Page 91 of The Wedding Proposal

‘Ooh er,’ Loz whispered. ‘Lucas’s mum’s not feeling very well.’

Startled, Elle straightened up. ‘Is it serious?’

Loz’s eyes shone with mischief. ‘Nothing that wasn’t caused by Davie’s latest cocktails. She’s been tossing down Irish Trash Cans and Pink Pantie Droppers as if they were lemonade. I’m not sure I want to tell Geoffrey. He seems in a bit of a surly mood.’

Elle wrestled briefly with her conscience, and then closed the dishwasher. ‘Where is she?’

She discovered Fiona leaning miserably over the side deck rail.

‘I’m not well.’ Fiona sounded faintly surprised.

‘You’re pissed as a fart,’ Elle corrected her, frankly. ‘I’m sure watching the swell isn’t going to make you feel any better. Come on, I’ll get you some coffee.’ Taking Fiona by the elbow, puffing as she took some of the weight of the staggering woman, Elle steered her towards the companionway.

Down in her cabin, Elle propped open the door to her en suite to allow rapid access; then helped Fiona down onto the bed. ‘I’ll see what I can rustle up to make you feel better.’

In a few minutes, she returned from the galley with iced water, black coffee and ginger ale, hoping that one of these so-called ‘remedies’ would help sober Fiona up.

‘Thank you,’ said Fiona, in a tiny voice, reaching for the coffee.

Elle deposited the water and the ginger ale on the side table. ‘Thanking me twice in one evening? Be careful, you might hurt something.’

Fiona covered her eyes. ‘Don’t hit a woman when she’s down. It’s an offence under the Sisterly Solidarity Act.’

Surprised to actually find herself laughing, Elle went over to the control panel beside the door and turned the air con to its coldest.

She remained with Fiona for almost an hour, pouring water and coffee into her and helping her to the loo when she needed to purge her system, muttering, ‘And you can bloody well come back and clean the head in the morning,’ as she closed the door to give what privacy she could to her mother-in-law-that-never-was.

‘Thank you,’ whimpered Fiona, miserably.

When an insistent tapping sent Elle to her cabin door, she was unsurprised to find Geoffrey and Lucas outside. ‘Is Fiona here?’ Geoffrey burst in as if fully expecting to find Fiona tied to a chair and Elle sticking her with pins. He pulled up short at the sight of his wife staggering miserably between the bathroom and Elle’s bed. ‘You’re drunk!’ He wrinkled his nose.

Irked by his righteousness, Elle jammed her hands on her hips. ‘It’s not a crime not to be a good sailor, for goodness’ sake. Haven’t you noticed that there’s a swell on? She feels very sick. Chill. You’re not at the bench now, magistrate.’

‘On the bench,’ Lucas corrected softly.

Elle’s fierce glare didn’t waver. ‘Whatever.’

‘Ah.’ Geoffrey looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry, I assumed — Ah, sorry, Fiona. Shall we go back to the hotel, darling? I’ll find our hosts and explain, and see how I get a taxi.’

‘Yes, please.’ Fiona clamped a hand over her eyes, piteously.

Geoffrey hurried off, and there was silence. Elle looked from Fiona to Lucas. Lucas looked at Elle and smiled, his eyes half closed.

Fiona gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘I hope you understand why I didn’t correct the impression you gave him. It’s just that Geoffrey does rather overreact to anyone having one too many and I already have a headache.’

‘I didn’t tell him you weren’t drunk,’ Elle pointed out. ‘I merely said that it was no crime not to be a good sailor. It’s up to you whether you own up.’

Lucas snorted with laughter. ‘You ought to have been a lawyer, Elle.’

Elle looked at him balefully. ‘I don’t take that as a compliment.’

‘But it’s an interesting point. Are you going to tell Dad the truth, Mum?’ Lucas transferred his attention to his hapless mother.

Fiona clutched her head. ‘I’m a lawyer. Which truth?’

Chapter Thirty-One

Elle sat on the aft deck alone with Simon. As both Elle and Simon were staying on board Seadancer, Loz and Davie hadn’t felt they had to be the last ones standing at their party, and had tottered off to their cabin.

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