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.’
She smiled. 'The clues were quite easy.'
‘Well, sit down. I've got to do some digging.'
‘Digging?’
`Mm.' He picked up a spade that was stuck in the ground, went to where the trees were closest together' and started sending clods of soil into the air. Eventually he pulled out a bottle of champagne. He brought it over.
‘My dad's always going on about old-fashioned picnics where you bury the champagne three days before so it's cold. I only buried it this morning, but it was cold when it went in, so it should be all right.’
Dora sat on the rug, feeling a little shy. Tom produced a couple of stainless steel mugs from the hamper. 'I got these in India, when I went with school. They sold them by weight.'
‘What do you mean?'
‘Well, I picked them out, and to find out the price they weighed them.'
‘Cool. You are lucky, going to India with school.'
‘You could go to India, if you wanted. Now, hold the mugs, I'm going to open this.'
‘But what are we celebrating?'
‘You achieving all your dares, of course. You're now officially a Brave Person.' He smiled at her but his eyes were serious. The champagne flowed into the mugs and he handed her one. 'Here's to you,' he said.
‘And to you.' They touched their mugs together and both sipped. Tom's gaze was intense. 'You were going to give me a prize,' she said lightly, setting down her mug, thinking that this was the prize, this lovely picnic.
‘I have got a prize for you, but you have to have it after lunch. Hang on, I'll put on another record.'
‘How on earth did you get all this stuff here? And I love the gramophone! It's the perfect touch.'
‘A ghetto-blaster wouldn't have quite created the atmosphere I'm after.'
‘Which is?’
Tom adjusted the way he was sitting. 'Romantic,' he said, without looking at her.
Dora's next mouthful of champagne was gulped rather than sipped.
‘Let's have something to eat,' he said when he'd wound up the gramophone again and put on another record. He burrowed in the hamper and brought out a foil-wrapped packet. 'Smoked-salmon sarnies. I made them last night.'
‘How did you get all this stuff here on a boat?' She took a sandwich although she wasn't really hungry.
‘I cheated. There's a rickety old bridge over there.' He waved towards the trees. 'We can go back in the car.’
‘I quite liked arriving by boat.'
‘I hoped you would.’
She smiled shyly at him. 'These are really nice. I didn't think I wanted anything really, but now I've started eating..
‘Have some crisps. And I've got hot sausage rolls.’
‘How did you manage that?’
He produced an old fashioned wide-mouthed thermos flask with a cork for a stopper. 'Try one.’
It was sinfully delicious. 'Golly, I didn't think they made sausage rolls like this these days.'
‘I got them in a deli – I think they make them themselves but they've got this really flaky pastry. Have another.’
Dora was about to wipe her greasy hands on her thigh when Tom produced a linen napkin. 'I found them in the airing cupboard. Mum never uses them because she says they're a pain to iron.'
‘They are lovely, though.' Dora thought that she had better make sure they were laundered before Tom's mother came home.
‘Have some more champagne.' He profferred the bottle. 'I haven't finished this yet.'
‘Then hurry up. We've got little éclairs for pudding.’
‘You didn't make them?'
‘No. But I want to give you your present.’
‘Why the hurry?'
‘I'm worried that you won't like it.'
‘But, Tom, I'm loving all this. The present doesn't matter all that much.'
‘Yes it does, but don't worry, it's only small.’
Dora relaxed a little. She drank some more champagne and then ate another sausage roll. 'OK, pudding time, if you're ready. You don't seem to have eaten much.'
‘Oh, I'm all right.' He dived into the hamper again and came out with yet another plastic box. 'Eclairs.'
‘These are truly yummy,' Dora said after she'd eaten two of the little-finger-sized morsels. 'They're as nice as the ones I had at that hotel.'
‘Good. Now, finish your mouthful. It's time for your present.’
Dora wiped her fingers again and sat up straighter. She had picked up on Tom's nervousness. Supposing the present was awful, revealing some unsuspected bad taste in Tom, who she liked so, so much? It was a fairly flat package, which meant it wasn't a ghastly ornament that Dora would have to have on display somewhere.
‘Open it,' he ordered.
Dora didn't feel obliged to save the brown paper wrap ping and was inside rapidly. It was a light, khaki-coloured purse on a string. 'Um – it's lovely,' she said cautiously.
‘It's a symbol,' explained Tom. 'Don't say it looks like a purse because of course it is. The symbolism is in the sort of purse it is.'
‘On a cord?'
‘It's for travelling. You keep it under your clothes so it's safe from pickpockets. You keep your credit card, your passport and your money in it.’
Dora moistened her lips. 'Oh, like your mother's, but why have you given it to me?'
‘I want you to go travelling, with me, when we've saved enough money.'
‘Oh Tom!'
‘In fact, Dad said he'd give us some money towards it because he says I saved him so much not wanting to be a doctor or anything expensive.’
Dora laughed. 'I love your dad.’
He looked at her earnestly. 'But how do you feel about me? Do you think you could love me too? Enough to go backpacking with?’
A sigh she had been suppressing for a long time welled up in Dora. 'Oh yes, I think I could love you. Enough to go backpacking with, anyway.'
‘Yesss!' Tom, who was already on his knees on the rug, tipped towards her so that they both fell on to the cushions together. 'I don't know how I've managed not to kiss you all this time.’
Dora was lying underneath him, laughing up at him. 'You don't have to manage any more, Tom!’
He laughed too and then his mouth came down on hers.