There was no thought of them walking home. A taxi was found and whisked them back to the quay. They held hands in the dark and Jo felt more young and giddy than she ever had done – even when she was officially young and giddy. She realised she was a little drunk when she got out while Marcus was paying the taxi driver and she found herself swaying. 'You're going to regret this in the morning,' she told herself firmly. 'Drink a lot of water or you'll feel awful.' But she knew that drinking water wouldn't stave off a much worse and possibly permanent hangover from her actions. She didn't care – she knew that the promise of the moment was too good to turn her back on, however much she might regret it later.
Marcus joined her and took her arm firmly, walking her the short distance back to the barge with an air of determination that Jo now found irresistibly attractive. He almost lifted her on to the barge and suddenly they were in the dark of the wheelhouse. The moment had come. She had to make her wishes known.
‘Marcus?'
‘What?’
Jo drew her breath to say she knew not what – something that would give him the hint that she wanted to be seduced, that she wasn't just about to thank him for a lovely evening.
Then he made everything a lot easier by kissing her. The pressure of his mouth bruised hers. That she hadn't been kissed like that for years and years was her last conscious thought. She swayed in his arms and her head spun, affected as much by his kiss as by the brandy. She twined her fingers into his hair as he crushed her with his passion, and she forgot to breathe. They broke apart reluctantly, panting from lack of oxygen and desire.
‘Goodness, you're a good kisser,' she murmured, smiling.
He laughed. 'And my talents don't end there.'
‘That's fighting talk! Come down and prove it!' she said.
The thought of undressing in front of a man other than her husband had always terrified her, but now, she didn't even think about it. They pulled at each other's clothes as they got in the way of their searching hands. When at last he had got all her clothes off, he sighed deeply as he held her in the circle of his arms, stroking the curve of her waist. 'I can't tell you how long I've wanted this.’
Jo didn't answer. She felt utterly desired and equally desiring. She wanted him at that moment more than she had ever wanted anything. She dragged his shirt out of his trousers and was at his belt buckle like a tigress on her prey.
‘There's something I must say-'
‘Not now,' she said huskily and hopped on to the bunk. It took him less than a moment to join her.
Later he brought them both glasses of water and reality seeped back into Jo's consciousness.
‘I've never done anything like that before,' she said.
‘I like to think I bring a certain originality to my love making.’
She giggled. 'You are so smug! I didn't mean that. I meant I haven't ever slept with a man I'm not married to.’
He pulled the duvet away from where it had got tangled between them so now they lay skin to skin. 'What? Not one indiscretion in all the years?’
She considered. 'There was an indiscretion but it didn't get very far.'
‘Why not?'
‘I was old-fashioned back then, and, as it turned out, stupid, and believed in my marriage vows.'
‘Although technically I suppose you are, you don't feel married then?'
‘Nope. As I see it, if the marriage vows are broken, they're broken, no matter which of you does it. Why have you never married, Marcus?'
‘Ah, well, I've always been a serial philanderer.'
‘I'm not sure you can be one of those, unless of course you hop from Cornflakes to Rice Krispies and on to Weetabix in a promiscuous way.’
He squeezed her shoulders and then kissed one of them. 'I didn't realise you could be so flippant.'
‘I feel flippant just now. And very – relaxed.'
‘I think the word you're searching for is sated.'
‘Is it?' She yawned deeply. 'I only know it's very nice, but I'm falling asleep.'
‘You go to sleep. We'll carry on this conversation in the morning.’
She opened her mouth to say 'Love you' in the way that she had to her husband for all those deluded, married years. Somehow, she stopped herself. She felt sure she could love Marcus but she retained enough common sense to realise her feelings might be more lust than love, and anyway, it was far too early to tell him. 'Goodnight, sleep tight, don't let the bed-bugs bite,' she said instead.
‘Joanna!’
She chuckled and closed her eyes. The trouble was, although she did feel a little flippant she knew perfectly well that in the morning she'd feel anything but.
The double berth in the back cabin of The Three Sisters was of traditional size, which meant, Jo was only too aware, small. There was no way they could share it without their limbs entangling, and if Marcus caught a sensitive part of her body as they adjusted their positions, one thing led to another. They didn't get much sleep. At about seven the following morning, Marcus got up to make tea. Jo followed him to have a quick look at herself in the mirror. Daylight could be horribly cruel to the older woman, she thought, and braced herself for the worst.
In fact, she realised, she didn't look too bad. Her left-over make-up had tactfully stayed just under her eyes and not smeared itself all over her face. Her hair was dishevelled but hadn't gone flat, and her skin looked relaxed and positively blooming. As she examined herself she remem bered reading that sex was good for the skin, and now she saw what they meant.
