‘What?’ I squeaked.
‘The wig. Take it off.’
‘I can’t! You’re meant to be seen with an amazing blonde girl!’
‘So?’ His gaze was steady and knee-wobblingly sexy. ‘It’s far too hot, and besides, I can just as well be seen with an amazing brunette, surely?’
I stared back. What exactly was he saying? There was more than just the wig here. Was he saying . . . he’d happily let them photograph me as his mystery girlfriend?
Or me, as a no-mystery-at-all girlfriend?
We held each other’s gaze, and despite my sternest warnings, my stomach flipped and fluttered.
‘Mel!’ warned Nelson tersely, but I ignored him.
‘I suppose . . . I could say I’d had a dye job,’ I murmured.
‘May I?’ said Nicky, moving slowly towards me with his hand outstretched.
It was such an intimate, sexy gesture that I nearly let him, until I remembered that underneath the flowing locks were a nylon skull cap, twenty hairpins and my own flattened hair.
‘I’ll just be a moment!’ I squeaked, and ducked down into the cabin to make the necessary adjustments. I refreshed my lipstick at the same time, and when I emerged the little boats were much nearer.
It wasn’t just the one photographer either. There must have been at least ten, proper Euro-snappers as well, with their shirts off, riding towards us through the clear blue water on aggressive little speedboats.
‘Right,’ I said, looking around the deck, ‘let’s get that empty bottle moved, and some bottles of mineral water brought on. Have you got any books?’
‘Books?’ demanded Nicky, as though I’d asked for rhinoceroses.
‘Those are very long lenses,’ I reminded him. ‘They’ll pick up anything on deck. Every wrinkle and crisp packet. Have you got a chess board?’
‘I think Twister’s more Nicky’s style,’ said Nelson.
‘Bring the chess board,’ Alexander instructed a steward. ‘And the backgammon set.’
In a few moments, I’d staged a charming tableau – Leonie and Nelson lying on cushions, playing backgammon while Nicky and I were engaged in a game of chess, as Granny and Alexander sunbathed. They weren’t to know Nicky and I were playing chess according to draughts rules.
What they could see, I hoped, was that we were all having a great time, because – actually – we were.
‘Melissa, am I looking serious enough?’ Nicky asked, stroking his chin. ‘Is this the chess play of a future ruler?’
‘Nelson, you’re letting me win!’ protested Leonie before I could reply, and when I turned to see what was going on I saw her bat Nelson playfully with a cushion. His grin was wide and relaxed, and I realised with a shock that not only (a) was he in possession of a decent pair of legs beneath those deck shorts, but (b) he was flirting with Leonie, who was giggling like a girl who’d never even heard of personal tax allowances.
‘Melissa?’ said Nicky. ‘Am I meeting your expectations here?’
‘Oh, er, yes, you’re looking very serious,’ I said, flashing him a smile. ‘How long can you keep it up for, though?’
‘All night,’ he said.
‘I think another twenty minutes should be ample,’ I said, leapfrogging two of his pawns.
Nelson snorted behind me, but I serenely ignored him.
We gave them lots of shots of us playing deck quoits, and then most of them waved and vanished, at exactly the same time as lunch arrived under big silver domes.
After lunch, we lay dozing in the gentle sea breeze while the Kitty Cat slid through the limpid waters of the Mediterranean.
‘They’re back,’ said Nicky suddenly.
‘Who?’ I said, without opening my eyes.
‘The photographers.’
I opened one eye and, with a sinking heart, I could see him twitching with the unmistakable urge to show off.
‘Mel,’ he said, ‘have you ever been on a rib?’
‘A what?’
‘The little inflatables we keep on the back of the boat. They’ve got outboard motors – top fun!’ Nicky winked. ‘Fancy a ride?’
‘Not so soon after lunch,’ I said firmly.
‘On the rib, I mean.’
‘I know that’s what you meant. I’ll stay here, thanks.’
‘I’m a very good ribsman,’ he cajoled. ‘Go on.’
‘No,’ I insisted. Nelson had gone below to chat to the crew, which was maybe why Nicky was eager to show off. ‘I’m not brilliant in the water, to be honest. I only got my one-width swimming badge.’
