Lucas put his hand on her arm. ‘That I’d make you cry?’
Shrugging his hand off, she unlocked the door, stepping in and switching on the light. ‘Loz has decided that our past relationship ending must’ve been down to you. Not that I told her any such thing,’ she added. It was stuffy in the cabin and she flicked on the air con. Airlessness and a rolling boat weren’t a great combination. The motion hadn’t been so noticeable on Seadancer, when she was busy. She hoped the sea would calm soon.
‘I told her you’re not a villain but—’ The boat’s motion made her sit down on one of the cabin sofas more suddenly than she’d meant to.
Lucas dropped down beside her. ‘When did I ever—?’ he began.
Elle so didn’t want to answer When did I ever make you cry? Because she’d cried endlessly, helplessly, when she’d left Northampton, having taken the first job offered to her by a new company in a place where she knew nobody. That it had turned out to be a great post had been largely luck. She’d taken it because it was in Coventry, a medium-sized city in the middle of England, where she could sink into anonymity and hope that Ricky wouldn’t bother to find her once she and Lucas were finished and Ricky’s hold over her was gone.
‘Loz was indignant that you’d turned up for the party and annoying or upsetting me was the only reason she came up with for you doing it. Then, you went round telling people that we lived together, so she was convinced.’
She turned on the seat, kicking off a flip-flop so that she could prop her foot on the sofa and brace herself against the rolling of the boat. ‘Why did you go to the party?’
He lifted an eyebrow. His eyes were mostly black in the light in the cabin.
‘I haven’t been on a great big gin palace before and I didn’t have anything better to do.’ His eyes crinkled suddenly. ‘And I knew you’d expect me to stay away.’
She sighed. ‘You can be the most awkward man I know.’
He’d been mega-awkward with bells on when she’d been trying to keep him and Ricky apart, on edge in case Ricky had made good his threats to turn up when she and Lucas were together. Lucas had been like a pitbull, poised to go for someone’s throat as soon as he knew whose throat to go for.
The memory made her smile waver. ‘I’d better get to bed. I’m not a seasoned sailor and I’m beginning to feel I might be better lying down.’
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘How about a nightcap? I overheard Davie saying the swell’s going to build. A brandy might settle your stomach.’
Elle paused. Maybe brandy did work magic, and considering what a pain in the arse Lucas had been tonight, she was strangely reluctant to quit his company. There didn’t seem any harm in relaxing with him, just for a short while. ‘Worth a try,’ she agreed. Just a nightcap, she reminded herself, watching him cross to the steps to the galley, compensating easily for the roll of the boat as he went. Don’t think that this changes anything. It’s just because he looks hot in black and every woman at the party checked him out that you’re feeling weird about him all over again.
He returned with two brandy balloons in the fingers of one hand and a bottle with a label that mentioned ‘reserva’, in the other. Uncapping the bottle, he poured, pausing as the boat gave a sudden wiggle.
Lifting his glass to her in silent toast, he sipped, and then sat back to swirl the liquid in the base of the balloon in the proscribed manner.
Elle had never been able to tell the difference between a swirled brandy and an unswirled one. She took a couple of sips, enjoying its heat at the back of her throat, then returned the glass to the table, fingertips on the base in case the Shady Lady’s slow waltz turned into something a little more rock ’n’ roll.
‘I like your hair longer,’ he said, suddenly.
‘Oh.’ She touched her plait self-consciously. It had fallen forward over her shoulder. ‘Thank you.’ It hadn’t been a choice to grow her hair from its shoulder-length bob, more a lack of interest in the whole enterprise of making a hair appointment. In the first few months of learning to survive without Lucas, grooming had been basic. She’d begun to wear her hair up because it was quick and easy.
Then she’d seen some programme on TV where D-list celebs had been airing their hair care ‘secrets’ and one had demonstrated brushing her long hair forward, twisting the tail tightly, and cutting off an inch. When she’d shaken her hair back it had fallen in place with the bottom neatly layered.
