by Julie Caplin
Nick shook his head. ‘No, I’m more of a real ale man myself.’
‘Yeah, I can see that,’ said Simon before smoothly turning to Ivan. ‘And where would you recommend we eat this evening? The captain always has the inside track on the best places.’
‘There’s a very good new restaurant a short walk from here, just up the hill. Would you like me to reserve a table for you?’
‘That would be capital,’ said Douglas. ‘We’ll do the wine tour, have a couple of drinks and then dinner at eight-thirty.’
‘Excellent,’ said Ivan. Before anyone had chance to agree or disagree, he walked off, pulling his phone out and climbing the stairs to the upper deck.
As soon as everyone had finished eating they all scurried away to their cabins to get ready for a trip to the beach and now Maddie was left to tidy up in silence, with the delicious prospect of the whole day to herself as soon as she’d done the cabins.
‘You have the boat to yourself. A day off,’ said Ivan, catching her in the galley. ‘You’re welcome.’
‘Thank you.’ She grinned back at him. ‘Nicely done.’
He shrugged. ‘Why not? They’ve not been here before. The restaurant is very good.’ He grinned. ‘It’s run by an old friend of mine, who appreciates me sending custom his way.’
‘Appreciates?’
Ivan rubbed his fingers together. ‘It is an excellent restaurant. The guests have a fine meal. My friend gets their custom. I am rewarded. You have the night off from cooking. I have friends in Bol I like to catch up with. I’ll stay the night with them …’ He mimed having a drink. ‘Everyone is happy. And you can be in charge.’
‘Me?’ she squeaked. ‘Are you sure?’
‘The guests will be out for most of the day. You have my mobile number. And I won’t be far away.’ He pointed to the hillside, where the houses ranged along the contours. ‘My friends are just there.’
‘OK.’ She grinned, butterflies dancing in her stomach at all the options open to her. ‘I’d better get finished in here.’ She wasn’t going to waste a single second. A whole day free.
Maddie was just about ready to scream. How long did it take to get ready for a trip to the flaming beach? She wasn’t the only one; Siri was tapping her fingers on the rail by the gangplank, Simon was on the quayside pacing and Nick was sitting on a bollard, his face tipped up to the sun.
‘I think we should just go without her,’ said Siri. ‘The day’s a-wasting.’
Douglas and Cory were in the shop opposite and it looked as if Douglas was in the process of buying Cory a pretty cotton scarf and a straw hat.
‘Nick, why don’t you go and drag Tara out, like a good little caveman?’ said Simon.
Nick’s mouth tightened but his expression was hidden behind his sunglasses. ‘She’ll be ready in her own good time. Why don’t you go on ahead? We’ll catch up with you.’
Simon ignored his response and carried on pacing. While they’d been waiting Maddie had managed to slip in and clean all three of their rooms. She’d also mopped the deck where they’d had breakfast and the galley was now spotless.
At last Tara appeared. There was a collective gasp and one of the passing tourists walked straight into a bollard and a sharp slap from his wife. She stopped at the top of the steps in front of the gangplank to strike a pose, one hip angled out, so that the men could appreciate her full beauty.
Star Wars came to mind. Maddie stared at the scarlet bikini with its gold metal straps, reminiscent of Princess Leia’s slave girl outfit, and the high-heeled matching sandals that accentuated the length of Tara’s long slender legs. There was a resounding silence and then she clanked down the gangplank, which rather spoiled the effect.
‘Planning on reducing the local adolescent population to gibbering wrecks?’ asked Simon, a touch acidly.
Tara shot him a sneer and walked over to Nick, her hips swaying, and placed a proprietorial arm on his. Maddie tried hard not to smile at the stunned expression on his face. Actually, she decided, it was more shocked and horrified, not that she blamed him.
Luckily Tara wasn’t watching Nick’s reaction; she was too busy checking out who was looking her way.
‘Are you going to be all right walking to the beach?’ asked Nick in a strangled voice, looking down at her shoes. ‘It’s quite a long way. Haven’t you got any flip-flops or anything?’
