by Julie Caplin
‘I meant after the accident.’
‘I know what you meant.’
‘So what happened? I wasn’t close enough to see.’
Her head shot up and she coloured under his intense, calculating scrutiny.
She felt an idiot for letting Simon take control of the boat. She should have stopped him.
‘I fell out of the boat.’
‘I saw that bit,’ said Nick, going to sit down on the bed, making himself at home as if he had all the time in the world.
Maddie sighed. ‘Simon … He decided he wanted to drive the boat.’
‘And you let him?’ Nick scowled. ‘I take it it was his idea to leave the “dumb schmuck” behind.’
‘No, I didn’t let him!’ Her snappy reply was indignant. What sort of person did he think she was? ‘He snatched the keys from me. And then he wouldn’t give them back. And when I thought he was prepared to sit and wait for you, he just fired up the engine and, before I knew it, drove off. I promise you I tried to stop him.’
Nick looked a little mollified but his mouth was still tight with displeasure. ‘He was driving like a maniac.’
‘Yes … and you don’t think that I might have told him to slow down?’
‘I’m not blaming you.’
‘Thank you. Big of you.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake. You could have been killed.’
‘I didn’t know you cared,’ she countered hotly and then screwed up her face in self-disgust at her own childishness.
‘That’s a bloody stupid thing to say. Of course I … well, no one likes to see anyone else come to harm.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She sucked in a weary breath and sat down abruptly on the bed, suddenly feeling exhausted and a little light-headed. She dropped her head into her hands as the enormity of what could have happened rolled over her. ‘Oh, shit,’ she said in a small voice.
‘You OK?’
She didn’t answer; there was a massive lump in her throat.
‘Maddie?’ She closed her eyes tighter, wanting to burrow into herself. Nick’s warm arm draped across her shoulders and he pulled her into him.
She turned her head, grateful to nestle into his warm strong body, and felt the involuntary shudder of her shoulders as she bit back a sob. Oh, God, it could have been so much worse. Who knew what damage a propeller could do? Or if the hull had mown her down?
‘Hey, it’s OK. You’re OK.’
She concentrated on the gentle soothing strokes on her arm.
‘They want you to see their doctor, just in case.’
Maddie nodded and took a few deep breaths before raising her head to look up at him. All the air in her lungs evaporated. He was so close. She stared at his jawline, praying that he couldn’t hear her heart bumping at a ridiculous rate in her chest. His chiselled bone structure was different to Simon’s smooth even features. Nick’s top lip was a slightly crooked bow, his day-old bristles glistened red-gold and there was a telltale bump on his nose. One eye crinkled more than the other when he smiled.
‘Make sure you’re all right,’ he said, his voice raising in query as she stared at him, a little too stunned to speak. The blue eyes flecked with tiny shards of grey studied her. ‘You are OK? Not going into shock or anything?’
With a quick exhalation, she shook her head. ‘No, I’m fine. A little shaken but I’m all right. I ought to get dressed. Americans, eh? Desperate for me to see a doctor. And they have their own doctor on board.’
‘Yeah. Which reminds me, Max said he’d be back in ten minutes to take you up. I’ll go wait outside while you get dressed.’ He nodded to a new black bikini on the bed, still with the tags on, and a turquoise linen tunic and a pair of plain white flip-flops.
‘Wow, that’s impressive. All kitted out for kidnap,’ said Maddie, fingering the pretty tunic.
‘Only you would come out and say that,’ Nick said with a smile.
‘I guess rich people do things differently. They have brand-new spares of everything for every eventuality. I’ll get dressed in the bathroom.’ Reluctantly, she stood up and grabbed the new clothes. ‘Be back in a second.’
‘Hi there, you must be Maddie.’ The doctor had very short, tidy, almost masculine black hair, run through with threads of unruly grey, and a small, neat build.
‘You’re English!’ Maddie blurted out at the sound of her rather precise, clipped accent.
‘Yes, but I retired to Florida and when my husband died Bill and Gloria decided they needed an onboard medic. That was a tough decision, not.’
‘I bet,’ said Maddie politely.
‘I’m Dr Cannon, but you can call me Zoe. Bill doesn’t believe in standing on any sort of ceremony. In fact if he calls you Mrs, Ms or Miss, it’s not a good sign at all.’
