‘I can't decide if I'm on holiday or going to work,' said Dora as she and Tom walked to the station together the following day. They had decided to call into the boatyard to tell them about their trip before going on into London.
‘You're on holiday,' said Tom firmly. 'And I know they will have been fine without us. They will want a blow-by-blow account, though.'
‘Then I'll just ring Karen,' she said. 'She might want to meet us in town or something.'
‘You're doing your dare, Dora. You can see Karen another day.’
He sounded stern and a bit parental and she had to check to make sure he was laughing. Seeing his familiar twinkle provoked a sudden rush of fondness for him. She smiled back. 'OK. I'll ring her but I won't arrange anything for today. OK?’
Karen was full of enthusiasm. 'Mum and me are having a great time! Dad's taken the Floosie away so we've got the house to ourselves. It's lovely just catching up. I want to take her shopping and things. She has got a bit old-ladyish since I've been away.’
Dora couldn't help laughing. 'If you could see your mother skipping about a barge you wouldn't say things like that.'
‘I'm very proud of her, getting over her fear of boats, but her hair's a mess.’
As Dora couldn't really disagree with this, she laughed. 'Mum's talking of having a barbie on Sunday. Would you and Tom be up for that?'
‘Definitely. It would be wonderful!' She told Tom about this when they had disconnected. 'It'll be fun. We'll see Jo and you can meet Karen and' – she shot a glance at him -'at least you can't arrange anything nasty for me to do on that day.'
‘I never arrange anything nasty! You've enjoyed all of the bets so far, admit it!’
Dora inclined her head, indicating that maybe she had, a little. 'I didn't enjoy the loos at the festival.'
‘Well, no, who would? But most of it was good, wasn't it?'
‘Yes. Actually, it was OK.’
He pushed her playfully and then ran up the steps to the platform.
Everyone at the boatyard was very pleased to see her. Someone made tea and most of the men there crowded into the office so they could hear every detail. Dora was very glad that Tom was there to provide the technical details.
‘So you went to Flushing?'
‘Yes, Marcus said it was the way he knew best.'
‘And is this Marcus as good as everyone says?' asked another man through a mouthful of ginger nut.
‘Oh yes,' said Tom. 'No doubt about it.'
‘Tom was a bit of a hero too,' said Dora. 'When Ed fell in.'
‘Holy sh- sugarlumps! You had a man overboard?’
Dora did a little gentle filing while Tom related every detail. She chimed in only to say, 'We would never have got him back on board if it hadn't been for Tom.'
‘Yes you would,' Tom said modestly, but grinning from ear to ear. 'Jo or you would have taken the wheel and Marcus would have come down to help.'
‘Not easy to keep a barge in the same place, though,' said Fred.
‘And are those continental barges really massive?' some one went on, when every detail of Ed's rescue had been re run.
‘Oh yes. You wouldn't believe it,' said Dora, finishing her filing. 'Some had parking for two cars, let alone one. And one – it made me a bit sad, actually – had a little play area for this little girl. She was swinging away as the barge went down the waterway.'
‘Why sad?' said Tom. 'She didn't make me feel like that.'
‘I just think that life on those big barges must be quite lonely for a child. I'm an only child but I always had friends.’
Tom looked at his watch. 'Time I took you away from all this, Dora.'
‘I'll be back on Monday, I promise,' said Dora to Fred. 'I could stay now-'
‘Off you go.' Fred ushered them out of the door. 'We're getting on fine without you to boss us around.’
After quite a bit more banter about Dora's bossy ways and the men's slack attitude to office work, Tom and Dora stepped into the boat and Dora manoeuvred their way back across to the bank.
‘You're quite good at this now,' said Tom.
‘Mm. I'm getting multi-talented in my old age,' said Dora. 'Get out and make fast, would you?'
‘And you speak the language too,' said Tom, taking the line and tying it to a cast-iron ring.
‘Almost fluently. Now, what's the torture for today?’
‘You're going to eat in a restaurant by yourself.’
Dora sighed. 'That doesn't sound much fun! Surely it would be far nicer to eat together. I really don't want-’
She stopped. 'Oh, OK. It's something I should be able to do.
I'm sure you're right. I just hope you haven't chosen anywhere too scary.’
Tom suddenly frowned, staring down at the bottom of Dora's trousers. 'Mm. I don't suppose you feel like buying a pair of kecks, do you?'
‘Kecks?'
‘Shruggies, slacks, pants… trousers?’
At last Dora understood. 'You're telling me it's a problem that I've got muddy? Then why did you let us go to the boatyard? You know it's impossible to get there without getting mud on you!'
‘Sorry! Didn't think. Now, what shall we do before your dare?'
‘It's lunchtime. Surely-’
He shook his head. 'It's tea.'
‘Tea?'
‘Mm. A hot brown drink you seem to be quite fond of?'