She hopped back into bed, bringing the duvet up over her breasts like they did in films. 'Perhaps I should put my designer bra back on?' she wondered. 'Then I'll look like I'm in Sex and the City. Except that my bra isn't designer and it looks silly, even when they do it.' She hoped Marcus hadn't heard her talking to herself when he appeared a moment or two later with the tea.
‘There was a text,' he said, handing her a mug and getting back into bed. He'd pulled on his trousers to go through the wheelhouse, but didn't take them off now.
‘Oh?'
‘From Michael.'
‘Nothing's wrong?' she asked anxiously. 'He can still come and help you bring the boat back, can't he?'
‘Oh yes, that's not a problem. No, he'd had a message from Karen.' He took a sip of tea.
‘What, Karen my daughter?' Jo sat up, immediately alert. 'Is there another Karen in Joanna-land?’
He wouldn't have made this joke if there was a problem, although there seemed to be a wistfulness about him. 'What did she say? She's all right, isn't she?'
‘Oh yes, but she's in England. She's got a bit of time off. But she's not sure how long for.'
‘Oh my God! And I'm in Holland. Typical.’
He paused and then went on steadily. 'Yes, but there's a train to the airport in a couple of hours. Or you could take a taxi. Perhaps that would be best.’
All the time she was rushing round making preparations for an early departure, she wondered if Marcus was packing her off. Was he relieved that he didn't have to spend the rest of the time in Holland with her? Or even the rest of the day! Perhaps he was grateful for the chance to kick her out of bed in the morning without any recriminations from her? He didn't seem pleased for her to be going, but on the other hand, he wasn't pleading with her to stay, either. Perhaps she had just been a challenge for him and now he would return to his usual type. But he had seemed so in earnest.
She wondered about this on and off all during the train journey to the airport. She felt addled by all their love making and attached herself to a couple who were also flying to England, so she wouldn't get confused and lost during the many processes that getting on a plane involved. She was longing to see Karen, but at the same time she longed to stay with Marcus. If he'd given her the choice, what would she have decided? Was she more mother, or lover? The trouble was, even if she was more lover, she couldn't possibly have said to Karen that she couldn't come home because she was all loved up with a man who wasn't her father. If only Karen had had more definite plans, she and Marcus could have discussed things properly.
She fell asleep on the plane, waking from time to time to check their progress. When they were stacked up waiting to land she was grateful because it meant more time to sleep. When they had to taxi a long way once they had landed, she was glad of that too. And when she was finally forced to wake up and get off the plane and retrieve Marcus's grip, which she had borrowed, from the over head locker, she realised that she had come down to earth in more ways than one.
Marcus may have implied he'd yearned for her for years, but now he'd had her he was almost bound to want to go back to supple, lissom-limbed, Pilates-trained Carole, or her lookalike. He was a very attractive man. He could have any woman he wanted. A night in her arms and between her far too substantial thighs wouldn't bind him to her. She sighed as she shuffled along the passport queue. Never mind, she'd had her grand passion, the most wonderful night of lovemaking anyone could ever imagine, and she'd never let herself regret that.
Dora was lying in the sun on the grass with her eyes closed. Her ankle was entwined in the strap of her rucksack. Tom and most of his male friends were a little way away listening to their favourite band, Eskimo Rolling. They all had their tops off. She was not looking at Tom but she now knew exactly what his naked torso looked like and the knowledge was distracting.
‘So, why aren't you and Tom an item?' asked Lizzie. She was sitting up getting her back brown. She had undone her halter-neck top and was holding the front to her. Although there was a group of completely naked people nearby, no one felt the need to join them.
‘Because we're friends! It's hard to make the change, don't you think?' The trouble was, Dora realised, because she'd gone out with John for so long, and he'd been her first-ever boyfriend, she hadn't had the usual sort of dating and boyfriend experiences that other girls had had.
‘But you do fancy him?’
Dora opened an eye and checked Tom's strong, smooth back that tapered into his jeans in a satisfying way. 'I don't know. I suppose so.'
‘I so would if he wasn't like a brother! All the girls loved him at college.'
‘Er – did he have girlfriends at college?' Dora did feel a bit disloyal talking about Tom like this, but it was a good opportunity to find out things about him, and Lizzie was obviously a good friend of his. She wouldn't say anything nasty.
‘Oh yes, loads. He managed to keep them as friends, though, which I think is cool.'
‘Good.'
‘So, how did you two meet?’
