Katie Fforde - Going Dutch

‘She's put stuff on her hair now, for highlights.'

‘Can't remember when I last had my hair done,' said Jo. 'I might just buy a bottle of something.'

‘You could go to a hairdresser,' said Dora. 'That's what Karen would say,' she added, knowing this would have the desired effect.

‘Do you think so? Maybe you're right. I'm going to take this lot up. Do you want to bring those rolls and the salad?’

Tom was in the bow when the food arrived in the wheelhouse, but it didn't take him many seconds to join it. 'Wow, this looks great!'

‘There isn't room for everyone in here,' said Marcus sternly. 'Why don't you take that lot outside, after Ed and I have had some pizza, of course.'

‘You could take the tray out to Carole, to see what she'd like,' said Jo to Tom. 'I'll get the lagers. You would like one, wouldn't you?'

‘Actually, have you got something soft?' asked Marcus.

‘The skipper doesn't like us to drink while we're working,' said Ed, taking another slice of pizza with gratifying enthusiasm.

‘There's no reason why you lot shouldn't have a beer,' Marcus went on. 'But it's not professional to drink and drive.'

‘Don't worry, Jo, lass, we make up for it when we're safely tied up,' said Ed.

‘I'll go and find something non-alcoholic – or would you prefer tea?'

‘Tea for me,' said Ed, 'but I can wait until everyone's having a cup.'

‘I'll go and gather up the mugs,' Jo said, trying not to sigh, worrying that the huge box of tea bags – a year's supply in normal circumstances – might run out. The gallons of milk might not hold out either.

Jo rinsed out approximately twenty mugs, wishing she had a teapot, to save on tea bags. She also wished that Carole would occasionally do a tea round. Dora and Tom had been assiduous about taking turns, but Carole just lay on the deck in her bikini, lightening her hair, complaining about the food, being high-maintenance eye candy. Trust Marcus to have a trophy girlfriend, he was just that sort of man, she thought crossly. And then felt even crosser with herself for minding.

She had just fitted the mugs on to a tray when Dora came dashing down.

‘Oh my God! The River Police have just radioed – they're coming aboard!’

Tom came down behind her, a lot calmer.

‘What does this mean?' demanded Jo, her little sins crowding her mind – heat magazine, the miniature of whisky, various other weaknesses that might contravene some unsuspected by-law.

‘Well.' Tom spoke solemnly. 'I think it may mean more tea.’

A second after this serious pronouncement, Jo threw a tea towel at Tom and he put the kettle on again.

‘What will really happen?' asked Dora.

‘They'll check the papers and the boat for explosives and what not, and it'll all be fine. I gathered from what they were saying over the radio that they know Marcus. I suppose they would. Ooh, cake.’

Without commenting, Jo passed the open tin that was full of a rather crumbly but fruit-filled cake, which was going to do as pudding if she couldn't manage anything more exciting. 'Do you think the others will want it?’

Tom nodded, his mouth full. 'Deffo,' he said eventually, blowing crumbs.

Dora followed Jo up the stairs carrying the cake, the sugar and the teaspoons. The wheelhouse was more crowded than ever, full of laughing men carrying radios and trading insults with Marcus. After she'd had time to mentally disentangle them she realised there were only three.

‘Tea?' said Jo, and Dora was horribly reminded of her own mother, when faced with a fellow committee member she didn't know well.

‘Joanna,' said Marcus, making Dora wonder why on earth he called her that when no one else did, 'these chaps are from the River Police. They just need to check us over since we're going past Westminster.'

‘I don't know why you're risking your life going anywhere with this old renegade, madam,' said one.

‘Believe me, I'm not here by choice, but do please have some tea and cake.’

Dora turned away. If she caught Jo's eye, they would both start to giggle – Jo had sounded so like someone on television.

‘Wow, look at that,' said one of the younger policemen, looking at the sunbathing Carole through the window. 'That's Marcus's girlfriend,' said Jo sternly.

‘Oh, sorry, mate,' he said. 'No offence.’

Marcus was chatting to the more senior officer and didn't seem to notice what was going on.

‘I'll go and see if Carole wants any tea,' said Dora, and left, hoping that Carole wouldn't suddenly find caffeine an acceptable substance, or worse, demand fennel, or camomile, or any other fluid that reminded Dora of cats.

‘The police are here,' said Dora to Carole's sunglasses. 'Mm. I saw the launch pull up. Would you mind looking at my hair? Do you think the product's done enough now?’

‘It depends how blonde you want it. Doesn't it go on working for a bit?'

‘Mm. I like a good bright blonde though.'

‘You don't want it to go brassy,' said Dora bluntly. 'And you have to think about the condition.'

‘I do have a wonderful conditioner I use. It's horribly expensive but worth it, I think.’

Dora sat next to Carole and stretched her legs in front of her. Then she rolled up her jeans. 'My hair is always rather boring. My er – ex-boyfriend liked the natural look, so I never played around with colours.'

‘Did you go out for long?'

‘About four years too long. I might try some highlights.'

‘In my experience men don't care what you do to make yourself look good as long as you look good.'

‘So have you and Marcus been together a while?' Carole had asked the question first, so Dora felt it was all right for her to ask the same.

‘About eighteen months.’

As Carole seemed perfectly relaxed about this question, Dora probed a little deeper. 'Marcus is awfully attractive, I can see that, but don't you find he's a little old for you?'

‘Oh no. I like older men. I feel safe with them. I also find Marcus terrifically sexy.'

‘Oh.'

‘The trouble is, lots of other women do too. Which is why I have to keep myself in tip-top condition. And make sure I'm there to head off the competition. I don't usually come on these trips, you know.'

‘No?'

‘No. I was quite surprised when Marcus said I could.’

‘So why do you suppose he did that?’

Carole yawned. 'Dunno, really. It's possible he wanted everyone to know he's spoken for. I reckon he gets hit on a lot by needy females.’

Dora took off her deck shoes and wriggled her toes in the sunshine, feeling insulted and eager not to show it. Between her and Jo, whom did Carole perceive the 'needy female' to be? Well, she could set her mind at rest about one of them.

‘I have to admit that although I love my dad to pieces I wouldn't want to go out with anyone even near his age.' Dora closed her eyes, to simulate a lack of concern about Carole's reaction. It was just possible that if she declared her disinterest, Carole might get off when they got to Queenborough, where they were mooring for the night. Surely she couldn't suspect Jo of having her eye on Marcus? Just because she was single, it didn't make her needy.

‘Maybe when you're a little older yourself you'll come to appreciate the older man. He's more likely to take you to nice places than a younger one. Although your Tom's very cute.'

‘He's not my Tom,' said Dora, wishing after all that she'd never got into this, 'we're just friends.'

‘Oh? Well, it's nice to know where everyone stands.' Carole was still apparently concentrating on topping up her tan, but a twinge of unexpected jealousy shaded the sun a little for Dora. Did Carole fancy a bit of young flesh on the side? And if so, why did she care?