Elle, getting accustomed to her own Darth Vader-like underwater breathing noises, knelt on the matting at the bottom of the pool, waiting for the neon-pink frisbee to slow-motion-slice through the water in her direction. If things worked out with Lucas, she decided, as she flipped off her knees and caught the frisbee, she’d learn to dive. She pictured them together, encountering crabs and rays, and the shining fish like flitting light that she’d seen projected onto the screen at the Nicholas Centre.
Daring to even think that she might stay with Lucas temporarily deprived her muscles of all function and she let the frisbee game go on without her. Lucas put himself in her eyeline and circled his finger and thumb to signal to her, Are you OK?
She returned the signal to reassure him that she was fine. In fact, she did it with both hands to show that she was bloody marvellous.
The feeling extended to when the Bubblemaker session was over, tanks turned off, equipment rinsed and hung to dry. Vern brought out ice lollies and bottles of cold water while the children wrapped themselves in towels to talk about their Bubblemaker session, to explain how they’d felt and what they’d liked or disliked. How what they’d experienced had matched up to their expectations. Every child was engaged, the outlines of masks still showing on beaming faces as their laughter rang out in the late afternoon sun.
Elle felt incredibly good to be alive, doing something worthwhile with people who would put in a couple of extra hours to give eight kids a treat. Even Oscar, who, in the presence of Lucas, wasn’t hanging around Elle but was paying attention to Polly.
Polly was reacting to his heavy-handed pursuit with smiles, possibly pleased to find a man larger than herself.
Elle turned her attention to Lucas, who looked appealing in dark red swimming trunks. She was glad they’d agreed not to look ahead, for now. Just to value this amazing time, when they’d each left their old lives behind and, by luck, coincidence and the meddling of Simon, found each other again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Back on board the Shady Lady when the children had been dropped safely off, Elle couldn’t stop yawning as she washed salad in the galley. It was as if her first taste of scuba, albeit in five feet of water, had worn her out. Or it could be that her nights had been pretty busy, recently. Whichever, she felt relaxed and happy just to know that Lucas was somewhere on the boat.
Kayleigh was taking time out from her convention to come over from Qawra for dinner and Charlie had rushed off to wait where her bus would stop on the other side of the gardens. He’d moved onto the Shady Lady on Sunday, content now that he could snatch an occasional few hours with Kayleigh, and knowing they could squeeze in another four or five days in Malta after the convention wound up and before Kayleigh would have to return to the UK and work.
Charlie’s job was looking dicey as insurance problems were making it unclear whether it would be possible for the restaurant to reopen. When he returned home it might be to join the unemployment queue, so he was planning to maximise opportunities for fun in the meantime.
Lucas emerged from the cabin, slotted himself behind Elle and nuzzled her neck.
‘You’ll make dinner late,’ she complained, even while rubbing herself against him.
He gave a hmmmmm deep in his throat and brushed a kiss into the crook of her shoulder. ‘How can salad be late?’
She shivered, trying to concentrate on rinsing glowing red tomatoes. ‘Did Charlie buy the wine?’
‘No idea.’ He dipped a finger into her bowl of cold water and then touched it to her cleavage.
She let her head fall back as the moisture trailed between her breasts. ‘You could check.’ The droplet trickled down into her bra. She closed her eyes at the tiny flare of pleasure. ‘You’re getting me all wet.’
He laughed. ‘Nice thought.’ Reluctantly, he released her with a gentle bite at the spot just below her ear and she went on to washing lettuce as he investigated the drink stocks and began to ferry a selection up to the flybridge.
Charlie and Kayleigh arrived, Charlie more freckled than ever, Kayleigh’s nose pink from the sun, and the four made a leisurely meal in the last of the day’s sunshine, high enough up to catch the breeze. The boat rocked on the swell, a sensation that Elle had finally become inured to, as they polished off goats’ cheese and ħobż along with their salad. Red wine and white stood on the table and soon a couple of empty bottles were languishing in the sink of the wet bar.
Lucas’s hand rested warm and familiar on Elle’s thigh as the dusk rolled swiftly into darkness.