‘You’re missing out,’ he wheedled, obviously desperate to get his photo taken in action. ‘Leonie?’
Leonie shook her head. ‘No, thank you. My travel insurance doesn’t cover dangerous water sports.’
Nicky thought for a second, then called over to the sun loungers, where Granny and Alexander were reclining in the sun, giggling to one another.
‘Melissa’s just come up with a marvellous idea – wouldn’t it be good if those photographers got some shots of me and Melissa on the rib?’ He turned back to me, and added, in a loud voice, ‘I did do that interview about how experienced I am on the water . . .’
‘Splendid idea, Melissa!’ Alexander called back. ‘Off you go!’
‘Yes, well done, darling,’ murmured Granny. ‘Don’t fall in.’
I glared at Nicky. There was obviously no arguing. ‘Well, come on, then. But if I fall in, or you muck around, I will kill you.’
‘You’re in safe hands,’ he said, rubbing them together gleefully.
The crew helped us into the inflatable rib, and Nicky took off at a manic pace, riding the waves and letting us crash up and down, as we wove around the photog-raphers’ speedboats in huge circles.
I must admit, it was fun. I could feel my hair streaming out behind me, the warm sunshine on my face was divine, and the life jacket hid my stomach nicely. Nicky was grinning with a boyish pleasure that was quite charming to share, and he clearly loved hearing me squeal with delight as we zoomed around.
‘They’re getting some great pics!’ he shouted in my ear. ‘You look gorgeous!’
‘And so do you!’ I yelled back. ‘Very prince-like, in charge of your vessel!’
Nicky held my gaze, even though we were sitting shoulder to shoulder, so close I could feel his breath as well as the salt spray on my face. ‘And you look just like a princess.’
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him when he said that. My heart was doing loops quite unrelated to the action of the boat.
But I had to look away before I said something stupid, so I turned back to the yacht, where Leonie and Nelson were standing watching us from the sun deck. Nelson seemed to be waving.
I waved back.
Then Alexander and Granny joined them. And Alexander started waving too.
‘Shit,’ muttered Nicky.
We seemed to be going in much smaller circles all of a sudden.
Much smaller circles, and much, much faster ones. Then mad figures-of-eight.
‘Nicky, is there something wrong?’ I asked, watching him yanking the rudder back and forth.
‘No,’ he snapped, ‘I just thought I’d see how quickly I could make you seasick. Of course there’s something wrong! The rudder’s stuck!’
The photographers could see something was afoot, but rather than doing anything useful, they seemed to be taking more photographs.
Nausea swamped me, and I clutched the sides with both hands. The sea, which had seemed blue and inviting a moment ago, now seemed to be beckoning me in.
‘We’ve got two options,’ announced Nicky, as the rib jerked and rocked beneath us.
‘Which are?’
‘We can swim for it, or wait until it runs out of petrol.’
I looked at him in horror. ‘I can’t swim for it, you moron. Apart from anything I’ve got more make-up on than I normally wear to go out, and this is a sunbathing-only bikini! We’ll just have to wait it out!’
&nbs
p; Nicky shrugged. ‘I hate to tell you this, Mel, but the fuel economy on this is superb.’
‘How’s your life-saving?’
‘How’s yours?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ I snapped, glaring at him fiercely. This was the trouble with Nicky – he was perfectly charming until you actually needed him to do something. That was the downside of being boyish. Sometimes manly was what was needed. ‘Do something!’ I yelled at him.
Nicky responded by getting up to gain greater purchase on the stuck tiller, and only succeeded in unbalancing the boat even more. As it started to roll, he let go of the tiller entirely and started screaming, windmilling his arms round and round in panic, as we lurched sickeningly from one side to the other, tipping me nearer and nearer the water.
‘I’m going to be sick!’ I gasped.
‘Well, lean over the side. Oh, Christ. I forgot there’d be that option.’
I managed to lift my head away from the churning water. ‘And what option’s that?’
‘Being rescued by bloody Admirable Nelson.’
Bouncing towards us on the waves was another rib, and I could see the sun glinting off the driver’s mop of blond hair.
I felt a sharp clutch of relief through my rising sickness, ‘Oh, thank goodness for that.’
