by Katie Fforde
Dora's hand stopped halfway to her mouth. 'Um, not terribly soon. These cakes are just too delicious. Sorry! Oh, and I've just remembered.'
‘What?'
‘I've invited Tom for supper.'
‘That's nice. I've made a big lasagne.'
‘I know I shouldn't have without asking you and I'm perfectly happy to cook, but I felt I had to ask him.’
‘Why?'
‘He met me this morning and rowed me across to the boatyard.'
‘He rowed you? You mean there's no other way of getting there? Dora, that's awful!’
Dora smiled happily. 'You only have to row when the tide's in. When it's out there's a really muddy set of stepping stones you get over.’
Jo rolled her eyes. 'That's OK, then!'
‘Can I email Karen?' asked Dora, pulling the laptop towards her. 'I want to tell her what's going on.'
‘Good idea. I was going to do that before I got that email from Michael.’
Karen replied quite soon.
Hi, Dora, great to hear from you! I'm writing this in my lunch hour. Brilliant about you getting a job so soon. It sounds fab. Is Mum OK? Is she in a stress about the boat being uninsured? She used to be really hot on that sort of thing. She may be putting a brave face on it, but worrying really.
By the way, could you ask her if she could find my fork-lift truck driving qualification? They won't believe I've got one here and I need it to move the big installations around. (The fork lift, not the certificate!) I don't want to take another test here! It's in a file at home somewhere. I know that's a bit of a bind, but I do need it. You could go home with her and protect her from the Floosie. Oh, got to go. Bye! Love, Karen
*
'I'm not sure I want to go home,' Jo said when she'd read her daughter's post. 'Even with you to protect me.'
‘Why not? Shall I set the table for supper?' Dora asked, shutting down the computer.
‘Yes, and open a bottle of wine. In the cupboard. Because I've sort of made my statement.' Jo returned to the subject at hand. 'I don't want to have to go back. Although as it is for Karen's certificate, and Philip won't mind. It's just me.'
‘Couldn't he get it for Karen?'
‘Not a cat in hell's chance. He'd never find it, or she'd have asked him.'
‘What a nuisance!'
‘On the other hand' – Jo hunted in a drawer for the bottle-opener – 'there are some clothes I need to collect. We could do that at the same time, I suppose.'
‘Is it only clothes?' said Dora as she laid the table.
Jo considered. 'I expect there are other things. I left most of the utensils and I could do with some of them.'
‘Let's go on a raid,' suggested Dora. 'Next weekend. I wouldn't mind seeing if you've got those old tapes of me and Karen.'
‘That's a good idea. Now, where's that Tom? Supper's just about ready,' Jo said, peering into the oven.
Just at that moment, Tom's voice could be heard hallooing. Jo shouted up out of the porthole and he came down.
While they were eating, Jo's phone rang. She got up from the table and answered it. It was Philip.
‘Jo? I've had an email from Karen. She says she needs her fork-lift truck licence and that you've got to get it.’
‘I could try and tell you where it is-'
‘Don't bother. I never could find anything in that rats' nest you call a filing system. Karen says Samantha and I have got to go out for the day. She's very protective of you, I must say.’
Jo was silent, giving Philip time to realise why Karen was protective of her mother.
‘It won't take you that long to find, will it?' Philip went on.
Now he seemed to be grudging her time in her old home, Jo felt indignant. 'I do need my summer clothes and I would prefer it if – you weren't there.' Jo was surprised at how shaky she felt at the prospect of seeing her husband's new woman.
‘Better for Samantha too. I don't want her getting upset.’
Jo's shakiness became anger. 'Of course not.' She bit out the words with more emphasis than was really appropriate.
Dora and Tom looked at their plates.
‘No need to get antsy. The house is immaculate. Samantha has redecorated the spare room and it looks lovely.’
It looked lovely when I decorated it, thought Jo, outraged at the thought of her humorous toile de Jouy wallpaper being removed. 'Dora and I will come next weekend, if that's all right. But do please arrange to be out. I would hate to upset Samantha.’
