Going Dutch

by Katie Fforde

  ‘It's a life-raft,' said Marcus.

  ‘I could have told you that,' said Tom.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Cup of tea?' Jo asked, putting the kettle on without waiting for an answer. When Dora came over to help her she added, 'How did it go?' sotto voce while Tom sat down next to Marcus and started talking to him about weather patterns.

  ‘Fine, really, although I think Mum would have been happier if Tom had been the new man in my life.’

  Jo scooped a wet tea bag out of a mug and put it in the bin. 'I suppose that's only natural, in the circs.'

  ‘It was lovely seeing them again in a slightly more normal way though, after how we parted last time.'

  ‘I knew you'd feel better if you did. And your parents didn't try to make you go back and live at home, did they?'

  ‘Nope. I think they realise I've fled the nest.'

  ‘I think you mean "flown", don't you?'

  ‘No, "fled" is the word.' Dora chuckled. 'I was definitely fleeing. Or maybe I was chased out.'

  ‘Either way, I'm so glad you've made it all up. It must have niggled you.'

  ‘Yes it did. Mum and I have had our ups and downs over the years but I think we've reached a more equal point in our relationship now. We're beginning to see things from each other's point of view more. Oh, and John's got a new girlfriend.'

  ‘Oh…' Jo checked to see how Dora looked; she seemed quite calm about it all. 'How do you feel?'

  ‘Strangely, fine actually. I realise that I really did make the right decision. I think Mum and Dad do too, now.’

  ‘And they're not too miserable without you?'

  ‘Don't think so. They may even like having some time alone together. Mum's got some lovely new clothes.'

  ‘Although I would have much preferred Karen to stay in the same country, before it all went wrong for me and Philip we were enjoying each other's company. Or at least I was. I didn't realise he was enjoying someone else's more.’

  Dora waited a tactful moment before saying, 'Has Marcus been here long?'

  ‘Not terribly. Long enough to have a cup of tea.'

  ‘And it's been OK? I still find Marcus a bit scary. He's so knowledgeable and a bit brusque. I feel I might make a mistake when he's around.’

  `So do I really. Not sure why. He's perfectly polite.' But was he perfectly polite? Wasn't his rather intense questioning a bit rude? Jo chewed her lip. She felt like she'd been through a job interview and wasn't sure how she'd done. But at times it felt as if he might have been flirting with her. It was all very confusing.

  Dora moved nearer. 'So did you talk about old times or something?'

  ‘Not really. Only in an abstract way. When we knew him I always thought he despised us for tying the knot and settling down so young.' She gave a small, wry laugh. 'Perhaps he could tell it wouldn't last.'

  ‘What are you two muttering about?' said Tom.

  ‘We're discussing what to do about supper,' said Jo instantly, improvising fluently. 'Because I said I absolutely refuse to cook it. And Dora said she couldn't cook it because the galley is covered with half-made lasagne and chilli.'

  ‘Yes,' said Dora, feeling that, personally, she didn't want to eat again for some time.

  ‘Oh,' said Tom, obviously convinced by this string of lies. 'Tell you what, why don't we go to the pub for a bar meal? I'll pay.'

  ‘That's a brilliant idea,' said Jo.

  ‘I must be getting back,' said Marcus, closing the charts and rising from the table.

  ‘We can't tempt you with chicken-in-a-basket?' asked Jo. Now she knew she couldn't, she felt free to ask.

  ‘What's "chicken-in-a-basket"?' asked Dora.

  ‘It's a seventies thing,' said Jo. 'You had to be there.'

  ‘Not at all,' said Marcus. 'It was disgusting. But even a home-made meal couldn't tempt me tonight. I've left Carole on her own.’

  Thinking, but not saying, that she must be used to it, and yet still rather confused about Marcus and Carole's relationship, Jo said, 'Well, I certainly won't press you, but I will see you out.' They both went up into the wheelhouse.

  ‘Oh,' said Jo, 'what about the fuel?'

  ‘We'll get it as we go down the river. It's easier than arranging for the fuel barge to come here.'

  ‘Fine,' said Jo. Then, not knowing what else to say, she added, 'Thank you so much for bringing the life-raft.’

  He looked down at her. 'Thank you for the tea and cake.’

  ‘It was a pleasure.’