‘I know what tea is. I just didn't-'
‘Well, you're going to. But not immediately. What would you like to do first?'
‘I can't believe you're asking me what I want to do!’
‘Am I so bossy then?'
‘Yes,' she said immediately but then realised that although he'd certainly been making her do things, he wasn't bossy in the way that John had been bossy. With John there'd been no discussion, no argument. She'd just said, 'Yes, John,' and, 'No, John,' for the sake of an easy life. And saying 'Yes, John' at the wrong time had nearly precipitated disaster. 'Let's go for a walk through London and look in shop windows and I'll see if I can find any trousers. Is the rest of me OK?’
Tom regarded her quizzically. 'I should think so.’
Dora took this as a no and determined to find a little jacket if she could. 'Seriously, are you willing to do a bit of shopping?'
‘Sure. Especially as it's my fault you have to. I'm not saying I'll sit outside the changing room and comment on every item you try on, I'll buy a paper and read it.’
Dora smiled. 'Cool!' John did not like shopping.
As they got on a bus that Tom assured her would take them to Oxford Street, Dora wondered yet again how he felt about her. There'd definitely been times when she'd thought he was looking at her with something more than the eyes of friendship but he'd never made any move. And there were times when she longed to be more like Carole. Carole would have taken the initiative by now, she was convinced. All that time at the festival and Dora had never even slipped her arm round his waist. On the other hand, an over-subscribed four-man tent was hardly conducive to seduction. She chuckled at the notion and had to look out of the window of the bus so Tom wouldn't see.
‘Couldn't we skip the whole thing and just have a jolly time?' she said a little later as they headed down Oxford Street.
‘Come on, Dora! Where's the plucky girl who helped me rescue Ed? Eating in a restaurant on your own should be a doddle.’
His praise warmed her for a moment. 'You're just so bossy!'
‘No I'm not, I'm being your facilitator.’
She made a face. 'That's just the politically correct word for bossy.’
He shrugged, his head slightly on one side, a grin giving him a dimple at one corner of his mouth. He was far too attractive for his own good, Dora decided, and then wondered if it was her good she was worried about. There was no point in fancying someone who looked on her as a sort of kid sister.
'I do wish you'd told me to buy something smarter,' said Dora indignantly. They were outside a very elegant hotel in Mayfair. 'I can't go in there looking like this!' Especially not on her own, and even if Tom came with her it wouldn't have helped much.
‘Yes you can, you look fine. Anyway, it's part of the dare. Just hold your head high and ask for your table. It's booked in my name.'
‘I didn't think I'd ever say this again, but I want my mum!’
Tom laughed and it gave her the courage she needed. After all, it wasn't actually dangerous; she wouldn't really die of embarrassment.
‘If I'm thrown onto the street, Tom Watkins, I'll do something horrible to you,' she said, and went up the steps and through the door held open by a porter in a very elaborate uniform.
Instantly a beautiful young man swept up to her. 'Can I help you, mademoiselle?' he asked her in a deeply sexy voice.
‘Um – there's a table booked – the name is Watkins.’
The young man checked his book. 'Ah yes, follow me, please.' He was wearing a black-tailed coat, striped trousers and a waistcoat. He was, Dora decided, by anyone's standards, completely delicious.
He pulled out Dora's chair, spread her napkin upon her lap and handed her a menu. 'The set tea includes sandwiches, scones with jam and cream and a selection of cakes. Which kind of tea would mademoiselle prefer?' He reeled off a list of teas including several souchongs and oolongs along with the more familiar varieties.
‘Earl Grey,' she said eventually.
‘Certainly,' He bowed, and left her.
Feeling a lot better about the whole process than she thought she would, Dora took in her surroundings. A piano played tunefully but invisibly from somewhere. There were pillars painted with garlands of flowers and the occasional bird, a theme echoed in the panels which were interspersed with mirrors. She could see herself sitting rather primly on her chair and relaxed her shoulders a little. It was quite crowded, she realised, and wondered if it had been difficult for Tom to get a table. Not everyone was smartly dressed but there were a few examples of what her mother would call 'tea gowns'.
Had she not been on her own, she wouldn't have felt dreadfully out of place in her new but casual trousers and V-neck T-shirt, but she would have definitely bought a skirt had she known where she was headed. And she was slightly surprised that they'd let her in.
Before she had time to get anxious about her scruffiness amidst so much old-fashioned glamour the waiter was back with a cake stand loaded with food.
Dora hadn't had much lunch – Tom had been very firm about them only having a snack, and when she saw the little finger-shaped sandwiches, oozing with smoked salmon and cream cheese, cucumber and ham, she found herself suddenly starving. Now she was worried about how much it was acceptable to eat. She remembered her grandmother going on about 'an ample sufficiency'. She was bound to err on the side of ample.