To Kayleigh, this was still enough of a novelty to marvel over. ‘Look at you two! It’s kind of weird and dead right, both at the same time.’ She sipped from her glass of red wine and let her cheek rest on Charlie’s shoulder. ‘So tell me about before, how you met and everything.’
Elle was feeling drowsy, now, not only tired but lulled by the boat and relaxed by a respectable quantity of white wine. ‘These guys were having some kind of race. It was a stag do and they were racing from one bar to another.’
‘The last one there had to buy the next round,’ Lucas supplied.
‘We were free running,’ put in Charlie.
Elle laughed. ‘Free running! Isn’t that the thing where you race over balconies and run up walls and roofs? What I saw from Lucas was more falling over rubbish bins.’
‘A big rubbish bin,’ Lucas pointed out.
‘Free-falling more than free running, then.’ Kayleigh patted Charlie’s head.
Charlie looked obstinate. ‘It was free running, wasn’t it Lucas?’
Lucas’s fingers traced idle circles on Elle’s skin. The dress she was wearing wasn’t long and he’d inched the hem further up her leg so that now his fingertips were leaving delicious trails of goosebumps in their wake. ‘I don’t remember leaping over balconies.’
‘Maybe not balconies, but we were doing rail flow on those railings beside the steps in the pedestrian centre.’
Slipping down further in his seat, Lucas laughed. ‘I do remember vaguely that you got into video tutorials about that kind of stuff. I don’t think I even know what rail flow is.’
‘But I remember showing you how to sit and spin.’ Charlie was obviously intent that Lucas should confirm his memory of events. ‘You get your inside hand on the rail, swing with your inside leg, power yourself up and over so that your legs are over the other side for a second. Then you change hands and keep your legs going to complete the circle, and you end up on the side you started.’
‘I think I remember you doing that.’ Lucas sounded as if he was trying to humour his little brother.
‘It was like this,’ said Charlie, leaping up, tripping over himself, making Kayleigh laugh. Undeterred, he grabbed on to the low guardrail that encircled the flybridge, swung back a leg and looped it up and over the rail; the other leg followed on as he scissored it over the drop between the Shady Lady and Fallen Star. A quick change of hand, another scissoring of his legs and Charlie was standing back on the deck of the flybridge.
‘Cool!’ breathed Kayleigh.
But Lucas was definitely unimpressed. ‘Charlie! Save it for a rail that isn’t over a ten-foot drop into water.’
‘Chill, Luke-arse, it’s easy. Left hand, left leg, right leg, right hand, left leg, right leg.’ Charlie demonstrated the move again, scissoring his long legs in a serious of flowing movements, over-over, twist, over-over, his boyish grin wide as Kayleigh burst into applause.
‘Charlie, you’ve had a lot to drink,’ began Elle.
‘Don’t be an idiot.’ Lucas started to get to his feet.
Charlie swung his left leg back for impetus and began the move for a third time. The left hand, left leg, right leg sequence went to plan. But something happened. Whether he hesitated or his hand caught on the gleaming chrome rail, Elle wasn’t sure. But somehow Charlie’s weigh
t shifted and instead of revolving neatly in one place in the air, he wobbled and began to tip forward. His left hand released the guardrail on schedule but the catching hand, his right, flailed uselessly, inches adrift from its target.
For an agonised instant, Charlie hung in thin air
He disappeared into the darkness with a yell. Crash! A splash. Then silence.
‘You fuckhead,’ bellowed Lucas. He wasted no time peering over the rail but raced to the steps, scrambling and sliding his way down, shouting over his shoulder, ‘Get ready to phone the emergency services! We’ll probably need an ambulance.’
Where was her phone? Their cabin. Elle had to force herself to start moving in Lucas’s wake but once down the steps her legs wanted to run, to move as fast as they possibly could. She flew through the saloon, jumped down the steps, bolted into the cabin and swooped on her phone. Spinning to reverse her route, she sprinted to the gangplank and onto the quayside. ‘Lucas?’ She couldn’t see him but could hear splashing from the black water. ‘Lucas!’