Nicky raised his eyebrows at me. ‘Any chance of pretending I did this on purpose?’
‘No!’ I snapped.
The next moment, Nicky stood up just as a stealth wave lifted the rib, and it rocked us right up, tipping me towards the water again. I screamed in horror as the water splashed over me, much colder than I expected, soaking through my bikini and sarong, plastering my hair to my face. My feet and hands slipped and slid as I scrabbled to keep my grip on the unstable boat.
‘Nelson!’ I howled, above the roar of the engines. Salty water rushed into my mouth, and suddenly someone yanked me backwards by the life jacket, and I was lying on my back in the rib, looking up at the china-blue sky. My heart felt like it had stopped and started again.
Above me was Nelson’s familiar face, now drawn with intense concern. ‘Mel!’ he said urgently, forehead creasing as he leaned over to check my breathing. ‘Are you all right? Say something to me. Are you OK?’ He cradled my face in his big hands, and stroked the wet hair off my forehead as I stared, stunned, into his worried eyes.
And that’s when I realised that Nelson wasn’t a lovable Labrador, or a grumpy teddy bear, but a man. Nelson was a real, fanciable man with muscles and courage and sensitive hands, who could do dinner-table chat without being smarmy, who wore the right thing but never in an attention-seeking way, who could talk to my Granny or the crew equally easily. And he really cared about me. I was scared, but I’d only had a bit of a splash. What would he have done if I’d actually gone in?
‘I’m fine,’ I croaked.
‘There’s no need to be brave about it,’ he began, leaning nearer. ‘I know you’re rubbish at swimming. Why on earth did you let that idiot—’
‘You might want to wipe her mascara,’ said Nicky. ‘You don’t want to look like Chi-chi the panda for all those photographers.’
I’d forgotten he was there. Nelson seemed to have forgotten too. We stared at each other, rocking gently as the waves lifted the rib.
‘Hello?’ said Nicky, pointing towards the stalling motor. ‘Hello? We have an escaping boat here.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ said Nelson, and he sprang into efficient sea-goer mode. My eyes followed him, since I was too limp with shock to do much more.
I realised now that Nelson had thrown me into his own boat, and Nicky had evidently got aboard too, because our runaway rib was now some distance away. Nelson headed after it, and when he caught up he did a sort of cowboy manoeuvre, one foot in his, his hand still gripping the tiller, and the other foot in ours, dragging it alongside.
His thighs looked great in his shorts, I observed from my prone position. Strong and blond and hairy.
‘One of the crew lost a testicle doing that,’ remarked Nicky.
Nelson glared at him, and so did I.
‘Shut up,’ he snapped. ‘Unless you want to lose one too.’
Then, timing it perfectly, with one athletic, seafaring vault, Nelson was in our rib, and yanking at the emergency lines on the rudder. The engine gave a last grunt, then came to a spluttering halt. He jumped back over to his, lassoed ours with a mooring rope and pulled it in, securing it with quick, deft knots.
In the distance, there was a round of applause from the snappers, and from the yacht, where Granny, Leonie, Alexander and all the crew were lined up against the railings.
‘Nelson!’ I said. ‘That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.’
But Nelson was glowering at Nicky. ‘You could have capsized, you cretin!’
‘Don’t be such a girl!’ snorted Nicky, restored to full confidence now everything was back under control.
‘I don’t give a toss about your safety, but if anything had happened to Melissa, I promise you I’d have—’
With an effort, I raised myself to a sitting position. ‘Nelson,’ I said, ‘don’t let’s give them a row to photograph.’
‘Fine,’ he said, with a final glare, and set off for the yacht.
‘Are you all right?’ he said, holding my shoulders as the crew helped Nicky aboard.
‘I . . .’
What was I meant to say? My emotions were as shaken up as my stomach. I wasn’t sure what I thought.
Nelson raised his eyebrows in query. His hair was spiked with seawater and his wet T-shirt was sticking to his chest, outlining his broad shoulders. Something about his hands on my shoulders made me feel absolutely safe and yet tingly at the same time.
The chances of saying the wrong thing were so high, as usual, that my throat seized up.
‘Really, I’m fine,’ I managed. ‘Just a bit . . . seasick. What?’
