‘So you're going? Brilliant! I knew you wouldn't let me down.'

‘No, I never said I'd go!' Jo exclaimed. 'And I'm not letting you down and I won't. I'll find someone else.'

‘I'll get in touch with the skipper. He might be able to change your mind.'

‘I doubt it.'

‘Well – you might remember him. It's Marcus.'

‘Oh, the famous Marcus!' How interesting, thought Jo. 'Everyone was going on about him at the rally.'

‘Well, he is the best. Do you remember him from when' we used to meet every Saturday lunchtime, before most of us got married?'

‘I never knew him very well. He was a latecomer to the group, wasn't he? Didn't you introduce him?'

‘That's right. We used to row together when I was at university and he at a naval college. He always spoke very highly of you,' he added and Jo was sure she detected a note of mischief in his voice. She also suspected she was being soft-soaped.

‘Oh?'

‘Really. I think he was a bit put out that you were spoken for at the time.'

‘Right.' Jo's disbelief was audible. The girls in their group all agreed Marcus was a handsome devil but that only a fool would go after him. Even if she hadn't been with Philip, he had been way out of her league.

‘But you do remember him?'

‘Oh yes.'

‘Good, because he wants to come over, tonight.’

‘Tonight!'

‘They're taking Hildegarde back up the Thames tomorrow. He wants a recce tonight.'

‘You've already set all this up, haven't you?’

"Fraid so. I'll tell him it's OK to stop by, then?’

Jo squeaked her confirmation and then disconnected. She got up and pushed her fingers into her hair for a few seconds, trying to massage some of the tension out of her scalp. Then she looked at the state of the place and reached the conclusion that it was a mess. Now she wished she hadn't dispatched Dora and Tom to the pub. With three of them they could have had it looking shipshape in a jiffy. On her own she had very little time to decide on priorities. She'd had enough shocks today. Now a man who had rather unsettled her all those years ago, and who quite a few people thought of as arrogant, was due any minute. What's more he was coming to check out the barge and it was a tip. She braced herself and a moment later was throwing things into the dishwasher with one hand and filling the kettle with the other. A few rapid passes with the Hoover and the barge was nearly presentable. Then she took five minutes to attend to her own appearance. She was spraying herself with scent when her phone went.

‘Marcus Rippon here. I'm going to take your barge to Holland.’

Jo suddenly realised that she remembered his voice: sexy, humorous and just a little bit unnerving. 'Michael said you'd ring.’

Jo looked up when she heard his call from the pontoon. She was in the bow, cleaning out the scuppers with a stiff brush, finding some excuse to be on deck so she wouldn't be taken by surprise when he came. She recognised him instantly. 'Marcus,' she said quietly, putting down her brush and going to meet him.

‘Joanna,' he said as she reached him. 'I'd have known you anywhere.'

‘Really?' She was instantly suspicious. A lot of years had passed since they had last seen each other, and they had never known each other well. She must look very different now – but then she'd have known him anywhere, too. 'Did you come to my wedding? I can't remember.’

Marcus shook his head. 'No. I was abroad. Can we go in? I want to check things out before I take Hildegarde away, as I'm here anyway,' he said rather brusquely.

‘It was a shame you missed the rally,' said Jo as he climbed on board.

‘Not at all. I was lucky to escape. Carole loves showing off the barge. I hate it.’

They went into the wheelhouse and while Marcus immediately swung himself down into the engine room, Jo wondered about him.

He hadn't changed much, she realised, although because she'd seen a photo of him, she was prepared for what changes there were. His hair was grey, when it had been very dark, but it was still thick and curly. He was taller and broader, she thought, but realised it was probably just broader, and only felt taller because they were in the relatively confined space of the wheelhouse. He did have a rather arrogant, curt air about him but perhaps he was just being efficient and didn't have much time. And judging by the fact that he didn't have a wife and several children, he was still a commitment-phobe. And still, although she hated to admit this to herself, very attractive. Poor Carole! She left him in the engine room and went down to sort out refreshments. Would he want coffee, or wine? It depended, she supposed, on whether he was going anywhere tonight. If he only had to go back to Hildegarde, he might like a glass of something. Except that he couldn't have been home long, and Carole would have been waiting for him, so he probably wouldn't linger.

Jo felt awkward and shy in a way that she hadn't done for years. She wasn't shy normally but Marcus had always made her feel slightly fluttery and stupid, she remem bered, and she supposed her brain had just gone into the old pattern from habit. Michael had said he'd always spoken well of her but she hadn't believed him. Now she did recall an incident at a party – it couldn't have lasted more than a couple of minutes – when they'd collided in a doorway. He'd apologised and said something to her that made her stop and look at him. She couldn't now remember what he'd said, but his look had seemed to absorb her, to take in every bit of her. Then he'd said, 'But you're with Philip.' She had agreed and carried on towards the kitchen.

Now, he called down to her. 'Has Michael got any charts?’

She went to join him in the wheelhouse. 'Only what's under those cushions, as far as I know.' She lifted one of the seat cushions revealing a pile of plastic-covered sheets.

Marcus lifted them out, took a pair of reading glasses out of his top pocket and put them on and then began flicking through the sheets on the small table. 'No, none of these arewhat we want, but never mind, I can bring charts with me.' He put down the charts, took off his glasses and turned to Jo. His gaze was rather disconcerting.

‘Would you like a cup of coffee?' she said, hoping she hadn't blushed. 'Or a glass of wine, or something?' Was he thinking how much older she looked? It was nearly thirty years since he'd last seen her, after all.

He took time over his decision but then said, 'I do need to check out the accommodation. If I'm the skipper, I need a decent cabin. Where do you sleep?'

‘I sleep in the original cabin but I can move out – in fact I probably won't be coming on the trip anyway.'

‘Won't you? Why not? Shall we go down?’

They went down into the saloon and she poured him a glass of wine.

‘So, what have you been up to since we last met?' he asked, sitting down and stretching out his legs in front of him.

Jo sighed. 'It doesn't amount to much. I got married to Philip as you know, had a lovely daughter, who now runs an art gallery in Canada, and came to live on a barge.' She didn't want commiserations from him about Philip abandoning her and he must know – Michael would have told him – so she didn't mention it. 'What about you?'

‘Well, I was at sea for years, as a deck officer. Never married. Got bored with deep-sea sailing and so retrained as a surveyor, but now I mostly make my living by moving other people's boats about. I also buy the odd bargain and sell it on.’

Jo smiled. 'Was Hildegarde a bargain?’

He nodded. 'Actually, yes. The man needed to sell it very quickly and offered it to me at a price I couldn't refuse. I'll sell her eventually, but for now, she's comfortable to live on.’