by Katie Fforde
‘Because when she asked me if she could come, I thought you'd bottled out. I was furious – with you – with myself for being such a fool, everything. And I guess I didn't really trust my feelings, if I'm honest,' he added rather ruefully.
‘I hope Carole didn't regret coming.' So inviting Carole was slightly out of pique. Well, she couldn't really blame him.
‘I shouldn't think so. She'll realise the trip was the catalyst that made her get rid of me, and she'll be glad about that.'
‘Would you have got rid of her, if she hadn't dumped you first?’
He hesitated before he answered. 'I can see why you're asking the question and yes, I would have got rid of her, if I had to. I would have done it in a way that she thought it was her idea.' He suddenly grinned sheepishly. 'It's a technique I've developed over the years.’
She chuckled slightly. 'I'm sure you've developed lots of techniques over the years.’
He nodded, still rueful. 'Tell me about your daughter.’
‘Is that one of them? Changing the subject to something safer?'
‘Definitely.'
‘OK, I'll indulge you.' She let herself get well into one of her favourite subjects for a while and then said, 'Your turn.' He chuckled softly. 'I haven't got a daughter, or any children, come to that – or not that I know of. I never said I was a saint,' he added, noticing Jo's raised eyebrow. 'You obviously love Karen very much.'
‘Oh yes. More than anything or anyone in the world. Even when I still loved Philip, I would have said the same.’
‘And you definitely don't love Philip any more?’
Jo nodded, aware she knew it now with more certainty than she had at any time since he'd left her. 'Loving someone is quite hard to stop doing but when he went off a part of me died. My love for him sort of withered away, without its blood supply.' She looked up at him ruefully. 'I'm talking gibberish. Too much wine probably.'
‘You haven't had enough wine for that.’
He topped up her glass and she suddenly thought that perhaps he was trying to make her drunk so he could have his evil way with her. Then she realised it would be her evil way too. She took a cautious sip.
‘I will never let anything bad happen to you, Joanna. I give you my word,' he said.
Touching as this statement really was, Jo did not receive it with unalloyed joy. She had just begun to look forward to being seduced by this very, very attractive man and he'd gone all noble on her. How typical. He's probably seduced hundreds of women, why should he decide to give it up now? Still, with luck, he wouldn't consider getting her into bed as bad, exactly.
The food arrived just in time to prevent her having to say anything meaningful in return. 'My goodness, there's enough here to feed an army!' said Jo.
‘Nearly enough to feed a barge full of hungry boaters,' agreed Marcus.
Jo laughed. She did like being with him. He might say totally unnerving things from time to time, but he didn't dwell on them, or insist on a response. For the first time in a very long while she was enjoying the company of a man who she felt really did want to be with her – at least for this evening.
When at last their plates had been taken away, Marcus inspected the pudding menu. 'Do you want a pudding?’
Jo sighed. 'Sort of. I'm so full I can't move, though.'
‘We'll share one, then. Shall we have slag?'
‘Definitely.' Jo laughed.
‘And then we'll have brandy. How often is it that one doesn't have to do anything much in the morning?'
‘So they won't want to put her into dry dock at the crack of dawn?'
‘I don't think they're planning to put her in dock until about ten, so that's not too bad. This dock is very good about letting families live aboard while there's work going on, but it's better to be out while they're actually working.'
‘Does that mean we have to wander the streets until dark?'
‘Not at all. We'll hire a car and tour Holland, go to Amsterdam, Delft, all the touristy things, and then some non-tourist ones.'
‘Perhaps we might find a flea market?'
‘Of course. You can load up with suitable bits of china, restore them and sell them with a huge mark-up.’
‘And make my fortune! What more can a girl want?’
‘I can think of a couple of things one might want a girl tc want.’
She twinkled at him. 'I think ice cream and chocolate sauce might be enough for now.' She was enjoying flirting openly with him.
The sauce came in a separate jug, as did the cream. Even without all the connotations it now had for Jo it would have seemed like a little piece of heaven. Marcus picked up a spoon and loaded it with a combination of ice cream, sauce and cream before carrying it to Jo's mouth. 'Open wide.’
Giggling, she did as she was told. 'That was to die for,' she said.
‘But not better than sex?'
‘It depends on the sex.' She spoke flippantly, but she did remember that there were times – quite often – when she had occupied her mind with shopping lists and what to do in the garden while Philip had made love to her.
Marcus ate a spoonful himself. 'Wow. That has set quite a high standard.’
Jo sipped the brandy that had appeared at her elbow without her noticing. 'I'm not really comparing like with like. Don't worry.' Then she realised that sometime during the evening she had decided that if the opportunity arose, that if he wanted to, she would put aside her years of conditioning, of being sensible and thinking about the future, and have sex with him, whatever the consequences. It came as a huge shock. Her shock must have showed because he laughed.
‘Don't worry, I won't hold you to anything, except perhaps my manly chest.’
Now Jo was really giggly and accepted another spoonful of pudding. 'It's just as well we don't know anyone here. Imagine the scandal, a respectable middle-aged, middle-class woman dining with…' she paused for an apposite description.
‘A middle-aged, middle-class reprobate?'
