by Katie Fforde
‘Darling,' she drawled in the most patronising manner she could manage, 'one isn't jealous of the bin men when they take away your rubbish. One is grateful, and gives them a tip at Christmas.' Wondering if she'd overdone the 'ones' she smiled graciously, and, as Philip and Samantha instinctively made way for her, went back upstairs.
‘Mad woman!' she muttered to Dora who was hiding behind the bed. 'She accused me of wanting to cut up her clothes because I'm jealous!' She turned her attention to Dora's predicament. The waistband of the trousers were cutting deep into her thighs, just below the hip. 'I don't want to cut you by mistake.’
They heard footsteps outside. 'Oh God,' said Dora, 'they're coming in! Hurry up! Please!’
Jo eased the blades of the scissors between Dora's flesh and the fabric and cut. As Philip and Samantha entered the room she tugged hard at the nick. A ripping sound filled the silence for long seconds.
‘I knew it!' screamed Samantha. 'She's up to something. What's she hiding?’
Philip stood by looking anxious. Jo leapt to her feet, aware that Dora didn't want to appear half-naked in front of Philip. 'I'm not hiding anything – at least – not anything in the sense you mean.'
‘I don't believe you!' Samantha screeched. 'There was a tearing noise. You're tearing my clothes. Or my new curtains – something!'
‘My dear, while good taste suggests that cutting up the curtains and duvet cover in this room would be an excellent idea, I haven't done it. Now, if you could give us a moment or two of privacy we'll be able to set your mind at rest.’
Samantha was not to be pacified. 'I don't believe you! You're up to something ghastly! Of course you're jealous! It's only normal!'
‘Sweetie, don't upset yourself,' said Philip, trying to sound soothing but actually sounding a little hysterical himself. 'Your hormones are all over the place. Jo wouldn't do anything spiteful. We've just found out,' he added to Jo confidingly. 'Samantha's pregnant! It's why we came home so soon. Isn't that wonderful?’
Jo's head swam and for an awful moment she thought she was going to faint. She moved round so she could sit on the bed. Stars danced around her head and her blood was pounding so loudly it seemed to be running through her ears. She shut her eyes.
‘Jo! Are you all right?' Dora, setting aside her modesty, got up and perched on the bed next to her.
The blackness cleared and Jo pushed her hair back from her forehead. 'I'm fine. I just suddenly felt hot. Must be my hormones!' Her smile, though brave, was very brittle. 'Philip, could I trouble you for a glass of water?'
‘I'll get one immediately.' He nodded a hello in Dora's direction and turned to leave the room.
Jo was touched to see genuine concern in his eyes and felt a little better. 'No, it's all right, I'll come downstairs. Dora and I have more or less finished sorting clothes, haven't we?’
Samantha, apparently not convinced that her designer clothes were not in danger from the rather blunt kitchen scissors, didn't move. Philip waited, putting a hand under Jo's elbow as she got up.
Dora, obviously longing to be left alone to get her own trousers on, said, 'Why don't you go down? I'll get dressed and tidy up here.'
‘I'm sorry if it sounds neurotic,' said Samantha, 'but I'll stay upstairs, too.’
Dora really would have preferred to get her own trousers on in private. She didn't know Samantha, didn't like her, and didn't want her seeing her putting her less slim and less brown legs into her slightly grubby combats, but she smiled. 'Be my guest.’
Samantha opened the wardrobe doors and ran a hand over her clothes just to be sure. Seemingly satisfied, she turned to Dora. 'So, is Jo very bitter?' she asked. 'She's bound to be. I don't blame her, I suppose, but she'd got very boring, Philip says. She can't have been surprised that he found another woman.'
‘I don't think you could say she was bitter at all,' said Dora defensively. 'She's been very upbeat about the whole thing.' She laughed. 'In fact, she said that Philip had got very boring, so maybe they'd just fallen out of love with each other. I don't think she's jealous of you at all.' Dora didn't know if this was entirely true, but Jo had been putting a very brave face on things and she didn't want to give the Floosie any more ammunition.
‘But I've got her house. My mother would never have let Dad have the house. He had to go and live in a ghastly little flat when he and Mum split up.'
