Going Dutch

by Katie Fforde

  ‘There are some very fit blokes who go sailing,' said Dora. 'We went with some friends years ago and the blokes were fab! Really fit in the way you mean, Jo, but also really fit in the way me and Carole mean, and very tanned.'

  ‘Mm,' said Jo, 'you won't catch me doing that, fit blokes or not. And it looks like we've arrived. I'm going down below to make tea for Ed. Oh! Hear that carillon – the church bells playing a tune? I think I know that hymn.' She went below, humming to herself.

  They'd all been too tired to do much more than pack, tidy up a little, plan their various onward journeys and fall into bed early.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘Paying-off day, it's always a scramble,' said Ed, the following morning, handing Carole's bag up to her. 'Everyone wants to get home as soon as possible, the minute they've got their wages.' He patted his top pocket. 'In euros, too.'

  ‘You were lucky with the flights,' said Dora, partly wishing she was flying home with Ed and Carole instead of getting on a train to a music festival. Although she was happy that she was going with Tom. They had both been paid too, although they had protested vehemently that they hadn't expected anything.

  ‘Aye. And Marcus was excellent booking it all on the Internet,' went on Ed, pulling himself up the rungs set in the dockside and joining Carole on the top. 'Is the taxi here yet?’

  As it wasn't, Dora stayed chatting up to him. 'What time will you be home?'

  ‘Not sure, but with luck I'll be there before the baby. That's the important thing. Did Marcus sort you out with a train?'

  ‘Yes, all on the Internet too. There's one that goes direct to the town.'

  ‘And you're sure you don't want to share our taxi to the station?'

  ‘I've still got things to do. We'll just walk up.’

  Then the taxi arrived and everyone was suddenly waving, and saying goodbye, and 'See you in a fortnight!' and then Ed and Carole were gone.

  There was hardly time to notice their absence before Jo was asking Dora for the hundredth time if she was OK camping. 'It's not the sort of thing you want to do without notice. We only went once and I spent a fortune in the camping shop buying bits of equipment.'

  ‘We'll have to be all right, but Tom says there'll be lots of shopping opportunities.'

  ‘Mm,' said Jo, 'but they'll be for wind chimes and didgeridoos, not useful things like baby wipes. Here you are.' Jo handed Dora a packet. 'I bought them in case the bathroom was suffering from overload,' she explained.

  ‘I think my rucksack is suffering from overload,' said Dora, stuffing the baby wipes into an already stuffed pocket. 'It's too small for more than one night away.’

  Jo, who'd helped her pare her requirements down to spare clothes, a toothbrush, a pot of moisturiser and a novel, tried to sound upbeat. 'Well, you won't get a chance to wear your pyjamas, will you? You'll be dancing all night.'

  ‘Listening to bands,' said Tom, who was fretting to go, 'waving your arms in the air.'

  ‘We should be back in a couple of days,' said Dora, uncertain if she was reassuring Jo or herself.

  ‘You'll have a lovely time,' said Jo, sounding like a parent sending a child to a party it didn't want to go to.

  Dora managed a smile. 'I'm sure. Just promise not to tell my mother where I'm going.’

  *

  'Well,' said Dora, sitting by the window on the train. 'We've got this far.'

  ‘Public transport is brilliant in Holland, isn't it?'

  ‘Mm. And so clean.' She paused. 'Do you think their festivals will be clean and well organised, too?’

  Tom smiled teasingly at her. 'You're not looking forward to this, are you?'

  ‘Well..

  ‘When you pretended to be disappointed before, you were really relieved, weren't you?’

  A guilty smile started at the corner of her mouth. 'A bit.’

  ‘Don't worry. You'll have a great time, and then you'll only have two more dares to do.'

  ‘Oh, those wretched dares,' she said, laughing. 'What're they going to be?'

  ‘Still haven't decided.' He looked around airily.

  ‘Well, don't make them too hard.' She thought back to the karaoke night with a certain amount of horror. 'You've been a real meany so far.'

  ‘"Meany",' he repeated fondly. 'I love the way you talk. Anyone else would have said "bastard".’