Elle had fingered her own hair and suddenly realised that it was long enough for the same treatment. Tried it, liked it, and, since then, every few months she’d given her blonde locks the same ‘cut’. As ‘surviving without Lucas’ had become ‘I’m OK now’, she’d begun to wear her hair down more and enjoyed collecting second looks, nature having bestowed on her the shimmering gold that people paid a lot in salons to achieve.
‘Yours is longer, too,’ Elle responded, lightly, not wanting him to see that he was unsettling her with his gaze. ‘You only ever wore it short in your marketing days.’
‘The Californian influence. Even as a business manager I didn’t have to maintain a clean-cut image.’ He pushed his hair back from his eyes. ‘Tell me about your voluntary work.’
For the next half-hour Elle talked about Nicholas Centre, about Joseph and Maria, the grace of the old building, the little bits of history that Joseph had imparted, the kids she’d met.
‘And the porn king?’ Lucas poured more brandy.
Elle giggled. ‘Oscar, another volunteer. I didn’t take to him, even before he hinted that I’d locked away his porn stash.’
Lucas’s eyes had half-closed and he’d sunk down comfortably so that he could put his feet up on the opposite sofa. ‘So you viewed his whole collection?’
‘No! Only the first few. But Joseph had to look at it because the centre is his responsibility so he has to know what we’re dealing with.’
‘The poor guy.’
Elle laughed. ‘No, really, you should have seen his face. He was mortified at having to discuss the subject with me.’
Lucas’s eyes glittered. ‘I should think—’ Before he could say more, his phone began to ring. He hooked it out of his pocket. As he checked the screen, the laughter died from his eyes. Pulling himself to his feet he made an apologetic face. ‘Better take this.’
Then he disappeared out of the doors, across the bathing platform and onto the quayside.
Before he quite passed out of earshot Elle heard him speak into the phone. ‘Kayleigh?’
She watched him for a moment; then her eyes dropped to her glass. The dark amber circle of brandy in the base of her glass moved with the motion of the boat. Nausea welled.
She screwed the lid on the brandy bottle and, hitching up the skirt of her dress, took the steps cautiously down to the galley, rinsing her glass and then the sink so that the place wouldn’t smell like a bar in the morning.
Into her cabin. Make-up removed, she undressed and slid naked beneath the sheets, the motion of the boat increasing all the time. She closed her eyes against another clammy wave of sickness.
It seemed a long time before she heard Lucas moving about and knew that he was back on board.
Chapter Eight
In the morning, Elle emerged from her cabin to find Lucas drinking coffee in the saloon.
‘Sorry to run out on you last night.’ He watched as she paused at the galley to take down a coffee mug and instant coffee.
The deck heaved beneath her feet and she put both coffee and mug back again. She would wait until she was on dry land to put something that strong in her stomach. ‘No problem.’ She reached down to the fridge for cold water.
‘Kayleigh’s coming tomorrow.’
Her stomach rolled and she put the water back again, too. ‘Oh? Great.’ She climbed the steps and forced a smile. ‘That will be fantastic for you.’
His gaze sharpened. ‘Feeling sick? Pick a point on the horizon and stare at it for a while.’
‘I have to go, anyway. Dry land will do the trick.’ She didn’t bother denying that she felt rough. She’d seen her pallor in the shower room mirror.
He rose as she made to pass by. ‘Elle—’ He pushed his hands into the pockets of his cut-offs.
She waited politely. When he seemed uncertain how to continue, she said, ‘If Kayleigh’s coming here, will you be staying with her at a hotel as you said, so your cabin will be empty? I might as well take my turn in it, hadn’t I? No point me slumming it and the master cabin standing doing nothing.’
He looked surprised. Then discomfited. ‘She’s booked a room at the Sea Creek up the road but the boat will still be my base. Kayleigh likes her own space. But I’ll swap cabins with you, if you like.’
Contrarily, she shrugged. ‘In that case, no, it’s OK. I just assumed you’d be moving in with Kayleigh.’ Then the boat lurched. ‘Excuse me. The shore looks quite attractive this morning.’