He didn’t answer.
Her heart thumped into the pit of her stomach.
She began to dial 999 but then stopped. She wasn’t in the UK and 999 wouldn’t work. What was the emergency services number in Malta? Joseph had ensured that she knew it but the shock of seeing Charlie vanishing helplessly overboard, and now Lucas out there battling the dark water, had wiped her memory. Whirling, she darted towards a Maltese woman who was approaching the line of cars on the marina access road. ‘Please, what’s the phone number for the ambulance?’
The woman put her hand to her heart and took a step back, as if fearful that Elle intended to mug her.
‘Please, I can’t remember the number!’
The woman frowned, probably mentally translating. ‘Er, one, one and two.’
‘Yes, 112!’ Elle stabbed at the buttons. In seconds a voice answered in Maltese. ‘Ambulance!’ she shouted. Instantly, the operative switched to English but Elle didn’t wait to hear the rest: she shoved the phone at the woman. ‘My friend has fallen off a boat. Please make them come quickly. He’s in the water and I have to see if I can help.’
Without waiting to see if the woman minded her services being commandeered, Elle pelted back to the edge of the quay. The sea between the Shady Lady and Fallen Star was unlit, but, with a heart thud, she thought she could see a hand trying to get a grip on one of the boat’s white fenders. Relief flooded through her when she realised that she could hear his voice, too, low and indistinct, but with calm and authority. ‘Someone’s getting help, Lucas,’ she shouted, hoping he’d be able to hear.
Kayleigh finally caught up with Elle, trembling her way over the gangplank like an old woman. ‘Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God, Charlie.’
From the shadowed water came a groan like that of an arthritic old dog.
‘What should I do, Lucas?’ Elle shouted, trying to keep panic from her voice. ‘Is he hurt? I called the emergency services and a lady’s giving them the details.’
But Lucas didn’t waste energy on a reply. The sound of his swimming neared slightly and Elle, with a sickening roll of her stomach, realised he was hampered by lack of space between the two hulls, grabbing at fenders and saving his breath for saving his brother. What she’d considered small movements of the boats on the swell suddenly seemed like looming threats, as if the boats might jostle together and crush Lucas and Charlie at any moment.
Recovering her faculties, she swung around. The quayside was a busy area. There must be help nearby.
A family strolled towards her from the gardens, several men watched the television at the kiosk. She sucked in all the breath she could muster. ‘HELP US!’ she bellowed with the full force of her lungs. ‘A MAN IS HURT AND IN THE WATER AND WE NEED HELP GETTING HIM OUT.’
She was vaguely aware of people beginning to run from the kiosk and from other boats. The lady with Elle’s phone spoke more rapidly to the unseen operative in Maltese, no doubt reporting what she saw.
As men began to reach the scene, Lucas finally came into sight, on his back in the traditional lifesaving position, swimming with one arm and towing Charlie along, moving slowly but steadily in the confined space.
Elle croaked, ‘We’ve got help to get him out of the water.’ Then she found herself surrounded by men, jostling for position, giving instructions, making suggestions, some in Maltese but also in English. ‘Is he breathing? Shouldn’t you be giving him air?’
Lucas didn’t relinquish control. He trod water as he caught his breath, keeping Charlie’s head above water while he assessed the crowd on the shore. ‘He wasn’t under long but he’s unconscious and he’s banged his head so I’m not taking any chances with his spine. Who’s on to the emergency services? Tell them we need an ambulance. Tell them that he’s weak and barely responsive. He’s received a head injury. No way of telling about spine. He’s breathing without help.’
‘Yes, yes, I tell them,’ called the woman with the phone.
‘In these temperatures he’s not going to get hypothermia in the next few minutes, even if he’s in shock, so I want to stabilise his spine before we get him out. I need something flat and firm to put under him.’
‘Inflated air bed?’ suggested someone, doubtfully. ‘I’ve got one on deck.’
‘Not rigid enough.’ Lucas was completely calm but he had to squeeze out words as his breathing allowed. ‘What about a plastic sunbed? Anyone got one of those on board?’
