TALIA
‘What are you still doing down here?’
She sat up straight on the cushioned stool and fixed a smile, thinking how ill-suited the volume of noise that came out of her husband’s mouth was to his body.
He spoke with the depth of an operatic baritone, yet stood only five feet eight inches – barely as tall as she was.
And despite eating nearly twice the amount she managed each day, he remained slight; neat.
Even now in his mid-fifties, there was no sign of his metabolism slowing.
‘Thought you might be,’ he said, walking over to her, slightly unsteady on his feet.
The yacht bobbed mildly on the sea beneath them, but as he approached, she caught the tang of whisky on his breath.
A more likely cause of his wavering; the rest of them had started downing cocktails as soon as they’d got back from snorkelling.
He stood behind her at the dressing table, placed his hands on her shoulders, bent down to kiss the top of her head.
Then he checked his watch and looked up suddenly, confusion on his face.
‘But hang on a minute – we’re eleven hours behind, aren’t we?
It’s not even six in the morning over there – won’t they both be fast asleep? ’
Damn. The panic arose again; Talia took a sip of water and gulped it down. ‘Of course we are – silly me,’ she said from behind her glass. ‘I completely forgot – no wonder neither of them answered.’
‘Well, why don’t you try them again in a few hours?’ suggested Rory. ‘Maybe wait until just before we go to bed tonight – you should give Chloe a chance to surface from whatever end of year bash she’ll be recovering from.’
Talia smiled at the thought of her youngest child – still her baby, despite being nearly nineteen – getting home at goodness knows what time, passing out, starfished, on her bed, duvet crumpled at her feet, eye mask on, snoring with her mouth wide open.
Alone, she hoped – though Talia was hardly one to judge; her own university days had been adventurous, to say the least. Her twenties and early thirties too – until she’d met Rory and decided to settle down.
Rory dipped his head down towards hers, buried his nose in her hair, inhaled.
‘Let’s go and have a drink and take in the view before dinner – you know, darling, these girls will make you any cocktail you can dream of …
’ He caught her eyes in the dressing table mirror, held her gaze for a long moment.
Then he raised one eyebrow, began moving his hands lower down, stroking the curve of her breasts through her jade-green dress.
‘Unless you’d rather spend some time alone down here first … ’
‘There’ll be plenty of time for that,’ Talia said, laughing and swatting his hands away. ‘Anyway, you’re right – let’s go and mingle with your lucky winners. I’m sure they’re all in the mood for celebrating.’
Rory nodded, then looked suddenly downcast, his shoulders hunching towards his ears.
He was like that – changeable – his moods and thoughts and feelings shifting wildly in an instant, like the girls when they were toddlers.
‘Do you – do you suppose it’s going all right so far?
Do you think they’re all having fun? Shame about Lucy feeling sick, and Sam cutting his foot like that. ’
Talia heard the note of anxiety in his voice.
This was classic Rory: he could try to hide it, but he was just like her in that way.
He worried about what other people were thinking.
He wanted to make sure they were all right, and of course, that they approved of him.
It was part of what made her fall in love with him two decades ago – that, and the fact he was clearly going somewhere in life.
With her gaze on her husband in the mirror, she felt hot tears begin to form.
How had she lost sight of that man? Where had they gone – where had she gone?
How had they disappeared through the decades, faded like the fresh glow of youth from Talia’s skin?
She blinked the tears back. Now is not the time.
She stood, turned to face him, held his face in her hands and kissed him lightly on the lips.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t think it’s going all right.’ Before Rory’s expression could fall too far, Talia spread her lips into a wide smile. ‘I think it’s going wonderfully – despite any minor mishaps.’
His shoulders relaxed. ‘Ha! My wife, the tease,’ he said, laughing. ‘Come on, then. Let’s go and join the party.’
On the main deck, they found the rest of the group sitting and watching the sun set with ice-laden drinks at the outdoor dining table, their stewardesses both hovering nearby, looking chic in their fresh white linen and eager to please – as they should be.
Rory would be expecting the top-notch service he’d paid through the nose for, and nothing less.
Sam’s foot was bandaged up now and resting on a stool next to him, and Lucy still looked a little peaky, but she gave Talia a smile as the couple came to join them.
‘How are you feeling now?’ Talia asked Lucy.
Lucy didn’t quite meet her eyes as she replied: ‘A lot better, thank you.’