Dora would have quite liked to drift off to sleep. She sensed she wouldn't get much sleep later on, when they were all sharing a four-man tent. Tonight it would be housing not only four men, but two girls as well. 'Through the barge, I suppose. I was going to say through work, but he got me the job.’
They continued to chat, exchanging background details, finding more in common than Dora would have expected. They both had mothers who fussed.
‘But Tom's mother's cool,' said Lizzie. 'I remember a whole crowd of us turned up to stay the night one day – we were travelling back from somewhere, can't remember where, and the car broke down. She was great about it. My mother would have gone ballistic. So, where will you go after the festival? Back to work, or back to the barge?'
‘Back to the barge, I suppose.' Thinking about the barge and her cabin reminded her that she didn't have a sleeping bag with her. 'I should probably buy a blanket or some thing,' she went on. 'I didn't bring a sleeping bag because I didn't have one on the barge.'
‘I'd love to see it sometime.'
‘Well, maybe you could come back with us. Not everyone, though. That might be too much for Jo. Gosh, I wonder how she's getting on?'
‘Do you want me to walk up with you to buy a blanket? I really like the Eskies, but I could do with a break.’
Walking through the many stalls felt much less daunting now and Dora realised she'd relaxed into the festival and was no longer the nervous, sheltered girl she had once been.
‘So what are you doing now, Lizzie?' asked Dora as they made their way back to the tent.
‘Saving up to go travelling.'
‘Oh, like Tom!’
Lizzie chuckled ruefully. 'Yes, but he's really going travelling. I'm going to stay with relations in Australia!’
Dora was helping take the tent down when her mobile rang. She hauled it out of her pocket. It was Karen. She screamed and nearly dropped her phone. 'I can't believe it's you! Where are you?'
‘At home. My old home. Mum's here, but, Do, you've got to come back as soon as you can. I'm not here for long.'
‘How long?'
‘I can't really say. I came over with a painting from work. It's got to be repaired. We don't know how long that'll take and I've got to go back immediately it is, so I must see you.'
‘Oh my goodness. I'll have to check with Tom. This is so exciting! I can't wait to see you!'
‘Nor me. Oh, Mum wants a word.'
‘Jo? This is very exciting, Karen being home.'
‘I know. It would be lovely if you could see her. Do you think Tom wants to go back to the barge? There's not a lot of point as it'll be in dry dock for a while, and it's not really suitable for living on at the moment.'
‘Is Marcus still out there?'
‘Oh yes, but one person's not such a problem.’
Dora longed to ask if Marcus had been a problem, and how they had got on, but didn't think now was the moment.
‘I'll talk to Tom. The thing is, if I don't go back to the barge, where will I go?'
‘Talk to Tom. If all else fails, you could come here. Now Karen's asking me something. Oh, and Philip's here.’
Tom eased his shoulders back after digging out a particularly stubborn tent peg. Dora tried to ignore his chest, which was defined without being over-developed. She relayed Karen's message.
‘That's cool, we'll go to my parents.'
‘But they don't know me!' Dora protested.
‘Tom's parents are really safe,' said Lizzie. 'They'd love to have you. And isn't your mum going away anyway, Tom?' He nodded. 'Trekking in Peru.'
‘But what about your dad? He won't want a guest if your mum's away!' Dora insisted.
‘He'll be fine! He'll love you. He's very laid-back. Now, have we got all the tent pegs?’
Dora did make Tom ring his parents and ask if she could stay and although it sounded as if he was telling them she was, she decided to stop worrying about it. His parents, Tom assured her, were very pleased to have him home for a bit, 'Although Mum's going off very soon after we arrive'.
They slept for most of the journey home, on the train to the airport, on the plane, and on the train the other end. Having hardly slept while they were at the festival, they found they just couldn't stay awake now. By the time they got into a taxi at the station they had finally caught up and were feeling more human again. Dora had to admit, though, that she had really enjoyed herself.
Tom's father and mother were standing on the doorstep waiting for them. Tom's father looked extremely like Tom, only with grey hair, and his mother appeared to have less sense of vanity than her own mother. She had greying, flyaway hair, very tanned skin and was wearing a hippy skirt and sandals with a polo shirt.
‘They'll have heard the taxi,' said Tom. He led the way up the garden path to the pretty, double-fronted 1930s house of the style that Dora had heard disparagingly described as Tudorbethan, but that she had always liked for its little strange-shaped windows and diamond panes.
‘Hi, Mum, hi, Dad,' said Tom, dumping his bags down and giving both his parents a hug. 'This is Dora.'
‘Welcome, Dora,' said Tom's father, taking her hand.
