Katie Fforde - Going Dutch

Only for a moment did Dora ask herself if this was the right thing to do then she told Tom. After all, Jo probably wouldn't mind if Marcus did turn up and she was used to mass catering. And anyway, Philip knew Marcus too from the old days. Marcus was probably bad on the phone and Tom had misread the situation. After all, he was in Holland. It would be a long way to travel for a burnt lamb chop.

‘Cool,' said Tom. And then, 'Will you be all right going home on your own? I've still got quite a lot of things to do.'

‘I can't think what, unless you're thinking of actually doing some work. People have been asking for you all morning.'

‘Just stuff, OK? But you will be all right?'

‘I'll be fine.'

‘I just don't want you to-'

‘Tom! You've made me do loads of horrible, scary, smelly' – she added, thinking of the festival – 'things. I think I can go a couple of stops on the train by myself. I've got a key.'

‘Sweet. I'll see you later, then.’

When he was in no danger of hearing her, Dora indulged in a long sigh.

Tom arrived home that evening just as Dora and his father were pouring a glass of wine.

‘It is Friday,' said Brian.

‘But we had a glass of wine yesterday,' said Dora. 'That was Thursday. Quite different.’

Dora laughed and then Tom bounced into the kitchen. 'Hey, you crazy kids, what are you up to?'

‘Glass of wine, Tom?' asked his father.

‘Cool!’

Tom bounced into breakfast with similar brio the following morning. He handed Dora an envelope. 'Hope you didn't have plans for today.'

‘No-'

‘Well, you have now. It's your final dare. Dad, can I borrow the car?'

‘I said yes yesterday. Nothing's changed.'

‘Great! I'll be off then,' he said, dashing off, a piece of half-eaten toast still in his hand.

‘He's a good boy, really,' said Brian solemnly.

Dora laughed and sighed at the same time and then opened the envelope. Inside was a train ticket and a list of instructions. Take the 9.45 train, then come out of the station and turn left, past the pub, down the little lane until you come to a jetty. There's a boat tied up there with your first clue. This is a treasure hunt! Dora looked at her watch. It was already ten past nine and it took ten minutes to get to the station. She couldn't ask for a lift because Tom had already taken the car.

‘I do think he might have given me a lift to the station,' she said, getting up, gathering her plate and mug as she did so.

‘Have a nice day, Dora,' said Brian, who, she now realised, must be in on the plot.

‘I'll try. As long as I catch the train.'

‘You've got plenty of time,' Brian said, returning to his newspaper.

She shook her head. 'I must get my things and I'm one of those people who have to be at the station really early. Bye!’

She ran upstairs, threw all that she thought she might need into the shoulder bag she took to work and then left.

She walked to the station wondering what on earth Tom had in store for her. Perhaps this was what he was up to yesterday, when he wasn't at work. She smiled. She'd miss their bets. Now they were about to end, how would their friendship ever develop further?

While Dora was waiting for the train, as, inevitably, she had to, she wondered if she was wearing the right clothes. She had put on a light summer skirt and a vest top as it looked like being a lovely day. She had thrown a cardigan into her bag but with Tom, wellington boots might have been a better choice. As she didn't actually have her wellingtons at Tom's house, she forgave herself for not having brought them.

With his instructions in her hand, Dora made her way to the jetty. There, as he had said, was a little boat she recognised as one of the ones used for getting to and from the boatyard. There was a note stuck in the rope attaching the boat to the quay. She pulled it out.

Get in the boat and row a while, until you reach the little isle.

The little isle must be the one opposite her. She hadn't ever been there but she knew people did tie their boats up there. Like the island where Tom moored his boat, it was probably a nature reserve.

Dora overcame her dislike of trespassing, got in the boat and manoeuvred her way across the water. She would quibble with Tom about the use of the word 'row' when she saw him.

The next clue was curling out of the neck of a bottle sticking in the mud.

Go to the left and climb the tree (she squeaked at the thought of climbing trees in her short tight skirt), and look inside what there you see.

Hm, she thought, not great poetry, but she was enjoying herself. She walked along the path to the left and turned a corner. There was a willow lying on the ground, fallen, but supported by the branches at the end. She wouldn't actually have to climb it, but she would have to teeter along the sloping trunk to the crown. She slipped off her sandals and edged her way up the trunk. Sticking out of the branches was a bouquet of flowers. There were some garage-forecourt carnations but also lots of wild grasses and cranesbill. They were very pretty, Dora thought. Tucked in the middle was another clue.

Down the tree and along the bank, you will find a water tank.

Tom! thought Dora, your couplets are getting worse and as for making me climb a tree… But she tucked the flowers into her bag when she scrambled back down and set off in what she thought was the right direction. The island was tiny, and yet it seemed to provide lots of opportunities for getting lost. At last she spotted a rusty water tank half submerged in the grass, and as she could also see another clue she knew she was in the right place.

Go left, go right and through the wood and you'll find something that makes you feel good! (I hope) he had added in brackets.

‘Well, it's not your rhymes that are making me feel good,' said Dora aloud, suspecting that Tom was some where, spying on her.

She was aware of feelings of both excitement and anticipation stirring in her. She was trying to feel irritated with Tom for his dreadful rhymes and the general silliness of it all, but she was finding it difficult.

She didn't bother with the left and right bit. She could see the wood in front of her, and as she drew near she heard music. She came upon a clearing, and there was a scene reminiscent of an Impressionist painting. Tom was there, with his back to her. He was placing the stylus on an old 78 record that circled sedately on a wind-up gramo phone and then an old Billie Holiday number, poignant and sensual, floated on the summer air.

A tartan rug and several big cushions were spread temptingly about. A wicker picnic hamper was open already. Just at that moment, the sun, which had been partly obscured by cloud, decided to come out, shining through the trees and covering everything with dappled light. Beyond the trees Dora could see water sparkling in the distance. The smell of ferns reached her nose, possibly because she had trodden on some of them. She hovered on the threshold for a few seconds, waiting for Tom to see her. Now that she was closer, she realised that he seemed really nervous. And now he'd set the music playing he began to pace about. She coughed gently, and he looked up.

‘Hi!' he said, obviously relieved to see her but not really smiling. 'You got here all right, then?’

Picking up on his anxiety made her feel awkward. 'Yes. It was a lovely idea, doing a treasure hunt. A bit early for lunch, isn't it?' She was aware that things weren't the same between them and it was a struggle to behave in the same chummy way.

‘Not all that early. I wasn't sure how long it would take you to get here.’