‘Oh.’ Maddie pulled a face.
‘He can sniff out a fraud in seconds and he doesn’t like social climbers or sycophants. You look as if you’ve been offered five-star assistance. If you hadn’t, you’d be wrapped in a blanket and I’d be seeing you in the motorboat. Bill prizes his privacy. You wouldn’t have set one foot on one rung of the ladder of this vessel unless Bill wanted you to. I think your boyfriend got the third degree before they let him on board.’ She pulled out a stethoscope from one of the drawers.
‘Boyfriend?’ Nick hadn’t mentioned that one.
‘The handsome blond. That’s what he claimed he was.’
‘Concerned friend is probably the best way of categorising him,’ said Maddie, surprised by the hopeful little flutter of her heart.
The doctor nodded. ‘Well, you seem quite chipper. Shall I take a look at you? Make sure there are no ill-effects.’
‘Well, you’re good to go; you can get back to your concerned friend and I can get back to my book and a little more sunbathing.’ With an unexpected wink, she put away her stethoscope, closing the door with a flourish.
‘Tough gig.’
Zoe laughed. ‘I’ll be lucky to see a patient with anything more than sunburn or a wasp sting, not that I’m complaining but I do get a bit bored sometimes. Occasionally I miss my practice but I don’t miss the stress or the rain. I’ll never lack for Vitamin D in this job.’
Concerned Friend was waiting outside the door, leaning on the wooden rail, looking out over the bay which now looked as busy as a highway in rush hour.
Like a faithful guard dog, he immediately turned around and looked her over. ‘Everything all right?’ His eyes narrowed as he studied her face.
‘Yes.’ She reached forward and patted his arm, touched by his concern. ‘I’ve got the medical all-clear. And she’s not the sort of doctor that you’d mess with. No-nonsense. Very British.’
‘Good.’
‘You can stop worrying now.’
‘I wasn’t …’ Nick looked a touch defensive and then his face softened. ‘OK, I was.’ He lifted his shoulders in question. ‘What would I have told Nina?’
Maddie laughed and nudged him with her elbow. ‘Yeah, because she’s such an ogre.’
They found their way to the main deck where Bill was seated under a canopy with two phones on the table in front of him, along with a big A4 notebook and a fat fountain pen, and he was talking into a third phone. At their approach he nodded and held up his hand. ‘Five minutes –’ he mouthed ‘– help yourself.’ He indicated a buffet table to the side with a flask of coffee, a water boiler and a wooden box filled with loose teas, with everything from the familiar Earl Grey, green and chamomile through to the exotic-sounding Rooibos, Black Dragon Pearl, Gyokuro and Jade Oolong.
Nick immediately perked up. ‘I could murder a cup of tea and something to eat.’
‘That’s not like you,’ teased Maddie.
He grinned at her. ‘Growing boy.’
‘Still? What at thirty …?’
‘A gentleman never reveals his age,’ said Nick in a ridiculous coy voice, winking at her, and then he pulled a face. ‘Although, with all this food and lazing about, which I’m not used to, my shorts
are getting a bit snug.’ He tugged at the waistband of the familiar FatFace cargo shorts.
‘I don’t think that’s your only problem with shorts.’
Nick looked interestingly defensive. ‘Are you still going on about those shorts? What’s wrong with them?’
She grinned at him. ‘They’re … short. And pink.’
He groaned.
‘They’re linen.’
‘Yes, I’m aware of that.’
‘They’ve got turn-ups.’
‘And?’
‘They’re very camp.’
Nick shut his eyes, but not before she saw the slight grimace. ‘Perhaps I’m in touch with my camp side.’
‘There’s in touch and there’s feeling up,’ retorted Maddie with a sudden smirk.
‘Tara really wants me to wear them. These Ellinghams sound …’ He held his hands out in question. ‘Important. Rich. And they all know each other.’
‘You’ll be fine.’ Maddie patted his hand, glad that it was his problem rather than hers. ‘Remember they pee the same way as everyone else. Besides, you’re rocking the camp Chris Hemsworth look nicely. Everyone is going to love you.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ said Nick.
