Just Say Yes (18 page)

Fiona was slipping on a pair of red vinyl forties-style open-toed shoes that matched her low cut, clingy dress. She’d piled her auburn hair on her head and fixed it with a fake gardenia. Lucy had left her black hair long and natural but had gone for a dusting of bronzing powder and a rosy lip gloss. As she wound the ties of her wedges around her legs, a group of partygoers spilled out of the sailing club, almost all of them wearing shorts and T-shirts.

“Fi…”

“Hmm,” said Fiona, applying an extra coat of cerise lipstick without the benefit of a mirror.

“You don’t think we’re just a tiny bit… overdressed for a beach barbecue, do you?”

Fiona glanced up at the other partygoers spilling out of the entrance to the clubhouse. “So what if we are? The day you catch me in board shorts and Birkenstocks is the day you can take me out and shoot me.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Fiona led the way in and they teetered up the stairs to the top floor. Lucy didn’t recognize the music, some Latino dance rhythm. There were tables piled up at one end of the room—to create a makeshift dance floor, she guessed, but right now, no one was dancing. Everyone was, however, talking, shouting, laughing, and drinking. Heads didn’t exactly turn when they entered the room but there were definite sidelong glances and smiles of amusement. Most people were in casual stuff: flowery shirts, oversize T-shirts, sailing shoes. There were a few girls in sundresses but no one looking quite as flamboyant as Lucy and Fiona. Apart, perhaps, from Gideon, lighting up the room in a startling Hawaiian shirt and matching shorts.

“My God, it’s Austin bloody Powers,” hissed Fiona as Gideon made a beeline for them.

“And he hasn’t lost any of his mojo,” groaned Lucy. “I met him the other day when I walked down to the club.”

“Really? You failed to mention you’d been down to the club. Funny, that.”

“Ah ha, but it wasn’t that funny in the end. I think Gideon might like me. Brace yourself.”

Gideon bounded up, bearing two plastic half-pint glasses with drink that looked like pink lemonade sloshing over the rims.

“The Lovely Lucy! And an equally lovely friend. This is my lucky night. Two for the price of one and all that. Have a drink!”

“Thanks, Gideon. Um, what is it?” said Lucy, relieving him of the glasses.

He tapped his nose. “The house special. We call it a Three Sheets.”

Lucy sniffed. “Smells like lighter fuel.”

“Or methylated spirits,” said Fi. “I had to try some once for research purposes. It’s not as bad as you’d expect.”

“I can assure you this is one hell of a lot feistier than methylated spirits, ladies.”

Lucy and Fiona both took a gulp.

Gideon glowed. “Bottoms up, eh? And may I say what lovely ones they are?”

“Holy Mary…” spluttered Fiona.

“What’s in it?” coughed Lucy, wiping tears from her eyes.

“That’d be telling,” said Gideon in delight as Lucy and Fiona waited for the fire in their throats to subside. “It’s an old club recipe. Lots of rum, a generous helping of moonshine, and a secret ingredient. Amos Penhaligon brews it in his net loft.”

“Why is it called Three Sheets?” gasped Lucy, her lips tingling.

“Because it gets you Three Sheets to The Wind, of course. Absolutely rat-arsed, bladdered, pissed as the proverbial—”

“Thank you, Gideon, I get the picture.”

He slapped her back, spilling drink on her dress in the process. “Don’t go away, baby. I’m just going to point Percy at the porcelain,” he growled.

“Is he from this century?” asked Fiona as he headed off toward the gents.

“Not even from this planet,” said Lucy, steering her toward the open doors. “Quick, out here.”

Out on the terrace, the crowd was slightly thinner. Lucy caught her breath. Across the sea, the sun was slowly dropping toward the horizon, turning pink, a single cloud drifting across its face. Below on the beach, the barbecue was in full swing, with a queue of hungry people snaking back from the makeshift grill suspended over two drums.

“Lucy! Fiona! Woo-hoo!”