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he rubbed his thumbs underneath my eyes, gently smearing away my bedraggled make-up. ‘You do look a bit panda-y.’
‘I think you’ve seen me looking a lot worse,’ I replied.
‘I have,’ he agreed. ‘But never worse than when I thought you were going in the water.’ He leaned forward and kissed my forehead, with a tenderness that sent shivers across my scalp and down through my whole body.
And then we were by the side of the yacht and hands were reaching down to help us up. I staggered a few steps, then my knees gave way with delayed shock and I pretended to sink onto a lounger.
‘Marvellous!’ cried Alexander, shaking Nelson’s hand vigorously. ‘What a marvellous rescue! Well done!’
‘Oh, Nelson!’ exclaimed Granny, kissing him enthusiastically. ‘It could have been Daniel Craig out there!’
‘That rib was dangerously faulty!’ announced Nicky, as loudly as he could. ‘Faulty! The rudder was broken! Melissa and I could have been in grave danger!’
‘But we’re safe and sound now,’ I managed, ever on duty. ‘I think I’ll just go and . . . freshen up.’
What I actually did was go to my berth and throw up.
I stood under the shower and tried to stop my mind racing in different directions. The adrenalin was still pumping furiously round my system, but more than that, I couldn’t stop thinking about Nelson. It wasn’t just gratitude for being rescued, it was the look on his face when he thought I was going to fall in the water – and the feeling in my heart when I saw him coming to get me.
And, now I thought about it, it was the twinge of jealousy when I saw him laughing at Leonie’s jokes, and the burst of pride when he emerged in his just-right suit. The happiness I felt at pushing open our front door after a weekend in Paris, and the utter bliss of a foot rub and his roast chicken. I’d seen all that. I just hadn’t seen that my flatmate was also a very attractive man.
I stumbled out of the shower, dressed myself, then flopped on the bed.
Honestly. How could I have missed all that?
Granny’s head popped round the cabin door, her eyes agleam with nosiness. ‘Hello, darling,’ she said. ‘Just came to see if you were all right after your ordeal.’
‘I am, thanks,’ I replied.
‘Alex is worried about you, and absolutely furious with Nicky. But I think he’s going to make Nelson honorary head of the Hollenberg navy or something – wouldn’t that be fun? Nelson would look marvellous in one of those three-cornered hats!’
‘Yes,’ I said. Nelson in uniform. Of course.
‘Now,’ Granny went on, ‘do you have any suncream? I’ve run out.’
‘I do, but I gave it to Nicky, because he didn’t bring any. I think it’s in his cabin.’ I got up, wobbled slightly, and went to the door. ‘I’ll get it for you.’
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ she asked, putting out a hand to steady me. ‘I’ll come with you.’
She followed me through to Nicky’s stateroom, which was yet another splendid art deco hotel room in miniature. Or rather, I could see splendid aspects of it – the curving brass reading lamps, the crystal glasses – beneath the jumble of clothes, magazines and discarded towels strewn about the place.
Granny and I frowned. ‘As if the crew don’t have enough to do but tidy up after him. He needs a good talking-to.’
‘It’s here somewhere,’ I said, going over to the mahogany writing desk, and shifting papers and iPod paraphernalia. ‘I gave it to him this morning. It’s . . .’ My voice trailed away. Under the sports section of The Times was a red morocco-leather ring box.
‘What’s that?’ asked Granny at once. ‘Is that a ring box?’
‘Yes, I think it is,’ I said, picking it up. It was an old one, with gold lettering. ‘Shouldn’t this be in a safe or something?’ I flicked the little gold hook and opened it. On a bed of very old velvet, the colour of crushed raspberries, was the most enormous diamond I’d ever seen, surrounded by round petals of brilliant-cut sapphires. It was an antique setting, on a delicate band of platinum, and it flashed and sparkled in the sunlight coming through the porthole above the desk. It was so exquisitely perfect that it almost didn’t look real.
‘Crikey,’ I said. ‘Is that real?’
‘Let me see.’ Granny deftly removed the ring and scratched it against a glass. ‘Yes, that’s a real one, all right. Oh, a girl learns to check,’ she added, in response to my shocked expression.