Octavia

Behind, the murky towers and pinnacles of Oxford rose indistinctly.

Jeremy emerged from the nearest boat to meet us. I’d never felt more pleased to see anyone. I wanted to throw myself sobbing into his arms.

‘Hullo,’ he said. ‘You made it OK? Let me help with the cases.’

‘I’m desperately sorry we’re so late,’ I said.

‘Doesn’t matter. Gareth rang this afternoon and said you wouldn’t be here much before midnight.’

In the headlamps of the car I could see the barge was painted scarlet and decorated in brilliant blues, yellows and greens, like a gypsy caravan. The brasswork glinted, the red curtains glowed behind the saloon windows. In gold letters edged with blue was written her name, The Lady Griselda.

‘Isn’t she lovely?’ I said.

Jeremy helped me across the gangplank, but he didn’t squeeze my hand, nor answer when I whispered that it was heavenly to see him again.

Gussie was in the kitchen. She was wearing old jeans and an oil-stained shirt. I suddenly realized how stupid I must look bringing three suitcases.

‘Tavy,’ she hugged me. ‘How lovely. Have you been having fun?’

‘Yes, marvellous,’ I lied, disengaging myself from her. I didn’t want oil stains all over my new blazer.

‘You must be exhausted. Come and see your cabin, and then I’ll give you a huge drink.’

We went through a cabin with two bunks in it.

‘This is Jeremy and me,’ she said, and then opening another door, ‘This is you and Gareth.’

Oh, my God, I thought, I’m going to have to spend the whole weekend fighting him off. Our suitcases were already deposited on one of the bunks. On a ledge stood a glass jam jar which Gussie had filled with meadow sweet, buttercups and already wilting roses.

‘The heads and the washbasin are next door. I’m afraid they’re a bit primitive, and the saloon’s beyond that,’ she said. ‘Come through when you’re ready.’

I washed and put on more scent and make-up to give me confidence. In the saloon I found them all gathered round a portable television set.

‘Look at Gareth’s toy,’ said Gussie.

‘Trust him to bring the twentieth century with him,’ I said and looked at Jeremy, but he looked quickly away.

‘Have a drink?’ said Gussie.

‘I’ll get her one,’ said Gareth, getting a glass out of a cupboard in the corner and filling it with wine.

‘Isn’t this gorgeous?’ I said, looking round at the oil lamps, the panelling and the gleaming brass.

‘Very sexy too,’ added Gareth approvingly. ‘Octavia and I are waking at the crack of dawn to do PT.’

‘PT?’ said Gussie in surprise. ‘That doesn’t sound Octavia’s line of country.’

‘Some people call it sexual intercourse,’ said Gareth.

He raised his glass to me, his wicked lecherous eyes moving over me in amusement.

Gussie went off into peals of laughter.

‘You mustn’t tease, Gareth. Poor Tavy won’t know if she’s coming or going.’

‘Coming, hopefully,’ said Gareth.

‘I hear you’ve found a house,’ I said to Jeremy. ‘I’m so pleased.’

For a moment he looked up and our eyes met, then he looked quickly away. A muscle was going in his cheek; he was obviously in a state.

‘Yes, it’s great, isn’t it?’

‘Great!’ said Gussie, ‘it’s marvellous! Most couples can’t afford a house for years. Gareth fixed us a mortgage and found us the ideal place in a few days. You must come and help me choose curtains and carpets, Tavy. I’m so hopeless.’

They started talking about the house and wedding plans until I couldn’t stand it any more. ‘Does anyone mind if I go to bed?’ I said.

‘Of course not,’ said Gussie. ‘I’ll come and see everything’s all right.’

‘You’ll see me anon,’ said Gareth.

‘No doubt,’ I said, turning to Jeremy, ‘Goodnight, it’s such a treat to be down here.’

Just for a moment I was comforted by a flicker of misery in his eyes, then the shutters came down.

‘Goodnight, sleep well,’ he said.

In my cabin, Gussie was plumping pillows.

‘It was a good thing Gareth rang Jeremy and said you were going to be late, or we’d have been in an awful shambles. Jeremy and I spent all afternoon in bed,’ Gussie confided with a little giggle, then went on, ‘I hope you don’t mind sharing a cabin with Gareth. I’m sure he won’t pounce on you unless you want it.’

‘What on earth do you mean?’ I snapped.

‘Oh well,’ she stammered. ‘I mean, I thought you might want it, perhaps, if you found him attractive.’

‘I don’t,’ I said.

‘Oh dear,’ her face fell. Realizing it was a bad move, I added, ‘I like him very much, but not in that way.’

Once I was alone, I couldn’t stop shaking. What had that snake Gareth been saying to Jeremy to change him so much? Had he just done it out of sheer bloodymindedness or did he want me for himself? When I was in my nightie (which was apricot silk, clinging and, ironically, bought to inflame Jeremy) I found to my horror that I had left my sleeping pills behind. In the state I was in I’d never sleep without them.

I put all my suitcases on the floor, and crept into the top bunk and lay there, tense and trembling, waiting to fend off the inevitable assault when Gareth came to bed. All I could hear were shouts of laughter from the other room.

An hour went past; they were coming to bed; there were shouts of ‘goodnight’, then silence, broken only by the sound of water lapping against the boat.

The door opened, and Gareth slid quietly into the cabin. Hoping he would not hear the terrified thudding of my heart, I tried to breathe slowly and evenly.

‘Only five out of ten,’ came the soft Welsh voice. ‘People who are really asleep breathe much faster than that.’

Then, to my amazement, I heard him getting into the bottom bunk. He must be trying to lull me into a feeling of false security. I lay frozen for ten minutes, but suddenly my terror turned to fury. Unmistakably from the bottom bunk came the sound of gentle snoring.

I lay there spitting with rage until eventually I decided it was no use working myself up into a state. Gareth might have temporarily chucked a monkey wrench into the romantic works, but if he intended to fight dirty, he would find that no one could fight dirtier than me when I put my mind to it. Whatever he had told Jeremy — that I was a spoilt bitch, a parasite, an opportunist — would make no difference in the end. Jeremy was mad for me, try as he might to fight it.

Time was on my side. In this heat, cooped up together for three days, Jeremy’s self-control was bound to desert him. All I had to do was look stunning and wait. Festina lente. But how could I be expected to look stunning if I couldn’t sleep? I wanted to go up on the moonlit deck and cool off. But although Gareth was now snoring like a warthog, I had a feeling that as soon as I tried to climb out of my bunk, his hand would shoot out and grab me by the ankle. Why, oh why, had I forgotten to bring my sleeping pills? The hours crawled by, and only when a misty dawn began to filter through the porthole, did I fall asleep.

Chapter Six

When I woke the boat was moving. Through the porthole I could see shiny olive-green water, a tangle of rushes and brilliant blue sky. I could hear voices and the crash of footsteps above me. I pulled the sheets over my head and tried to go back to sleep again, then gave up and looked at my watch. It was nearly twelve o’clock.