‘The prize for these dares had better be good,' she said.

Tom sprang up from the table and hugged her. 'You were fantastic! I couldn't believe my eyes when I realised it was you up there. That skirt length is really you, darling,' he added wickedly.

‘I'm going to get changed,' she said firmly. 'And then I'd love a drink of water.'

‘It should be champagne, really, but I can't afford it, and it would be crap here, anyway.'

‘A pint of water and half a pint of lager will be fine. I've been sweating golf balls.’

Dora was quite sad to say goodbye to the brassy, loud and dominant woman she had been for a few minutes, and was very sad to say goodbye to her fellow backing singers.

‘You were good,' they said. 'You should do more of it.'

‘I don't think so, thanks, but thank you so much for saving me. I could never have done it alone.'

‘Well, make sure your boyfriend comes up with some thing good as a reward,' said one.

‘Otherwise, you know what to tell him..

Dora laughed and sang, the others joining in, ' "Hit the road, Jack..

‘Now I'm going to get pissed,' she said.

The following Monday, Jo insisted on making Dora sandwiches for her first day at work. 'You don't have to eat them, you can just keep them in your bag, but if you find that everyone has produced snap tins at lunchtime, you'll be embarrassed as well as hungry.'

‘What's a snap tin?'

‘Oh, you know, a sandwich box. Now what would you like? I've got ham, cheese, some salad, or shall I just make something?' she added, sensing that Dora was more concerned with getting there and what she might be asked to do when she did.

‘If you don't like it you can just come home,' insisted Jo, waving her off. 'That's the joy of being able to walk to work.’

Dora wasn't the only one feeling excited and nervous. In a different way Jo was starting a new job, too. First of all she cleared the table and all the worktops. She didn't want to run out of places to put things. Then she spread newspaper over the table and put on an apron. She was aware that some of these preparations weren't really necessary for the work, but she wanted to prepare her mind as much as anything.

Then she got out the box of oddments she had undertaken to restore and her bags of materials and equipment.

There was the mirror that had first caught her eye, with the gold carved frame and the injured cherub. It was very badly damaged. Jo didn't really know where to start so decided to admire her materials, first, including the bag of off-cuts.

There was the gilder's pad, knife and tip which were used to lay the loose gold leaf. Water gilding was extremely tricky, but Peter, her mate at the shop, hadpersuaded her it was the way forward and, if she could do it, a valuable skill.

The gilder's tip was like a fat, almost square paintbrush with soft bristles. This was used for catching up the gold leaf, which, Peter had told her, could fly away on a breath and was dreadfully prone to tearing. The pad had a guard round it, to help stop this happening. The knife was just like an ordinary knife with the top sliced off at an angle and she had resented having to buy it. But as all the knives on the barge were Michael's she didn't really have a choice. She wouldn't need much of this today as she had to apply several layers of gesso, which had to have time to dry first, but she couldn't resist looking at everything.

Her favourite piece of equipment was the agate burnisher: a wooden-handled tool with a piece of polished agate on the end. This was what got you your reward, Peter had told her. This little piece of kit would turn your fairy-fragile gold leaf into something resembling sunlight, shining and strong.

‘Right,' she said out loud. 'Let's get the frame cleaned up.' She put on some rubber gloves and got out the wire wool. 'When I've got all the dirt off, I'll start warming my gesso.' Peter had encouraged her to buy ready-made gesso. °You don't want to be messing with rabbit-skin granules,' he had said. 'They smell dreadful.’

Half an hour later she had applied her first coat of thinned down gesso to the mouldings that she had built up with a bit of filler. While she was waiting for it to dry, which might take a couple of hours, the book said, she got out her carving tools and scraps of lime wood.

It took her a while to get used to using the tools again, but eventually she produced a very acceptable little foot. Encouraged by her success, she started modelling the scalloped edge of the frame she had created earlier and added two quite impressive segments. She was nearly convinced that when everything was painted and gilded it would look good enough to sell.

Although the radio had been burbling away to her in the background, she hadn't really taken in anything that had been said. Gently, she tested the gesso for dryness and applied another thin coat. It would be a while – maybe not even today – before she got to the gold-leaf part, when she would stroke the gilder's tip against her arm and use it to catch up the gold leaf. It would fly to it like iron filings to a magnet, Peter had told her.

So as not to get impatient, Jo got out another item, the little dish that had a figure supporting a bowl, the head of which was missing. If she cleaned everything in readiness, she could set up a production line. She sighed happily. If she could get this right she wouldn't have to be a barmaid – something that would be a relief to her ex-husband and her daughter. She took an acorn-sized piece of Fimo and set about modelling a tiny head, humming happily to herself.

Chapter Nine

Dora set off along the towpath, wearing, as instructed, clean but not new jeans. It went against all her ideas of correct clothes for the office, and would have horrified Ms scary-Nails, but Tom had been firm. 'If you turn up in a little suit and high heels everyone will have a fit and you won't get the job,' he had said.

‘That's good. I didn't bring any clothes like that with me.’

Her sandwiches and bottle of water were concealed in her shoulder bag along with a dictionary and bottle of Tipp-Ex. Jo had handed her a Red Cross parcel, having found a paper shop nearby that supplied these things; they had both agreed that while it probably wasn't entirely necessary, and there would be a gleaming new computer waiting for her, One Never Knew. 'It could be a battered old Underwood,' said Jo, and then reflected that battered old Underwoods had gone out even before her days as an office temp.

It was a lovely day, which helped; the sun was sparkling on the water and, further along, through the trees. She was to carry on walking until she reached the outskirts of the town where there was a riverside pub, Tom had told her. She had then to keep to the towpath and walk round the front of this. The boatyard was on the other side of the river.

She was expecting a bridge or something, because she knew the boatyard was on another island. But there wasn't a bridge; there was Tom. He was down at the river's edge, holding on to the painter of a small rowing boat.

‘Hi, you made it all right, then?' he asked, looking up at her.

‘What are you doing here?' said Dora, not all that pleased to see him. 'I am supposed to be meeting the boatyard people and having my trial day, aren't I?'

‘Oh yes. I'm here to take you to work.' He indicated the boat that bobbed against the slipway. It seemed a long way down and very muddy.

‘I really don't want to go by boat, Tom. I'll get covered in mud.'

‘Don't worry about that, we're all covered in mud. And as for not wanting to, well, I'm afraid there's no choice. At high tide, anyway. For a couple of hours either side of low tide you can walk.' He smiled encouragingly.