a wiggle.

  Elle ran hot water and found the spray cleaner for the counter tops.

  Loz attacked a slab of crusty bread. ‘He’s a serious hunk, isn’t he?’

  Cleaning industriously, Elle made a non-committal noise.

  ‘Before I knew he was your ex I really liked him. You weren’t married, were you?’

  Elle kept her eyes down. ‘Me and Lucas? No.’

  ‘That’s something. But it must be really awkward sharing such a small space. Do you think he’s likely to expect … you know?’ Loz paused delicately, eyebrows arched and fork poised.

  ‘No.’ Elle shook her head, face flaming. You know would involve a lot of Lucas and not many clothes and the idea made her heart skip.

  ‘But don’t you even—?’ Loz began.

  Davie cut across her. ‘Elle, if it ever gets too uncomfortable, there’s a cabin here for you.’ And he went back to his coleslaw and potato salad.

  ‘Of course there is,’ Loz agreed immediately.

  Elle gazed at them both in gratitude. ‘Thank you! That’s so lovely of you when you haven’t known me long. But I doubt it will come to that. We’ve talked, and we’re both cool with the situation.’ She opened the oven. It was sparkling clean inside.

  Loz allowed the subject of Lucas to drop. ‘We don’t use the oven. It only gets smelly and hot in here if we cook. We like salad and we like eating ashore. At sea, I do use the microwave, though.’ She waved her fork at the black and shiny appliance built neatly into a slot. Everything in the galley, oven, fridge, cupboards, drawers, was a triumph of design functionality. What wasn’t pale wood was shiny black, clean white or jolly yellow.

  When Loz and Davie had finished eating, Elle cleared, washed up, grabbed the polish and the lightweight vacuum cleaner and whisked off to begin on the main saloon, the favoured indoor space.

  Loz, a bit pink from all the wine, followed, and kept up a stream of conversation from a sofa. ‘And can you change our bedclothes, sweetie? I’ll show you the clean linen and the washing machine.’

  ‘Washing machine?’ Elle grinned. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘There’s sort of a hatch to it. Dreadful squeeze for me but a slender little thing like you won’t find it a problem.’

  Loz took her to inspect the hatch in a companionway. Four steps led down to where a full-sized washer-dryer squatted below deck as if playing hide and seek.

  The bed in the master stateroom was huge. Elle stripped the bedclothes and began the laundering process, making the bed up again in fresh sheets of navy and gold before starting on the unused cabins and their bathrooms.

  Loz drifted past once more. ‘Would you wash the foredeck windows? They get very salty and dull.’

  Elle gathered up a bucket, a squeegee and a few cloths and followed Loz out into the sunshine of the foredeck. Davie was already lounging comfortably in one canvas chair and Loz took another, as voluble as Davie was quiet.

  And as Loz laughed and joked, Elle splashed water around and made the windows gleam, thinking that there were worse ways to live than with the glorious blue sky above, the boat rocking gently at its moorings and musical clinking coming from the rigging of a nearby sailing yacht. Her movements began to slow, taking their tempo from the boat. Even Loz’s relentless conversation assumed a more leisurely rhythm.

  Elle smothered a yawn as she gave the last pane its final polish.

  ‘Sit down and drink another glass of wine,’ Loz ordered. ‘It’s five o’clock and you’ve done enough for today. Can you do Friday afternoon and evening? We’ve got friends coming aboard and I’m hoping you could do the barista thing, then clear afterwards.’

  ‘That’s fine.’ Elle gazed at the Frascati as Davie pulled it out of the cool box, moist with condensation, and couldn’t come up with a reason to resist it. She put down her cloth and took a glass, settling herself on the deck with her back propped comfortably against the guardrail. ‘Thank you.’

  Loz beamed. ‘That’s it, darling. Loosen up.’

  ‘I’m loose.’ Elle stretched out her legs and yawned.

  Chapter Six

  Lucas lounged on top of the boat and watched Elle stroll towards him along the curve of the quayside.

  Even from a distance he was clonked over the head by the way her legs looked in her very short shorts. Legs that he had in no way forgotten.

  Hatless, she reached up and loosened her hair from its ponytail to let it blow behind her as she strolled between the yachts and the gardens that teemed with families now that the sun had lost some of its afternoon savagery. She showed no sign of being aware of how many men were checking out the hot cool blonde as she sauntered by.

  He wondered which Elle was heading his way. The poised one? You could take that Elle anywhere from a formal party to a rock climbing weekend and she’d be fantastic. Fun, articulate, quick-witted, alight with laughter.

