‘Come in,' yelled Tom, sounding relieved. 'Have you got any soft drinks at yours?’

A young woman came down the steps. She had hennaed hair, black footless tights and a short net skirt. She was very thin and, while not pretty, had a quirky charm, like a subversive fairy.

‘Hiya, Tom,' she said as she kissed him. She regarded Dora through slightly narrowed eyes and instantly Dora felt fat and decidedly uncool. 'Who's this?'

‘This is Dora. Dora, this is Bib, she lives with her partner on a boat moored at the end of the island. An old pilot cutter.’

Dora smiled and nodded, wondering simultaneously how anyone could be called Bib, and what a pilot cutter was like.

‘Hi, Dora,' said Bib, regarding her in a kindly, but rather disinterested way. 'So why do you want soft drinks, then?'

‘Dora's thirsty,' said Tom with a hint of firmness. 'I've got home-made wine for you.’

Bib stretched and yawned, exposing her very flat stomach. She had a ring in her navel and black-painted fingernails. She curled gracefully on to a cushion. 'I haven't got no soft drinks, sorry. Hamo might have some ginger beer. He likes that stuff. He'll be here later.'

‘I'm popular because of the home-made wine,' explained Tom, although Dora didn't believe this was the only reason.

‘Did you make it?' Dora looked around her, thinking it would be difficult to make a cup of tea, let alone wine down here.

‘No. My mother picks random fruits and berries and then doesn't know what to do with them. When they start to ferment she turns them into wine. My parents can't drink it, it's too disgusting, so they give it to me.'

‘Tom's parents wanted him to do law,' said Bib. 'They haven't got their heads round him being a boat boy yet, have they, love?'

‘Of course they have,' said Tom. 'They don't like it but they make the best of it.’

Footsteps were heard overhead. 'That'll be Hamo. Hamo!' he roared up the hatch. 'Got any ginger beer, bottled water, anything like that?'

‘Nah – Jim might have.’

Jim could have been on another planet and he would still have heard Hamo's call.

Two men came thundering down into the boat. 'Hi, Tom! Oh, company.'

‘Dora,' said Tom. 'Dora, this is Jim and Hamo.’

Dora nodded, reluctant to expose her middle-class accent until she had to. Which one was Jim and which Hamo she'd have to pick up as she went along. She shiftedalong a bit so one of the young men in ripped jeans and a T-shirt could sit next to her. He had tattooed arms, a shaved head and earrings all the way round his ear. The other one had dreadlocks, so once she'd worked out which was which, they would be easy to tell apart. Part of her wanted to go home.

‘Sorry,' said Tom eventually, `no soft drinks.'

‘Not even water?' Dora didn't fancy home-made wine. She knew it was likely to be strong and she didn't want to get drunk in unfamiliar and faintly threatening surroundings.

‘Make the girl a cup of tea,' said Bib. 'We don't like to drink the water unboiled,' she explained to Dora. 'It comes out of the river.’

Dora swallowed and decided that home-made wine was not such a bad idea. 'I'll have what you're having,' she said, grateful that her mother would never know she'd been here.

A selection of glasses and mugs filled with something the colour and consistency of cough syrup was passed round. Dora was given a glass and decided she was honoured. It had the remains of a cartoon character on the side and had once contained peanut butter.

‘So, Dora, you new round here?' said one of the men. 'Yes. I'm staying with a friend on one of the barges. The Three Sisters. It's a Klipper.' She looked at Tom.

‘They're big, they are,' said the other man.

‘So why stay on a barge, Dora?' asked Bib, her eyes narrow and enquiring.

‘I'm staying with my best friend's mother. I wanted somewhere near London, so I could look for work.’

‘Your best friend's mother? Why not stay with someone your own age?’

Dora couldn't work out if Bib was being hostile, or if it was her own insecurities that made her think she was. Dora did sound rather prim, even to her own ears. 'I didn't know anyone else near London, and she offered.'

‘Cool,' said Bib. 'Cheers!' She raised her glass.

Dora was forced to join in the toast and took the tiniest sip she thought she'd get away with. It made her cough.

‘It's OK after the first few sips,' said Bib, watching her.

Dora took a bigger sip. 'So how do you all come to live here?' She guessed that Bib wouldn't leave her alone until she'd asserted herself a little.

‘Hamo an' me heard about the island and got the boat towed up. Jim was already here. It's a good community. Safe.’

Instinct told Dora that Bib didn't mean 'safe' in the normal sense but she just nodded.

‘That means it's a nice place to live,' said Tom.

‘Pass that jug around again, mate,' said the one who Dora thought was probably Jim.

Tom dragged a demi-john from behind him and there was a lull while more wine was slopped into glasses and mugs. Dora's glass was still clutched in her hand.

‘So what sort of work are you looking for?' asked Bib, obviously determined to squeeze Dora for every bit of information she could.

‘Office work, mainly.'

‘So, can you do computers and all that?'

‘Yeah,' said Dora and buried her nose in her glass again. Bib looked around at the group. 'Cool.’

The men started talking about boats: which one was where, and why. Dora looked at the plywood revealed by the gap in the ragged carpet. She wondered why Tom had been so keen to show her his gaff – it wasn't all that marvellous. Maybe if his friends hadn't turned up he'd have told her his plans for it. Now she looked morecarefully she noticed some of the planks looked new, and had been fitted very carefully in place. She was a bit surprised he hadn't mentioned his suggestion that she work in the boatyard, but then guessed that he hadn't in case it made her feel awkward. It would have done, and she was grateful for his silence on the subject.

Eventually she began to relax a little. Following the conversation she began to work out who was who and although these men were unlike any she'd ever met, she felt they were good-natured, even if they were people her mother would describe as members of the counter-culture. Bib's initial hostility was probably to do with her being the only woman in the group, and she had to make sure that Dora was no threat. The thought of being a threat to anyone made Dora bite the corner of her lip. She didn't want to be caught smiling at her private thoughts.

Tom sipped his drink. 'Ugh,' he said. 'I'd forgotten how foul it is.’

Jim, with the dreadlocks, reached into his back pocket and produced a tobacco tin, every inch of which was painted. He then produced a packet of papers.

Dora felt her stomach clench. Of course she'd been around people who smoked a bit of dope but she had never fancied it herself. Was she suddenly going to be in a situation where she couldn't refuse without looking incredibly middle-class and snooty? Tom glanced at her and said, 'You lot stay here if you like, but Dora and I have got to go to a barbecue.’

‘Ooh!' said Hamo. 'I've never been to a barbecue,' he simpered. 'Can I come with you?'

‘No,' said Tom firmly. 'Come on, Dora.' He took her hand and heaved her to her feet with more strength than courtesy.

‘Sorry about that,' said Tom when they were crossing the bridge back to reality. 'They're really nice people, but I'd forgotten they can be a bit scary to girls like you.’

Dora was indignant, although she knew exactly what he meant. 'What do you mean? I'm a grown-up, you know.'

‘But you need to get out more. We've agreed that.’

Dora didn't answer. They'd reached the mainland now and she felt more confident. 'Let's go to the barbecue. That's getting out, isn't it?'