The Wedding Proposal

by Sue Moorcroft

  Despite their tepid relationship, Elle didn’t like to imagine her mother small and defenceless between the crisp white sheets of a metal bed with cot sides. Elle had accepted the role of dutiful daughter until the big Ricky mistake and that habit hadn’t been entirely broken by Joanna setting her affection dial to zero to express her disappointment in Elle’s fallibility.

  When the first big stroke had crushed Joanna under its savage heel Elle had rushed to her bedside. Over the next weeks she’d sacrificed her time in order to supervise Joanna’s nursing in recovery, consult with doctors and, ultimately, research and negotiate good residential care. She’d acquired Power of Attorney, chosen the possessions and clothes she thought Joanna would like to have with her in her altered life and deposited her jewellery into the bank’s safe custody. Everything else had been sold to add to Joanna’s bank balance.

  Her mother had never recovered sufficiently to understand what was being done for her as her ability to recognise and recall had almost gone, along with speech and mobility. But at least Elle’s conscience re daughterly responsibilities had been clear before leaving England. Though the situation had now changed and she felt an urge to react to that, there was no point flying to her mother’s bedside until she knew that any action she took would be worthwhile.

  None of that intellectual reasoning prevented Elle from visiting the websites of Air Malta and Ryanair to check out the ticket situation, discovering availability for the next day, which was Tuesday, and also Friday and Saturday. That only a single seat remained on the Tuesday flight made her twitchy.

  Then two lads in their late teens came clattering into the computer room and she was glad to turn her thoughts away from what might be happening in a hospital many miles away to a woman who probably didn’t comprehend that it was happening.

  ‘Kif inti?’ she greeted them, varying her limited Maltese greetings from bonġu. In reply, she received a scowl from the big kid and a smirk from his smaller friend. OK. Not every youth that visited Nicholas Centre was easy to like. Aggression, cockiness or suspicion were all common.

  After waiting ten minutes to let the boys settle, she wandered around their side of the island of computers. ‘Is there anything you’d like help with?’

  She received another darkling look and a torrent of Maltese from the bigger lad. The smaller one burst into delighted laughter.

  Elle didn’t react except to say, ‘Tell me if you do.’ She returned to her machine and picked up her phone to text her father. Let me know when you know anything about Mum, pls. x

  She checked her e-mail, in case her father or someone at The Briars had sent a message. They hadn’t, but there was something from Simon, sent Friday, giving her the news from Rose Wines, how incredibly busy he was and that he’d had hardly any time for drinking in bars and chasing women! So how are you surviving with your shipmate? he went on. I hope that by now you’ve buried old hatchets (not in each other’s heads) and found a way to get along. Update me! She began to type.

  Simon,

  Charlie has just flown out here and now I know why you were surprised that I said Kayleigh was Lucas’s girlfriend! I suppose you felt some male solidarity not to rat Lucas out.

  Adding a couple of rapid paragraphs, she caught him up with events regarding her mother, the boat, the island and Nicholas Centre, the sort of chatty news she usually exchanged with him a couple of times a week. She signed off: No hatchets in heads. Elle xxx

  Last night was too surprising, too fragile, to share. What if it turned out not to be something new, but something doomed? Last night, they’d expressed nothing deeper than desire.

  In the cold light of day – or the hot light of day, as they were in Malta – Elle’s heart was too wary to easily shuck off its stab jacket. She was too mindful of how long her scars had taken to heal, too aware of all that was unresolved. You know I’m weird about secrets. So the obvious answer lay in telling him the rest of the story. Now. Before they got in deeper. Before she had more to lose. She found herself staring into space while her head and heart debated the situation. You know it’s the only sensible way forward, declared her head. But you know how he can hurt me! quavered her heart.

  She snapped out of her reverie as two girls tumbled, giggling, into the computer room, one of them Giorgina, the avid Facebooker. Instantly, the boys increased the volume of their voices. The largest – and noisiest – kept calling things in Maltese to the girls, which, judging from their outraged expressions, were not welcome and, in view of the apprehensive looks they cast Elle’s way, probably not clean.

