Katie Fforde - Going Dutch

‘And this is Sukie and Cliff, Dora's parents. This is Marcus, who took the barge to Holland with us all on it.’

‘Not all of us,' said Philip, bristling.

‘No, we weren't invited, either,' said Bill.

‘Come and have a drink,' said Jo in hostess mode. If she concentrated on doing her duty she might be able to resist the urge to run screaming into the house. 'There's Pimm's, but if you'd prefer wine…' She remembered how he had always appeared to despise her supermarket bargains and added, 'It's quite drinkable, Philip bought it.'

‘We've run out of Pimm's, Mum,' said Karen, looking curiously at Marcus. 'Shall I make some more?'

‘We've run out of Pimm's, the bottle,' said Philip. 'We'll have to go on to wine.'

‘Bill will rustle you something up if you've got some sweet vermouth and gin,' said Miranda helpfully.

‘I think we have…' began Jo, suddenly aware that she had no idea what alcohol lived in the cupboard any more. Maybe it didn't even have drinks in it now. The situation was hideously awkward, she just hoped Marcus wouldn't stay long.

‘I'll have some wine,' said Marcus.

‘I'll go and see what we've got to drink, anyway,' said Karen, and she, Dora and Tom disappeared into the house. 'Well, Marcus,' said Philip, handing him a glass. 'What have you been up to in the past twenty years or so?'

‘He's a barge skipper,' said Miranda. 'The best there is.’

‘Well, thank you for that vote of confidence, Miranda,’

said Marcus with a smile.

Jo realised that she'd never seen Marcus with Miranda and Bill before and felt a pang of something she couldn't identify.

‘So this "barge skippering",' said Philip, 'is it a lucrative profession?’

Jo winced. Philip sounded so pompous.

‘Philip!' said Jo. 'You can't ask things like that!’

Both men ignored her. 'Oh yes,' said Marcus. 'Well, lucrative enough, anyway.'

‘People pay a lot of money to have their expensive vessels moved about the place,' said Bill. 'Speaking as one who has.’

Cliff decided to enter the conversation. 'I always thought you could describe sailing as standing under a cold shower tearing up fifty-pound notes.’

Marcus and Bill both looked at Cliff. 'Barges aren't quite like that.'

‘No,' Miranda agreed. 'It's a hot shower. In other words, much more comfortable. But the fifty-pound note bit is the same.'

‘Good God!' said Philip. 'I had no idea.’

Jo looked about her, wondering if she could flee back to the kitchen, ostensibly to help with the Pimm's prepara tion. Then she decided she couldn't.

‘Philip, darling,' she said, 'how's the barbecue? Is it about ready to cook on yet?'

‘Oh yes,' he said, moving to where a large chimenea doubled as a barbecue. 'Those coals are nice and grey now.'

‘I'm always too impatient with barbecues,' said Miranda. 'The neighbours practically got up a petition to ask me to stop having them. I didn't actually poison anybody, but the food was always disgusting.’

Jo laughed, hoping she didn't sound hysterical. 'I'll go and get the meat then.' But before she could move she saw Karen and Dora, both bearing trays of prepared meat. Tom had the bowl of salad in both hands.

‘I'll get the bread,' said Jo, itching to leave the prickly atmosphere of the sunny summer Sunday for the safety of her kitchen.

‘No you don't, Mum, you've been working all morning, you relax and have a drink with your friends. We'll do this bit.' Karen was insistent.

Philip went over to where the meat had been placed on top of the low wall that surrounded the paved area. 'How many people are you expecting, darling? Any more surprise guests?' He shot a glance at Marcus. 'Jo always over-caters desperately, don't you?'

‘Possibly,' said Jo, unrepentant, 'but I'm going to put the rest of the meat back in the cool. It won't do any good sitting in the sun. And you will cook the chicken thoroughly, won't you? You can't be too careful.'

‘We'll do it, Mum.' Karen obviously wasn't going to let her mother escape. She picked up one of the trays of meat. 'Why don't I get a cool bag? This could go in if it was sideways?’

Jo wasn't sure if this sentence made sense but the idea was sound. 'I'll come and-'

‘No!’

Dora came up behind her friend. 'No,' she said, more gently, but just as firmly.

‘Well, you don't know where anything is any more than we do,' said Karen, logically.

Jo sipped her Pimm's. It was now mainly water from the melted ice.

‘Jo,' said Bill, 'can I pour you a glass of wine if there's no more Pimm's? Philip's busy.'

‘Thank you,' she whispered, and cleared her throat. She mustn't sound as nervous as she felt, it was undignified in a woman of her age, and with her new bra, possibly unnecessary.

‘Can I see your garden?' asked Marcus suddenly.

‘Of course!' said Jo, delighted at the thought of being relieved of his disturbing presence for a few minutes. She waved an expansive hand. 'Help yourself!'

‘No,' he said firmly, 'I want you to show it to me.’

‘We'll keep an eye on things here,' said Miranda cheerfully.

‘Don't you want to come too?' she asked.

‘Oh no, gardens are wasted on me. I'll keep an eye on Philip's barbecue skills and make sure Bill keeps the glasses topped up.' Miranda smiled encouragingly – to Jo's fevered mind, like a chaperone giving her charge permission to dance with a much-approved-of partner.

There was nothing for it, she would have to show Marcus round her garden and be on her own with him for the first time virtually since they'd got out of the same bed. It would have been easier if she hadn't always felt gardens to be particularly sensual places. It was the fragrance, the velvety textures, the gentle rustlings – they all combined to make Jo feel gooey, even when she wasn't with a man she'd recently had a life changing sexual experience with. She shivered despite the warmth of the day.

She led him down the path, wishing, for the first time, that she hadn't designed it to lead all round the garden the longest way possible, ending with a bench in a secluded corner. A rose which should have been tied back hung over it creating dappled, scented shade. She dreaded reaching it – her emotions might explode. She knew she felt the same about him but she still wondered if he'd meant what he'd said that evening. She had convinced herself that it had just been a one-night stand, and he hadn't even texted her. But he was here now, clearly upset about something.

She stopped several times on the way, hoping to bore him into going back to the others. She didn't trust herself to be alone with him. 'I used to grow vegetables there -just a few things, sugar snap peas, runner beans, things like that. My parsley patch has survived though. And I'm very fond of my golden hop although it does need a bit of training..

His blatant lack of interest stopped her. He took her by the arm and Jo regretted insisting to the lad who created them for her that the paths should be wide enough for two people to walk abreast. 'I don't want to talk about herbaceous borders, I want to talk about us.’

Jo caught her breath. 'Is there an "us"?' She had assumed, in the moments when she forced herself to have a reality check (something she did as little as possible), that she and Marcus weren't meant to be. Why should he want to stick with a woman of fifty when he could so easily get one so much younger?

‘I don't know. You and Philip seemed to be very cosy. You called him "darling".’

She turned to him. 'Oh, that's just habit!'

‘Is it? You really don't want to go back to him?'

‘I told you before, no, and anyway, I couldn't. His girlfriend is pregnant. All this is hers now.' And then she did what she most wanted not to do and burst into tears.