They both helped themselves to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and loitered together, unsure as to what to do as Bill was still on the phone. Just then one of the other phones rang and Bill snatched it up.
‘George? I’m on the line with Grayson … Give me some good news … What? For Christ’s sake, you are kidding me? Appendicitis, my ass. Well, that’s just fucked up the whole week … Yeah … see what you can do.’
He returned to his original call, his shoulders slumped, pushing the other phone around the desk with one finger. ‘Yeah, d’you catch that?’ He sighed heavily. ‘Benson is in hospital, burst appendix. Last night. I guess it’s as good a reason as any to miss a flight. You and me both. Blows the schedule right out of the water. It’s taken me weeks to pin Saunders down. We’re going to have to go with what we’ve got. No, I know it’s not ideal. I never wanted to leave it this close to the wire but George insisted we wait for Benson because he’s the best.’
Taking their orange juice and not wanting to intrude on Bill’s conversation, they wandered into the adjacent saloon and Maddie was immediately drawn to a painting hanging on the far wall.
Her eyes lit up. She moved to study the painting and then stopped dead in front of it. ‘Oh,’ she breathed.
‘What?’
‘This is … Oh, my God, it’s real.’ She’d thought it was a print at first but no, she could see the very fine brush strokes, the purity of the pastel colours and blurring of the lines between the abstract shapes.
‘What is it?’ whispered Nick but she’d spotted another equally heart-stopping painting on the other wall.
‘Oh, my …’ She reached out her fingers, wanting to touch but knowing it was sacrilege; instead she touched the frame with almost reverential awe.
‘Like it?’
She was so lost in the painting she hadn’t even heard Bill’s approach.
‘Love it. Dirk Smorenberg.’ She nodded at the other one. ‘And a Sonia Delaunay.’
Nick’s mouth twitched and he gave her a discreet impressed nod.
Bill looked surprised. ‘You know about art; not many people would know either of those.’
‘I studied art history, lived in Paris for a while. I love the Art Deco period.’
‘Do you now?’
Maddie nodded absently, tracing the lines and colours of the Smorenberg. ‘Yes, sorry,’ she apologised, realising she’d zoned out. ‘These paintings are just …’ She paused, adding a little dreamily, ‘I’d love to have that much talent.’
‘You got some? His eyebrows drew together, making him look like a cunning fox, and in that second Maddie could see sharp intelligence and got a fair inkling of how he might have amassed his wealth.
With a self-deprecating laugh she shrugged, slightly horrified that she’d volunteered that much.
‘Would you like some breakfast?’
Nick’s eyes gleamed and she laughed. ‘My friend would. We missed breakfast.’
Bill turned around and patted Nick on the back. ‘Man after my own heart. Breakfast is the best meal of the day. What do you fancy? Full English?’
Nick nodded. ‘Never going to turn that down.’
Maddie rolled her eyes. ‘Unfortunately, some of us are supposed to be working.’ She glanced at Nick. ‘I’ve got no way of contacting the boat to tell them what’s happened. Although I guess Simon will tell them, but they’re not going to know where I am, or you, Nick.’
‘I didn’t bring my phone,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’
‘Well, mine is well and truly waterlogged.’
‘Yeah, I heard your cell took a ducking,’ Bill said as he led them up to another deck where a round table with white linen was laid for breakfast. There were even flowers on the table.
‘Now, what do you guys fancy? Nick here is clearly a bacon, eggs and the works kinda guy but my chef does a mean Eggs Benedict and a neat smashed avocado with chilli and a poached –’ he emphasised the word with a miserable attempt at an English accent ‘– egg.’
Maddie laughed. ‘It’s poached,’ she corrected as she sat down. ‘This is very nice. Suddenly that early morning dip is starting to look like a lucky break. It’s not often I get breakfast …’ She broke off with a peal of laughter. ‘I’ve never had a breakfast like this.’ Her hand swept out, encompassing the view.
‘Me neither,’ said Nick, sending a quick conspiratorial smile her way.
‘Pretty spectacular, isn’t it. And I praise God every morning that I am lucky enough to have all this. Never take it for granted.’
‘Ah, Krish. Maddie, Nick, this is my steward, Krish. He is the king on board here.’
