Jo laughed. 'We saw just how comfortable.’

He smiled back at her. 'Don't mock! It's all top of the range. The guy spent a fortune on her.'

‘I wasn't mocking!' But she was glad he thought that she was. Somehow she felt it would be good for him not to be praised all the time. He was obviously rather used to it.

He got up, put his glass down and started prowling around.

‘It doesn't matter how things are arranged down here, does it?' she asked.

‘Not really, but why wouldn't you be coming to Holland? There is plenty of accommodation, after all.’

She thought he hadn't noticed her saying that but she realised he was the sort of man who would remember all those tiny details most people would forget. 'Well, to be quite honest, I hate the sea. I get terribly seasick and frightened.'

‘We'll need a cook.'

‘And I can't cook, either.' The lie came out glibly and she didn't want him to believe her.

‘You used to cook extremely well.’

She frowned. 'Did I?’

He smiled broadly. 'Yes. Can't you remember?’

‘No. What?'

‘It was a dinner party, before you were married. You and your friend invited Philip and me for dinner. You and Philip got engaged shortly afterwards. He told us in the pub later he was checking out your cooking before he made up his mind.’

Jo shuddered. 'I think I'm very glad he left me.’

‘I think I am too,' said Marcus.

‘Why?' Jo didn't really want to go there, but asked all the same.

‘Because if you were still together you wouldn't be on a barge, about to go to Holland.’

Was this a good thing? she wondered. 'True, but as I really don't want to go, there's nothing very good about that.’

He took a sip of his wine, put the glass down on the side, and then sat down again. She noticed that the banquette was a bit disarranged from when Tom and Dora had been sitting on it. 'But it will be fun.’

Jo sat down opposite him and curled her fingers into her hair. I must stop doing that, she thought. No wonder my hair is always such a mess. 'I don't think so.’

He continued to look at her in a way that made her twitchy. Was he surveying her, looking for signs of damage, pitting, patches of her hull that were thinner than others? The last thought made her smile but eventually she had to break the silence.

‘Carole seems very nice,' she said, going on the offen sive. 'Very young.'

‘Yes, too young, really.’

Suddenly she stopped feeling awkward and relaxed a little. 'Well, I'm glad you can admit that! It's not right, these young women throwing themselves away on men nearly old enough to be their fathers! It's a topic I'm sensitive about, of course.'

‘Philip always was a fool.' Before she could react to this provocative statement, he went on. 'But I don't like the "throwing themselves away" part of that. I'm much sought after, I'll have you know.’

Ruefully, she accepted this was probably true but she wasn't going to pander to his already more than adequately sized ego. She raised her eyebrows, alight with merriment. 'By whom?'

‘By many young women who've tried to catch me.’

She chuckled. 'I'm sure that's true, but what are they after? Your massive bank balance or your renowned boat-handling skills?'

‘Well, with the women, it's the former, but the men, definitely the latter.'

‘So you're sought after by both sexes, are you?' Jo reflected that there were advantages to being middle-aged. You could say what you liked without any danger of being taken seriously.

‘For different reasons, yes. Are you jealous?'

‘Mystified,' she said solemnly. 'Unless of course you really have got a massive bank balance.’

He narrowed his eyes. 'I have, actually, but why are you being provocative?’

She shook her head, still smiling. 'I'm not! I'm just saying I don't know why all those people should pursue you. At least, I understand about the men. There was a man here the other night who said you were expensive, but if you had three hundred thousand pounds' worth of barge, you were worth it. Damn!' she added, cross with herself. 'I shouldn't have told you that. Now you'll be more bigheaded than ever.’

A smile started reluctantly at the corner of his mouth. 'Whoever said I was bigheaded?'

‘No need to state the obvious.'

‘Is my bigheadedness so apparent?'

‘Now don't look all affronted, I dare say not everyone would notice.' She managed to stop herself patting his hand just in time.

He shook his head slightly and turned away, possibly hiding an answering smile. 'So, if you know that I'm the best skipper around, why won't you come to Holland with me?’

Now it was Jo who was on the back foot. She sighed asshe tried to explain when she didn't understand why she was so nervous about it herself. 'It's nothing to do with your skippering – your reputation precedes you. I'm just frightened at the thought of being in a small boat on the sea.'

‘It's quite a large boat. It has a very well-maintained engine, going on what Michael has told me, although I will make more checks, of course. It's perfectly seaworthy, and we'll pick our weather. What is there to be frightened of?'

‘Drowning, maybe?’

He dismissed this possibility with a gesture. 'Not at all!’

‘Well, seasickness, definitely. I'm a terrible sailor.’

‘You could take pills.'

‘They knock me out. Then I certainly wouldn't be able to cook for you, although I could make up lots of dishes you could just put in the oven. There's quite a large freezer compartment in the fridge.'

‘So you can cook?’

She realised she'd been caught out. 'Yes, but badly.' She smiled at him. Now she'd got over feeling she was nineteen and was back to being fifty, she was beginning to relax and enjoy his company. Not enough to go to sea with him, of course, but enough for now.

He looked at her with a hint of mock sternness and got up. He went to where the leftover lasagne was cooling, prior to being put in the fridge. He found a spoon from the cutlery container, and took some. He ate it thoughtfully. 'Mm. Not bad at all.’

Jo rose too, her instincts to feed on full alert. 'Would you like some? I could easily heat it up in the microwave. It never occurred to me you might not have eaten.'

‘I have eaten,' he acknowledged, 'but not very much. Carole is very careful about my diet.'

‘But you aren't?'

‘I don't need to be, with her to do it for me.’

Jo, who had found a plate and a serving spoon, hovered over the lasagne. `So do you want some or not?'

‘Yes please.' He picked up the bottle of wine and refilled both their glasses. 'I'll bring you some wine tomorrow.'

‘There's no need for that.' Jo pressed buttons on the microwave. 'It's only supermarket plonk.'

‘I know. I've got some really nice wine on Hildegarde.'

‘I thought you were taking Hildegarde away tomorrow. That's what Michael said.'

‘Nothing's set in stone.' He took another sip of wine and grimaced slightly.

Jo took a few moments to decide whether or not she should be offended, then she laughed. 'Go and sit down. I'll bring this when it's ready.’

She was aware that she had let down the Sisterhood, that feeding a man like that was against every rule. But she liked seeing him sitting there, reading a copy of the Dutch barge magazine while she heated lasagne and added a bit of tomato and cucumber to the leftover salad. It must be because, at heart, she was a provider, a wife and mother, most fulfilled when caring for others. It was a salutary thought.

‘Here you are,' she said. 'It's ready.’

She sipped her wine and watched him eat, wondering what Miranda would say if she could see her. Would she chide her for falling back into her old ways of being wifely? Or would she understand that seeing someone eating with evident pleasure the food you had cooked was satisfying?