Her tea arrived before she had reached a conclusion. It was in a china teapot with an echo of the walls and pillars painted on it. A matching jug and sugar bowl were all arranged around the cup and saucer. Dora felt as if she was six again, playing tea parties with Karen, and smiled.
‘Mademoiselle, wait two minutes and I will come back and pour for you. But do eat!’
She put a sandwich on to her plate and ate it. It was one mouthful. She took another. They were exquisite – little morsels of perfection. The bread was fresh, the fillings just the right balance and the butter creamy and delicious.
At least the food is lovely, she thought, her private irritation with Tom thawing a little. She was glad he had made them have a horrid hot dog for lunch rather than a sandwich – she wouldn't have been enjoying these ones so much if they had.
The waiter swooped up again. 'Mademoiselle, I will pour your tea. Do you take milk?’
Dora began to wonder why he was singling her out for such attention. She had observed several people pouring their own tea while she was waiting. He placed the cup at her elbow. 'You like the sandwiches, yes?'
‘Yes, I do. They're wonderful.'
‘I will bring you more if you wish.'
‘No – no thank you. There are plenty here.'
‘After you must try the scones. I made them myself.' He seemed inclined to linger but was summoned by another table.
Did waiters really make scones? Or did pastry chefs, or whoever did make them, double up as waiters? She ate another sandwich – cucumber and ham this time – while she thought about it.
‘Mademoiselle, please, the scones. With the cream and jam.' He was at her elbow, twinkling at her, making her feel pampered and desirable. He took a scone with the tongs and put it on her plate. Then he cut it in half and put a lavish amount on cream on it, then a teaspoonful of jam. 'Please – eat.’
The scone was small but it still filled Dora's mouth so that she brought her napkin up to her lips to avoid spillage. She chewed, swallowed and smiled.
‘Well?' demanded her waiter.
‘Delicious, but I think I really prefer the sandwiches.’
‘Poof!' he said derisively. 'Try an éclair.’
Partly through embarrassment and partly because of the utter ridiculousness of the situation, Dora began to feel giggly. She struggled to keep herself under control. If this delightful waiter would only go away she'd be able to keep herself in check. Everyone knew about summoning a waiter but she didn't have any personal experience of how to send one away. She put the éclair into her mouth. It was food heaven.
‘Well?'
‘It was delicious, as I'm sure you know. Now do go and look after some other customers. You'll lose your job.'
‘Pas du tout. I am in charge today. Do you still prefer the sandwiches?'
‘I don't know. Probably not.'
‘Try a meringue,' he urged. 'They are tiny.’
Dora only just got it to her mouth intact. Once there it dissolved into creamy sweetness enhanced by the chopped strawberries in the cream. 'That was truly heavenly.'
‘I will bring you some more.’
Dora was already feeling slightly sick – any more meringues would make her feel very uncomfortable. She belched discreetly into her napkin and felt a little better. She glanced at the door. Could she – should she make a run for it? She realised she couldn't, even if Tom had paid for it all in advance.
‘No, really!' she said as the waiter appeared with five tiny, perfect meringues on a doily-covered plate. 'Mademoiselle…' he said reproachfully.
‘I really couldn't. They were lovely, but..'I will pack them in a box for you.’
He had just presented the box to Dora, having curled the gold and pink striped ribbons, when Tom appeared. He did not seem pleased.
‘Oh, hello, Tom,' said Dora.
‘Could I have the bill please?' he demanded from the waiter.
‘Of course.' The waiter raised an eyebrow and then went away to the desk.
‘That man!' said Tom, furious. 'He's done nothing but try to pick you up since you got here!'
‘No he hasn't, don't be silly!'
‘I've been watching. He wasn't like that with the other guests.'
‘Spying on me, Tom?' Dora pretended to be indignant, but actually she was rather pleased.
‘Just keeping an eye. That greasy, smooth-talking…' He paused while he thought of an acceptable word. '… man was trying to seduce you with cream cakes.'
‘Mm. There are worse ways,' said Dora, feeling very frivolous and lighthearted.
Tom scowled and marched over to the desk. Never had Dora seen Tom being so masterful or, she had to admit, grumpy. While she felt sorry for the waiter and smiled her apologies to him, she couldn't help being a little flattered by Tom's obvious jealousy. Perhaps he didn't see her as just a mate.
He followed the waiter to the desk and got out his wallet. Dora picked up the box of meringues. Tom could eat them in the park.
‘Come along,' he said firmly, taking her arm and marching her out of the hotel. Dora barely had time to smile at the waiter in gratitude.
‘That wretched man!'
‘He was very attentive.' Dora was giggling now.
Tom was marching her along the road like an irate father. 'If I'd known-'
‘It was a lovely tea, Tom, and I feel much braver now about going into a restaurant on my own.'
‘It's not funny!'
‘Yes it is! It's hilarious. Now, stop being grumpy and we can find somewhere for you to eat these meringues. They really are delicious.’
Tom made a growling sound.