‘Jo's a very special person,' said Dora, 'and although I probably shouldn't tell you this, I wouldn't be surprised if she was snapped up by another man very soon.’
Samantha made a face. 'But how could she be? She's old!'
‘She's younger than Philip, she told me, and she's a very attractive woman. The men on the moorings have been flocking round her. Some men like the more mature woman,' she added.
‘But her figure's gone, her hair is a disaster, and while I do admit she's got good skin, I mean..
Aware that Samantha wasn't capable of expressing what she really meant, Dora said, 'But don't you think it's the person that matters? I mean, Uncle Philip – sorry!' She laughed artificially. Actually, she'd never called Karen's father anything except Mr Edwards. 'Philip – I used to call him "Uncle" when I was a little girl – is quite a lot older than you are, but you don't notice his turkey neck and saggy stomach, do you? You love the real Philip, the one inside.’
Samantha bit her lip. 'Yes, of course… hey, you wouldn't like to come and see my wedding dress, would you?'
‘Your wedding dress? But Philip and Jo aren't divorced yet, are they?'
‘Well, no, but we're going to have a special party to tell all our friends about us being together and everything. Now we can tell them about the baby too.’
Feeling that Jo might want a bit of time alone with her ex-husband, Dora reluctantly followed Samantha back into the master bedroom.
*
While Samantha and Dora were upstairs, Jo sat down at the kitchen and accepted a glass of water.
‘Do you think I could have my sewing machine?' she said quietly once she felt able to speak again. 'It's in the attic.'
‘Of course,' Philip said. 'Shall I get it down for you?'
‘That would be kind. You bought it for me when Karen started to need costumes for her dancing lessons. Do you remember?'
‘That's right! She was a talented little thing, wasn't she?'
‘Still is, only not as a dancer.' She was aware that he must miss talking about his only child. Samantha wouldn't want to hear how well Karen was getting on, running an art gallery in Toronto. 'You'll have another baby to think about soon.'
‘Yes, but Karen-'
‘Is your first child, the only one we had together.’
He swallowed, as if remembering the heartbreak that subsequent attempts at parenthood had caused. 'At least I know..
‘That it wasn't your fault,' Jo finished for him. 'That's very nice for you. Now would you be a dear and get the sewing machine for me?' She needed space alone more than she needed any amount of machinery.
‘Of course.’
Jo was still sitting at the table when Dora and Samantha appeared. 'Philip's gone into the attic to get my sewing machine.'
‘A sewing machine!' said Samantha. 'I've always wanted one of those.'
‘I'm sure Philip will get you one if you ask him,' said Jo, her patience wearing thin.
‘Or you could buy your own,' suggested Dora, who was a different generation.
‘I'd like to make the baby little clothes,' Samantha said confidingly. 'I used to make dresses for my Barbie.'
‘Did you?' Reluctantly, Jo felt some respect. 'Now that's really fiddly. I would have thought you'd have had to domost of it by hand. I once made a suede jacket for Karen's Sindy-'
‘I was so jealous of it!' said Dora, her youth coming back to her in a rush.
‘It was only fake suede,' said Jo. 'Oh, here's Philip.'
‘Sweet cakes! I was just saying, I really want a sewing machine.' Samantha was obviously remembering a happy childhood play
ing with dolls too.
‘Could you put that into the car for me?' Jo asked Philip. 'I'll take the clothes.'
‘I can take them,' said Dora, 'or the machine.'
‘It's all right, I'll take it,' said Philip. 'Sammy, darling, you wouldn't like to think about making some lunch, would you?’
They all trooped outside, including Samantha, who obviously felt the need to be near Philip, just in case.
Philip put the sewing machine in the back of the car. 'I hope you're going to be all right, Jo. I do worry about you.'
‘I'm going to be absolutely fine,' said Jo firmly.
‘And you're not going to go on this ridiculous trip to Holland, are you? Michael told me all about it. I was appalled. It sounds grossly irresponsible. You're very welcome to stay with us, both of you, while someone else takes it.’
