Octavia

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.

When I pushed open the door of the loo I was confronted by a huge brown back and tousled black hair. Gareth, wearing only a towel around his hips, was cleaning his teeth.

‘You’re up with the lark,’ he said grinning. ‘You must have slept well.’

‘Don’t you ever wear any pyjamas?’ I snapped.

‘Never, never. I always sleep in the raw. I like to get really close to people. Shall I run you a bath, or would you prefer a shower? I’ll see if Gussie’s got any Badedas.’

Knowing there was only a cracked wash basin, I ignored this and flattened myself against the wall to let him pass. He paused in front of me and once again I was overwhelmed by the claustrophobia I always felt when he was close to me. As I bolted past him and locked the door behind me, I could hear him laughing.

He’d gone, thank goodness, when I got back to the cabin. I couldn’t decide what to wear, all my clothes looked so new. In the end I settled for a dark green towelling jump suit with a red and green striped leather belt.

Gussie was in the kitchen, cooking and pinkfaced. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘How are you? Did you sleep all right?’

She was obviously dying to know if I’d slept with Gareth or not, and was on the look out for signs of ravage in my face.

‘I fell asleep the moment my head touched the pillow,’ I said blithely. ‘Can I do anything to help?’

‘No, don’t bother. Do you want some breakfast?’

‘Only a cup of coffee.’

‘You ought to eat something, you know,’ she insisted.

‘I can’t even look a fried egg in the face in the morning.’

She began boringly explaining to me the merits of eating a proper breakfast, so I made a cup of coffee and a quick exit up on deck.

A beautiful burning day had soared out of the mist. On either side white cornfields slanted down to the water, ahead on the left bank a clump of copper beeches glittered purple in the sun. The water ahead was so smooth, it was as though we were gliding over an old mirror. Jeremy, wearing only a pair of jeans, was at the wheel. He looked all tawny and golden haired, like a young lion, but his dark blue eyes were tired.

‘Everything all right?’ he said.

‘Yes, thank you, everything’s wonderful.’ I gave him a smile of pure happiness. Let him sweat, I thought, let him have a few nasty moments wondering if I really have been screwed by Gareth.

‘You look very pleased with yourself,’ said a soft Welsh voice. Gareth sat hunched up on the roof, his arms round his knees, smoking and reading the Financial Times.

‘How the hell did you get hold of that?’ I asked.

‘From the last lock-keeper, a man of property like myself.’

‘Anything up?’ asked Jeremy.

‘My shares are, by 10p,’ said Gareth.

‘Don’t you ever let up?’ I said.

‘Only in the mating season.’

‘Jeremee,’ called Gussie from the kitchen.

‘Yes love?’

‘You haven’t kissed me for at least a quarter-of-an-hour.’

Jeremy looked at us and blushed.

‘Get on with it, you flesh monger,’ said Gareth, getting to his feet. ‘I’ll take the wheel.’

‘We’ll be coming up to Ramsdyke Lock in half-an-hour,’ said Jeremy. ‘I’ll come and take over then.’

He went dutifully down into the kitchen.

‘In a few years’ time,’ I said savagely, ‘they’ll be calling each other “Mummy” and “Daddy”.’

I enjoyed going through the lock. The lock-keeper’s little house was surrounded by a garden of flowers as gaudy as the front of a seed packet. A goat looked over the fence, a golden retriever sat lolling its tongue out in the heat. When Jeremy sounded the horn a fat woman in an apron came out and opened the first lot of gates for us. Then the boat edged its way into the dark green cavern with dank slimy walls and purple toadflax growing in the crevices, and the gates clanged behind us. Suddenly water poured in from the other end, gradually raising our boat to the new level of the river.

‘Very phallic, isn’t it?’ said Gareth, who was waiting on the shore to open the gates at the other end.

I looked up at him with loathing. ‘Do you keep your mind permanently below your navel?’

We tied up for lunch under a veil of green willows, and I changed into my favourite bikini, which is that stinging yellow which goes so well with brown skin and blonde hair, and very cleverly cut to give me a cleavage like the Grand Canyon.

‘Hickory dickory dock, the mouse ran up the drink bill,’ said Gareth, pouring himself a quadruple whisky. ‘This weekend is fast degenerating into an orgy.’

He looked up and whistled as I walked into the saloon.

‘Despite your obvious limitations, Octavia, I must admit that you’re very well constructed. Really, it’s a sin for you to wear any clothes at all. Don’t you agree Jeremy?’

Jeremy was devouring me, as a starved dog might look at a large steak. His hand shook as he lit a cigarette, that muscle was going in his cheek again.

‘Oh these engaged men never look at other women,’ I said lightly. ‘Pour me a drink, Gareth darling.’