‘I’ll get one!’ a man’s voice called from the back of what was rapidly becoming a crowd.
While he rushed off, Lucas looked at the boats looming above him. ‘Can someone get more fenders and wedge them between these two and the side so we don’t get crushed?’
‘OK. Will do!’
Over the pounding of her blood in her ears, Elle was aware of other footsteps hurrying away. She kept her eyes fixed on Lucas as if she could keep him safely at the surface by sheer willpower. He was treading water mechanically and economically, totally in control of the emergency, assessing what was going on around him, pausing to look into his brother’s face, observing as fenders were wedged in to keep the Shady Lady and Fallen Star from sashaying suddenly up to the quay.
In a minute, two men bustled up with a white plastic lounger. ‘Do you need us to snap the legs off?’
‘No time.’ Lucas was beginning to sound strained. ‘I’ll need help in the water to get him on it. Any of you guys strong swimmers?’
There were steps down from the quay nearby and three men got themselves briskly into the water, swimming along to join Lucas. He looked up at Elle. ‘If I float him closer, can you get his head? Keep it immobile.’
‘Got it.’ Elle lay on the concrete and stretched down, just able to lace her hands under Charlie’s head, his hair brushing against her fingers, while the others arranged themselves to support his body. The sunbed was passed down carefully, Lucas making the men turn it so that the fixed part, normally under the legs, would be under Charlie’s head. A man knelt beside Elle to guide the bed, angling it ready to slide it under the surface.
Lucas took over supporting Charlie’s head, his fingers covering Elle’s. ‘Elle, can you get some sheets so we’ve something to cover him with when we get him out?’
‘Right.’ Elle gently slid her hands free before leaping up to do as directed. Reaching the guest cabin, she pulled the sheets off Charlie’s bunk and bundled them up in her arms, stumbling up the steps and out to the cockpit to return to the tense scene outside.
‘OK. You two’—Lucas glanced at the men on the other side of Charlie—‘you stay still and support him.’ He transferred his gaze to the other man on the same side of Charlie as Lucas. ‘You move down to his feet.’ His gaze shifted to Elle. ‘Get ready to take his head again.’
‘Right.’ Her eyes burned with sudden tears as she looked down into
Charlie’s face. Even under the marina lights he was paler than she’d ever seen anybody in her life.
Lucas raised his voice to the guys still on shore. ‘Can two or three of you get in and wrangle the sunbed under the water? If you can level it out, we can just float him over onto it.’ He gave every word emphasis. ‘We need to be steady, calm and slow, OK? Steady, calm and slow.’
The manoeuvre was accomplished with no fuss. It was as if Charlie had turned into a parcel of a million eggs and the goal was to execute the task without breaking a single one. In a pleasingly short time, Charlie, still unconscious, was lying flat on the sunbed in the water.
Lucas looked around at those who had somehow become his team. His hair was plastered to his head and hanging in his eyes. ‘OK, let’s get him out. We need to lift the bed level with the quay and then slide it onto the shore without letting Charlie slide off. It’s going to be hard work for those in the water. Everyone OK?’ He waited while the two men who had held the bed in the water got out onto the quay and Elle scrambled out of their way so that they could reach down to receive the nearest two corners.
‘Slowly,’ Lucas gasped, treading water hard. ‘Both ends together, keep it level. OK? Ready? Three, two, one, lift. Steady, steady.’ The four in the water lifted, their arms going above their heads as they trod water and managed to pop the end of the white plastic bed on the lip of the quay. That accomplished, there were many willing hands to ease the makeshift stretcher further along. In seconds, Charlie’s bed was on solid ground and the hands turned to help Lucas and the rest of the team out of the dark water.
Lucas went straight to kneel beside his brother. Wanting to blubber with relief that Lucas was safe, Elle had to force herself not to launch herself at him in joy that he hadn’t been crushed between the hulls and pride at his heroics. Instead, she kept her gaze glued to Charlie, whose eyelids had begun to flutter.
The Wedding Proposal Page 22