  Dora smiled. 'I've been very properly brought up.' She couldn't help noticing her heart give a little skip at this slight show of tenderness.

  Somewhere between Ed's falling in and the rest of the trip, Dora was aware her feelings had changed. Whether she'd always fancied Tom and had just been denying it because it was all too soon after John, or whether seeing him be heroic and Carole fancying him so obviously, or what, she now knew she wanted him to be more than a mate. She just didn't know how he felt about her and whether or not he still saw her as a kid sister.

  ‘I've noticed,' he said. 'Now, why don't you get some kip while you can? You won't get much when we get there.'

  ‘But I want to look out of the window and see Holland.'

  ‘Well, do that, but if you can nod off, I would. You won't be getting much sleep over the next two days. Don't worry,' he added, 'I'll make sure we don't miss our stop.'

  ‘I can't believe I actually did doze off,' said Dora as they waited in the door area to get off the train.

  ‘Things have been a bit hectic,' said Tom, 'what with Ed falling in and everything.'

  ‘We didn't talk about it much, did we? Considering how dreadful it was.’

  Tom shook his head. 'No. Ed thought he'd been careless and Marcus thought it was his fault for not knowing that the catch was loose.'

  ‘I don't see how either of them could blame themselves, it was just an accident.'

  ‘No such thing in their book. Still, we don't need to think about it any more, we're here!’

  Any doubts they'd had about finding the festival were banished the moment they got out of the station. There were signs and flags everywhere and there was a bus laid on.

  ‘This is all going so well! I can't believe how easy it's been to get here and everything,' Dora said as they jolted along in the bus.

  ‘Mm, it has gone well so far,' said Tom.

  ‘What?' His tone alerted her; there was something he wasn't telling her. 'What's the matter?'

  ‘Well, you know I said my friend had got tickets for the festival?'

  ‘Yes?'

  ‘Well, we haven't. We have to go over the fence.’

  Dora wondered if she'd ever be able to speak to Tom again, she was so cross. This was jacking up the terror-factor in a bet that was already enormous. It was too much! She forced herself to take a few calming breaths.

  ‘Tom, I can't. I just can't gatecrash a festival. You can call me a wimp or a piker or any other term you can think of, but I just cannot go in without paying. It's stealing.' She could just see herself banged up in a foreign jail. What would her mother say? She'd never forgive her.

  Tom fended off her outrage. 'Whoa, Dora! That's a bit of an overreaction, isn't it?'

  ‘Maybe, but I don't care. I have my limits. I don't mind being brave – or at least, I do, but I admit it's a good thing. Being dishonest isn't. Sorry.’

  Tom sighed and looked around at the other occupants of the bus, anywhere but at her.

  Dora watched him, convinced she'd put him off her for ever, certain he wouldn't even be her friend now. She felt utterly miserable and bit her lip. She stared out of the window too, so he wouldn't notice if she started crying. It was mostly because she was tired, she told herself.

  The bus reached its destination and they filed off, following fellow festival-goers who all seemed to be in the spirit of it already. When they finally were off, they were still not speaking, and by now, Dora didn't know if they just happened not to be talking, or if Tom was seriously sulking. He said, 'Wait here. I'll do some texting.’

  Not wanting to ask, or even know, why he wanted to get away from her to do that
, she stood by the entrance, watching happy ticket-holders go streaming in.

  All humanity – well, almost all – seemed to be passing before Dora. There were dreadlocked hippies wearing tie-dyed drapery; nice girls with blonde plaits, short shorts and tight pink T-shirts. There were groups of Goths, wearing black studded leather, big boots and, in the case of one woman, a surprisingly delicate black net tutu over ripped fishnet tights who reminded Dora of Bib. I wonder if she'll be here, she thought. Lads in jeans carrying ghetto-blasters and cases of lager mingled with a group of jugglers, who juggled as they walked. There were couples with buggies and babies strapped to their bodies who looked as if they led middle-class suburban lives most of the time, and grey-bearded, long-haired, black-garbed men who had probably never had much to do with mainstream society. In vain Dora looked for someone who, like her, felt out of place and anxious.

