The Wedding Proposal

by Sue Moorcroft

  ‘Hello, Mum.’ Elle waited for a moment but her mother made no reply. ‘I just wanted to tell you that everything’s fine with me. I’m enjoying living in Malta.’

  A noise that she barely recognised as her mother’s voice made what might have been an attempt at a reply.

  Elle talked on, describing the boat, the island, her work at Nicholas Centre. The sound of breathing and the occasional slurred noise told her that Joanna was still on the other end of the line. ‘I love you, Mum,’ Elle said, impulsively. ‘I understand that you weren’t a demonstrative mother but I do love you. And I’m sorry that you were so upset when I sneaked off and married Ricky. I shouldn’t have done that but—’

  ‘I think we’ll have to get your mum back to her room, now, lovie,’ broke in Nerys’s voice. ‘She listened for a couple of minutes but she’s pushed the handset away. I think she’s a bit tired.’

  ‘Of course.’ Elle tried to smile, so that it would come through in her voice. ‘Thanks for going to so much trouble for me.’

  After ending the call she felt restless. She’d been looking forward to a day off all week. The Nicolas Centre was open only from midday to five on Sundays, and most of the children who used it were in relaxed mode, wanting only a game of table tennis or to chat on Facebook, making it a good day for Elle not to attend. There was still enough of a swell for her to decide to shelve her earlier plans for a boat trip. If the sea showed signs of liveliness within the marina then it would be downright choppy outside of the shelter of the creek.

  So she set out on foot, strolling right up to Font Ghadir and lying on the rock on a towel to read. When that got too uncomfortable and hot, she jumped into the sea to cool off. The waves broke over the rocks, hissing and sucking, and she enjoyed the exhilaration of being tossed around until she was tired.

  The rocky beach was becoming crowded and noisy, tourists and locals congregating to sun themselves like a human version of a seal colony. Elle climbed up the steps to the road and wandered back into Sliema for lunch. She hadn’t brought her phone, not wanting to leave valuables in her beach bag while she swam, which meant she didn’t know if Joseph had tried to contact her. She hadn’t tried his number earlier because she knew that he and Maria usually spent Sunday morning in church, summoned by one of the beautiful church bells that sang out every Sunday morning and evening.

  Her map was in her bag. She shook it out and assessed where she was in relation to the Nicholas Centre as she sat at a small table in the window of a cafe, drinking a glass of cold white wine and waiting for her salad to arrive. She wasn’t surprised to see that she’d walked away from the centre in her search for lunch, but that didn’t matter. The afternoon was hers to while away.

  She turned out to have a hot and dusty forty-minute walk to Triq Bonnard but she enjoyed leaving behind the streets that were always busy with tourists whatever the day of the week and finding her way through the more residential areas where the houses dozed away the hottest part of the day.

  Eventually, she crossed the courtyard, glad to step into the cool, old building.

  For once, Joseph wasn’t in his office. She followed the sound of laughter and cheers to the games room to find a table tennis tournament in progress, Joseph refereeing and Maria keeping score on a small board.

  Oscar was there, too, coaching the participants, easy to spot as he was head and shoulders above everybody else. ‘We have a new spectator,’ he announced as Elle slipped through the door. ‘Or perhaps Elle wishes to play?’

  Elle waved the idea away. ‘No, I’m happy to be part of the audience.’ And soon she was clapping as points were won, laughing at the groans from those who lost.

  Presently, when she was driven by thirst into the kitchen, she was glad when Joseph followed her.

  ‘How was Carmelo when you left him?’ she asked, immediately.

  Joseph’s brown eyes were kind behind his glasses. ‘His mother was awake and looking for him when I arrived, and was reassuringly maternal – cross with him for disappearing and glad to see him home. I waited while she saw him to bed so that we could have a little chat about our concerns.’ He took a bottle of Kinnie, a Maltese soft drink, from the fridge and sat down at the big table, waving Elle to another chair. ‘She was sheepish. I hope the episode has brought her up short.’