  ‘Shall we keep it down a bit?’ Elle suggested pleasantly. She picked up her phone to text Joseph and ask if he had a few minutes to come up and spread a little calm in Maltese, then she rolled her chair over to Giorgina’s and Alice’s machines to offer support in ignoring the big mouths. She joked and chatted calmly and showed them a Pinterest account she’d created for the Nicholas Centre, where she’d pinned photos of the computer room, the games room and the gym.

  It was only a few minutes before Joseph wandered in, hands in pockets. He paused to chat to Elle, Giorgina and Alice; then strolled over to the boys, who were now stifling laughter behind their computer monitor.

  Joseph addressed them in Maltese. The boys’ replies seemed truculent, although it was hard for Elle to judge as Maltese frequently sounded staccato to her ears. Joseph stayed as cool and easy as always, but the large lad suddenly jumped up and barged out of the room. The smaller one followed at a trot, still sniggering.

  Proving that they could speak some English, a stream of it floated up into the computer room in company with the sound of running feet on the stairs.

  ‘Shit!’

  ‘Fuck!’

  ‘Piss!’

  Their laughter faded into the distance.

  Joseph lifted a querying eyebrow in Elle’s direction.

  She smiled an I’m OK. She had to get used to the occasional outbreak of the verbals and also that, at Nicholas Centre, there were no recriminations over bad behaviour. Joseph did sometimes send kids away, inviting them to return the next day, when, he said, he was sure their behaviour would be more acceptable, but Elle hadn’t yet seen any youngster made to feel that she or he would never be able to drop in to the centre again.

  Her phone rang, instantly diverting her thoughts. The screen told her who was calling and she picked the phone up with a hand that wasn’t quite steady. ‘Dad?’

  Joseph waved to indicate that she was free to leave the room and seated himself at a vacant machine. It wasn’t that the computer room had to be constantly supervised but disenchanted youths taking out their frustrations on the equipment had to be allowed for. The behaviour of the two who had just left would definitely raise such concerns.

  She made her way quickly across the landing to the big salon at the front of the building, sure of privacy there, as it was generally used only for planned events. ‘How’s Mum?’

  Will was reassuringly businesslike. ‘The hospital say that your mother passed a comfortable night, which I think meant that nothing much changed and she wasn’t in pain, and she’s being kept in for observation. It wasn’t such a big stroke, this time, but you know how these things are.’

  ‘Anything could happen.’ She sighed. ‘Have you talked to The Briars? She might need additional care when she comes out.’ She let herself down on one of the blue chairs set around the edge of the big room, staring up at the high ceiling and the twin old-fashioned fans hanging motionless.

  ‘All they say is that they’ll have to wait and see how she progresses.’

  Elle let her head tip back against the wall. Her eyelids were heavy. She supposed she hadn’t got a lot of sleep last night. ‘If that’s all they can say, and she doesn’t seem in any immediate need of me, I’ll hang on here for now. I can probably be of more use when she’s ready to come out.’ She swa
llowed, the vision of her mother in the hospital bed flashing once again across her consciousness. ‘H-have you seen her?’

  Her father cleared his throat. ‘That’s a trifle awkward, what with Tania and the fact that I’m several hours’ drive away. And since your mother doesn’t seem to be in any danger—’

  ‘You’re right.’ Elle felt the responsibility for her mother coming to roost squarely on her shoulders. ‘She probably wouldn’t know you, anyway.’

  They talked for a few more minutes, agreeing that Elle would ring the hospital herself the next day. Will sounded relieved. She ended the call feeling uncomfortably conflicted, her remnants of love for her mother bound up in duty and tainted by unresolved issues.

  Love, for Elle, always did seem confused and complicated, instead of the certain, shiny, clean thing she wanted it to be.

  She sighed, and returned to the computer room to complete the morning session.

  Giorgina and Alice had been joined by three fresh boyish faces and conversation was loud, but this time good-natured and punctuated with laughter.