We all got tight at lunch. It was far too hot to eat but as Gussie had spent all morning making a fish mayonnaise, we had to make half-hearted efforts. She’d even cut the tomatoes into little flowers. As usual she ended up by guzzling most of it herself.

Afterwards, as Jeremy and Gareth cast off, I curled up in a sunbaked corner on deck. A few minutes later Gussie joined me — not a pretty sight in a black bathing dress, her huge white bosom and shoulders spilling over the top. She immediately started boring me making lists for her wedding.

‘There’s so much to do with only a month to go,’ she kept saying. How many double sheets did I think she’d need, and was it absolutely essential to have an egg beater? But her fond dreamy gaze rested more often on Jeremy than on her lists.

‘Isn’t he beautiful?’ she said, then giggled. ‘Gareth’s given me this fantastic sex instruction book. I can now see why so many people end up with slipped discs. The things they expect you to do, and it’s a bit tricky when you have to hold the book in one hand in order to learn how to do it,’ and she went off into shrieks of laughter.

‘How are you getting on with Gareth?’ she went on.

I admired my reflection in her sun glasses. ‘Well I’m not getting off with him, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Ah — but the weekend is still in its infancy,’ said that hateful Welsh voice and Gareth lay down on the deck between us, cushioning his dark head on his elbow, the wicked slit eyes staring up at the burning sky.

‘I’ve just been telling Tavy about your fantastic sex book,’ said Gussie.

‘I wouldn’t have thought she’d need it,’ said Gareth. ‘She must have taken her “L” plates off years ago.’

A large white barge was cruising towards us on the other side of the river. A middle-aged man in a yachting cap was at the wheel, addressing two fat women with corrugated hair up at the front of the boat, through a speaking trumpet. Another man with a white moustache and a red face was gazing at us through binoculars. They all looked thoroughly disapproving. Gareth sat up and waited until they drew level with us.

‘Have a good look, sir!’ he shouted to the man with the binoculars. ‘I’ve got two lovely young girls here, whose knickers are bursting into flames at the sight of you. Only fifty quid each, satisfaction guaranteed. We even accept Barclay Cards.’

The man with the binoculars turned purple with rage and nearly fell off the roof.

‘It’s young men like you who ought to be turned off England’s waterways!’ bellowed the man with the speaking trumpet.

‘We even take luncheon vouchers!’ Gareth yelled after them.

‘I’ll ask you along instead of a conjurer next time I give a children’s party,’ I said.

Gussie, who was doubled up with laughter, got to her feet.

‘I’m going to see how Jeremy’s getting on,’ she said.

I buried my face in my biography of Matthew Arnold.

‘Still on the culture kick?’ said Gareth in amusement. ‘There’s only one poem, lovely, you should read, learn and inwardly digest.’

‘What’s that?’

‘“Who ever loves, if he do not propose

The right true end of love, he’s one that goes

To sea for nothing but to make him sick.”’

‘Who wrote that?’

‘Your alleged favourite, John Donne.’

‘He must have been having an off day,’ I said crossly.

Another boat passed us with a pretty brunette sunning herself on deck. Gareth wolf-whistled at her; she turned round and smiled at him, showing big teeth. Gareth smiled back.

‘Don’t you ever knock it off,’ I snapped. ‘Haven’t you ever heard of the law of diminishing returns?’

A dark green world slid past my half-shut eyes. The darkness of the trees over-arched the olive shadows and tawny lights of the water. On the bank was a large notice: ‘Danger. Keep Away from the Weir.’

‘It’s not the weir that some people should keep away from,’ said Gareth.

Beyond the weir, the surface of the river was smothered in foam, a floating rainbow coloured like gossamer.

‘Oh how pretty it is!’ I cried.

‘Detergent,’ said Gareth.

I shot him a venomous glance and started fiddling with my wireless. I’d given up listening to pop music since I’d met Jeremy, but suddenly I hit upon some grand opera, a soprano and a tenor yelling their guts out. I was just about to switch over when Gareth looked up. ‘For Christ sake turn that caterwauling off. You’ll wake up all the water rats.’

So I kept it on really loud to annoy him, absolutely murdering the peace of the afternoon. After an agonizing three-quarters of an hour, the opera came to an end.

‘What was that?’ bellowed Gussie from the wheel.

‘Don Carlos,’ I said.

‘Oh how lovely! That’s your favourite, isn’t it, Gareth? How many times have you seen it?’

The rat! The snake! Smiling damned villain! I couldn’t trust myself to speak. I turned over and pretended to go to sleep.

I was lying half drugged with sun when I heard Jeremy’s voice. ‘Octavia, are you asleep?’

I opened my eyes; the sky was shimmering with heat. I smiled lazily up at him. From the ribald laughter I could hear, Gareth and Gussie were obviously up at the other end of the boat.