  Elle breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I hope so. His little face was so sad, all tear-streaked.’ She hesitated. ‘I don’t know if I exactly have to tell you this but as I’m so new to it all – Carmelo threw his arms around me. I sort of ruffled his hair rather than hugging him back, and then jollied him along to the boat. Was that right?’

  Joseph began, ‘It’s always difficult, but, yes, that sounds—’

  ‘Ah, our friend Carmelo,’ said a voice from the doorway. And Oscar stepped into the room. He helped himself to a drink and joined in their conference as if invited. ‘Always little Carmelo looks sad. It will be good if the mother gives him more affection.’

  He went on discussing Carmelo with Joseph. Elle felt prickly about the intrusion but had to accept that Oscar had as much right to his concerns as she did.

  When, eventually, Joseph rose to return to the table tennis tournament, Elle made to follow him. But Oscar got up quickly and blocked her way. ‘I request one word with you, Elle, if I may.’ His occasional formal turns of phrase would probably have been endearing if Elle could have felt any liking for the Dutchman.

  ‘Of course,’ she replied, courteously, hanging back.

  Oscar smiled widely as he gave Joseph a few seconds to move off, his eyes intent. ‘I think dinner one night would be good.’

  Elle blinked. ‘That’s really nice of you but I’m not in a position to date at the moment.’

  Oscar nodded. ‘Of course. There is the boyfriend who may not be a boyfriend. The boyfriend who brings his woman here, under your nose.’

  ‘Kayleigh? She’s his brother’s girlfriend. She was alone, initially, but Lucas’s brother, Charlie, has arrived to be with her, now.’ Elle couldn’t keep a hint of triumph from her voice. Now that she knew the situation between Charlie and Kayleigh she could once again utilise Lucas’s presence on the boat to ward Oscar off.

  ‘Really?’ Oscar was still smiling irritatingly, knowingly. ‘So. Is Lucas the boyfriend or not the boyfriend?’

  Summoning a friendly but dismissive smile, Elle made to move around him. ‘I don’t really need to discuss this with you.’

  Then she gasped as she found herself trapped suddenly between the doorjamb and a man so large that he filled all of her vision. His voice was low and his breath hot on her skin. ‘You avoid me, but that doesn’t mean I shall go away. I have an ambition that Elle shall look at me as she looks at little Carmelo. With soft eyes and a beautiful smile. And hugs and kisses, just like for Carmelo.’

  For an instant Elle froze, bad memories sending the blood singing in her ears. Then anger flew to her rescue. Never again would a man intimidate her, make her powerless. She took a long slow breath so that she could force her voice to ring out. ‘Of course I haven’t kissed Carmelo. He hugged me; I could hardly shove him away. Get away from me. I’m not comfortable with this conversation and it’s unacceptable that you invade my personal space.’

  ‘Then the conversation must instantly end.’ Oscar stepped back, bowing her through the door in front of him with the air of one humouring a capricious child.

  ‘If you behave like that again,’ she said, coldly, holding her ground, ‘I’ll complain to Joseph. That was inappropriate and there must be no repetition.’

  Oscar’s grin became wider than ever. ‘Englishwomen! You take everything much too serious. In the Nederlands we are more relaxed, more adult.’ Then, as if an idea had just struck him: ‘If Lucas is your boyfriend, it is not a problem for me. I understand a relationship that is open.’

  Elle laughed her scorn right into h
is freckly face. ‘Lucas is the last man in the world to entertain an open relationship. Believe me on that one.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lucas cornered Vern in his ‘outdoor office’, where Vern sometimes took his hated paperwork, a table with blistered white paintwork on a flat place on the rocks. Only one chair stood at the table. Vern didn’t encourage loiterers.

  Although Lucas held the day’s student record files, he kept them behind his back. The only thing Vern hated more than paperwork was more paperwork.

  Lucas had provided surface cover at Ghar Lapsi today while Lars and Brett led tourists down into the crystal depths to spy on octopus and swim with rainbow shoals of fish. He didn’t enjoy taking his turn to provide surface cover, but at least it had given him an opportunity to think. Now he was ready to share those thoughts with Vern.

  ‘How do you feel about helping local kids from a youth drop-in centre?’