  Briefly, she updated Joseph on her mother’s circumstances.

  His brown eyes darkened with concern. ‘Do you need some personal time? My mum’s due to come in this afternoon, anyway. I can ask her to come early.’ He tapped his top shirt pocket, from which his phone could be seen peeping.

  Elle summoned a smile, even though, for once, she would be glad to be out of the centre and alone with her thoughts. ‘There’s only an hour to go. Don’t disturb her. It’s not as if I have a workshop session to run.’

  He nodded. ‘If you’re sure. The schools break up in two days so we’ll be busier, then. I have two of Mum’s friends, both retired teachers like her, who I can call on for help with general supervision of the beginning-of-holiday excitement.’ He smiled. ‘It’s one of my favourite times to be here. It can be chaotic but I like the smiling faces.’

  Trying to share his enthusiasm and, mindful of her promise to Lucas, Elle took the opportunity to sound Joseph out about the Bubblemaker session.

  His eyes brightened. ‘That sounds like it could be a wonderful opportunity. Please make Lucas welcome to visit for coffee tomorrow afternoon. I’m always interested in discussing what somebody is prepared to do for our children.’

  The rest of the session passed without incident and Elle returned to the marina. When she reached Seadancer it was to find Loz and Davie happily ensconced with drinks in their hands on the improbably named le Chateau, a yacht moored three berths down. Loz waved and yoohooed and Davie came off the boat to wind down Seadancer’s gangplank so that Elle could board.

  ‘You’ll have the place to yourself today.’ Wine fumes rolled off him into the hot afternoon air. ‘Our friends Patrice and Birgit have just arrived and I expect it will take Loz the next twelve hours to catch up on their news.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Elle said, truthfully. ‘The centre’s gearing up for the summer holidays so I’m glad of the peace.’ Loz was a sweetheart but her constant conversation took up a lot of headspace. And if she were to ask how things were going with Lucas, Elle was sure she would blush, exciting Loz’s ever-present curiosity.

  Once Davie had ambled back to continue pickling his liver, Elle whisked through the galley, the saloon, and then Loz and Davie’s stateroom and bathroom, leaving behind her the smells of bleach and polish.

  Seadancer rocked peaceably on her lines and, as she worked, Elle wondered when to ring the hospital again, and The Briars. When it would be best for her to return to England and check out her mother’s situation for herself. And whether the need for that was on her side or her mum’s.

  She sighed, wishing for love unburdened by old baggage. It was too late to achieve that with her mother. Her father was focusing on his new wife/new life scenario.

  But with Lucas …?

  Her hands slowed as she wiped the glass of the foredeck doors. Their past love had been tainted by Ricky. Her attempts to keep the new relationship separate from the old had only resulted in completely alienating Lucas.

  The answer to the earlier debate between her head and her heart was suddenly as clear as the glass beneath her industrious hands.

  She’d tell him. Tonight. Before things went any further.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lucas liked to feel the sun slanting onto his back while he hosed seawater from wetsuits and hung them on plastic hangers to drain.

  He’d been in the water today with Polly while Lars provided surface cover. Polly was possibly his favourite instructor, just because she looked as if she was a bumbly, shy, awkward woman and he liked to see the clients’ faces when she actually proved to be confident and incisive.

  Today, two buffoons, Bryan and Jim, had decided to break a golden rule and drink alcohol between dives.

  Polly had tried to indicate how bad an idea it was with a friendly, low-key request. ‘Come on, guys, don’t buy beer if you’re diving this afternoon. Alcohol accelerates your no decompression limits and makes it difficult for your body tissue to reabsorb oxygen. Decompression sickness is easier to contract.’

  Lucas grinned to remember Bryan and Jim rolling their eyes as they went ahead with their order at the beach bar.

  Knowing that entertainment was about to follow, Lars and Lucas had just waited.

  Polly watched Bryan and Jim hand over their euros. ‘How’s the beer, guys?’ she called.