Chapter Ten
‘Well, that's told him,' said Dora a few moments later.
‘He always was irritating,' said Jo, sitting back down and piercing a piece of lettuce rather fiercely. 'But since he left me, I haven't bothered to suppress my feelings. But don't worry, Dora, they'll be out when we go. You won't have to face a dreadful scene. Eat up, both of you.'
‘So, Tom, what's all this about you making Dora do karaoke?' she asked after a calming few moments of companionable munching.
‘She was excellent. I was well impressed.' He shot Dora a look of admiration that only Jo noticed.
‘Good for you, Dora. Now, could one of you open some more wine?’
They had a jolly meal and Jo managed to put all thoughts of her ex-husband, his new partner and her anxieties about going home to the back of her mind, but afterwards she wanted some time to herself. Unsure how to get this, it was Tom who came to her rescue.
‘That was fantastic, Jo. Can I repay you by taking you out for a nightcap?'
‘What, now?' asked Jo and Tom nodded. 'Dora, are you willing ever to go to a pub with Tom again?’
Dora looked at Tom and then back to Jo.
‘I mean, if a friend of mine made me get up and sing in public I wouldn't let him within a hundred miles of me,' Jo went on. 'But if you could find it in you to take him up on his offer, I would be fine on my own.'
‘But you made supper,' protested Tom mildly. 'You should have a reward.'
‘And we couldn't leave you with the washing-up,' added Dora.
‘We have a dishwasher and I would really like a few moments to get my head round various things. Quite a lot of things.’
There was a pause before Tom said, 'If you're sure?’
Jo nodded. 'Do go – they'll be calling time soon.’
Tom and Dora looked at her pityingly. 'They don't do that at the local these days,' Tom explained. 'It always stays open until midnight.'
‘Oh goodness, I'd forgotten. I really hope I don't need to get a job as a barmaid.'
‘Come on, Tom,' said Dora. 'I think Jo needs some peace.’
As they were saying their goodbyes, Jo's bra buzzed. She turned away and reached into it.
°Does she always keep her phone in her bra?' she heard Tom ask as he and Dora went up the steps.
‘Anything she doesn't want to lose, she told me,' said Dora as they disappeared into the night.
‘Hi, Jo?' said a male voice. 'Michael.’
She was immediately anxious. 'Oh. Hello.' She paused, waiting for his reason for calling. First an email, now a phone call. He hardly ever rang her.
‘Yes – um – I thought I ought to call you, rather than reply on email. I wasn't sure when you'd be on-line again.’
‘Oh?'
‘Yes. It's about the dry dock.’
Something in his tone of voice made her move to where she could sit down. 'What about the dry dock?'
‘It's quite a serious situation. The thing is, the moorings company won't let us stay without a Boat Safety Certificate and up-to-date insurance. One of the reasons I remem bered is because I'd had an email from Steve.’
Frantically Jo trawled her brain for a Steve and couldn't find a match. 'Sorry, who's Steve?'
‘He's the man at the office. You may not have met him, anyway, he's a good guy and told me they're having a crackdown. It's to get people to move those half-sunk old wrecks from down the end.'
‘Oh. But we're not a half-sunk old wreck from down the end.' Jo
felt her anxiety increase.
‘No, but we have to have our paperwork up to date,' Michael insisted. 'I also want to get the hull shot-blasted and a coat of epoxy put on.'
‘Oh.'
‘The thing is, Jo, I want The Three Sisters to go to Holland for that.'
‘ Holland!'
‘Yes.' He paused. 'It's part of the EU, you know, not the other side of the world.'
‘But it is the other side of the North Sea!'
‘I'm not expecting you to take her there, Jo!'
‘Good!' Her voice became very quiet and high. Hearing it, she strived to sound light-hearted and bantering. 'But where am I going to go while The Three Sisters is visiting windmills and red cheeses?’
Misinterpreting the reason for her mouse-like tones, Michael strived to be reassuring. 'You'll stay with her, of course. There's no need for you to move off the barge. Go along for the ride! Do the cooking. Be useful,' he added.