‘Darling Nicky –’ she reached up and kissed him on the cheek, rubbing her hand over his biceps ‘– I’m sure if I run into any trouble you could carry me.’
Easily charmed, thought Maddie crossly, as Nick’s face creased into a doting smile. The man was a complete idiot.
‘I could tuck you under one arm with no problem at all,’ he said. ‘Here, let me take that for you.’ He reached for her enormous striped beach bag. ‘Are you going to … have you got a cover-up or anything?’
‘Darling, you are so cute. Cuver up.’ She emphasised his northern vowels. ‘I love it when you’re all buttoned-up and northern. So prudish.’
Simon sniggered, while Siri tutted. ‘For God’s sake, Tara, put something on. You can’t go parading through the streets looking like that. There’s nothing prudish about it.’
‘Bloody hell, Tara, that’s some swimming cossie,’ Douglas blurted out, bellowing across the road before coming to join them. Next to him, Cory in a white crocheted bikini top and tiny navy shorts turned puce.
‘You’re just attention-seeking,’ continued Siri in a low voice, ‘and trying to upstage Cory. Job done, so cover yourself up. Surely in that huge bag you’ve got something. What the hell have you got in there? We’re going to the beach for the day, not on safari for a week.’
With ill grace, Tara yanked a sheer red chiffon tunic out of her bag, which still left little to the imagination but was a slight improvement.
Maddie heaved an enormous sigh of relief when they finally moved off and then began to giggle to herself. She was glad she wasn’t joining the party.
An hour later, with her own beach bag of essentials, she set off, giving a cheery wave to the crew on the boat moored next door, who were still busy serving breakfast. She deliberately turned in the opposite direction to the one the others had taken this morning; she had no desire to bump into any of them. In fact if she saw Tara she’d have a hard job not to push her into the sea. Her room was back to being a pigsty and the wretched girl had been sick again and had tried to clean it up. Badly.
Bol, she decided, pulling down her sunglasses, was delightful. The buildings were all built from creamy white stone, with wooden shutters and the now familiar terracotta tiled roofs. Tall stone buildings lined the harbour area and she walked along the cobbles skirting the harbour’s edge, where small boats bobbed gently and tables were laid for lunch. She followed the little stone path which wound its way around another smaller harbour area and then up some steps past a few buildings. At the top she rounded a corner and immediately below was a small pebbled beach edged by the deep aqua blue of the sea. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a colour quite like it and it triggered that ache to paint, one that dogged her so often it almost hurt. However, she’d brought her sketchbook with her and today was a holiday, so she was going to indulge herself.
Skirting the restaurant commanding the main view of the beach, she skipped down a set of steps which led down through a small avenue of pine trees offering cool shade and hopped down from the stone wall onto the picturesque pebbled seafront. Maddie smiled. This was it, the perfect spot. The beach was no more than a few metres deep and some families had set up camp right at the water’s edge, while others had spread themselves out on the wall.
Tramping across the small stones, which was hard work, she headed for a spot towards the other side of the beach near the sea and spread out her towel before stripping off. Yesterday she’d watched enviously as the others had swum and played in the sea. Now it was her turn. Picking her way barefoot was excruciatingly uncomfortable, although it didn’t seem to bother the little children
playing happily in the shallows. When she eased herself into the water she was thrilled to find that it was cool rather than cold.
She swam out to the boundary of the beach, where a rope and buoys created a safe area for swimming. There were quite a few boats shimmering in the hazy sunshine, a few as big as the Avanturista, gliding along in full sail, and lots of smaller speedboats zipping along, bouncing across the waves, the wash drifting into the shore.
Floating lazily on her back, she watched a group of Croatian children snorkelling, swimming and jumping from the rocks nearby. One of them emerged from the water, one hand held aloft, waving what looked like a small green rag, and began chasing another child, giggling as he waggled the green thing. Suddenly there was a spurt of water towards the second child, who ducked with a scream of laughter and the first child tossed away the makeshift water pistol.
Intrigued now, she watched as the other children began to dive below the surface, some of them finding more of what she guessed was some kind of sea creature.
‘They are sea cucumbers,’ said an elderly man swimming nearby, with a nod towards the children.