  ‘Good!’ Jim called back, lifting his foaming pint in a mocking toast to her.

  ‘Glad you’re enjoying it.’ Polly turned to Lucas. ‘Put Jim and Bryan’s tanks back on the pick-up: they’re spending the afternoon waterside unless they toss the beer right now.’

  The grins fell from Jim and Bryan’s faces. They tossed the beer.

  Lucas wasn’t sure whether they realised what idiots they’d made of themselves by indulging in a thinly disguised sulk for most of the afternoon but the other four guys in the party, pleasant Irish lads, all experienced Open Water Advanced Divers, didn’t let Bryan and Jim spoil their date with the sea. They loved everything underwater from orange fireworms to the encrusted remains of a gun from a World War II ship and happily signed up for the next day’s dives.

  Bryan and Jim had not signed up for more and were probably already in some bar, downing their long-awaited beer and bitching about Polly.

  As Lucas worked, moving the wetsuits up the rail once rinsed, he paused to put on his T-shirt. He’d learned to respect the sun in California.

  Vern popped his head around the corner of the team building. ‘Can you clean up the stuff from my dive, too, so Harriet can go? Hot date.’

  ‘No problem.’ Lucas grinned as small, dark Harriet instantly appeared with three more clients to hang up their wetsuits and BCDs. Harriet would repay the favour some time and, today, nothing was a problem.

  Elle had spent last night in his bed.

  Thinking about it made his heart flip like a coin. Preparing equipment, supervising and assessing the divers, participating in the briefs and debriefs, checking logs, Lucas had had to keep his mind on the job because safety was everything. But now that he needed only two per cent of his mind for this end-of-day chore he could let Elle occupy the rest.

  Last night had been hot. This morning … His hands slowed. This morning, the old pattern had shown signs of emerging. He’d told Elle that her sharing her past with him had made him happy, and her own happiness had drained from her face.

  He moved the last wetsuit over on the rail and began on the BCDs, letting the chill fresh water splash over his bare feet as he washed the sea from each of the padded waistcoat-like devices in turn.

  Vern’s head reappeared around the corner. ‘We thought we’d go over to Fat Harry’s. Polly and Lars are coming.’

  ‘I’ll give it a miss this time.’ Lucas hung up the last dripping BCD and r
an the water over the row of fins standing up against the wall before turning off the tap. He was hoping that Elle would be waiting for him at the boat.

  To his disappointment, when Lucas jumped off the bus and sauntered through the gardens, he found the Shady Lady locked up. Hoping Elle would soon show, he put on the air con and showered.

  As he finished towelling himself his phone began to ring from the pocket of the cut-offs on the cabin floor. He snatched it up, frowning slightly to see not Elle’s name on the screen, as he’d hoped, but Simon’s.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asked shortly.

  ‘Nothing.’ Simon sounded wary. ‘What’s up with you?’

  Lucas laughed. ‘Sorry. Nothing.’ He extended his arm back into the shower room to lodge the towel on the rail. ‘Everything’s good.’

  They chatted for a few minutes. Lucas reported all OK on the Shady Lady and Simon asked him to see the harbour master and check that his last lot of mooring fees had arrived, as he hadn’t received an acknowledgement.

  Lucas yawned as he listened to Simon talking about the grapes swelling in California. The day’s diving after a happy and energetic night with Elle began to have their effect. Yawning even more widely, he scratched those parts of man that sometimes demanded scratching.

  A giggle made him swing around. Elle stood in the galley, eyes dancing, a bag of shopping in each hand.

  Simon’s voice continued in Lucas’s ear. ‘I talked to Elle on e-mail and she indicated the two of you were getting along.’

  Lucas felt himself begin to harden as Elle put down the bags and came to lean on the door frame while she looked at him, her blonde hair pouring over one shoulder. ‘Glad that she feels that way,’ he said, truthfully.

  Elle smiled and Lucas felt her gaze like a caress, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. ‘Got to go,’ he said into the phone. ‘Something’s just come up. Bye, Simon.’ Lucas ended the call.