‘Nice of you to say, sir,’ said Krish, another one with a very proper English accent, although a naughty dimple in his dark-skinned cheek belied his stiffness. ‘What can I get for you this morning?’
‘Nick here will have full English. I’ll have the Eggs Benedict. Maddie?’
‘I’ll have the same and I don’t suppose Aaron mentioned to you about some rice? For my phone.’
‘Rice?’ Bill looked perplexed.
‘To soak my phone in. It’s worth a try, although I’m not sure that this one is coming back from the dead.’
‘Forget the rice,’ said Bill, rising from the table and walking to the saloon bordering the deck.
Maddie sighed and squinted out at the sea. ‘You’re probably right but I need to try.’ She was going to have to buy a new phone and she was only halfway through the contract on this one.
‘Happens all the time on board. In the pool, over the side.’ He came back holding out a box. ‘Here you go.’
Maddie’s eyes widened. ‘I can’t take that.’
‘Why not? I’ve got plenty of ’em. All you have to do is pop your SIM card in.’
‘But these cost a fortune.’ It wasn’t the latest iPhone but it was two generations up from hers. She shot a quick glance at Nick, as if asking him what she should do, but he shrugged. This was as alien to him as it was to her.
‘I don’t pay for ’em. I get given them.’ He pushed the box across the table. ‘That’s what happens when you’re rich. Ironic, you get given stuff when you already have stuff. Lots of stuff. Nobody gives poor people stuff.’
‘That’s true,’ said Maddie. ‘It still doesn’t feel right, though.’ Nick caught her eye, a glint of agreement in his, although he didn’t say anything.
Bill laughed, a deep belly rumble. ‘You’re a real breath of fresh air, little lady.’ Something pinged in Maddie’s brain. Simon had said the same thing but somehow it had sounded calculating.
‘Maybe you could do something for me?’
Her eyes flew to his face and she sensed Nick stiffen next to her.
‘And not like that.’ He tsked and shook his head. ‘I’m
a married man. Gloria would take a knife to the boys in seconds if she thought I’d been goofing around.’
Maddie pressed her lips together and Nick gave an outright laugh, although Bill looked deadly serious until his face relaxed into a grin. ‘Can you draw? I got the impression you paint, do something arty? Am I right?’
‘It’s a … hobby.’ Something about Bill – his shrewd gaze? – the fact that he was a stranger and after this their paths would probably never cross again made her add, ‘I’d like it to be more but …’ She lifted her shoulders.
‘Yeah, you need the breaks.’ Cool sharp eyes assessed her, pinning her with sudden intensity. ‘But you gotta be hungry for it. Talent helps but grit, determination; that separates the players from the winners.’
Maddie looked down at her hands. The words, like darts, stabbed into her brain and hit the bullseye. Guilty colour flooded her face.
The experience at the art gallery in London had panned out as she’d expected. She’d almost gone in with that expectation. What those girls had said, she could have written the script for them. And since then she’d let that rejection and their attitude become a self-fulfilling prophecy. She hadn’t even tried again. The answer blew up inside her. The truth scratched, an uncomfortable realisation. It had been easier to hide behind excuses than expose herself and her pictures to the possibility of more of the same.
‘You can pay me for the phone.’ Every bit of him seemed to have sharpened, all the smooth avuncular softness of him fined to a point, all business and focus. ‘I need some drawings done. Storyboards. Benson, the guy who was supposed to be doing them for me. You probably heard. He’s laid up with a bust appendix.’
‘Storyboards?’
‘Yeah, like a cartoon strip that tells a story. I’ll tell you what I need. You draw it. Think you can do that? Nothing fancy. Stick men in proportion will do at a pinch.’
‘I can draw,’ said Maddie. ‘And I’ve grit and determination. It’s just been in hiding for a while.’
Since she’d come back from Paris.
‘Great. As soon as we’ve had breakfast, we’ll get started.’
Maddie pulled a face. ‘And what about my job? How would you like it if one of your crew went AWOL? I need to get back.’ No one would be doing her work for her. According to the clock on the deck it was mid-morning; presumably someone would have sorted breakfast out. But there were cabins to clean, lunch to prepare and possibly dinner to shop for.