  He continued to look at her and Jo willed him not to say or do anything else unconventional or controversial. Her life as a wife and mother hadn't prepared her for being with large men she was not related to in any way in small, intimate places.

  Eventually he said, 'I'm looking forward to this trip.' Relief made her garrulous. 'Oh yes! I suppose it will be exciting, going to Holland.’

  He laughed and stepped out of the wheelhouse down on to the deck. 'I've been to Holland dozens of times. That wasn't what I was talking about at all.’

  Jo attempted a light smile and then said, 'Right. OK then. I'd better go. So had you.' Then she retreated to the wheelhouse and watched until he had walked away.

  Jo didn't immediately go and join Tom and Dora. She wanted to calm her breathing and wait for her complexion to return to normal. She knew she couldn't retire to her cabin because Tom and Dora would wonder what on earth was up with her so she took deep breaths and fanned herself for as long as she could.

  The trouble was she had realised – to her horror – while she was plying him with tea and cake, that she fancied Marcus in a way she hadn't fancied anyone for years and years. And although she couldn't be sure, she had felt he'd been flirting with her. She gave herself a mental shake 'It's my hormones, or my age, or my feelings of rejection projecting themselves on to the first man that comes within six feet of me,' she told herself sternly. 'It's because I'm a frustrated old bat. It's not because I like him or anything. God! I hardly know him! But my hormones are out of order because of my imminent menopause, or something. It's making me react strangely. It's like developing an allergy. I really must take no notice and try to behave normally.’

  When this very sensible lecture had had time to take effect, she went back downstairs.

  ‘It's still early,' she said. 'Why don't you two go off to the pub while I finish making up these dishes for the freezer?'

  ‘Tom can go to the pub,' said Dora firmly. 'I'll help you here. You look tired.'

  ‘Tired' was one way of putting it, thought Jo.

  ‘I'll help,' said Tom. 'I am a new man, you know. I know how to wield a saucepan.'

  ‘Well, that's very good to hear,' said Jo. 'If Dora and I are prostrated by seasickness, you can take over in the galley. At least we know you can make custard if necessary.’

  Later, after all three of them had worked hard, assem bling dishes, washing-up, finding storage containers, she said, 'Well, I think that should take a small army across the Russian steppes without them going hungry. Let's go to the pub.’

  *

  Knowing that she'd made all the preparations she possibly could, Jo went over to see Miranda again. The plan was that they should clear one of the spare rooms over her shop so Jo could use it as a workroom when she got back from Holland.

  They enjoyed themselves and worked hard all morning until Bill came to take them out to lunch.

  ‘What would be really good,' said Miranda, tucking into her Caesar salad, 'would be if you could come with me to an antiques fair that's on soon. We could see how good a saleswoman you are. They're such fun, those fairs. Especially this one, the atmosphere's terrific.'

  ‘It does sound fun,' Jo agreed, 'and it would be good for me to get away from the barge for a bit. We've worked so hard to get it ready for the trip. A little holiday would be wonderful.’

  Miranda laughed. 'It won't be a holiday, exactly.'

  ‘But infinitely preferable to crossing the North Sea in a barge.'

&nbs
p; ‘Each to his own,' said Bill. 'I'd prefer the barge trip myself.’

  Both women looked at him. 'But you like boating,' said Jo. 'I don't, especially.’

  They bickered gently about how they liked to enjoy themselves until Bill noticed what the time was. 'Do you girls want another drink?'

  ‘Pre-women, Bill,' said Miranda, as if she had said it many times before. 'It's politically incorrect to call women "girls". It's pre-women now.’

  He smiled and sighed. 'Do you pre-women want another drink?'

  ‘Yes please,' said Miranda. 'Then we must get back to work.’

  While Bill was at the bar they went back to discussing the forthcoming antiques fair. 'It sounds heaven,' said Jo. 'If I can manage the dates, I'm definitely on for it. Oh, thanks, Bill. That is kind.'

  ‘A pleasure. If you go with Miranda to the wretched antiques fair, a drink is the least I can reward you with.’

  *

  It was over a week later when Marcus telephoned to say that the weather forecast was good enough for them to make the first leg of their journey.

  ‘We need to leave very early tomorrow, I should warn you,' he said, curt to the point of rudeness.