  It was the wary, withdrawn Elle that he found harder to deal with. A hundred times he’d watched her slide from laughing playfulness to grave watchfulness, picking her words as if one bad choice would explode in her face. Hell of a trick to know what was going to kick off the transition, though.

  The subject of her ex-husband, Ricky – that he could understand, even if it irked him. People liked to put bad relationships behind them.

  His parents? Elle had never dealt well with their habit of holding themselves aloof from those who fell short of their standards. His mother was straight-talking, his father a little chill, but it wasn’t as if anybody had offered Elle money to leave Lucas alone or sent heavies to scare her off. He frowned. His parents hadn’t remotely succeeded in influencing him against Elle but maybe he’d been too dismissive of her anxiety that they would.

  And then the subject of marriage had brought out her mild freakiness—

  Don’t go there, down that labyrinth of unanswered questions and half-understood baggage.

  She was drawing close enough for him to hear her flip-flops on the concrete. Her hair blazed in the sunlight and blew across the shoulders of her deep turquoise top.

  ‘Hey,’ he called down.

  She looked up, shading her eyes. ‘You’re on the flybridge. I haven’t been up there.’

  ‘Come up now.’ He might have known she’d use the proper name. Most landlubbers would have called it ‘the roof’, but that was Elle: precise.

  She disappeared from his view as she approached the gangplank and a few seconds later appeared at the top of the steps. ‘Fantastic,’ she breathed, gazing around at this open-air lounge – if lounges had radar and GPS equipment at the back and a helm at the front.

  Lucas lazed along one seat, a bottle of water open on the deck beside him. Elle dropped down on the seat at an angle to his. Her nose was slightly pink and a few freckles had appeared on her cheekbones. She looked familiar yet unfamiliar. ‘How was your day?’

  ‘Good, thanks.’ He tried to ignore an echo of old conversations, when living with Elle meant something quite different to what it meant now. ‘I was on a dive with my favourite instructor, Polly, and we took four tourists over to Ghar Lapsi, on the other side of the island.’

  She turned on the seat and drew up her legs, so that her side rested on the seatback and she could lay her cheek against her knee to watch him as he talked. He kept his own gaze on her face. It would be easy to let it follow the curve of her thigh down into those tiny frayed shorts, but she’d be bound to notice his eyes straying. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Even more, he didn’t want her to point out that he’d long ago lost the right to take liberties. But his eyeballs felt weighted, straining to shift down so he
could just check out—

  ‘Is diving dangerous?’

  He blinked. ‘No, it’s not dangerous if you know what you’re doing and follow the rules. It’s a fantastic experience. Most divers are great people to be around.’

  He went on talking about Dive Meddi and its clientele of tourists. The Shady Lady rocked peaceably, the breeze whispered in his ears over the background rumble of the traffic.

  As he watched, Elle’s hair blew across her face. Her eyelids slid gently shut. Then he was hit by what it was that had seemed so unfamiliar – she was relaxed. No more staring into space and frowning, no more looking away when he caught her looking at him, as if worried that he’d read her thoughts and not liked what he found.

  No more evasion.

  His stomach curled to remember his casual enquiry about the man he’d seen her talking to outside her workplace, and her stuttering replies. It was no wonder he’d suspected the worst. Her hesitation over marrying him had assumed massive proportions until he was one writhing mass of suspicion. The Incredible Hulk had had nothing on the green monster that had burst out of him, wreaking carnage on their relationship.

  She’d flinched as if his words were daggers, panic in her eyes as her expression had flipped through shock, horror and dismay. Then the familiar shutters had come down as he’d given her the ultimatum that had sent them careering to the end of the road.

  Charlie had told him he was an arse. Charlie hadn’t believed Elle was seeing someone else. Charlie had offered to talk to Elle to try and discover the truth.

  Lucas had bellowed, ‘What would be the fucking point of that? She’s made the truth obvious!’ But his fury hadn’t really been at Charlie. It had been at Elle, and at himself for allowing jealousy to turn his suspicions into disaster.

  His parents had been pleased, as if he’d come to see things their way at last. Pride had prevented him from telling them the bleak truth.

  Now that he could study Elle unobserved, he found that his major desire was just to watch her sleep, her lips softly parted, her lashes against her cheeks. She had chosen a seat in the shade, under the bimini. But as the sun sank it grasped her in one of its beams. A sheen began to form on her face.