Talia nodded, satisfied. She didn’t want something as mundane as seasickness to get in the way of what should be a smooth trip aboard the Lusso.
She sat next to Lucy, slinging her bag on the back of her chair, keeping her eyes focused on the ocean and the beginnings of the sunset on the horizon, then turned to Sam.
‘And you, Sam? How’s that cut to your foot?’
Sam shrugged. ‘Ah, it’s grand. Michaela bandaged it up for me.’ He reddened a touch. ‘Still can’t believe I did that – after Noah warned us about the coral and everything.’ He looked up at Michaela as he said it; she gave him a warm smile.
‘That was your first mistake, Sam,’ said Rory. ‘Always listen to the people in charge – isn’t that right, Chief Stewardess? Your crew know what they’re talking about – much more than just a pretty face, aren’t you, Michaela?’
Michaela flinched. ‘Well, we’re here to keep you all safe and happy,’ she said smoothly.
Apparently, this particular chief stewardess didn’t enjoy Rory’s sense of humour.
Talia understood, but she hoped the crew would make sure they kept their opinions tightly under wraps.
They were paying more than enough to warrant discretion, after all.
‘The captain will be joining you at the table this evening,’ Michaela added.
Talia nodded, pleased. She’d had a quick look at the statistics on female captains before the trip, and had to admit, she was impressed.
Captain Taylor must have had to battle God knows how much misogyny over the course of her career to become one of the less than 2 per cent of female superyacht captains in the world. She was quite the trailblazer.
‘Fantastic,’ exclaimed Rory. ‘I’ve got a lot to talk to her about. Sit the captain next to me, won’t you, Michaela? Lucky lady!’
As Rory laughed at his own poor joke, Talia noticed Sam try to catch the eyes of both Lucy and Eleni across the table, though neither of them looked back.
She frowned and made a mental note of it.
She didn’t want any tension creeping in among Rory’s staff, certainly not this early in the trip – and there’d already been a strange atmosphere at lunch today, when Eleni had spoken so ungraciously about Lucy’s efforts at Ashworth.
But wasn’t that so often the case with beautiful, glossy young women like Eleni?
They think they can say and do whatever they like, and get away with it. Not on Talia’s watch.
‘Good evening, everyone,’ said Captain Taylor, arriving on the deck and taking the remaining seat at the table, on the other side of Rory. ‘I trust everything is going well so far?’ Talia smiled.
‘Yeah, the Lusso is perfect,’ said Eleni. ‘And the snorkelling today was incredible!’
‘Can’t even believe we’re here, honestly,’ added Mark, nodding.
‘Absolutely marvellous – the best trip we’ve ever done for Ashworth, don’t you think, darling?’ agreed Rory.
Talia bit back the truth; the words she really wanted to say – yes, it’s luxurious and beautiful, but I’m afraid I’m quietly losing my mind – and you, my husband, can’t even see it.
Instead, she simply nodded.
As soon as they’d been served a mouth-watering main course of seared swordfish with tropical salad dressed with a pineapple glaze, Rory launched into a long-winded story about last year’s trip to the Caribbean and an ill-fated rum tasting trip.
Most people were laughing along, though Sam looked rather unimpressed, and Lucy sat in silence, eyes fixed on her plate.
How out of place Lucy seemed here – not at all like the raucous, extroverted sales people Rory usually brought on these trips.
When her husband wound down, the captain gave him a polite smile. ‘Now it’s your turn,’ said Rory. ‘You must have one or two juicy stories you can share with us, Captain – just between us, naturally. What happens on the Lusso stays on the Lusso, eh?’
Talia stifled a groan. Can’t he stop trying to sound like a twenty-something on a stag do?
‘I’m afraid I try not to make a habit of gossiping about guests,’ said Captain Taylor.
‘Oh, come on, Captain! We won’t breathe a word of it, will we?’ Rory darted quick looks across the table; the group responded only with an embarrassed silence.
Captain Taylor sighed. ‘Well, I suppose if I keep them anonymous … I did have a supermodel on board once who demanded three hundred fresh roses in the salon every evening – the crew were run ragged. And then there was the tech mogul who insisted his Greek salad ingredients were cut into perfect twelve-millimetre squares – I’m not joking.
Our poor chef quit halfway through the charter. ’
The table burst into laughter. Talia was surprised that the captain was speaking so candidly; perhaps the wine was loosening her tongue.