Now she realised it was because Philip no longer fancied her and had another, younger body on offer, and not because he was getting older that he had stopped reaching for her, telling her she was a pretty girl. The Floosie was in her late twenties. She wouldn't be happy to read a book instead of making love. If there was more to Philip's reluctance to have sex than Jo's shortcomings, he would have to get his act together.

Now, she regretted her scarlet top. Should the meno pause choose to arrive during the dinner with a proverbial hot flush, she'd look like a chilli pepper. And whatever Dora said about her mother, she was not convinced it didn't show too much cleavage.

Dora was wondering if she would be asked questions likely to set her off crying again. She decided that Jo was right, all she need say was that she was looking for a change of scene and might get a job in London proper. She'd try and give the impression that she was an ambitious single girl, looking for adventure. Considering how lacking in adventure her life had been up to now, maybe she should look for adventure for real. Although it had felt quite brave before she arrived, going to live with her best friend's mother probably didn't count.

Their arrival at the pub put a stop to their separate thoughts, and they made their way to the top room, which had been set aside for the dinner. They had been there earlier, arranging tables and decorating them, but they hadn't had anything to do with the seating plan and so had no idea where they would be sitting.

They were among the first arrivals. Lots of people were in large groups and Dora, and she thought possibly Jo too, felt rather shy. But someone soon recognised Jo and drew them both into their group. Jo introduced Dora and no one said, 'Who's the little runaway, then?' or anything like that. Logically, Dora realised, this was a highly unlikely scenario, but the previous week at home had been so full of people who felt free to comment on her lack of 'ideas of decent behaviour', as they called it, she was programmed to expect such remarks.

People started looking for their names, and Dora frantically hoped she would be next to, or very near, Jo. But she wasn't. The kind soul who had arranged where every one was to sit had put her over the other side of their table. There was a young man already sitting down, staring into his pint as if settling in for a boring evening.

Dora read her name from a little way away and hesitated before going to sit next to him. He had curly hair and slanting eyes. He looked up as she approached, saw her and smiled. He had a wicked twinkle. Whoever had done the seating plan must have thought she was doing Dora a favour, but she wasn't grateful. She didn't feel remotely sociable, and while she would have managed to make small talk with a kindly ex-naval officer or his wife, she didn't want this admittedly attractive young man who might flirt with her out of habit.

She looked across at Jo, thinking perhaps she could make some excuse to go and join her, but Jo was sitting next to a pleasant-looking pair of about her own age. She seemed set for a convivial evening.

‘Hi, I'm Torn,' said the young man, taking her hand andshaking it, although she hadn't offered it. He looked directly at her as he said hello. The slanting eyes were dark brown.

‘Dora,' she replied, sitting down beside him.

‘Unusual. I haven't met a Dora before.'

‘It's in Dickens, David Copperfield, although she was a bit of a wimp.'

‘Are you a bit of a wimp?' he asked.

Surprised, Dora laughed. 'Yes, since you ask.'

‘Well, you don't look too bad on it. I always think of wimp rhyming with limp, which is like damp. You don't seem damp.'

‘If I fell in, I would be.’

Tom laughed. 'So would anyone. Do you live on a barge, then? Or are you just a visitor?'

‘Urn – I live on a barge.'

‘You don't sound too sure.'

‘I only moved on yesterday but I'm here for a while.’

‘Which barge?'

‘The Three Sisters.'

‘Oh. The Klipper.'

‘What?'

‘It's a Klipper. It's a sort of barge. You haven't been here long, have you?'

‘No. I said.' Dora fiddled with her cutlery, embarrassed by her lack of knowledge.

‘So, are you interested in barges?’

She regarded him. 'I don't know! I've hardly had a chance to find out what a barge is!'

‘It's a bloody great boat,' said Tom solemnly.

Now Dora laughed. 'I did pick up that much.'

‘So, if you're not a barge fanatic, why are you here?’

‘I'm staying with my best friend's mother. I fancied living nearer London and she offered me a room. It's quite cheap.' It would be quite cheap, she knew that, and was satisfied by how all this came out. It didn't sound like she was running away at all.

‘Right. So who owns The Three Sisters?'

‘Well, Jo – that's who I'm staying with – rents it, so I don't know. Jo's over there.'

‘She looks nice.'

‘She is.' She paused. 'So why are you here?'

‘I work in a boatyard but I'm always trying to pick up work as a deckhand. I spend a lot of time around boats but not enough time at sea.'

‘Fair enough.'

‘Can I get you a drink? I think there's going to be wine with dinner, but as there's no sign of any food, you might need something before then.’

Dora considered. She had been thirsty when Jo had bought her a drink and had asked for a Henry. Now she felt something stronger than orange juice and soda might be a good idea. 'A glass of red wine would be great.’

Tom looped his leg out from behind the chair in an athletic way. 'House red?'

‘Fine.’

Jo caught her attention while he was gone and leant low across the table. 'Are you all right? I mean, he seems quite cute from over here, but if you're not happy, I could swap.’

Hoping fervently that this stage whisper was not as audible as it seemed, Dora said, 'I'm fine. He's fun. No probs.'

‘That's OK then.' Jo settled back in her seat and then leant forward again. 'Did I warn you? There's going to be a quiz.'

‘Oh. That's all right. I won't know anything. I'll just sit and watch.’

Jo smiled. 'I only know questions about gardening and cooking and I bet there won't be any.’

They both sat back down and Dora rearranged her knives and forks again.

‘So, you'll be looking for a job, then?' asked Tom, when he had returned with the drinks.

‘Yes, I suppose so. I mean, I will be on Monday. I did think I'd leave myself the weekend to settle in.’

He ignored her gentle sarcasm. 'What do you do?’

This was a question Dora hated. 'Office work. Nothing very exciting.'

‘What sort of place did you work in before?'

‘An estate agent's. It was fun.' Tom was probably too young to have had a bad estate agent experience, but Dora was so bored with people telling her how dreadful they were as a breed, she used defensive tactics automatically.

‘Was it very high-tech?'

‘Moderately. I don't know really. I'd worked there since I left college.'

‘Didn't you go to uni?’

Dora shook her head. 'No. I did a secretarial course. What about you?' So far, all the questions had been one way and Tom hadn't had to justify his existence at all.

‘I went to college too. Falmouth. I'm a boat-builder. Apprentice, really. I do other odd jobs to make extra money.'

‘That sounds interesting.'

‘Does it, if you're not really interested in boats?’

‘Who says I'm not interested in boats?'

‘You're just on one for a cheap place to stay.' He grinned. 'Do you live on a boat?'

‘Yes, actually. But not a barge.'

‘Oh, do you have to, in your job?'

‘No, but as you say, it's cheap. The yard where me and my mates do a lot of work lets us have a mooring if we don't mind moving about when they've got work on. I'm not there at the moment. No room. I'm near here for the time being. It's handy, being able to move your home.'