  Vern didn’t look up. ‘What kind of help?’

  ‘I was wondering whether we could give them a Bubblemaker Session.’

  Turning PADI forms over with distaste, Vern sighed. ‘What kind of drop-in centre? Nothing to do with nasty habits?’

  ‘No. It’s just somewhere for kids to hang out. Play games, do activities, use the internet cafe.’ He sketched in a few more details about the Nicholas Centre and Joseph. ‘My brother’s girlfriend works with children and she got talking to someone I know who volunteers there, so we went up to visit. I sort of got involved.’ He pushed back his hair, damp because he’d been washing off the equipment used for today’s dive and had cooled himself in the spray. ‘So I was thinking we could go there and do the youth programme diving presentation and then get some of them up here in the pool. Obviously, I volunteer my services.’

  Slowly, Vern sat back, squinting against the slanting sun. A big tawny man with a lot of body hair, he was a bit like a mangy bear and had a habit of growling to hide his soft heart. ‘We’d need some responsible adults here from their end, safeguarding and all that stuff.’

  ‘They have their own youth leaders. Maybe one or two of them? And, hopefully, Joseph.’

  ‘At least that many, yeah, depending on how many kids want to make bubbles.’ Vern tapped his pen against his cheek.

  ‘Might be a nice PR exercise, being nice to local kids,’ Lucas suggested, persuasively.

  Vern grunted. ‘It’s only a good PR exercise if we get the press here and sound off about what wonderful people we are to give time and resources to provide some kids with fun. Otherwise, the only benefit for us that I see is a warm glow at having done a good deed. And there’s the cost of air and the damage to kit. Kids always break things.’

  Lucas glanced over at the seawater pool, dancing with sunlight. He thought about Carmelo and imagined his big eyes alight with joy and wonder. ‘Some of those kids don’t even have properly fitting clothes. It’s unlikely that they’ll get to try the expensive adventure of scuba unless someone provides the chance for them.’

  Slowly, Vern nodded. ‘OK, let me think about it. Maybe we could work something out at the end of a day when we’ve had only fairly shallow dives. By the time the instructors and divemasters get back here and sort the equipment out, some surface time will have elapsed, and you’ll go no deeper than two metres so it won’t add much to nitro levels.’

  He turned his attention back to his paperwork. ‘Now give me whatever you’re hiding behind your back and sod off to see your youth centre guy.’

  A couple of hours later, Lucas stepped aboard the Shady Lady and saw Elle’s top half moving around in the galley. ‘Let’s clear the air,’ he said, dropping his bag on the floor of the saloon and crossing to the steps so that he could see all of her. Her hair was wet and she was wearing one of those things that seemed a cross between a minidress and a pair of shorts. The outfit showed a lot of leg. He didn’t let her catch him looking. He could read enough wariness and mistrust in her eyes without that.

  He reached around her to grab a bottle of beer from the fridge. ‘I acted like a prat: I’m genuinely sorry. I don’t really know what I was thinking of and I don’t suppose there’s any point trying to analyse it. It was childish and stupid.

  ‘But it’s important to me that you accept my apology partly because I mean it, partly because living together on the boat is going to be a pain in the arse if there’s a heavy atmosphere, and partly because I want your help with something.’ Then, aware from her stare and the way that her hands paused in their task of washing up that peremptory demands probably weren’t endearing him to her, added a belated ‘Please. I’ve talked to my boss about doing a Bubblemaker Session for the Nicholas Centre and you know a lot more about the place than I do.’

  Elle frowned, turning back to washing up the coffee jug. ‘Go on.’

  He took a seat on the galley steps and recounted his conversation with Vern, outlining how the presentation would normally go and the fun experience the kids could expect from fifty minutes in a pool wearing scuba gear.

  She listened to him gravely. ‘Does the event have a price tag?’

  ‘It’s a freebie. The instructors and divemasters would give their time; Dive Meddi would provide the equipment and air. The kids would just need normal swim gear. And we’d have to work out a way of transporting them up to the dive centre in St Julian’s.’ His seat on the steps put her bare legs at his eye level. In the days when he and Elle had been together he would have considered bare legs an invitation to play. He could almost imagine the softness of her inner thigh under his mouth—

  ‘Would you be the one to run the session?’

