‘Morning, lovely,’ he said. ‘You’re overdressed. Why don’t you take off the bottom half as well?’
I ignored him, feigning sleep.
The next moment Gussie joined us.
‘Oh Tavy,’ she said. ‘Do you think you should? Someone might see you from the bank.’
‘Don’t be a spoilsport,’ said Gareth. ‘Here’s the News of the World, and shut up. I won’t give you a paper, Octavia, as I know you’re finding that biography of Matthew Arnold quite unput-downable. Bags I borrow it next.’
I gritted my teeth. For a few minutes they read in silence. I got hotter and hotter, like a chicken on a spit.
‘Why do they always write about the emphasis being on the hips this year, when one’s just had a huge breakfast?’ sighed Gussie.
‘That’s nice,’ said Gareth, showing her The Sunday Times. ‘They’ve given us a good write-up, recommending their readers to buy our shares, which is more than they’re doing for Seaford-Brennen.’
‘How many people work at Seaford-Brennen, Tavy?’ said Gussie.
‘About a quarter of them,’ said Gareth, taking a huge swig at his gin and tonic.
Gussie giggled.
‘You don’t know anything about them,’ I hissed at him. ‘Why don’t you stick to underpasses, which you seem to know all about?’
‘There’s a most interesting thing here about schism in the Catholic church,’ said Gussie, hastily. ‘Do you think priests should marry, Gareth?’
‘Only if they love each other.’
Gussie shrieked with laughter.
There was only one single bell tolling now, hurrying people to church.
‘They always ring out of tune back home in Wales,’ said Gareth. ‘One of the bellringers is a very pretty girl given to wearing mini skirts. All the men bellringers are in love with her, and every time she lets her bell go up, they pull their bells down to have a good look. Christ it’s hot. It must be in the nineties.’
‘I’m going to get a drink. Do you want one, Tavy?’ said Gussie.
‘I do,’ said Gareth, handing her his glass.
‘I hope Jeremy wakes up soon. It’ll be much cooler once we get going,’ said Gussie.
I turned over on my side, pretending to be asleep. Through the rails I could see the elm trees full of a blue darkness, and a heat haze shimmering above the hay fields. I must have dozed off, for the next thing I heard was Jeremy’s voice saying, ‘What the hell did you give me last night?’
‘Mogodon,’ said Gareth.
‘Mogodon!’ said Jeremy in horror. ‘Three of them! Christ, you bastard! That’s almost an overdose. No wonder they knocked me out like a sledge hammer.’
‘It was for your own good,’ said Gareth. ‘Kept you out of mischief and Miss Brennen’s bed.’
‘I wish you’d bloody well stop playing Anti-Cupid,’ snapped Jeremy.
‘Hush,’ said Gareth softly, ‘you’ll wake Octavia.’ Jeremy lowered his voice, ‘God she looks fantastic.’
‘Like a Ming vase,’ said Gareth. ‘Beautiful, but empty. Why don’t you write one of your famous poems about her? “Oh lovely Octavia, How I’d like to make a slave of ya.”’
‘Oh, put a sock in it,’ said Jeremy angrily.
‘Have you got a copy of Shakespeare on board?’ asked Gareth.
‘Somewhere in the bookcase in the saloon. What do you want to look up?’
‘The Taming of the Shrew,’ said Gareth. ‘I thought I might pick up a few tips on how to handle Octavia.’
Jeremy lost his temper. ‘Will you stop jumping on that poor girl?’
‘Why, are you jumping on her already?’
‘I am not. Why the hell don’t you go and start the boat?’
‘Why don’t you?’ said Gareth. ‘I’ve come here on holiday. It’s the first break I’ve had in months, and I’m enjoying the view far too much. I can’t decide if Octavia’s glorious knockers remind me more of the Himalayas or the Pyramids.’
‘Jeremy,’ called Gussie — she obviously didn’t like Jeremy admiring the view either — ‘do come and start the boat.’
‘All right,’ he said, reluctantly; then more softly to Gareth, ‘if you don’t get off Octavia’s back, there’ll be trouble.’
‘Her back is not the part of her anatomy uppermost in my mind at the moment.’
I was nearly expiring with heat and rage by now. I was also worried about my tits burning. My hair was ringing with sweat. I shook it out of my eyes and glared at Gareth.
‘Do you want me to oil you?’ he said.
‘No thank you,’ I hissed.
‘Why don’t we have a cease-fire. It is the sabbath after all?’ he said, looking down at me with amused and lascivious pleasure.
‘You’re disgusting,’ I said, furiously turning over on my front.
There was the sound of engines, and the boat started. Even when we were on the move the heat didn’t let up. As we sailed into a long stretch of open river with no shade, Gareth got to his feet and stretched.
‘I’m worried you’ll overcook, Octavia.’
And the next moment he’d dived into the river with a huge splash, sending a tidal wave of filthy oily water all over me. I leapt up, screaming, grabbing my bikini top.
‘Will you stop hounding me,’ I howled as he surfaced, laughing, shaking his hair out of his eyes.
‘I thought you needed cooling down,’ he said, and, scooping a great handful of water in my direction, soaked me again.
Gibbering with rage, I rushed into the kitchen.
‘That sod’s just drenched me.’
Gussie giggled. ‘Oh poor Tavy! Here, have a towel.’
‘It’s soaked my hair,’ I stormed, ‘I must wash it at once.’
‘You can’t really,’ said Gussie, sympathetically. ‘There simply isn’t enough water. I’m sure it’ll dry all right.’
I caught sight of my face in the mirror. There was a great red mark on my cheek where I’d lain on Matthew Arnold. It looked as though Gareth had socked me one, and doubled my ill temper.
‘But normally I wash my hair every day,’ I screamed. ‘It’s crawling off my head. I’ve never been on anything as primitive as this bloody boat.’
Then I made the most awful scene. None of Gussie’s bromides could soothe me.
‘No one goes out of their way deliberately to hurt people,’ she said finally.
‘I do,’ said Gareth, coming in dripping river water and seizing the towel from me. ‘I’m like a leopard, I kill for the hell of it.’
‘You shouldn’t have soaked her,’ said Gussie, reproachfully.
‘I’m going back to London,’ I said.
‘Splendid,’ said Gareth. ‘There’s a fast train on the hour from Reading. Next time you come down we’ll arrange QE2 facilities.’
‘What’s the matter?’ said Jeremy, shouting down the stairs.
‘We’ve got a mutiny on our hands, Mr Christian,’ said Gareth. ‘Able sea woman Brennen wants to desert. Shall we keelhaul her or give her 1000 lashes?’
Gussie — God rot her — started to laugh.
Jeremy came down the stairs and took in the situation in a swift glance.
‘Go and steer,’ he said angrily to Gareth. ‘You’ve caused enough trouble for one morning. I own this boat, and what I say goes.’
‘Sorry Captain Bligh, I mistook you for Mr Christian,’ said Gareth, grinning and filling up his glass, he disappeared up the stairs, shouting, ‘Ahoy, Ahoy, my kingdom for a hoy.’
Jeremy poured me a stiff drink, and took me into the saloon.
‘I’m sorry about Gareth,’ he said, gently, ‘he’s being diabolical. I think he must be going through the change of life.’
‘He’s probably irritated I haven’t succumbed yet,’ I said.
‘Hell knows no fury like a Welshman scorned.’