‘Mm, that's quite accurate.'
‘But as we don't know anyone, drink up, it's time we were going home.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
There was no thought of them walking home. A taxi was found and whisked them back to the quay. They held hands in the dark and Jo felt more young and giddy than she ever had done – even when she was officially young and giddy. She realised she was a little drunk when she got out while Marcus was paying the taxi driver and she found herself swaying. 'You're going to regret this in the morning,' she told herself firmly. 'Drink a lot of water or you'll feel awful.' But she knew that drinking water wouldn't stave off a much worse and possibly permanent hangover from her actions. She didn't care – she knew that the promise of the moment was too good to turn her back on, however much she might regret it later.
Marcus joined her and took her arm firmly, walking her the short distance back to the barge with an air of determination that Jo now found irresistibly attractive. He almost lifted her on to the barge and suddenly they were in the dark of the wheelhouse. The moment had come. She had to make her wishes known.
‘Marcus?'
‘What?’
Jo drew her breath to say she knew not what – something that would give him the hint that she wanted to be seduced, that she wasn't just about to thank him for a lovely evening.
Then he made everything a lot easier by kissing her. The pressure of his mouth bruised hers. That she hadn't been kissed like that for years and years was her last conscious thought. She swayed in his arms and her head spun, affected as much by his kiss as by the brandy. She twined her fingers into his hair as he crushed her with his passion, and she forgot to breathe. They broke apart reluctantly, panting from lack of oxygen and desire.
‘Goodness, you're a good kisser,' she murmured, smiling.
He laughed. 'And my talents don't end there.'
‘That's fighting talk! Come down and prove it!' she said.
*
The thought of undressing in front of a
man other than her husband had always terrified her, but now, she didn't even think about it. They pulled at each other's clothes as they got in the way of their searching hands. When at last he had got all her clothes off, he sighed deeply as he held her in the circle of his arms, stroking the curve of her waist. 'I can't tell you how long I've wanted this.’
Jo didn't answer. She felt utterly desired and equally desiring. She wanted him at that moment more than she had ever wanted anything. She dragged his shirt out of his trousers and was at his belt buckle like a tigress on her prey.
‘There's something I must say-'
‘Not now,' she said huskily and hopped on to the bunk. It took him less than a moment to join her.
*
Later he brought them both glasses of water and reality seeped back into Jo's consciousness.
‘I've never done anything like that before,' she said.
‘I like to think I bring a certain originality to my love making.’
She giggled. 'You are so smug! I didn't mean that. I meant I haven't ever slept with a man I'm not married to.’
He pulled the duvet away from where it had got tangled between them so now they lay skin to skin. 'What? Not one indiscretion in all the years?’
She considered. 'There was an indiscretion but it didn't get very far.'
‘Why not?'
‘I was old-fashioned back then, and, as it turned out, stupid, and believed in my marriage vows.'
‘Although technically I suppose you are, you don't feel married then?'
‘Nope. As I see it, if the marriage vows are broken, they're broken, no matter which of you does it. Why have you never married, Marcus?'
‘Ah, well, I've always been a serial philanderer.'
‘I'm not sure you can be one of those, unless of course you hop from Cornflakes to Rice Krispies and on to Weetabix in a promiscuous way.’
He squeezed her shoulders and then kissed one of them. 'I didn't realise you could be so flippant.'
‘I feel flippant just now. And very – relaxed.'
‘I think the word you're searching for is sated.'
‘Is it?' She yawned deeply. 'I only know it's very nice, but I'm falling asleep.'
‘You go to sleep. We'll carry on this conversation in the morning.’
She opened her mouth to say 'Love you' in the way that she had to her husband for all those deluded, married years. Somehow, she stopped herself. She felt sure she could love Marcus but she retained enough common sense to realise her feelings might be more lust than love, and anyway, it was far too early to tell him. 'Goodnight, sleep tight, don't let the bed-bugs bite,' she said instead.
‘Joanna!’
She chuckled and closed her eyes. The trouble was, although she did feel a little flippant she knew perfectly well that in the morning she'd feel anything but.
*
The double berth in the back cabin of The Three Sisters was of traditional size, which meant, Jo was only too aware, small. There was no way they could share it without their limbs entangling, and if Marcus caught a sensitive part of her body as they adjusted their positions, one thing led to another. They didn't get much sleep. At about seven the following morning, Marcus got up to make tea. Jo followed him to have a quick look at herself in the mirror. Daylight could be horribly cruel to the older woman, she thought, and braced herself for the worst.
In fact, she realised, she didn't look too bad. Her left-over make-up had tactfully stayed just under her eyes and not smeared itself all over her face. Her hair was dishevelled but hadn't gone flat, and her skin looked relaxed and positively blooming. As she examined herself she remem bered reading that sex was good for the skin, and now she saw what they meant.
She hopped back into bed, bringing the duvet up over her breasts like they did in films. 'Perhaps I should put my designer bra back on?' she wondered. 'Then I'll look like I'm in Sex and the City. Except that my bra isn't designer and it looks silly, even when they do it.' She hoped Marcus hadn't heard her talking to herself when he appeared a moment or two later with the tea.