  He forced his gaze to remain fixed on her face. ‘I’d organise everything but I’m not an instructor. A divemaster assists, not instructs. The instructors at the centre are Vern, Polly and Lars, and they’d run the session. There are children-to-adult ratios we have to observe, and the instructors will want divemasters in the water. We’ll need some adults from the centre, too.’

  ‘In the water?’ Her eyes suddenly brightened.

  ‘In the water and out. We need to work out how many kids are interested and how many we can accommodate. Joseph’s obviously the guy I need to talk to but it would be great if you could get involved – talk to Joseph with me, maybe.’

  ‘Could I be one of the adults in the water?’

  She looked so intrigued by the idea that he laughed, half-sorry that he hadn’t talked to her about something like this before she put him on her shit list. He could have invited her to the dive centre and showed off. ‘Definitely. If Carmelo’s one of the kids involved I expect he’ll demand it.’ Then, as a shadow crossed over her face, ‘How is he today?’

  ‘I haven’t seen him.’ She sighed. ‘Joseph’s talked to the mum and seems fairly upbeat, thinks Carmelo running away was a bit of a wake-up call for her.’ She managed a hesitant smile. ‘Thanks, by the way, for helping with him last night. I knew I’d be able to rely on you.’

  ‘It wasn’t much.’ But he was aware of a dart of pleasure that she’d put aside the tension and come to him.

  ‘I can imagine what— I mean, s-s-some people might have reacted differently if I’d brought home a child I’d found lurking in the dark.’ She turned away from him, busying herself with fitting the jug back on the coffee maker.

  It meant that he could let his gaze drop to her legs but that didn’t distract him completely from that tiny telltale stutter over ‘some people’. So far as he knew, she hadn’t lived with many people. Her parents, her uni flatmates and—

  ‘Ricky?’ he asked, making it sound like an idle enquiry.

  She went on fussing with the coffee maker, taking the jug off and on again as if unhappy with the fit. Just when he thought she was going to ignore his question, she answered. ‘He didn’t have much compassion.’ She changed the subject brightly. ‘I’m going over to Valletta on the ferry with Char
lie and Kayleigh. Want to come? Joseph told me about a good pizzeria in Republic Street. We can get the last ferry there and return by bus.’

  ‘Great.’ He rose easily and turned sideways so that he could pass without brushing against her. ‘I’ll shower.’ He felt as if he’d scored some kind of victory. She’d answered a question about Ricky, and one that gave real insight, at that. And the invitation for pizza must constitute forgiveness for his behaviour over Kayleigh.

  As he showered, he wondered if she’d keep the dress/shorts thing on. That much leg on display definitely came under the heading of ‘A good thing’. Especially bare leg. The great thing about hot climates was that women rarely bothered with tights or stockings.

  Not that he was against stockings …

  He felt himself stirring. Maybe he should be against stockings – on Elle Jamieson, anyway. And bare legs. And cute hats. In fact, his life would be a lot less complicated if Elle Jamieson would wear a sack with just her head sticking out. Preferably with that blond hair cut off instead of in its current glorious mane form. He might have a lot fewer frustrating thoughts and mixed emotions.

  Elle didn’t make extensive preparations for the evening. After she’d let her hair dry in the warm breeze up on the flybridge, she brushed it and then made up simply with mascara, eyeliner and lip gloss.

  Her heart was light. Carmelo’s situation looked to have improved, she was still buzzing from drawing a line in the sand that Oscar must not creep over, and a good night out was in prospect. Maltese pizza was good, she liked Kayleigh, she’d missed Charlie, and Lucas and Charlie were fun together. Now Lucas had made the effort to clear the air, she could enjoy everybody’s company.

  She checked that she had enough euros for the evening and emerged from her cabin at the same moment as Lucas strolled out of his, almost colliding with him in the tiny area in front of the galley. Their arms brushed and Elle sucked in her breath at the hot liquid sensation of his skin sliding over hers.