Katie Fforde - Going Dutch

‘I'll get it now. It's in a file in that little bureau.' Jo crossed the room to the little piece of furniture she had saved for ages to buy. 'I've no idea why Philip couldn't find it.' She opened the front of the desk and a lot of bits of paper fell out. Jo made herself laugh – it was better than crying. 'See! Perfectly easy – put my hand right on it.’

To Dora's amazement, Jo did have her hand on a pale mauve folder with 'Valuable Documents' written on it.

‘I hate to think I'm not being supportive,' said Dora, 'but I think I might not have found that straightaway.' Chuckling, Jo extracted Karen's certificate.

‘I'll take that for you,' said Dora, who still had her bag slung round her neck.

‘Thank you. Now, let's go and find a drink of water. I'm suddenly dreadfully thirsty.'

‘It's probably stress,' said Dora.

‘It's summer!' said Jo, not wanting to acknowledge her feelings even if Dora was meaning to be kind.

They went into the kitchen and Jo found glasses and filled them from the big American-style fridge that had a water dispenser.

‘We would have loved this when we were little, Karen and me,' said Dora, doing the same. 'Oh look, it does crushed ice. We could have played cocktail bars.'

‘I like cocktails,' said Jo. 'Do you want some more water?'

‘I'm fine for now.'

‘Come on then, let's hit the bedroom.’

Dora had no way of knowing how much had changed when they got upstairs but judging by Jo's expression the bed hadn't been covered in fluffy toys when she had had it.

‘So what do they do when they want to get in at night? Take them all off, I suppose,' said Jo. 'I wonder what Philip thinks about all this?’

Dora found herself wandering over to the dressing table, which was antique and very pretty. 'Was this yours?'

‘Yes. It was my mother's. I will take it back when I've got a house. It's got glass on it, and so shouldn't get damaged if the Floosie spills her nail varnish. Golly, I've changed since I last looked in a decent mirror.' Jo laughed. 'I need a haircut!’

Dora came up behind her. 'I remember me and Karen going through your make-up, trying it on. Were you furious?'

‘I don't remember if I ever found out. You couldn't have done much damage with it.'

‘There was a lipstick that got broken.’

Jo laughed again. 'Oh yes. Very bright red. It stayed on the towels forever. I had to dye them in the end.’

Dora was abashed. 'I'm so sorry! What a pain!'

‘Not at all. I was into dyeing at the time. Right, now, which cupboard did he say?' She opened one of the fitted cupboards, then another, until they were all open. 'Well, they're not here. Where are they?' She took out a hanger with a rectangle of black leather hanging on it. 'The Floosie must be tiny.'

‘Haven't you met her?’

Jo shook her head. 'Philip wanted to show me a picture on his phone, but I didn't want to look. He said she's justlike I was when young. I didn't want to see the difference to how I am now.'

‘You're lovely now.'

‘I was never that size,' she said, putting the rectangle back. 'OK, let's go and see if my clothes are in the spare room. Oh,' she said a moment or two later when they had crossed the landing. 'This is so boring. I had such lovely paper in here, it was quirky and fun. Now it's just -chintzy. I don't know why, but I never like having matching wallpaper, curtains and bed linen and this has got just too many roses.'

‘I'm not sure I'm that keen, either,' said Dora. 'In fact, Samantha – is that her name? – seems to have quite retro tastes. Are these your clothes, do you think? In these bin liners?’

Jo appeared to take her possessions being stuffed into bags like so much jumble quite calmly. She opened one. 'Yes. I must say, as I had taken all my winter clothes, I do think she could have left these in the wardrobe.’

Dora pulled out a sundress. 'They're awfully crushed. Is there an ironing board on the boat?'

‘Don't think so. I haven't really needed one up until now. I used to have a wonderful woman who did my ironing for me. She was brilliant at it and did it all in about five minutes.' She lapsed into silence and when she spoke again she sounded tired. 'Still, I suppose you wouldn't really want to see the first wife's clothes hanging there every time you open a cupboard door.'

‘You're being awfully reasonable,' said Dora. 'I'd go ballistic if I found all my clothes scrunched up into rubbish bags!’

Jo sighed. 'I'm trying very hard not to go ballistic. It doesn't achieve much. Now, let's go through these to make sure I'm not filling the boat with clothes I can't get into.

‘I should have done this years ago,' she went on a few minutes later, pulling off a cotton sweater that was definitely too tight. 'I haven't worn that for years.’

Dora picked up the jumper. 'This is really nice.'

‘Do you want it? Help yourself. I'm always very flattered when Karen takes my things, although they are usually my cashmere jumpers.' She paused suddenly. 'I might not be able to afford cashmere jumpers soon.'

‘Why not?'

‘Well, Philip's bound to stop being so generous eventually. He's still feeling guilty, but that'll wear off. I'll have to earn my own living. I really hope I can earn enough from restoring collectables and antiques.' She hugged a striped Breton top to her. 'Philip bought me this from France, years and years ago. I couldn't convince him that horizontal stripes weren't a good idea for a woman of my shape.'

‘Put it on! I think it might look nice! Or does it remind you of the good old days?' Dora bit her lip, afraid that she'd been lacking in tact.

Jo pulled off the T-shirt she'd been wearing. 'I'm not at all sure,' she said through the top as she pulled it down.

‘It does suit you, really it does. It sort of nips you in at the waist.'

‘Does it?' Jo considered her reflection. 'Mm, perhaps you're right. Let's put the clothes I'm taking in this bag and the ones that need disposing of in that one.'

‘That's such lovely fabric,' said Dora, looking at a wrap around skirt.

‘Does anyone wear skirts like this these days?' asked Jo. 'It would make lovely cushions.'

‘Have you got a sewing machine?'

‘Yes I have actually, in the attic. I don't think Philip would mind if I took that. It is mine, after all.'

‘Let's go and look, then we can make cushions out of the clothes you don't want to keep and sell them.’

Jo laughed. 'It would take a lot of cushions to buy a cashmere sweater.'

‘Never mind! Many a little makes a lottle – or something.'

‘I think you mean "many a mickle macks a muckle",' said -Jo, starting to giggle.

‘Do I?' Dora giggled too and picked up a pair of linen trousers. 'I think you should wear these.'

‘I think one leg should wear them, though I'm not sure what the other leg would wear, they're tiny. In fact, they're Karen's. You have them.’

Dora was struggling into them when they heard a car pull up on the gravel outside. Jo rushed to the window.

‘Oh no! It's Philip and – Samantha! What are they doing here so early?'

‘Oh God, I've got stuck in these trousers!' said Dora, trying in vain to pull them off. 'How old was Karen when she had these?'

‘I told him we'd be here this morning. He promised he'd keep away until twelve though he'd said I could have a whole day to begin with. He is the limit! Shall we run out through the back?'

‘I can't run anywhere!' declared Dora. 'I'm hobbled by these wretched trousers. I can't pull them up or down!'

‘I'll have to find something to cut them with. Here -there's a manicure set. It's bound to have scissors.’

The tiny scissors made no impression on the cloth.

‘Oh God, this is so awful,' said Dora. 'My circulation is being cut off. They'll have to amputate my legs, let alone the trousers.’