Katie Fforde - Going Dutch

‘Have you ever done anything like that?' asked Bill. 'It's not easy.'

‘I've never done anything precisely like this, but I used to enjoy restoring things. I had a book with techniques in it, like French polishing, lacquering, things like that. I'm stubborn really. I don't like to be defeated.'

‘But do you really want to spend all that time? It would take ages.' Bill picked up a box, obviously intending to put it somewhere else, and then put it back, defeated.

‘You used to make wonderful sugar flowers and things,' said Dora. 'Do you remember that cake you made for Mum's fortieth? It was covered with flowers and butterflies.'

‘I'd been on a course,' said Jo. 'I used to go on a lot of courses.' She sighed, allowing nostalgia to make her sad for a moment.

‘Are you really interested in that old mirror?' Miranda seemed to sense the dip in Jo's mood.

‘Oh yes.' Jo brightened up. 'I love the old glass – it's really flattering.'

‘Then why don't you see what you can do? If it turns out well, I can put it in the shop and you can have the money. If you don't want to keep it,' said Miranda.

‘I can't really keep too much while I'm on The Three Sisters,' said Jo. 'And I don't even know if I can do it.' She couldn't decide if she wanted the challenge or felt daunted by it.

‘Have a go,' said Miranda encouragingly. 'And I have quite a lot of other bits and pieces that need restoring if it turns out you have a knack for it.'

‘Oh wow!' said Dora, finding a little dish with a recumbent nymph, currently without a head, along the edge. 'How would you repair her?'

‘Mm. Not sure,' mused Jo. 'I'd probably try to find another head of about the right size, to give me the basis, and then just fiddle and carve until she looked right.'

‘Tell you what,' said Miranda briskly. 'I'll put together all the things most in need of restoration and you can see what you can do with them. I must say,' she went on, 'I'll be thrilled if you do find you have a talent for it. Those small items are very collectable.'

‘I'll give it a go, and if I can't, well, you're no worse off.’

‘And now are you two going to look at my barge, or not?' asked Bill, sounding a little pathetic.

‘Oh yes,' said Dora. 'I'm looking forward to it.'

‘As long as I don't have to look at the engine,' said Jo. 'I don't do engines.’

‘They're all so different!' said Dora to Jo later as they walked along the jetty to where the next ladder down to the barges was. 'Imagine, a full-length bath with a separate shower in a boat!'

‘Some of these Thames barges are massive,' said Jo, 'more like loft conversions than boats, really. They offer a huge amount of living space.'

‘And those heavenly wood floors in that last one!'

‘Wood floors are nice,' agreed Jo, 'but they gather dust terribly. Carpet keeps it to itself until you hoover it. Wood floors need forever dusting. I've got them at home. I mean, I had them at my old house. Talk about dust bunnies – dust Shetland ponies, rather.’

The image made Dora smile. 'That sounds rather sweet! It makes me feel cruel for sweeping them up. Oh my goodness, will they let us on this one? It looks fabulous!' She wasn't sure if Jo had referred to her old house as home from habit, or if it went deeper. She didn't want her to be sad, not just now.

Jo didn't seem sad and negotiated the various rails and ropes that needed stepping over with efficiency. Dora, not so familiar with such obstacles, took a little longer to land on the deck of the Hildegarde.

A young woman was there to receive them. She smiled with professional charm. 'Hi there, welcome to Hildegarde.

She's a luxe motor, thirty metres long, with a beam of five metres.'

‘Oh, right. Nice,' said Jo and Dora, more or less together. 'I'm Carole. The owner's unable to be here right now, so I'm showing people round.'

‘Is it for sale, then?' asked Jo.

‘Oh no. I'm just showing it off for Marcus because he couldn't be here.’

I wonder, thought Jo. Marcus wasn't all that common a name.

‘I used to know a Marcus,' she said, 'years ago, when Philip and I first got together. Probably not the same one though,' she added, noting how old Carole was and doing the sums.

‘Let me show you round the deck first.' Carole led the way.

‘Lovely,' muttered Dora, trying to work out how this woman fitted into the barge-owner's life. Was she a wife or just a girlfriend? Or even just a friend? She was slim, elegant and wore fabulous silk trousers with a matching camisole top. She was tanned, well made up with really good hair. Although Dora had no intention of becoming a hairdresser – far too skilled, in her opinion – she did fancy herself as someone who could tell when their hairstyle suited them. Carole was an example of someone with perfect hair. Jo, thought Dora regretfully, was not.

‘You see, here's the sitting area. Isn't it great? The awning is electric, goes up and down at the touch of a button.'

‘Gorgeous,' said Dora. For some reason she felt sorry for Carole. In spite of her stunning looks and lovely clothes there was an air of loneliness about her. She wondered if this Marcus was nice to her. What sort of man would leave his woman to show off his boat, unless they were married or something?

‘And there's a hydraulic lift for the car,' Carole went on. 'Marcus is using it now, but it means when you arrive in the middle of the countryside, you can just drive off to the shops or a hotel. Should you want to, of course.’

It seemed to Dora that Carole did want to. The barge was probably Marcus's heart's desire and she just went along with it. More fool her.

‘Very useful,' said Jo. 'Er – can we go inside now? I'm much more interested in the inside of boats-'

‘Barges,' corrected Carole.

… than the outside.' Jo smiled firmly.

‘Of course, so am I, really,' said Carole, 'but Hildegarde's got so many wonderful features, I don't want to forget any of them. This is the wheelhouse,' she announced proudly a moment or two later.

Dora had by this time seen enough barges to stop being amazed at how different from each other they all were, but this wheelhouse was something else entirely. There were no plants here, for a start.

It had what looked like a flight deck. There was a padded chair to sit on while steering, and a raft of electronic equipment that Carole was now explaining to a patient Jo.

Dora wandered down the stairs, wondering vaguely why there was no one else looking at it. She would have assumed that most people would leap on to this barge as soon as possible. She liked the interior. The saloon had tongue-and-groove panelling in a pale coloured wood. There was an unlit wood-burning stove on which Carole (it would have to have been Carole), had placed a bunch of dried flowers. There was pale carpet on the floor, but the furniture was arranged with such perfect symmetry it could have been done with a ruler. It was beautiful but soulless, she thought.

There was, however, a bookcase. Dora walked over to it to give herself something to look at while she waited for Jo and Carole to come down. The books, she noted with horror, were in alphabetical order and there were no novels. She shuddered. She didn't think she should go into the other rooms until she was ushered, it would seem like prying, so she went to the window, which was definitely a window rather than a porthole, and looked out. Across the water she could see The Three Sisters. From here, she looked quite elegant, and even Dora could appreciate she had lovely lines. Inside, however, she was definitely a boat. Thick, round portholes let light into the saloon but you couldn't stare out of them. The large windows in Hildegarde offered brilliant views.