‘It’s only a spider,’ he said. ‘It won’t hurt you.’
‘They terrify me,’ I sobbed. He took a step towards me and then the next moment I was in his arms. As his lips touched mine, we both began to tremble. The warmth, the dizziness, the taste of that kiss lasted a long, long time. Then he buried his face in my hair.
‘Oh my God, Octavia, you’re driving me mad. What am I going to do?’
‘Nothing for the moment, except go on kissing me,’ I whispered, taking his face in my hands.
Chapter Seven
The crimson sun was sinking, the pink water darkening as we tied up for the night alongside a bank of meadowsweet. The air throbbed with the formless chattering of birds, and all along the bank water rats and owls began to come out on night duty. I managed to postpone cooking by saying the chicken would take too long to make.
I put on a pale grey semi-transparent mini-dress. I didn’t need the cracked looking glass to tell me how marvellous I looked. Gussie was looking hideous in white. She was scarlet from the sun.
‘She looks like a great red lobster,’ I thought with a giggle. ‘All she needs is a dollop of mayonnaise.’
Gareth handed me a Pimm’s. It was afloat with apple, cucumber and oranges.
‘Is this dinner as well?’ I asked coolly.
‘It’s utterly divine,’ said Gussie. ‘Try it.’
I took a sip and smirked at Gareth. ‘It tastes exactly like cough mixture,’ I said.
Jeremy, sitting at the table shelling broad beans, looked fantastic. His skin was tanned to the colour of dry sherry; he was wearing a white shirt. I surreptitiously lowered the zip of my dress a few inches, then caught Gareth looking at me and pretended I was fanning myself because of the heat.
‘Jeremy darling,’ cooed Gussie fondly, ‘you’re putting all the pods in the pan and the beans in the muckbucket. You
‘His mind’s on other things,’ said Gareth.
‘Like this bloody review I’ve got to write for the
‘Well say so, then,’ said Gareth.
‘I can’t,’ said Jeremy. ‘It was written by the editor’s wife.’
‘That’s a gorgeous dress,’ said Gussie, looking at me enviously. ‘I’d love something really sexy like that.’
‘You’ve got Jeremy,’ I said, smiling at him.
‘Yes, and don’t let any of us forget it,’ said Gareth.
‘Broad beans are disappointing,’ grumbled Gussie, raking her thumb nail down the furry inside of the last pod. ‘They always look as though they’re going to produce far more than they do.’
‘Like someone else I could mention,’ muttered Gareth as he filled up my glass.
A smell of mint drifted in from the kitchen.
‘I’m starving,’ said Gussie.
For dinner Gareth fried some huge prawns in garlic and parsley and we ate them with broad beans and new potatoes.
‘Our new house has a little garden,’ said Gussie with her mouth full. ‘Just think Jeremy darling, we’ll be able to grow our own vegetables. You’re a fairy godmother, Gareth, finding us this house.’
‘I’m neither a fairy nor a godmother,’ said Gareth, forking a large new potato out of the dish and putting it straight into his mouth.
‘These prawns are fantastic,’ said Jeremy. ‘Have some more, Octavia.’
‘No thanks,’ I said. ‘I’m surprised to see Gareth cooking at all. With your pithead upbringing I’d have thought you’d have been dead against men in the kitchen.’
There was a slightly embarrassed pause.
‘My father spent his time in the kitchen when he was home,’ said Gareth. ‘It was the only room we had downstairs.’
‘How amazing,’ I said, my lips curling. ‘Did you all sleep in the same bed?’
‘I liked your father,’ said Jeremy hastily.
‘So did my mother,’ said Gareth. ‘If you’re a miner you’re a real man — and women like that.’
Gussie sensed that I was about to make some crushing remark.
‘Whatever happened to your glamorous brother?’ she said. ‘I remember him coming down to take you out at school and watching a lacrosse match, and no one scoring any goals at all. They were far too busy gawping at him.’
‘He went into the family business,’ I said. ‘But he hates it. He’s export sales manager now and has to spend his time swapping filthy stories with reps.’
‘Who did he get married to?’ said Gussie.
‘Ricky Seaford’s daughter, Pamela.’
‘That was a good dynastic match,’ said Gareth. ‘Aren’t Seaford-Brennen’s in a bit of trouble at the moment?’
‘Of course not,’ I said, scathingly. ‘They’ve had a terrific year.’ I always say that.
‘Oh well, you should know,’ said Gareth. ‘I just heard rumours of strike trouble.’
‘All firms have to cope with strikes from time to time.’
‘I don’t,’ said Gareth, grinning. ‘My men know they’ve got the best boss in the world, so why should they strike?’
‘Modesty certainly isn’t your strong point,’ I snapped.
‘Of course it isn’t. I’m much better at being immodest.’
God, he irritated me. I wanted to throw my drink in his face. Gussie went off to bring in some strawberries and cream, so I stretched out my foot towards Jeremy and started rubbing it against his leg. The pressure was immediately returned. And when Gareth started quizzing him about publishing, he obviously had great difficulty in concentrating.
‘These are the first strawberries of the year, so you must all make a wish,’ said Gussie, doling out great platefuls.
I wriggled down a bit further under the table, and ran my leg up and down Jeremy’s thigh. The next moment I could feel his hand stroking my foot, gently caressing the instep. It felt fantastically sexy. I wiggled my toes against his hand voluptuously.
‘Did you know that buggery was legal after 90 days on board?’ said Gareth. ‘So we’ve only got 89 days to go, boyo.’
‘Oh darling,’ sighed Jeremy, ‘I never knew you felt that way.’
That warm hand was still stroking my ankle. Then suddenly I looked across the table, and froze with horror as I realized that Jeremy was squashing up his strawberries with both hands. Before I could whip my foot away, the hand had closed round my ankle like a vice.
‘What big feet you’ve got Grandma,’ said Gareth, his eyes glinting with laughter. I tugged frantically for several seconds before he let me go.
After dinner he turned on the television. It was an old film,
‘
‘Oh, turn it off, I’ve seen it twice already,’ said Gussie.
We took our drinks out on deck. The trees on the edge of the river were as dark as blackberries. A little owl swooped by noisily. A slight breeze wafted the strong soapy scent of the meadowsweet towards us. In the distance