  The sun began to get hotter and she became thirsty. She drained the water in the bottle she had with her and realised that soon she'd have to buy some more. There wasn't a stall selling it outside, but she could see one through the gates.

  Had Tom abandoned her? Surely he wouldn't do something like that. But she couldn't help wondering if he found her refusal to gatecrash the festival so irritating that he'd want to.

  Time passed. Had she just been waiting, she'd have found plenty to entertain her in the passing crowds, but the tiny shard of fear that she was alone in a foreign country and might have to make her own way back to the bus, the station and eventually the barge on her own niggled like a splinter.

  ‘Hi there.' A tall, blond, tanned man wearing jeans and a T-shirt came up. He looked clean and personable and unthreatening. 'On your own?’

  He had a faint accent; what kind, Dora couldn't tell. It could have been from any European country. But he had a nice smile and she gave him a small smile back.

  ‘Only for the moment. I'm waiting for my friend.' The man grinned. 'Girl or boy?'

  ‘Boy, if it's anything to do with you.' She smiled a bit more this time, so as not to sound rude. She wanted him to think a big strong boyfriend was going to emerge from the crowd at any minute. She wanted to think that herself.

  ‘Well, he shouldn't have left you alone, pretty girl like you.'

  'He had stuff to organise.'

  ‘Stuff to organise, huh? Want to organise it for yourself?' Dora would have dearly liked to have organised stuff for herself, but as she didn't know what Tom was up to, she couldn't. She decided she wouldn't wait for Tom indefinitely. In a minute she'd work out how long she'd been waiting and decide how much longer to give him, then she'd make her way back to the barge. 'It depends what you're talking about,' she said.

  ‘Well, is there anything you need?’

  By now, Dora's need for a drink had increased consider ably. 'Have you got any water?' He had a large canvas bag with him, so it was possible.

  ‘Water?' He looked at her curiously. 'No, I haven't got water. But I have got coke.’

  Dora had just worked out what he was saying when Tom appeared from nowhere, took her arm and swept her into the crowd that was going through the entrance.

  ‘I think he was trying to sell me drugs!' she said. 'Too bloody right he was. Sorry I was so long.'

  ‘What were you doing?'

  ‘Getting these.' He produced a pair of tickets just as they reached the man who was checking them.

  ‘Where did you get them from?' Dora whispered as Tom held his wrist out to have a band put round it.

  ‘A tout. Don't worry, there's nothing wrong with them.' Dora held her hand out and had a plastic bracelet snapped on.

  ‘They must have cost a fortune!' she went on as they walked. 'How did you pay for them?'

  ‘Spent my wages, not that it's anything to do with you.'

  The time Dora had spent on her own, worrying, and then

  being picked up by a drug-dealer, had made her anxious

  and therefore shrill. 'Of course it's to do with me! If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have to pay! Here.. She fumbled in her wallet, which was in the front pocket of her jeans. 'Have my wages. At least I can pay for my own ticket.'

  ‘Nape. It's my fault you're here. Now put your money away before you get hit on by more people trying to sell you stuff or someone nicks it.'

  ‘No! Tom! That doesn't make sense. If I hadn't been here, you'd have gone over the fence and got in for nothing.'

  ‘If you weren't here neither would I be. Now come on. I want to find the others.’

  As Tom wouldn't let her pay, all Dora could do was trot along beside him hoping to goodness 'the others' weren't too terrifying.

  But as they walked her anxiety subsided. Most of the people weren't off their heads on drugs, although there was one man staggering along, his eyes rolled back who Tom explained had probably taken ketamine.

  There were stalls selling everything, including, in spite of Jo's predictions, useful things, like blankets and soap. There was a stall selling knickers with slogans on them that was doing excellent business and another painting on temporary tattoos and bindis. There were lots of places selling food – no culinary taste was left uncatered for. There was even a stall selling champagne and Pimm's which was a bit of a surprise to Dora, unlike the myriad tents selling what Tom described as Health Burgers.

  When Tom finally said, 'There they are! By the Hexagon, like they said,' Dora's growing enjoyment diminished a little. She had quite enough to do getting comfortable with her surroundings without meeting a lot of new people who might well be more scary than her drug-pusher had been.