Jeremy sat down beside me.

‘You must watch the sun. With fair skin like yours, you could easily burn.’

‘Oil me then,’ I said softly, turning over on my front and handing him a bottle of Ambre Solaire.

He put a dollop on his hands and began to rub it into my back.

I squirmed voluptuously. ‘Oh, how blissful. I wish I had a tame slave to do it all the time. Put lots on the tops of my thighs,’ I went on mercilessly. I heard him catch his breath.

When I had made him spin it out as long as possible, I added, ‘And could you possibly undo my bikini strap. I don’t want a white line across my back.’

His hands shook so much he had the greatest difficulty with the clasp.

‘Thank you,’ I said when he had finished, turning my head and looking at him. He was breathing very fast, and his eyes were almost opaque with lust.

The afternoon was perfect now. The water was plumed with alders and willows, and in the distance two or three pink farm houses dozed among the apple trees. The white spire of a village church appeared behind a hill and a plane sailed silver across the sky.

‘How remote everything seems,’ I said. ‘I can’t believe that this time next week I shall be in Marbella.’

Jeremy sat up on his elbow, chewing a piece of grass.

‘You will?’

‘And Sardinia the week after, and then I think I shall probably take off for Bermuda for the summer.’

‘Bermuda? Whatever for?’

I was taunting him now.

‘Oh, because a guy with whom I’m just good friends is mad for me to join him out there. He was even generous enough to send me my air ticket.’

‘Doesn’t it worry you at all? Living off men all the time?’

‘Who said I’m living off men? I give as good as I get. Anyway it’s only normal if one’s father rejects one early in life, to go round looking for other daddies, preferably sugar daddies and playing them up until they’re forced to reject you too.’

‘Don’t you ever want to settle down with one man?’

‘Not any more,’ I paused, making my voice quiver slightly. ‘Not since Tod was killed earlier this year.’

‘Gussie told me about that. I’m terribly sorry.’

A yellow butterfly shimmered over us. ‘That’s me,’ I said, pointing to it. ‘Always on the loose.’

‘So you’re really committed to the fleshpots,’ said Jeremy bitterly. ‘Drifting from one rich playboy to another. Dropping your knickers so you don’t have to drop your standard of living.’

‘That sounds exactly like Gareth,’ I said through my teeth. ‘It’s neither funny nor true.’

‘Maybe not. Now you can have as many minks and gold bracelets as you like, but what happens when your looks go and you can’t get men any more? Do you know how women like you end up, unless they’re very careful? They start making concessions in order to escape from their loneliness, then more and more concessions until they turn into a raddled old harridan that everyone laughs at.’

‘Why do you tell me these things?’ I hissed at him.

‘It’s only natural,’ he said in a low voice, ‘that I should try and run down all the things I could never afford to give you.’

‘Gareth could give them to me,’ I said.

‘What happened between you two last night?’ he said sharply.

‘Oh, you know Gareth’s reputation, and you think mine is totally beyond redemption, I’m surprised you ask.’

‘What happened?’ he said, seizing my wrist.

‘Stop it, you’re hurting me!’

‘Did you or did you not sleep with Gareth?’

‘No I didn’t, but it’s no thanks to you,’ I stormed. ‘Ignoring me when we arrived last night, avoiding my eyes whenever I looked at you. If anything was calculated to throw me into Gareth’s arms that was.’

Jeremy put his face in his hands.

‘I know, I know. Christ I’m in such a muddle. A month today I’m getting married, and I feel as though I’m going into hospital for a major operation.’

‘Well, that’s your problem, isn’t it?’ I said, fastening my bikini strap and getting to my feet. ‘I’m going to get a drink of water.’

I found Gussie in the kitchen eating biscuits and talking up at Gareth who was steering.

‘Gussie and I were just saying how much we were looking forward to sampling some of your famous cooking,’ said Gareth maliciously.

‘There’s a chicken in the fridge,’ said Gussie. ‘I wish you’d do that marvellous thing you did when Jeremy and I came to dinner.’

‘It’s a very complicated recipe,’ I said quickly, ‘and needs lots of special things I’m sure we haven’t got.’

‘We can get them,’ said Gussie. ‘Gareth and I have got a yen for Pimm’s tonight, so we thought we’d stop off at the village shop at the next lock. We’ll buy everything you need at the same time.’

I hope my dismay didn’t show on my face. While Gareth and Gussie were shopping, I had a good wash to get off all the sun-tan oil and sweat. I was just wandering into the kitchen to get another glass of water when I felt something furry run across my feet. I gave a scream. Jeremy came racing down the passage.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Look,’ I screamed. A huge spider ran across the floor and disappeared under the sink.

‘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.