‘Ah, I did wonder,’ said Maddie with a smile.
The old man shook his head with an indulgent smile and swam off, giving the children a wave.
After a while the children grew bored with their game, or perhaps ran out of the poor creatures, and began a new game chasing each other in and out of the shallows.
This was the life, Maddie decided, looking back to the beach and the people enjoying the gorgeous day and the warm sea. If she could have the odd day off like this, then putting up with the likes of Tara and Cory was worth it.
Chapter 9
‘You’re pretty good.’
Maddie jumped, dropping her pencil and clutching her sketchbook to her chest like some melodramatic miss in a period drama.
‘Simon!’ She looked up at him from her perch on the rocks at the far end of the beach, deliberately chosen to give her some privacy. ‘What are you doing here?’ She sounded accusatory but she’d thought this spot would be well away from prying eyes, especially any of the guests’. Tempering her tone, she added, ‘I thought you’d be with the others.’ She looked beyond him, praying they weren’t with him. Thank goodness she’d pulled her T-shirt and shorts back on; she didn’t want anyone seeing her in a bikini – her body did not hold up to comparison with a couple of models.
He gave her a wolfish grin before leaning down, picking up her pencil and handing it to her. Then, without invitation, confidently sure of his welcome, he sat down next to her.
‘There’s only so much a man can take. I needed a rest,’ he said, lowering his voice in a confiding tone, tinged with amusement. So –’ he nodded towards the book she was still protecting in her arms with possessive determination ‘– let’s have a look.’ Sudden predatory speculation gleamed in his eyes.
Maddie swallowed, realising with unexpected insight that if she denied him he’d see it as a challenge, one that he’d have to win, and that he’d read more than she wanted him to see into it.
‘Oh, I thought I’d have a go at doing a bit of drawing.’ She loosened her hold on the book, but left it lying propped up against her and looked out over the sea. ‘It’s so gorgeous here. I’ve never seen such clear sea or a colour like it. How was Zlatni Rat?’
Ignoring her pathetic attempt to divert him, Simon leaned forward and laid a lazy hand on the sketchbook and grinned at her, his dark blue eyes full of laughter as they met hers. ‘Maddie, Maddie,’ he said with mock reproach, ‘what a fib.’ His eyes holding hers, he gently took the book from her hands and laid it on his knees.
Gosh, they were such blue eyes. Her heart bumped uncomfortably in her chest as somehow his gaze moved from teasing to something a little more intense that made her breath catch in her throat. Simon Beresford was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. She felt herself flush and ducked her head.
Simon gave a low chuckle. ‘So, what have we here?’
Maddie clenched one hand behind her leg, stiffening. Very few people had ever seen her sketches. She stared out at the distant island across the sea, her vision blurry.
Simon turned the book and whistled. ‘This is good. Very good.’ When he glanced up at her, the speculation was back as he narrowed his eyes. ‘Having a go, my arse.’ He nudged her with his elbow. ‘I think someone’s telling porky-pies.’
Blinking, she shrugged. ‘I’m … It’s just …’
‘You’ve got some talent going on here, my lovely.’ He laid a warm hand on her leg, just above the knee but not quite on her thigh. An ambiguous position that left her wondering, except he was looking at her lips. Then he jerked his gaze away as if he realised he shouldn’t.
‘I’m no expert, but I know enough to know this is pretty good. My uncle owns a couple of galleries. He’s always said I’ve got an eye. If I hadn’t gone into tennis, I probably would have gone into business with him.’ With long elegant fingers he tapped the picture, before lifting the page. ‘May I?’
Mute, Maddie nodded, even though she wanted to snatch it out of his hands.
She watched as he turned the pages, giving each one careful, silent consideration. A street scene of Paris, a run of terrace houses in Bourneville, the hallway of abandoned shoes at home, a detail of the window of Nina’s patisserie, a wrought iron balcony from the Hôtel des Invalides, the clock at Musée d’Orsay.
The dryness in her throat almost hurt as she held her breath while he pored over each image: pieces of her heart, beats of her life.