‘Do come in,' said Tom's mother, who kissed her in a rather absent-minded way. 'Would you like the loo? Or shall I show you to your room? Tell you what, I'll show you where the bathroom is and you can join us when you're ready. I always need a good scrub after a journey.’
Dora thanked her, wondering if the fact that she hadn't showered for a few days was so apparent. She didn't want to keep them from their tea or whatever, but she couldn't resist the opportunity to get rid of some of the grime. They wouldn't mind her going downstairs with wet hair, she was sure.
When she came down again she found Tom and his father in the sitting room. The French doors were open and a warm breeze wafted the scent of jasmine into the room.
‘So Mum's off tomorrow?' Tom was saying. 'It's a good thing we got back today then, or I'd have missed her.’
‘It's only for three weeks,' said Tom's father.
‘Oh yes,' said Tom's mother, coming into the room carrying a tray. 'Tea, Dora? I'm Myra by the way. Tom never does introduce us properly. This is Brian.'
‘I was going to give her a glass of wine,' said Brian. 'Can I have both?' asked Dora. 'The last decent cup of tea I had seems like a lifetime ago.'
‘Of course,' said Myra, setting a mug down on the table next to her.
‘It was Dora's first music festival,' explained Tom. 'Oh, did you enjoy yourself?' asked Myra.
Dora was aware that Tom was watching her. 'Yes, once I'd got over the shock of being offered drugs before we even got inside..
‘And all the nakedness,' Tom went on.
‘It was fine,' finished Dora. 'Tom's friends were very nice.'
‘Nice? Not quite how I'd have described them.' Myra took a sip of tea that expressed her feelings perfectly. 'Not my boat friends,' Tom explained. 'These were from college. Lizzie and that lot.'
‘Oh, those friends! Yes, they are nice.'
‘Are you ready for wine now?' said Brian. 'You seem to have got that tea down you already.’
Dora laughed. 'Wine would be lovely. I just had to have a nice cup of tea to feel really human again.'
‘Hmm,' said Tom. 'I must remember that.’
Not quite sure what he meant, Dora turned to his mother. 'So you're going trekking? That does sound exciting.'
‘Not really, it's an organised tour. My friend wouldn't let us just book flights and take it from there.' She sighed. 'I must finish packing in a moment.'
‘How do you know what to take? To Peru?'
‘Oh, I've got a kit list from when Tom went to India at school,' she said. 'I've used it ever since.'
‘You went to India when you were at school?' Dora was amazed. 'The furthest we ever went to was St Albans.'
‘I've added to the list over the years.' Myra went on. 'I never go without gaffer tape. You can mend anything with it. Have you done much travelling, Dora?’
She shook her head. 'I've led rather a sheltered life, I'm afraid.'
‘Well, you're young. I didn't get into travel until I was over forty.'
‘I'm not waiting till then before I head off,' said Tom. 'Just until I've got enough money.’
Dora felt suddenly bereft at the thought of Tom heading off round the world, leaving her behind.
‘That reminds me, I must pack my neck purse. There's something wonderfully freeing about not having a hand bag,' said Myra to Dora. 'I just put my credit card and my local currency in my neck purse, a few coins in my pocket, and that's it.' She got up. 'I'll just do that now, and by then supper will be ready.'
‘What is it?' asked Tom.
‘Lasagne.'
‘Vegetarian?' Tom raised an eyebrow at his dad.
"Fraid so,' Brian answered.
‘The lentil is a much misunderstood vegetable,' called his mother from the kitchen.
‘Don't worry, Dora,' said Brian. 'We eat steak and chips a lot when Myra's away.’
Myra came back into the room. 'It's just as well I don't go away very often then. Too much red meat is bad for you. And it's ready. Do bring your glasses.’
Dora decided that Lizzie had been absolutely right about Tom's parents: they were lovely. His father was easygoing and friendly and his mother led an interesting life of her own and so didn't ask awkward questions. Both of them took Dora's presence completely for granted.
After supper Myra finished packing and then they all had another cup of tea before going to bed.
‘I'm not sure I'm quite ready to go back to work,' said Dora, yawning, in spite of having slept through most of the journey back from Holland.
‘We're not going back to work tomorrow,' said Tom. 'Officially, we're still with the barge in Holland. Tomorrow we're having an adventure.'
‘Oh, Tom,' said Dora, guessing he meant another bet. 'I hope you don't mean anything too tiring.'
‘Don't worry, sleepyhead, you'll love it.' He got to his feet and, pushing his hand through his hair, asked, 'More tea, anyone?’