  ‘Oh.' Jo quickly collected herself. 'That's fine. We'll do all the final preparations we need to do tonight.' Jo thought he must be on edge because of the trip and tried to think of something comforting to say – and failed.

  ‘Goodbye, then.' He disconnected, leaving Jo slightly taken aback. He'd been so cheerful. What could have happened to make him so grumpy, suddenly?

  ‘I hope he snaps out of that mood,' she muttered, 'or this isn't going to be any fun at all.' She realised that although the trip still terrified her, part of her had been looking forward to being with Marcus.

  She went to find Dora. 'Marcus has rung. We're on for tomorrow.’

  Dora nodded. 'So Fred was right? He said yesterday he wouldn't see me for a little while. Maybe he gets the same weather forecast as Marcus does.'

  ‘Or maybe he has a piece of seaweed that is just as accurate,' said Jo, unwilling, at that moment, to give Marcus credit for anything. His curtness had rattled her.

  ‘Right,' said Dora, 'we'd better get on.’

  They sprang into action like a well-trained pair of soldiers going into battle and Jo felt pleased that she hadn't mentioned Marcus's shortness. Dora was obviously well into the trip and Jo didn't want to spoil that.

  They checked beds for clean bedding, they counted towels and speculated on the chances of Marcus and Ed bringing their own. They allowed the massive fruit cake that Jo had made for the voyage to come out from its tin and be tested; they checked the bathroom and hid all but the basic essentials from critical masculine eyes. When they had done all this, and Tom had arrived and demanded it, they secured everything that might move. They took the plants out of the wheelhouse, sending the tomato plants and geraniums for a holiday with Tilly on the next-door barge. The herbs came down to the galley.

  Then they slumped on the sofa, nursing glasses of medicinal sherry – stronger than wine but weaker than whisky, since they would need reasonably clear heads. They were both exhausted.

  ‘I've gone off the idea of going to Holland,' said Jo. 'Let's just stay here and eat the cake and all the other food. I wouldn't have to cook again for weeks.'

  ‘I'd be disappointed if I couldn't go,' said Dora. 'Although now we've got all that lovely food, chocolate and crisps-'

  ‘Cans of lager,' added Tom, who was sitting on the chair opposite them holding one.

  ‘We could just stay here and have a holiday,' finished Jo. 'I need a holiday.'

  ‘You have been working very hard to make everything ready,' said Dora. 'You could rent the barge to rich tourists now.'

  ‘No!' wailed Jo. 'I couldn't! At least, not unless I just left them to it.' She closed her eyes, hoping to sleep and then wake up and find it was all a dream, she wasn't going anywhere on The Three Sisters and could go to the antiques fair (which was also due to start tomorrow) and have a lovely time.

  She did drift off into a light doze. It was one of her skills, catnapping. Ten minutes with her eyes shut could keep her going for many extra hours. She prided herself on being able to do it almost anywhere.

  She was awoken by voices and realised that Marcus and Ed – she assumed it was him – had arrived. Tom and Dora had obviously gone up to give them a hand with their baggage. They seemed to be taking a long time, so she went up to join them. She was surprised – and not terribly pleased – to see Carole with Marcus in the wheelhouse.

  Before she could say hello, Marcus said, 'You still here?' to her.

  She frowned. 'Yes, still here. Shouldn't I be?'

  ‘I expect you're going later?’

  What was he talking about? His mood clearly hadn't improved. 'No, I'm spending the night here, thank you very much,' then she turned away, ignoring bad behaviour like a good mother should. 'Carole! How nice to see you. Did you give them a lift? That's very kind of you. Why don't you come down and have a glass of wine or some thing while they sort themselves out. Will you eat with us, or do you need to get back?' While she was saying this she was aware of Tom disappearing with the man she realisedwas indeed Ed, and whom Marcus should have intro duced. Honestly, Marcus had no bloody manners at all!

  ‘I'm not going back,' said Carole, who appeared both frightened and defiant. 'I'm coming with you.’

  Jo swallowed, thinking even more badly of Marcus, springing an extra person on her without notice, especially when he didn't approve of people bringing their girl friends along. Typical double standards. 'Right. Good, I'll show you your cabin. You are sharing with Marcus, aren't you? Otherwise I don't know where you'll sleep. I'll have to find some extra pillows.'