Polly, one of the dive instructors at Dive Meddi, had just lucked into a flat share in Msida and, as a custodian of one of Vern’s double-cab pick-up trucks, had offered to give Lucas a lift in whenever their work days coincided. Lucas liked Polly. She was almost as tall as him, untidy and permanently smiling. He crossed to the far side of the road and took up station outside a wedding dress shop, ready to hop in when the dark blue truck arrived.
‘Good day off?’ As soon as Lucas had shut the passenger door Polly nosed the pick-up back into the stream of traffic. ‘You’re with me, today. We’ve got some Open Water Divers who want a guided tour so I thought we’d take them down to the statue of Madonna at seventeen metres at Cirkewwa. The sea’s a bit calmer up at the north end. Vern says it’s pretty choppy at St Julian’s.’
Lucas relaxed into his seat. He knew he’d need to contribute little to the conversation.
When Polly finally steered the truck under the bright blue sign to Dive Meddi and inched her way down the pitted incline to the dive school and parked, Vern appeared briefly to tell Polly which students were hers as Lucas listened in, ready to prepare equipment.
The divers all had their own wetsuits, fins and masks but would need buoyancy control devices – BCDs – tanks and instruments. Lucas began by filling the tanks at the compressor in an outbuilding to the main team room, swinging the heavy, unwieldy cylinders one in each hand over to the area where he and Polly would go over the kit with the divers. Polly took the lead. She was the instructor. For now he was happy not to advance to instructor, with all the studying that involved, but to remain well within his capabilities and simply enjoy his job.
As he went in and out from shade to beating sun, he breathed in the familiar smell of neoprene and saltwater. The choppy sea bounced the sun into his eyes as it worried restlessly at the rocks, sometimes bursting a wave or two hard enough to run over into the swimming pool, cut into the rock nearby.
Lars was taking out another dive over at Ghar Lapsi and Brett was already packing the other pick-up. Those diving with Lars had been booked to arrive before those diving with Polly to keep things nice and calm. Lars was already going through the usual routines with his dive: allotting equipment, examining dive logs, discussing weights and checking instrument consoles.
Dive Meddi was a great place to work. During one of Malta’s frequent redevelopments a small hotel had been swallowed up and developed by a big concern that wanted a dive school in its grounds. Vern had been swift to rent the sloping rock area with sea access, a pool, and a building with flaking blue paint for the team room, changing room and office, and now a constant clientele came via the website, the brand new hotel and from discount deals with others nearby.
Lucas put his own kit together methodically, turning the instrument console over so the gauges faced the floor as he switched on the air. After checking the hoses he added slates that could be written on underwater and knives in case someone got tangled on fishing line. He took the safety aspect of his job seriously. He even kept an old CD in the top left pocket of his BCD. It would reflect the sun if he needed to surface and signal for help.
He checked it was there, a Nickelback album that had become damaged through frequent playing. Elle had bought it for him the last Christmas that they were together. He knew the playlist by heart.
Once his kit was together and checked he stowed it in the pick-up.
‘How are you doing, Lucas?’ called Polly, the signal that he should join the group for the usual friendly pre-dive chat, bringing out experience and expectations, checking over dive logs and medicals.
Then they moved onto selecting BCDs and Lucas produced his usual calm flow of ‘This BCD has releases here, here and here. Want to try them? Shoulder dump, pull here. Inflate … deflate … Want to try that?’ And all the time the words of Nickelback’s ‘Trying Not to Love You’ were going around in his head.
Chapter Nine
In the late afternoon, as Polly wasn’t planning to go straight home, Lucas returned to Ta’ Xbiex on the bus, shopping briefly before crossing to the boat. Once showered and changed he took up his favourite spot on the cockpit seat, tucking a bottle of Cisk into one of the cupholders at the side now that the day’s diving was safely done.
Kayleigh had arranged to text him when she’d checked in at the Sea Creek Hotel. It would be good to see her again, although when she’d said she wanted to come out here he hadn’t known that he would be sharing the Shady Lady with his ex-girlfriend.