  ‘Hi! Tom!' A girl about her own age flung her arms round Tom and hugged him. 'It's so great to see you again! It's been ages. This must be Dora! Hi! I'm Lizzie! I was so pleased when Tom said he had a girl with him.’

  Some of Dora's anxiety faded. Not only did Lizzie seem perfectly normal, she and Tom were obviously platonic friends only.

  ‘Hi, I'm Matt,' said a tall boy with short hair and a very wide smile.

  ‘And I'm Dave,' said another, smaller this time, and blond. 'We were at college with Tom. So, Tom!' They hugged. 'How's it going, mate?’

  The greetings went on and another girl appeared bearing a carrier bag. 'Look what I've got!' she said when she'd said hello. 'Juggling balls.' To everyone's amazement, she took them out of the bag and instantly began juggling with them.

  ‘I didn't know you could do that!' said Dave.

  ‘I'll teach you. But come and get settled into the tent first. It's massive – or it was when we put it up. It might be a bit of a squash with us all in it.’

  Dora didn't know if she was disappointed that she and Tom weren't going to be sharing a two-man tent, or relieved. She tried to decide all the way to the camping area.

  ‘Go to the loo now,' said Lizzie as they passed the toilets. 'It's still quite early and they'll be really disgusting later.' Dora took her advice.

  *

  It seemed to Jo that one minute they were arriving, tying The Three Sisters up outside the dry dock the barge was due to enter, and the next it was only she and Marcus, left alone in a space that suddenly seemed far too big for two. And this in spite of the fact that until quite recently, she had lived on The Three Sisters all on her own.

  ‘I can't believe they all disappeared so early. It was as if the ship had the plague or something,' she said to Marcus when he found her clearing up in the galley.

  ‘They all had places they wanted to get to in a hurry.'

  ‘I know and I perfectly understand. I just think it would have been nice to go out for a celebratory meal or something.'

  ‘We can still do that.’

  Jo mentally kicked herself. She'd more or less invited herself out to dinner with Marcus. How embarrassing! 'It won't be quite the same.'

  ‘It'll be better,' said Marcus.

  ‘What?’

  He ignored this. 'The first thing we should do is get you established in the back cabin.' Before she could faint with shock at the thought that he wa
s inviting her into his bed, he went on smoothly, 'I'll move into your cabin.' He was apparently unaware that Jo's perimenopausal symptoms had shot off the scale and back again.

  ‘Um, it's hardly worth it, is it? It's only for about ten days to a fortnight, isn't it?'

  ‘Nothing to do with boats and dry docking is ever set in stone. It could be a month, it could be a week. If you find me some clean bedlinen I'll put it on for you.’

  The thought of Marcus wrestling with a duvet cover, stretching across the bunk so he could tuck in the sheet and putting pillow cases on was beyond the limits of her imagination. 'It's all in there, in the cupboard.’

  He smiled a little apologetically. 'I'm very domesticated when I have to be, but I think I'll need you to come and find it for me.'

  ‘Of course. I'll strip my bed first.'

  ‘Don't do that, I don't mind your sheets. Just come and find new ones for your bed.'

  ‘It would really be a lot easier if we both just stayed where we were,' she said. Now she'd got over the shock of being invited into the captain's quarters and the realisation that he wouldn't be in them at the same time, she sounded perfectly rational.

  ‘I insist. I need to be there while we're on passage, but there's no need for it now, until we go back.’

  These words pierced a bubble of denial that Jo had kept intact until now. She'd spent so much energy thinking about the journey to the boatyard, Holland and across the sea etc., she hadn't made herself think about the journey back. It was probably just as well. If she'd thought of herself being alone with Marcus, with nothing much to do for over a week, she'd have been chewing her nails with anxiety.

  ‘Ed and Tom are coming back, aren't they? And Dora?' she said feebly.

  He laughed softly. 'Don't worry, Joanna, I'm not planning to train you to be my first mate while we're here so we can bring her back alone.'

  ‘Thank God!' she murmured, feeling sick. She knew perfectly well that a first mate did what Ed did, but the terminology was unfortunate just then.