Jo moistened her lips. 'I think I should explain, Michael. Although I've really loved living on the barge and might even consider buying one of my own, I really do not want to go anywhere on it. The thought terrifies me. And I get seasick.'
‘There's no need to be anxious. She's as safe as houses; you could go anywhere in her.’
But I don't want to, Jo said to herself. 'Really, whoever is taking her to Holland doesn't want me around, getting in the way, worrying about it capsizing all the time.'
‘You're not like that, Jo! You'd be an asset.’
Jo wondered where he was getting his information from. 'How? How can I be an asset? I said, I know nothing about boats, I get seasick, and I'd be scared witless.'
‘You can cook. Make cups of tea, keep everyone happy. It's a vital role. It's miserable if you've been on watch for hours and hours and have to heat yourself up some ghastly ready meal.'
‘Ready meals have come on a lot recently,' muttered Jo.
‘If you won't go, I'll have to find another cook.'
‘It's not just a matter of me not going,' said Jo, lying through gritted teeth, 'it's that I can't. Dora, my temporary lodger, has just started a new job at the boatyard on the island.' She waited for Michael's approval, but it didn't come. 'She can't just go off to Holland, and she lives with me.'
‘I'm sure she could find alternative accommodation. But be that as it may-'
‘That sounds very pompous, Michael.' said Jo, stalling for time.
He chuckled and said, 'Be that as it may again, the boat needs to go into dry dock, and I really want her to get her hull done in Holland. They know her, they're reasonable, and it's very hard to get it done in England.’
Jo sighed, resigned to the fact that The Three Sisters had to go to Holland – with or without her. 'OK. I'll try and find a cook and somewhere for me and Dora to live.
When do you need to go and how long would it all take?'
‘I've booked her in for mid-June. It should take about three weeks if all goes well. That's just under a month away, near enough. You should have got it all sorted by then, shouldn't you? But you really ought to go with her. It would be the trip of a lifetime. I'd go myself like a shot,' he said quickly, anticipating her next question, 'but I'm so tied up at work.’
Jo sighed again. Her dreams of becoming a restorer and gilder might turn out to be only dreams and a lot of expensive equipment. 'I wish I could say the same, but maybe all I'm fit for is to cook for people on boat trips.'
‘So you're going? Brilliant! I knew you wouldn't let me down.'
‘No, I never said I'd go!' Jo exclaimed. 'And I'm not letting you down and I won't. I'll find someone else.'
‘I'll get in touch with the skipper. He might be able to change your mind.'
‘I doubt it.'
‘Well – you might remember him. It's Marcus.'
‘Oh, the famous Marcus!' How interesting, thought Jo. 'Everyone was going on about him at the rally.'
‘Well, he is the best. Do you remember him from when' we used to meet every Saturday lunchtime, before most of us got married?'
‘I never knew him very well. He was a latecomer to the group, wasn't he? Didn't you introduce him?'
‘That's right. We used to row together when I was at university and he at a naval college. He always spoke very highly of you,' he added and Jo was sure she detected a note of mischief in his voice. She also suspected she was being soft-soaped.
‘Oh?'
‘Really. I think he was a bit put out that you were spoken for at the time.'
‘Right.' Jo's disbelief was audible. The girls in their group all agreed Marcus was a handsome devil but that only a fool would go after him. Even if she hadn't been with Philip, he had been way out of her league.
‘But you do remember him?'
‘Oh yes.'
‘Good, because he wants to come over, tonight.’
‘Tonight!'
‘They're taking Hildegarde back up the Thames tomorrow. He wants a recce tonight.'
‘You've already set all this up, haven't you?’
"Fraid so. I'll tell him it's OK to stop by, then?’