He balked at the idea of calling Elle his ‘ex-fiancée’. He wasn’t sure she even qualified, in view of her unexpectedly lukewarm attitude to marrying him. In fact, unless ‘Let’s get married in Vegas!’ could be construed as an acceptance, she’d never actually said yes.
As if he’d conjured her up, Elle appeared on the quayside in a denim dress, faded grey. She looked her usual picture of health. This morning she’d looked as pallid as if she’d eaten a bad fish.
‘I bought you something,’ he greeted her as she stepped across the plank.
She cocked an eyebrow. ‘Why?’
Most women would ask ‘What?’ not ‘Why?’ but Elle wasn’t most women. Elle didn’t expect things to be given. She expected to get them for herself.
‘“Why?” is to stop you being seasick. “What” is that I bought ginger ale and put it in the galley fridge.’
She looked at him, squinting under the brim of her hat. ‘Thank you. That’s really thoughtful.’ Then, as if wondering what else to say, ‘The swell seems to have subsided.’
‘I hadn’t really noticed. I’m used to being underwater in a swell, which can be worse than being on the surface. You can become convinced that you’re staying still and the rocks around you are moving. But if someone throws up underwater at least we get a lot of fish around.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘I hope you’re joking.’
He wasn’t, but he could see that there were better conversational subjects. Before he could think of one, he noticed, behind Elle, a small Maltese boy in big shorts watching from amongst people enjoying the Saturday afternoon in the sun (mainly tourists) or the shade (mainly Maltese).
When he realised that Lucas had noticed him, the boy stepped behind a tree. Then peeped out again.
‘Don’t look now,’ Lucas murmured, ‘but we seem to have attracted the attention of a little boy.’
Completely disregarding his request, Elle pivoted on her heel. ‘Carmelo!’
The little boy smiled shyly.
Elle waved, but sighed under her breath. ‘Carmelo’s from the Nicholas Centre. He’s been helping me. He’s one of the kids Joseph gives little jobs to so they can earn fizzy drinks or cakes, or even stuff for school.’
Dropping her bag on the deck, Elle hopped back onto the quayside and strolled in the boy’s direction as he e
dged further out from behind the trees, smiling tentatively.
‘Hello, Carmelo,’ Lucas heard her say. ‘What are you doing here?’
Carmelo shrugged.
Elle halted a few feet short of him and tilted her head. ‘Would you like a cold drink before you go home? I just have a few minutes before I go on to my other job.’
Carmelo nodded, but his smile faded.
‘Come on, then.’ Elle turned and strolled back to the Shady Lady, stepping lightly onto the bathing platform, letting the boy follow shyly behind. In an undertone, she said to Lucas, ‘I had training videos about this kind of thing. He should stay out here, in plain view.’
‘Noted,’ said Lucas, drily, not remotely surprised that Elle was reacting to a situation entirely according to her training videos. He’d done his own child protection and safeguarding training but there was no need for him to say so. Elle seemed to have all the bases covered.
‘Carmelo, this is my friend Lucas.’ Elle stepped back to the gangplank to be within reach as Carmelo edged across.
Lucas lifted a hand in greeting.
Carmelo’s smile peeped out briefly.
‘Sit with Lucas while I get the drinks,’ suggested Elle.
And Lucas found himself sharing the cockpit seat with a little Maltese boy with huge brown eyes, dark hair that hung in his face, and atrociously fitting clothes.
‘Hey,’ Lucas said, easily. In his experience, kids didn’t need to be talked at all the time.
Carmelo nodded, as if Lucas had said something interesting.
Elle’s voice floated out through the open door. ‘Carmelo, would you like water or ginger ale?’
Doubt crossed Carmelo’s face. ‘Ginger ale. Please.’
Elle came out with three glasses of ginger ale, sparkling in the sun. She smelled of sun tan lotion as she passed Lucas’s shoulder. ‘I brought one for you, Lucas.’
The Wedding Proposal Page 10