Page 52 of The Wedding Proposal

Nerys sounded out of breath. ‘She’s much as before. Tires easily, you know. A little bit confused. But generally going on nicely, considering.’

Considering she hardly knew who she was and certainly not what she had been, Elle supposed. She looked around her cabin at her flip-flops and other paraphernalia of her new life and for the first time felt a long way from home. ‘Could I s-speak to her?’

Nerys sounded enthusiastic. ‘Actually, she’s only two rooms down, in the lounge. I could get her up here but it’ll take a couple of minutes.’

Elle swallowed. Her mum needed a frame on wheels and someone strong at her elbow to move along the smooth corridors. ‘If it’s not too much trouble,’ she murmured.

She listened to a few minutes of shuffling and cheerfully raised voices from more than thirteen hundred miles away.

Finally, Nerys returned, more out of breath than ever. ‘She’s here now, lovie. I’ll help her hold the phone.’

‘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.’

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