Page 18 of The Wedding Proposal
She reappeared in the galley and flumped herself comfortably down. ‘Davie’s coming.’
‘Right,’ said Elle, wondering how she was ever going to actually achieve anything.
When Davie ambled in he poured Elle a glass of cold white Frascati before she could ask him not to, and she found herself cleaning down the galley as she munched a chicken salad sandwich and sipped wine that she was sure was much too expensive to be treated so casually.
‘Your ex was a bit of a shock.’ Loz dipped chicken in a swirl of mayonnaise. ‘But, ooh.’ She gave a wiggle.
Elle ran hot water and found the spray cleaner for the counter tops.
Loz attacked a slab of crusty bread. ‘He’s a serious hunk, isn’t he?’
Cleaning industriously, Elle made a non-committal noise.
‘Before I knew he was your ex I really liked him. You weren’t married, were you?’
Elle kept her eyes down. ‘Me and Lucas? No.’
‘That’s something. But it must be really awkward sharing such a small space. Do you think he’s likely to expect . . . you know?’ Loz paused delicately, eyebrows arched and fork poised.
‘No.’ Elle shook her head, face flaming. You know would involve a lot of Lucas and not many clothes and the idea made her heart skip.
‘But don’t you even—?’ Loz began.
Davie cut across her. ‘Elle, if it ever gets too uncomfortable, there’s a cabin here for you.’ And he went back to his coleslaw and potato salad.
‘Of course there is,’ Loz agreed immediately.
Elle gazed at them both in gratitude. ‘Thank you! That’s so lovely of you when you haven’t known me long. But I doubt it will come to that. We’ve talked, and we’re both cool with the situation.’ She opened the oven. It was sparkling clean inside.
Loz allowed the subject of Lucas to drop. ‘We don’t use the oven. It only gets smelly and hot in here if we cook. We like salad and we like eating ashore. At sea, I do use the microwave, though.’ She waved her fork at the black and shiny appliance built neatly into a slot. Everything in the galley, oven, fridge, cupboards, drawers, was a triumph of design functionality. What wasn’t pale wood was shiny black, clean white or jolly yellow.
When Loz and Davie had finished eating, Elle cleared, washed up, grabbed the polish and the lightweight vacuum cleaner and whisked off to begin on the main saloon, the favoured indoor space.
Loz, a bit pink from all the wine, followed, and kept up a stream of conversation from a sofa. ‘And can you change our bedclothes, sweetie? I’ll show you the clean linen and the washing machine.’
‘Washing machine?’ Elle grinned. ‘Seriously?’
‘There’s sort of a hatch to it. Dreadful squeeze for me but a slender little thing like you won’t find it a problem.’
Loz took her to inspect the hatch in a companionway. Four steps led down to where a full-sized washer-dryer squatted below deck as if playing hide and seek.
The bed in the master stateroom was huge. Elle stripped the bedclothes and began the laundering process, making the bed up again in fresh sheets of navy and gold before starting on the unused cabins and their bathrooms.
Loz drifted past once more. ‘Would you wash the foredeck windows? They get very salty and dull.’
Elle gathered up a bucket, a squeegee and a few cloths and followed Loz out into the sunshine of the foredeck. Davie was already lounging comfortably in one canvas chair and Loz took another, as voluble as Davie was quiet.
And as Loz laughed and joked, Elle splashed water around and made the windows gleam, thinking that there were worse ways to live than with the glorious blue sky above, the boat rocking gently at its moorings and musical clinking coming from the rigging of a nearby sailing yacht. Her movements began to slow, taking their tempo from the boat. Even Loz’s relentless conversation assumed a more leisurely rhythm.
Elle smothered a yawn as she gave the last pane its final polish.
‘Sit down and drink another glass of wine,’ Loz ordered. ‘It’s five o’clock and you’ve done enough for today. Can you do Friday afternoon and evening? We’ve got friends coming aboard and I’m hoping you could do the barista thing, then clear afterwards.’
‘That’s fine.’ Elle gazed at the Frascati as Davie pulled it out of the cool box, moist with condensation, and couldn’t come up with a reason to resist it. She put down her cloth and took a glass, settling herself on the deck with her back propped comfortably against the guardrail. ‘Thank you.’
Loz beamed. ‘That’s it, darling. Loosen up.’
‘I’m loose.’ Elle stretched out her legs and yawned.