  ‘Of course I'm sharing with Marcus,' she said, looking at Jo oddly. 'We're partners.'

  ‘Is Tom showing Ed where to sleep?' Jo asked Marcus. Marcus nodded. 'I'll check his accommodation is suitable.’

  Concealing her mental description of him as a sulky child behind a smile, Jo said, 'Come with me, Carole.' She opened the door to what had been her private space a few hours before. 'You might prefer to go backwards, but do mind your head.' Where, she wondered, was she going to find half-decent pillows at this stage? Tom would have to be a hero and sacrifice his. He could probably manage with a sofa cushion.

  ‘Oh. It is quite small,' said Carole, when she had made her way down.

  ‘Just the usual size. You and Marcus are a bit spoilt on Hildegarde.' Jo concealed her defensiveness behind a Brown-Owl bracingness. 'This is the original living space, although in the old days they had to cook and eat in here as well as sleep.'

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. Is this the bathroom?' Carole peered into the adjoining cupboard. It's minute!'

  ‘I only use it for the loo and tooth-brushing. I haven't quite worked out how the shower works. I use the other bathroom, up the fore end.'

  ‘Not very convenient.'

  ‘It's fine when it's just me and Dora.' Jo kept up her bracing tone by sheer effort of will. To think that she'd given up her haven, her sanctuary, to two people who didn't appreciate it. One was a spoilt brat and the other was moody, arrogant and too rude to live! 'I'll leave you to get yourself organised,' she added, thinking longingly of her sherry, still unfinished in the saloon. Would this trip turn her an alcoholic? she wondered as she made her way up the steps and into the wheelhouse.

  ‘Shall I open the wine?' said Dora, seeing the look on Jo's face.

  ‘Yes.' Jo threw herself full length on to the sofa, aware she'd have to spring to attention any second. She no longer cared about becoming an alcoholic – it was probably inevitable.

  ‘You didn't have any idea Carole was coming, did you?' Dora placed a full wine glass next to Jo's half-finished sherry.

  ‘Nope.' She kept her eyes closed.

  ‘I wonder if she can cook,' said Dora.

  ‘I'm sure she can. Anyway, she won't have to. She might do the heating up though. That could be very usef
ul.'

  ‘I can't help wondering-' Dora began before the sound of feet on the steps stopped her.

  Jo sat upright and knocked back her sherry in one, dizzy-making action.

  ‘The men won't be long, will they?' Carole stood in the doorway, sounding nervous.

  ‘I don't suppose so,' said Jo. 'There's not much to see up there. Come and have a glass of sherry or wine; we've got both.'

  ‘Marcus is always very insistent that Ed gets a decent berth,' said Carole.

  ‘Well, it's as decent as we could make it. Though I did omit to put flowers on the dressing table.' Jo sounded less welcoming now.

  ‘Oh, it's all right,' said Dora. 'I did that.’

  Carole and Jo stared at her.

  ‘Not really. Only joking. Let's get to the wine!' Dora said brightly.

  ‘Do sit down, Carole, we mustn't stand on ceremony if we're crossing the ocean together.'

  ‘The North Sea's not an ocean,' said Dora. 'Red or white, Carole?'

  ‘Nothing, thank you.'

  ‘Of course, this will be a very run-of-the-mill trip to you, Carole,' said Jo after a moment. 'You must have been to Holland dozens of times with Marcus.'

  ‘Actually, I haven't been before. He doesn't usually let me come on trips.'

  ‘But he let you – asked you to come this time?' The reasons for this buzzed round Jo's head like angry flies. 'No, he didn't ask me, but he said I could come.' Mortification flooded over Jo. He must have let Carole come because he had sensed she fancied him. It was for protection from a frustrated perimenopausal woman. It was probably also the reason for his extreme rudeness – he was fending her off. When she became aware she was using nautical expressions in her head, she sipped her wine to ward off despair.

  Dora took over the role as hostess. She opened another bottle of wine and retrieved a few cans of lager from the fridge. She opened a packet of handcut crisps and put them in bowls. There was a chicken casserole all ready to serve. She peeked in the oven and counted the baked potatoes that were to go with the casserole. Thank goodness for Jo's tendency to over-cater, she thought.