‘There was a text,' he said, handing her a mug and getting back into bed. He'd pulled on his trousers to go through the wheelhouse, but didn't take them off now.
‘Oh?'
‘From Michael.'
‘Nothing's wrong?' she asked anxiously. 'He can still come and help you bring the boat back, can't he?'
‘Oh yes, that's not a problem. No, he'd had a message from Karen.' He took a sip of tea.
‘What, Karen my daughter?' Jo sat up, immediately alert. 'Is there another Karen in Joanna-land?’
He wouldn't have made this joke if there was a problem, although there seemed to be a wistfulness about him. 'What did she say? She's all right, isn't she?'
‘Oh yes, but she's in England. She's got a bit of time off. But she's not sure how long for.'
‘Oh my God! And I'm in Holland. Typical.’
He paused and then went on steadily. 'Yes, but there's a train to the airport in a couple of hours. Or you could take a taxi. Perhaps that would be best.’
*
All the time she was rushing round making preparations for an early departure, she wondered if Marcus was packing her off. Was he relieved that he didn't have to spend the rest of the time in Holland with her? Or even the rest of the day! Perhaps he was grateful for the chance to kick her out of bed in the morning without any recriminations from her? He didn't seem pleased for her to be going, but on the other hand, he wasn't pleading with her to stay, either. Perhaps she had just been a challenge for him and now he would return to his usual type. But he had seemed so in earnest.
She wondered about this on and off all during the train journey to the airport. She felt addled by all their love making and attached herself to a couple who were also flying to England, so she wouldn't get confused and lost during the many processes that getting on a plane involved. She was longing to see Karen, but at the same time she longed to stay with Marcus. If he'd given her the choice, what would she have decided? Was she more mother, or lover? The trouble was, even if she was more lover, she couldn't possibly have said to Karen that she couldn't come home because she was all loved up with a man who wasn't her father. If only Karen had had more definite plans, she and Marcus could have discussed things properly.
She fell asleep on the plane, waking from time to time to check their progress. When they were stacked up waiting to land she was grateful because it meant more time to sleep. When they had to taxi a long way once they had landed, she was glad of that too. And when she was finally forced to wake up and get off the plane and retrieve Marcus's grip, which she had borrowed, from the over head locker, she realised that she had come down to earth in more ways than one.
Marcus may have implied he'd yearned for her for years, but now he'd had her he was almost bound to want to go back to supple, lissom-limbed, Pilates-trained Carole, or her lookalike. He was a very attractive man. He could have any woman he wanted. A night in her arms and between her far too substantial thighs wouldn't bind him to her. She sighed as she shuffled along the passport queue. Never mind, she'd had her grand passion, the most wonderful night of lovemaking anyone could ever imagine, and she'd never let herself regret that.
*
Dora was lying in the sun on the grass with her eyes closed. Her ankle was entwined in the strap of her rucksack. Tom and most of his male friends were a little way away listening to their favourite band, Eskimo Rolling. They all had their tops off. She was not looking at Tom but she now knew exactly what his naked torso looked like and the knowledge was distracting.
‘So, why aren't you and Tom an item?' asked Lizzie. She was sitting up getting her back brown. She had undone her halter-neck top and was holding the front to her. Although there was a group of completely naked people nearby, no one felt the need to join them.
‘Because we're friends! It's hard to make the change, don't you think?' The trouble was, Dora realised, because she'd gone out with John for so long, and h
e'd been her first-ever boyfriend, she hadn't had the usual sort of dating and boyfriend experiences that other girls had had.
‘But you do fancy him?’
Dora opened an eye and checked Tom's strong, smooth back that tapered into his jeans in a satisfying way. 'I don't know. I suppose so.'
‘I so would if he wasn't like a brother! All the girls loved him at college.'
‘Er – did he have girlfriends at college?' Dora did feel a bit disloyal talking about Tom like this, but it was a good opportunity to find out things about him, and Lizzie was obviously a good friend of his. She wouldn't say anything nasty.
‘Oh yes, loads. He managed to keep them as friends, though, which I think is cool.'
‘Good.'
‘So, how did you two meet?’
Dora would have quite liked to drift off to sleep. She sensed she wouldn't get much sleep later on, when they were all sharing a four-man tent. Tonight it would be housing not only four men, but two girls as well. 'Through the barge, I suppose. I was going to say through work, but he got me the job.’
They continued to chat, exchanging background details, finding more in common than Dora would have expected. They both had mothers who fussed.
‘But Tom's mother's cool,' said Lizzie. 'I remember a whole crowd of us turned up to stay the night one day – we were travelling back from somewhere, can't remember where, and the car broke down. She was great about it. My mother would have gone ballistic. So, where will you go after the festival? Back to work, or back to the barge?'
‘Back to the barge, I suppose.' Thinking about the barge and her cabin reminded her that she didn't have a sleeping bag with her. 'I should probably buy a blanket or some thing,' she went on. 'I didn't bring a sleeping bag because I didn't have one on the barge.'
‘I'd love to see it sometime.'
‘Well, maybe you could come back with us. Not everyone, though. That might be too much for Jo. Gosh, I wonder how she's getting on?'