When he came to the first picture, done on the day she’d arrived in Paris for her year abroad, she gave a tremulous smile. She’d been so nervous, terrified and excited, but at the sight of the Arc de Triomphe she’d had to sit down and draw. That picture embodied all her hopes and dreams for the year, and what a year it had turned out to be. She’d met Nina and Marguerite and discovered a world away from the disorganised, narrow confines of the cramped house in Birmingham.
There was a whole world out there; she just needed to figure out where she belonged in it. Much as she loved her family, she wanted more.
Simon lifted his head, those blue eyes focused on her, and for a full minute he didn’t say anything. She could feel the pulse in her neck thudding hard and wondered if he could see it.
‘Have you ever shown these to anyone?’ he asked, watching her carefully.
Before she had chance to answer, he said, ‘I can tell you. These are incredible. You. Are. A. Very. Talented. Artist.’
‘Really?’ she breathed, a sudden whoosh in her stomach. ‘You’re not just saying that?’
He laughed. ‘Maddie, Maddie, Maddie. Why would I do that?’
She gave him a shy smile. ‘I don’t know, but these are just for me.’
‘You don’t believe that, surely.’
She lifted her shoulders helplessly. ‘People like me don’t become artists.’
‘Rubbish. Who told you that? I’ll have words with them. Want me to duff them up for you?’ He put up a pair of pretend fists and pulled a fierce face, which made Maddie laugh.
The thought of the elegant, immaculately attired Simon beating anyone up, even the two ice blondes from the London gallery, was ridiculous, although the sentiment was touching. ‘I don’t think anyone’s ever offered to “duff” someone up for me before.’ With her build, she was more likely to do the duffing-up for herself.
‘Well, they should have,’ said Simon, giving her another one of those warm looks, which made her feel unaccountably girly, which wasn’t like her at all. ‘Would you like to go for a drink? That place under the pines looks the perfect spot.’ He’d already risen to his feet, holding out his hand to help her up.
Ignoring the natural instinct to say no, after all he was a guest, she found herself taking his hand and standing up.
‘Cheers,’ said Simon, lifting his elegant long-stemmed glass of white wine in a toast and swirling it in the glass before taking a careful sip. M
addie toasted him back, thinking that most men she knew drank pints, and then she remembered he was a wine expert.
The ‘meh’ face he pulled suggested the wine wasn’t quite good enough but wasn’t awful. He looked around at the wrought iron chairs with cream padded cushions arranged under the pine trees around little stone patios.
‘This is a nice peaceful spot. God! Those girls this morning. Talk about exhausting. Halfway along the walk to the beach, which is a good bloody three kilometres, I might add, of course Tara started bellyaching about how far it was. And Cory couldn’t resist having a pop at her about her shoes, jealous as a cat she was that Tara had upstaged her in her Johanna Ortiz number.’
When Maddie frowned, he added kindly, ‘Johanna Ortiz is the hottest swimwear designer in town at the moment. Tara’s bikini was this season’s must-have. And Tara had already got two hundred likes on Instagram before we even left the yacht. Cory was livid.’ He held up his iPhone, the latest model, Maddie noticed. Was she the only person on the boat who still had an iPhone 5?
‘How did she manage that?’
‘Why do you think it took her so long to get ready? Getting the right selfie for social media doesn’t happen by accident. Tara lives for her Instagram account. Dear God, once we did get to the beach.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Pebbles!’ he declared in a falsetto, flapping his hands in mimicry. ‘No one said it was a pebbly beach.’ With a shake of his head, he took another sip of his wine, pulling another grimace of slight dissatisfaction. ‘And then we had to wander around for half an hour deciding which sunbeds were the best and away from the great unwashed. Cory insisted that Douglas pay for extra beds so that no one could be next to them. Then when the poor sod had paid a fortune for sunbeds, she and Tara decided they wanted to go and sit in one of the chi-chi bars in the pines. Which gave the rest of us a break. I was planning to do a bit of windsurfing but the kit wasn’t up to much, although the he-man decided to have a go.’
‘He-man?’
‘Yeah, Tara’s chum.’ He glanced away at his phone, which had beeped on the table, but he didn’t pick it up.