Sara was making her way over. Her lithe body was poured into an itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny white shorts and bikini top. She wore no makeup yet still managed to look glowing, groomed, and fit yet ever-so-slightly fragile all at once. Lucy was suddenly self-conscious about her height. She usually considered her five feet nine inches an asset: it got you noticed in bars, maxi dresses didn’t swamp you, flat boots didn’t make you look like a Hobbit, yet against Sara, she just felt clumpy.

“Oh my, don’t you two city girls scrub up well?” she said with just the right amount of incredulity. “Lucy, I adore your dress, how I wish I was that brave and Fiona, shocking crimson really suits you. Goes with your hair and eyes.”

Lucy heard choking sounds from Fiona as she drained half of her punch.

“Are you all right?” asked Sara, her face concerned. “Or will I need to perform the Heimlich maneuver on you?”

“She’s fine,” said Lucy, banging Fiona none too gently between her shoulder blades. “Just a little something stuck in her throat.”

Sara lowered her voice. “Are you sure? I can fetch Josh if you need him. We keep a full first-aid kit at the club and he’s a First Responder.”

Lucy tried not to think of Josh giving mouth-to-mouth.

“Need me for what?”

Turning to face him, she wondered if she should change her mind about accepting medical intervention. Josh was wearing a filmy white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to midway between his wrists and elbows. The top buttons were undone, he had springy little blond hairs visible in the V, and there was a tantalizing glimpse of male nipple through the fine lawn of his shirt. At least he wasn’t wet.

“Who needs me?” he repeated, his eyes almost turquoise in the bronze evening light. “And to do what?”

“Fiona was choking,” said Sara.

“I’m f-fine,” blurted Fiona between coughs. “I blame the Three Sheets.”

Sara gave a tinkling laugh. “Oh, you girls are so funny!”

“Yes, we’re available as a double act for weddings and funerals,” said Lucy.

Sara frowned. “And how much do you charge? Or do you come as a job lot?”

“I’m sure they’re way too expensive for Tresco Sailing Club,” said Josh, his hand slipping behind Sara’s waist and drawing her closer to him. He smiled, presumably to show he was joking, but Lucy saw the bob of his Adam’s apple betraying his discomfort.

“Have you tried the House Special?” he asked.

“Gideon made sure of that,” said Lucy, hardly trusting herself to meet his eyes.

“Good. Getting drunk on Three Sheets is compulsory for all new visitors to Tresco. I suppose you could call it an initiation.”

“An initiation?”

“Oh, yes. Didn’t Sara tell you about the ritual?”

“No, she left that part out,” said Fiona. “What ritual?”

“Josh, don’t be silly,” said Sara, pulling her arm out of his. “He’s teasing you both. We don’t do anything of the kind; it’s against the club constitution.”

“That’s a relief, I thought you were going to make us walk the plank,” said Lucy.

“We do—after we’ve thrown you naked in the brig to sober up.”

Lucy’s breasts prickled and reminded her she had no bra on.

Beside him Sara’s lips were clamped together tightly. “Why don’t you get something to eat, Lucy? Better still, I’ll take you down to the barbecue myself and see what our chef Rob has rustled up. Although I think I have an idea.”

Lucy could feel her face heating up. “Please, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to drag you away from your guests.”

“No,
really
. Rob will be terribly disappointed if you don’t try it now. Josh went into Porthstow specially to fetch the main ingredient for you.”

“Not specially, Sara. I happened to be going into town and I was passing the quay,” he said firmly.

“Now, Josh, don’t tell fibs. You know you needn’t have gone into the village today.”

His eyes glinting dangerously, Josh had his mouth open when a man in little yellow wellies and a smock pushed his way over.

“Josh, there’s a bit of a fracas going on in the dinghy pen. Can you come and sort it out?”

Fiona’s eyes lit up. “Oh! A fight. How exciting. Can I come and watch?”

“No,” said Josh brusquely. “You girls stay out of it. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Handing his drink to Sara, he stalked off toward the bar. Sara let out a sigh of admiration that made Lucy want to barf. “It’s so useful having Josh around to sort out these incidents.”

“A bit like a bouncer?” said Lucy.

“Or a pit bull?” put in Fiona.

