Katie Fforde - Going Dutch

Eventually he said, 'I'm looking forward to this trip.' Relief made her garrulous. 'Oh yes! I suppose it will be exciting, going to Holland.’

He laughed and stepped out of the wheelhouse down on to the deck. 'I've been to Holland dozens of times. That wasn't what I was talking about at all.’

Jo attempted a light smile and then said, 'Right. OK then. I'd better go. So had you.' Then she retreated to the wheelhouse and watched until he had walked away.

Jo didn't immediately go and join Tom and Dora. She wanted to calm her breathing and wait for her complexion to return to normal. She knew she couldn't retire to her cabin because Tom and Dora would wonder what on earth was up with her so she took deep breaths and fanned herself for as long as she could.

The trouble was she had realised – to her horror – while she was plying him with tea and cake, that she fancied Marcus in a way she hadn't fancied anyone for years and years. And although she couldn't be sure, she had felt he'd been flirting with her. She gave herself a mental shake 'It's my hormones, or my age, or my feelings of rejection projecting themselves on to the first man that comes within six feet of me,' she told herself sternly. 'It's because I'm a frustrated old bat. It's not because I like him or anything. God! I hardly know him! But my hormones are out of order because of my imminent menopause, or something. It's making me react strangely. It's like developing an allergy. I really must take no notice and try to behave normally.’

When this very sensible lecture had had time to take effect, she went back downstairs.

‘It's still early,' she said. 'Why don't you two go off to the pub while I finish making up these dishes for the freezer?'

‘Tom can go to the pub,' said Dora firmly. 'I'll help you here. You look tired.'

‘Tired' was one way of putting it, thought Jo.

‘I'll help,' said Tom. 'I am a new man, you know. I know how to wield a saucepan.'

‘Well, that's very good to hear,' said Jo. 'If Dora and I are prostrated by seasickness, you can take over in the galley. At least we know you can make custard if necessary.’

Later, after all three of them had worked hard, assem bling dishes, washing-up, finding storage containers, she said, 'Well, I think that should take a small army across the Russian steppes without them going hungry. Let's go to the pub.’

Knowing that she'd made all the preparations she possibly could, Jo went over to see Miranda again. The plan was that they should clear one of the spare rooms over her shop so Jo could use it as a workroom when she got back from Holland.

They enjoyed themselves and worked hard all morning until Bill came to take them out to lunch.

‘What would be really good,' said Miranda, tucking into her Caesar salad, 'would be if you could come with me to an antiques fair that's on soon. We could see how good a saleswoman you are. They're such fun, those fairs. Especially this one, the atmosphere's terrific.'

‘It does sound fun,' Jo agreed, 'and it would be good for me to get away from the barge for a bit. We've worked so hard to get it ready for the trip. A little holiday would be wonderful.’

Miranda laughed. 'It won't be a holiday, exactly.'

‘But infinitely preferable to crossing the North Sea in a barge.'

‘Each to his own,' said Bill. 'I'd prefer the barge trip myself.’

Both women looked at him. 'But you like boating,' said Jo. 'I don't, especially.’

They bickered gently about how they liked to enjoy themselves until Bill noticed what the time was. 'Do you girls want another drink?'

‘Pre-women, Bill,' said Miranda, as if she had said it many times before. 'It's politically incorrect to call women "girls". It's pre-women now.’

He smiled and sighed. 'Do you pre-women want another drink?'

‘Yes please,' said Miranda. 'Then we must get back to work.’

While Bill was at the bar they went back to discussing the forthcoming antiques fair. 'It sounds heaven,' said Jo. 'If I can manage the dates, I'm definitely on for it. Oh, thanks, Bill. That is kind.'

‘A pleasure. If you go with Miranda to the wretched antiques fair, a drink is the least I can reward you with.’

It was over a week later when Marcus telephoned to say that the weather forecast was good enough for them to make the first leg of their journey.

‘We need to leave very early tomorrow, I should warn you,' he said, curt to the point of rudeness.

‘Oh.' Jo quickly collected herself. 'That's fine. We'll do all the final preparations we need to do tonight.' Jo thought he must be on edge because of the trip and tried to think of something comforting to say – and failed.

‘Goodbye, then.' He disconnected, leaving Jo slightly taken aback. He'd been so cheerful. What could have happened to make him so grumpy, suddenly?

‘I hope he snaps out of that mood,' she muttered, 'or this isn't going to be any fun at all.' She realised that although the trip still terrified her, part of her had been looking forward to being with Marcus.

She went to find Dora. 'Marcus has rung. We're on for tomorrow.’

Dora nodded. 'So Fred was right? He said yesterday he wouldn't see me for a little while. Maybe he gets the same weather forecast as Marcus does.'

‘Or maybe he has a piece of seaweed that is just as accurate,' said Jo, unwilling, at that moment, to give Marcus credit for anything. His curtness had rattled her.

‘Right,' said Dora, 'we'd better get on.’

They sprang into action like a well-trained pair of soldiers going into battle and Jo felt pleased that she hadn't mentioned Marcus's shortness. Dora was obviously well into the trip and Jo didn't want to spoil that.

They checked beds for clean bedding, they counted towels and speculated on the chances of Marcus and Ed bringing their own. They allowed the massive fruit cake that Jo had made for the voyage to come out from its tin and be tested; they checked the bathroom and hid all but the basic essentials from critical masculine eyes. When they had done all this, and Tom had arrived and demanded it, they secured everything that might move. They took the plants out of the wheelhouse, sending the tomato plants and geraniums for a holiday with Tilly on the next-door barge. The herbs came down to the galley.

Then they slumped on the sofa, nursing glasses of medicinal sherry – stronger than wine but weaker than whisky, since they would need reasonably clear heads. They were both exhausted.

‘I've gone off the idea of going to Holland,' said Jo. 'Let's just stay here and eat the cake and all the other food. I wouldn't have to cook again for weeks.'

‘I'd be disappointed if I couldn't go,' said Dora. 'Although now we've got all that lovely food, chocolate and crisps-'

‘Cans of lager,' added Tom, who was sitting on the chair opposite them holding one.

‘We could just stay here and have a holiday,' finished Jo. 'I need a holiday.'

‘You have been working very hard to make everything ready,' said Dora. 'You could rent the barge to rich tourists now.'

‘No!' wailed Jo. 'I couldn't! At least, not unless I just left them to it.' She closed her eyes, hoping to sleep and then wake up and find it was all a dream, she wasn't going anywhere on The Three Sisters and could go to the antiques fair (which was also due to start tomorrow) and have a lovely time.

She did drift off into a light doze. It was one of her skills, catnapping. Ten minutes with her eyes shut could keep her going for many extra hours. She prided herself on being able to do it almost anywhere.

She was awoken by voices and realised that Marcus and Ed – she assumed it was him – had arrived. Tom and Dora had obviously gone up to give them a hand with their baggage. They seemed to be taking a long time, so she went up to join them. She was surprised – and not terribly pleased – to see Carole with Marcus in the wheelhouse.