Katie Fforde - Going Dutch

‘Oh dear. I can see why Jo left – and me. It would be awful to stay here and know that everyone is talking about you.'

‘Well, dear, one does have to be aware that the reason we've managed to keep our village shop when so many have gone is because of the gossip.'

‘Hm. I can't decide if that's a good or a bad thing. I never picked up any useful gossip when I lived here.'

‘Oh, they wouldn't talk about you to your face, darling. Now, let's go and see if your father and Tom have stopped talking about boats. I can only take so much of that sort of chat.’

As she followed her mother downstairs, Dora reflected that she was quite interested in boats, now that she lived on one, worked in a boatyard and was planning a voyage. Just as well, really.

Jo had borrowed Tilly's state-of-the-art food processor and had Radio 4 on loudly. Her eyes had stopped streaming since she'd created a pile of chopped onion the size of a large melon, one of celery nearly as big, and now she was decimating several pounds of carrots. Minced beef was browning in a frying pan and she was enjoying herself.

She switched off the machine and consulted her list. 'Now,' she muttered, 'If I make a basic mince and tomato thing I can add beans and turn it into chilli, but I won't bother using a dish for that, only those plastic containers-’

She screamed.

‘Sorry,' said Marcus, coming into the galley. 'I did knock but you obviously didn't hear me.’

Appalled to think she'd been caught talking to herself, Jo ran her hands through her hair and somehow managed to get onion juice into her eye at the same time. 'Oh God, now ['11 have to run my eye under a cold tap.' She managed a very feeble smile and rushed for the bathroom. 'Keep an eye on the mince!' she called before slamming the door shut behind her.

Inside the bathroom she ran the cold tap and started splashing her face before she had a chance to look at how red and puffy her eyes were. How could he creep up on her Like that? It was an outrage! Then she remembered that the water supply was not inexhaustible and turned off the tap. She dried her face on the hand towel and took stock before finding some moisturiser that was probably Dora's.

The trouble was, she suspected she had conjured Marcus up just by thinking about him as she peeled and chopped and fried. She had meant to think about the new set of challenges that were waiting for her at Miranda's shop, but Marcus had just drifted into her head, through Radio 4 and her thoughts about cooking. She had begun by wondering what he liked to eat when he was on a passage and it had gone on from there. He intrigued her, and she had to admit he really was very attractive, but he did seem to have a rather dark side. She just hoped it stayed away whilst they were on their trip. Now here he was in her galley, stirring the mince. Or at least she hoped he was.

She applied Dora's make-up as artlessly as she could. It wouldn't do to let him see that she had applied full slap just because he had appeared. She had had a good reason for running to the bathroom but she couldn't emerge too thoroughly painted.

‘Sorry about that,' she said. 'I'm dreadfully sensitive to onions and have been fighting them all day. Would you like a cup of tea?’

Just at that moment, Jo had no idea of the time. Was tea an appropriate suggestion? A glance at the ship's clock fixed to the bulkhead assured her that it was. 'I've made a cake.' Quite why she added this rider, she didn't know. She'd made it for Dora and Tom when they came home, in case the visit had not gone well.

‘I didn't come for tea and cake,' said Marcus. 'But if you're offering it, I won't say no.’

Jo put the kettle on, less flustered now she had a task to do. 'So why did you come?'

‘I brought a life-raft. It's on deck. You would have heard me getting it aboard if you hadn't had the radio on so loudly.'

‘I had to have it on loudly or I wouldn't have heard the play over the sound of the mixer.'

‘Is it yours?' He regarded the machine, which was about the size of a small fridge, with misgiving.

‘Don't worry, it's only borrowed. It's fantastic, but I agree there isn't really room for it.'

‘I didn't say that.'

‘No. Your thoughts are very loud.’

He laughed. 'You look as if you're planning to feed an army.'

‘I am. I know I'm going to be seasick, so I don't want to have to do more cooking when we're under way than I absolutely have to. I'm going to fill the freezer and the fridge. You'll all be able to come down and just popsomething into the microwave.' She paused. 'Don't worry, you can tell Carole I'm keeping the salt and fat down. Oh, I'd better drain that mince, now.’

Wondering why people always stood in front of the sink when there were acres of other space for them to stand in, she edged him out of the way.

‘What did Miranda think of those bits and pieces you repaired for her?’

Jo nearly spilt the mince into the sink. 'How on earth do you know about that?'

‘Bill rang me about something and mentioned you'd called in at the shop. He didn't tell me if the pieces were all right.’

The boat world bush telegraph was even more active than her village one had been, she thought wryly, slightly taken aback by his interest. 'They were more than all right, actually,' she said. 'Miranda wanted to give me a whole lot more stuff to tackle only I made her keep it until we're home again and I've got a bit more space.' She frowned slightly, blotting at the mince with a bit of kitchen towel.

‘Well, that's good, isn't it?'

‘Of course.'

‘But you look worried.’

She looked up at him in surprise. 'Well, I am a bit.’

‘Why?'

‘Why the interest? I can't have looked all that worried.' She found his questioning unnerving. Why did he care? 'I was just asking,' he said more gently.

Unaware until that moment that she didn't want to talk about her fledgling new career in case it all came to nothing she got a grip on herself. 'I'm sorry. I think the onions are making me irritable. Why don't you go and sit down and I'll make you a cup of tea.'

‘So what are you cooking for us?'

‘Lasagne, chilli, moussaka, though I should have used lamb mince for that really.' She smiled at him. 'I'm thinking of writing a cookery book: A Million Ways with Mince.'

‘ Not really?’

Jo raised an eyebrow. 'No, but I could have done. When we were first married, Philip and I didn't have much money. I managed to do very elegant dinner parties that were either vegetarian, or used mince. Just as well we hadn't heard of BSE in those days.’

He smiled reminiscently. 'There were still plenty of mad cows about.'

‘Nowadays it's politically incorrect to refer to women as cows,' she said sternly.

‘Whatever else you may or may not expect of me, you can't expect me to be politically correct.’

This made her laugh a little. 'That much I do believe.’

‘Will you have tea with me? Or am I too politically incorrect?’

She swallowed, trying to make sense of her feelings. In one way she had to admit she found Marcus very attractive and he was being very nice to her, interested in her goings-on etc. But she couldn't help remembering that he was used to getting his own way, was a bit arrogant and had a much younger girlfriend. What's more, she just couldn't trust men at the moment. If Philip could leave her after nearly thirty years of marriage, a man like Marcus couldn't possibly be interested in her as a woman. So what was he up to?

‘Marcus, we may not know each other very well, and it may have been a very long time since we first knew each other, but your lack of PC-ness comes as no surprise. I will have a cup of tea, though. Do you want some cake?'