“You really are very amusing,” Sara said, smiling. “Now, Lucy, come with me and let’s get some food for you and Fiona.”

She pulled Lucy by the arm toward the steps to the beach. “Oh, I don’t know what to do with Josh sometimes. He’d put himself out for anyone on the slightest whim,” she said as they walked down the steps from the terrace onto the sand.

“I didn’t ask him to put himself out for me, Sara,” said Lucy firmly.

“Of course not, but he’s so nice, even a hint is enough to have him at your beck and call. You see,” she added as Lucy almost stumbled on a large clump of seaweed, “he’s such an open, straightforward kind of guy, people get the wrong idea, particularly women, but they know
nothing
.”

“I can’t imagine anyone taking advantage of Josh if he didn’t want them to,” declared Lucy, her hackles rising.

“Really? Oh, you’d be surprised how many try. The thing is Josh Standring has left a trail of broken hearts in his wake. Misguided women who thought he cared about them in a”—she bracketed her fingers to make her point—“‘special’ way when really he was just being
Josh
.”

“But you’re not in any danger of a broken heart?” Lucy couldn’t resist saying as they reached the queue for the barbecue.

Sara gave her a look of total incredulity. “Why would I be in danger? Oh, Lucy, you don’t get it, do you? Josh and I… well, I think you can see that we’re just so right for each other.”

Lucy was feeling slightly nauseous and put it down to the smell of burning burgers.

Sara bypassed the people in the queue and called to the chef, a red-faced man of about forty who was piling burgers and sausages onto plates. “Ah, Rob! What a star you are! Have you got those grilled scallops ready for Lucy yet?”

Rob wiped a hand over a sweaty forehead and scowled. He produced a plastic plate from under the barbecue and thrust it at Lucy. “So you’re the one who wanted the scallops, are you? Well, they’re a bugger to get right and I’m sorry, but I’ve overcooked them just a tad.”

Dying with embarrassment, Lucy took the plate which contained three blackened scallops on a sad-looking piece of lettuce. “Thanks, Rob. I really appreciate the trouble you’ve gone to.”

He nodded, then stabbed viciously at a ring of charred sausage. Everyone else in the queue was craning their necks to get a look at her. Faces were distinctly pissed off and she didn’t blame them, yet Sara appeared to be overcome by delight. “See how we try and make you feel at home, Lucy?”

Much later, as the punch bowl was down to the dregs
again
and Rob the chef had cremated his last burger, Lucy found herself in the clubhouse, her head spinning. It was almost dark; meshes sprinkled with fairy lights were twinkling from every nook and cranny of the building. The Latin beat had changed to a bizarre version of Scottish reeling. Lucy had been twirled by Gideon, a South African property magnate, and an ocean-going catamaran crew. The room was whizzing round long after she’d actually stopped moving.

Fiona was still being whirled by a rugged young guy wearing a red-spotted bandana, a designer kilt, and no shirt. The music stopped, Mr. Hot-in-a-Kilt disappeared toward the bar, and Fiona lurched over to Lucy, grinning fit to burst.

“You look like you’re having fun,” said Lucy, holding on to a chair for support.

“I’ve been pole dancing and it’s wonderful!”

“He’s cute,” whispered Lucy. “And very young.”

“Twenty-one yesterday. I’ve offered to help him celebrate in style,” she said, lowering her voice. “Piotrek knows a quiet place in the dunes.”

“He’s gorgeous, Fi, but have you checked his IQ?”

“Hmm, that’s the trouble. He’s a medical student but never mind. I’m in Cornwall so I can make an exception.”

“Cze’s’c skarbie,” growled Piotrek, handing over another glass of Three Sheets with a wicked grin. Fiona was visibly melting.

“’Scuse me. I need the loo,” said Lucy, not wanting to be a third wheel. She hadn’t even made it to the door before Gideon lurched over.

“I’ve been watching you all night,” he declared.

“Really? Are you seeing two of me yet?”

He roared with laughter, blasting her with the smell of cigars and whiskey. “By God, I love a feisty female!”

“You’ll have to excuse me, Gideon. I have to go to the little girls’ room.”