we could hear the sensual throb of pop music, and see the dark sky florid like a great bruise.
‘It’s a fair,’ said Gussie in excitement. ‘Oh, please let’s go.’
The red and yellow helter-skelter rose like a fairy tower out of the pale green chestnut trees, the lights of the big wheel turned like a giant firework. I listened to the beat of the music, the roar of the generators and the thwack of balls on the canvas at the back of the coconut shies. I’m always turned on by fairs.
Gareth had just loosened every tooth in my head, driving like James Hunt round the dodgem car track. My only consolation was that Jeremy and Gussie, now clutching a Gary Glitter poster, a china Alsatian and a huge mauve teddy bear, had been watching our progress. Next to them had stood a group of youths who had wolf- whistled and whooped in admiration every time we crashed past them, as my hair whipped back and my skirt blew up to reveal an expanse of brown thigh. This was the kind of corporate approval that wouldn’t do Jeremy any harm. Now Gareth was wasting a fortune at the shooting range, and Jeremy and I stood side by side watching Gussie riding on a merry-go-round horse with red nostrils. Grasping the brass rod with both hands, her handbag flying on her arm, her eyes shining, she smiled at us every time she came past. We smiled dutifully back.
The sensual beat of the music was eating into my soul. It was now or never. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the big wheel pause to take on more passengers. Gussie’s merry-go-round would stop in a minute.
‘Let’s go on the big wheel,’ I said to Jeremy.
‘Won’t you be scared?’
‘Not with you.’
‘We must be careful. Gussie’ll start suspecting something.’
‘I want her to,’ I said.
With almost indecent haste, we slid into the bucket seats. At that moment Gussie clambered off her horse and looked round.
‘Over here,’ shouted Jeremy.
She looked up and grinned. ‘Take care,’ she shouted.
Up and up went the wheel. At the top we could see for miles. The moon had broken free from its moorings and was sailing up in the sky. Below us lay lit-up villages, dark woods, pale hayfields, and to the right, the distant gleam of the river.
‘Oh isn’t it beautiful?’ I said, moving my leg against his.
‘Beautiful,’ he said, not looking at the view.
Then down we plunged with that dreadful stomach-stealing, heart-dropping fall. Screaming like a peacock, I clutched Jeremy’s arm.
‘Are you all right?’ he said, as we swooped upwards again.
Then suddenly, fate came to our rescue. The wheel stopped to drop off some passengers, leaving us at the top, miles from everyone.
For a second we gazed at each other.
‘What are you so frightened of?’ I said softly. ‘Gareth’s disapproval or hurting Gussie?’
‘Both. Gus doesn’t deserve to be hurt, and I feel guilty bringing Gareth down here, laying on a bird for him, then trying to lay on her myself.’
‘You’d be insane with rage if I’d got off with Gareth.’
‘I know I would.’
‘Well then, is it fair to Gussie to marry her when you feel like this?’
‘I think I’m more frightened of you than anything else,’ he muttered. ‘Like Carmen Jones on the box tonight, I’d be like that poor sod Don Jose. Once you got me away from Gussie you’d get bored with me. Then I’d find myself totally hooked on you, and not capable of holding you.’
‘Oh darling,’ I said, putting a little sob in my voice, ‘don’t you realize, I’m only playing the field because I’m unhappy? When I find the right guy, I’m quite capable of sticking to him. I was never unfaithful to Tod.’
‘Not at all?’
‘Not at all. You’ve got to learn to trust me.’
Jeremy looked up at the sky.
‘I could reach up and pick you a bunch of stars,’ he said. ‘I wish we could stay up here forever and never go back to reality.’
The wheel started moving again.
‘We’ve got to talk,’ I whispered. ‘Wait till Gussie’s asleep and then creep up on deck.’
‘It’s too risky. Gareth’s got a nose on elastic.’
‘He’s drunk so much this evening, he’ll go out like a light.’
‘Anyone want a drink?’ said Gareth when we got back to the boat.
‘I’m going to hit the hay,’ said Jeremy. ‘I’ve got a bloody awful headache from the sun.’
‘I’ve got some painkillers in my suitcase,’ said Gareth. ‘I’ll get them.’
He went out of the room. Gussie was rootling around in the kitchen. I moved towards Jeremy.
‘Have you really got a headache?’ I said.
He smiled slightly and shook his head: ‘I ache in rather more basic parts of my anatomy.’
‘Painkillers won’t cure that,’ I said softly. ‘The only remedy is to come up on deck later.’
‘How long shall I leave it?’
‘Well I certainly can’t hold out for more than an hour,’ I said, running my tongue over my lips.
At that moment Gareth returned with the pills.
‘I really don’t like taking things,’ said Jeremy.
‘You take three,’ said Gareth firmly. ‘That should do the trick.’
I’d have given anything to have a long scented bath. As it was, I stood barefoot on the rushmatting, soaping my body, and then dried myself with an old towel, the consistency of a brillo pad. I didn’t even dare scent my body with bath oil, in case Gareth thought I was giving him the come on. But luckily when I went back to the cabin, he was already in bed, snoring away like Tommy Brock. I waited half an hour, then very slowly eased myself out of bed, groping for the wall and then the doorway. I had my alibi ready — I was just getting a drink of water — but I didn’t need it. Gareth didn’t stir. I tiptoed out of the cabin and up onto the deck.
The sullen heat of the torrid afternoon had given way to a blissful cool. Through the overhanging willows, the stars shone like blossom. I lay stretched out on the deck, listening to the soft gurgling of the river, the drowsy piping of birds, and the chatter and rustlings as the animals of night plied their trades. Half an hour passed in blissful expectation, then another half-hour when I knew he’d be here any minute.
What was that poem that always made us giggle at school?
He is coming, my dove, my dear:
He is coming, my life, my fate;
The red rose cries, ‘He is near, he is near’; And the white rose weeps, ‘He is late.’
Well it seemed the white rose had got the message all right. Another hour limped by, by which time the deck was harder than a board, and fire was beginning to come out of my nostrils. It was obvious I was going to get no chance to play deck coitus. Anger gave way to misery and exhaustion, and I crept back to bed.
Chapter Eight
I was woken by the din of church bells. The cabin was already like an oven, the day far sunnier than my mood. I lay for a few seconds sourly wallowing in the bitterness of rejection. Master Jeremy, it had to be faced, had displayed thighs of clay. It was possible Gussie had had an attack of insomnia or intense amorousness last night, which had prevented him sneaking up on deck to find me, but it seemed unlikely. I had been convinced I could extract him from her as easily as a Kleenex from its box. But I had plainly miscalculated. He must prefer the security of her prop forward arms to my more subtle embraces. They were, after all, engaged, and he more accustomed to behaving like a gentleman than a full-blooded male. All the same, I wasn’t going to give up without a fight; it would