Samantha's expression of horror at her new man's sense of duty would have made Jo laugh in normal circum stances. Now, she couldn't remember what normal circumstances were.
‘A trip like that' – Philip went on solicitously – 'is not really the sort of thing a woman of your age should undertake.’
For a ghastly moment, Dora thought she was about to witness a murder, but Jo seemed very calm.
‘Oh, I don't think my age means I should miss out on a chance of an adventure, do you? I mean, I only have myself to worry about now and it would be a shame to miss what could be the trip of a lifetime!'
‘But you know how sick you get and you'd hate it.'
‘Oh, I'm definitely going.' She got into the car, slammed the door and opened the window. 'I've got the chance to live a bit now I'm no longer married. I want to take full advantage.' She smiled. 'Oh, and by the way, remember Marcus? He's skippering.’
Jo felt a wicked pleasure in seeing Philip's look of bewilderment and then slight displeasure. It made up a little for the horror of the last half-hour.
‘Thank you for getting my sewing machine,' she added sweetly as she started the engine.
Dora saw from Jo's and Philip's expressions the way the conversation was going, and leapt into the car with alacrity, a black plastic bag clutched to her bosom.
A little way down the road, Dora said, 'That Samantha is a piece of work! It must have been utterly horrible for you. Shall I take you out to a pub for lunch?’
Jo sighed. 'That would be lovely! Somewhere with a garden where we can take our shoes off. I'm awfully hot.’
After they had found the perfect pub and were settled under an umbrella in the garden, their food ordered, she said, 'This is so kind of you, Dora, you don't need to pay for me. It could come out of your rent.'
‘Not at all. I'm a wage-earner now. I can afford some treats. Besides, I've got a bit of a confession to make to you.’
‘Oh, what?’
Dora sipped her spritzer. 'I said that the men on the moorings were flocking round you.'
‘You did? Why?' Jo asked, raising her face to the sun and feeling the stress of the morning gradually ease.
‘Because Samantha said you must be jealous of her, and I couldn't bear it, so I said you had no need to be jealous and that Philip had got very boring and she had no need to pity you. Although actually,' she went on thoughtfully, 'I think she is jealous of you.’
Jo didn't speak for a few moments. `To be absolutely honest, I was a bit jealous of her for a few moments. It's why I nearly fainted.'
‘From jealousy?' Dora was appalled.
‘No, shock, more. It was when Philip told me they were going to have a baby. It just hit me.'
‘But you wouldn't want another baby!' Dora was aghast. 'Would you?'
‘Good God no! Not at my age! But we did try to have another after Karen, in fact Karen took about five years to turn up. We – well, maybe it was just me – really wanted another baby. Now Philip's going to have one. He was a very good father,' she added.
Dora found herself unbearably saddened at Jo's plight. The longed-for baby was going to Philip, who was the one in the wrong. It did seem that his bad behaviour was being rewarded, while Jo's good manners were doing her no good at all. They sat in silence for a while and then Dora said, 'Did you mean it when you said you were definitely going to Holland?’
Jo took a deep breath and released it again. 'Oh, I think I'd better now, don't you?'
‘Yes!' said Dora, punching the air in a restrained way. 'Then I will too! Tom will be so pleased!'
‘Do you want to please Tom, Dora?' Jo looked at her questioningly.
‘Well, sort of, but it's mainly because it would be a challenge. Tom thinks I'm awfully pathetic.'
‘He can't think you're pathetic now. You've got racing tips and done karaoke.'
‘Those dares are different. Going to Holland on the barge would be a real challenge, don't you think?'
‘Deffo,' said Jo and Dora laughed.
Chapter Twelve
Jo awoke the following morning with a sense of doom so deep she had to check that no one had died. The moment she was properly awake she realised why: her ex-husband was going to be a father again and she had committed herself to going on a trip that genuinely terrified her. She got up, determined to clamber out of this Slough of Despond before anyone noticed she was in one. Her strange, personal ladder was to cook an old-fashioned Sunday lunch. It involved soothing, familiar tasks and the stress at the end always gave way to a sense of triumph. She needed to feel in control again.