Jo squeaked her confirmation and then disconnected. She got up and pushed her fingers into her hair for a few seconds, trying to massage some of the tension out of her scalp. Then she looked at the state of the place and reached the conclusion that it was a mess. Now she wished she hadn't dispatched Dora and Tom to the pub. With three of them they could have had it looking shipshape in a jiffy. On her own she had very little time to decide on priorities. She'd had enough shocks today. Now a man who had rather unsettled her all those years ago, and who quite a few people thought of as arrogant, was due any minute. What's more he was coming to check out the barge and it was a tip. She braced herself and a moment later was throwing things into the dishwasher with one hand and filling the kettle with the other. A few rapid passes with the Hoover and the barge was nearly presentable. Then she took five minutes to attend to her own appearance. She was spraying herself with scent when her phone went.
‘Marcus Rippon here. I'm going to take your barge to Holland.’
Jo suddenly realised that she remembered his voice: sexy, humorous and just a little bit unnerving. 'Michael said you'd ring.’
*
Jo looked up when she heard his call from the pontoon. She was in the bow, cleaning out the scuppers with a stiff brush, finding some excuse to be on deck so she wouldn't be taken by surprise when he came. She recognised him instantly. 'Marcus,' she said quietly, putting down her brush and going to meet him.
‘Joanna,' he said as she reached him. 'I'd have known you anywhere.'
‘Really?' She was instantly suspicious. A lot of years had passed since they had last seen each other, and they had never known each other well. She must look very different now – but then she'd have known him anywhere, too. 'Did you come to my wedding? I can't remember.’
Marcus shook his head. 'No. I was abroad. Can we go in? I want to check things out before I take Hildegarde away, as I'm here anyway,' he said rather brusquely.
‘It was a shame you missed the rally,' said Jo as he climbed on board.
‘Not at all. I was lucky to escape. Carole loves showing off the barge. I hate it.’
They went into the wheelhouse and while Marcus immediately swung himself down into the engine room, Jo wondered about him.
He hadn't changed much, she realised, although because she'd seen a photo of him, she was prepared for what changes there were. His hair was grey, when it had been very dark, but it was still thick and curly. He was taller and broader, she thought, but realised it was probably just broader, and only felt taller because they were in the relatively confined space of the wheelhouse. He did have a rather arrogant, curt air about him but perhaps he was just being efficient and didn't have much time. And judging by the fact that he didn't have a wife and several children, he was still a commitment-phobe. And still, although she hated to admit this to herself, very attractive. Poor Carole! She left him in the engine room and went
down to sort out refreshments. Would he want coffee, or wine? It depended, she supposed, on whether he was going anywhere tonight. If he only had to go back to Hildegarde, he might like a glass of something. Except that he couldn't have been home long, and Carole would have been waiting for him, so he probably wouldn't linger.
Jo felt awkward and shy in a way that she hadn't done for years. She wasn't shy normally but Marcus had always made her feel slightly fluttery and stupid, she remem bered, and she supposed her brain had just gone into the old pattern from habit. Michael had said he'd always spoken well of her but she hadn't believed him. Now she did recall an incident at a party – it couldn't have lasted more than a couple of minutes – when they'd collided in a doorway. He'd apologised and said something to her that made her stop and look at him. She couldn't now remember what he'd said, but his look had seemed to absorb her, to take in every bit of her. Then he'd said, 'But you're with Philip.' She had agreed and carried on towards the kitchen.
Now, he called down to her. 'Has Michael got any charts?’
She went to join him in the wheelhouse. 'Only what's under those cushions, as far as I know.' She lifted one of the seat cushions revealing a pile of plastic-covered sheets.
Marcus lifted them out, took a pair of reading glasses out of his top pocket and put them on and then began flicking through the sheets on the small table. 'No, none of these arewhat we want, but never mind, I can bring charts with me.' He put down the charts, took off his glasses and turned to Jo. His gaze was rather disconcerting.
‘Would you like a cup of coffee?' she said, hoping she hadn't blushed. 'Or a glass of wine, or something?' Was he thinking how much older she looked? It was nearly thirty years since he'd last seen her, after all.
He took time over his decision but then said, 'I do need to check out the accommodation. If I'm the skipper, I need a decent cabin. Where do you sleep?'
‘I sleep in the original cabin but I can move out – in fact I probably won't be coming on the trip anyway.'
‘Won't you? Why not? Shall we go down?’