Dora, unaware of Jo's different priorities, was intent on planning the trip to Holland.
‘So, where are we all going to sleep?' she asked. 'If Marcus has your cabin – are you sure you have to give it to him?’
‘Yes,' said Jo, who was peeling carrots. 'He has to be near the action, and it's quiet and comfortable.'
‘OK, then you must have my double cabin, I'll have the single, but where will Tom go? On the sofa?'
‘He could, but I'm not keen. I suppose we should clear out the glory hole.' She bit her lip at the prospect. She had managed to more or less ignore this space since she'd moved on to the boat, apart from the few ghastly times when its door had been opened during the parade of boats, and didn't really want to attack it now, when she had so many other things on her mind.
‘But where would we put all the stuff?' Dora asked. 'If it's Michael's, we can hardly throw it away. If only boats had attics. I don't think we saw a single barge with attic space, although they had everything else.’
Jo smiled in spite of her preoccupations. 'I'll email Michael and ask him. Really,' she went on, sounding less amused, 'I hate to sound ungrateful, but if Michael had lent me a country cottage he wouldn't have been able to ask me to move it, or with it.'
‘No, but he could have asked you to have the dry rot seen to, or some such. That would have been much worse.'
‘True.' Jo wondered if she should confide her terror to Dora but decided not to. 'But this trip to Holland is causing us both a lot of work.'
‘But it's going to be such fun!' Dora insisted, trying to conjure up some enthusiasm for them both. 'Tom was so thrilled when I rang him about it last night. He's coming over later to see how the plans are going.'
‘He's coming to check that I haven't chickened out, more likely,' said Jo. 'But if he's coming, he can help us shift stuff. His reward is Sunday lunch.'
‘I'll ring him. Why don't you email Michael and ask if we can chuck his rubbish?’
Jo regarded her young friend with her head on one side. 'I don't remember you being this bossy when you were a little girl, Dora.'
‘I've grown up a lot since then,' said Dora, 'and I learnt a lot from Karen.' She frowned. 'I think the real reason was that I let my mother make all those wedding arrange ments, and I never argued with her once. She chose the style of dress, the flowers, what sort of a reception we should have, everything. This was her day, I thought, John and I have the rest of our lives. Then I realised that I didn't want the rest of my life with John, and that I musttake control a bit.' She grinned. 'Which was why I ran away to li
ve with you. A surrogate mother cooking Sunday lunch!’
Jo laughed. 'Except there seems to have been a bit of role reversal,' she said. 'Go and ring Tom. I'll try emailing Michael.’
Dora went up on deck, where the reception was better, to do this. She reflected what a really good friend Tom was. He not only made her have a lot of fun but he was really supportive, sort of like an older brother. Of course, Dora reminded herself, she didn't want anything else from him – that would make things far too complicated.
As Jo had declined help with peeling the potatoes, Dora decided to tidy her cabin, which hadn't had much attention since she'd started her job. She stowed away the bits and pieces that she had bought yesterday, wondering what would happen between her and Tom if either of them did want a relationship. He was a normal, healthy male, he was bound to want a girlfriend sooner or later. He wouldn't want Dora hanging around then.
A bag of woolly socks that she had last worn at school got filed neatly in the waste-paper basket. Her mother had made her take them, convinced that boats were all freezing cold, even in summer. She must be on the alert. If she got any hint from Tom that he fancied anyone else, she must make it clear that it was fine by her – she just wanted to enjoy being single for a while.
Jo came to her door. 'Michael was on-line, luckily, and he says we can throw away anything we like as long as Marcus doesn't think it might be useful.'
‘For goodness' sake! How are we expected to second-guess what Marcus will think! I wish I'd met him,' Dora added. 'It would make it much easier.’
Jo laughed. 'I expect we'll be able to tell if there's anything we might need to keep. Michael says we can put things we're not sure of in the forepeak.'
‘What's that?' asked Dora, horrified.
‘It's a tiny little cabin up the front end. It's a vertical glory hole. Instead of stuffing things in, you just drop them down. Like an oubliette, only for clutter, not people. There's stuff that's been there since before Michael bought the boat, I'm sure.'
