Revenge of the Tide

  ‘What about Caddy?’

  ‘She’s upstairs. In a strop.’

  I woke up before it was fully light.

  For a second I had no idea where I was, only that I wasn’t in my bed; the boat was rocking alarmingly from side to side and, moments later, footsteps near my head. I sat up with alarm.

  ‘Go back to sleep,’ came an urgent whisper. ‘It’s only me.’

  ‘Malcolm? What’s going on?’

  ‘Heard a noise outside,’ he whispered, crouching down next to the pull-out mattress. ‘Think it’s just a fox or something, round the bins. Nobody out there.’

  ‘Oh.’

  I lay back down on the bed and pulled the duvet up around my ears.

  It was chilly now, the grey light enough to see the outline of the cabin and the shapes of the galley cupboards, the woodburner, burned out and cold. I guessed it was about four or five, the same time of day that I’d found Caddy’s body in the water.

  I smiled to myself at the thought of all that tripwire outside on the pontoon and hoped to God I would remember it was there when I went back to the Revenge of the Tide, otherwise I was likely to take a dip in the mud myself, head first, duvet and all.

  I listened to the noise of the birds and the gulls and the distant roar of the traffic heading up the M2 towards London and I was just drifting off to sleep when a sudden thought struck me. Malcolm had been fully dressed.

  Twenty-five

  When I headed back towards the lounge, I became aware that something wasn’t right. The door was open and through it I could see Arnold sprawled on the sofa with two of his men; there was no sign of Fitz, or Dylan, or any of the girls.

  From somewhere upstairs I could hear raised voices, the sound of something heavy falling.

  I put on my best Viva smile and entered the room, closing the door discreetly behind me. ‘Gentlemen,’ I said, ‘can I get anyone a drink?’

  Waitressing wasn’t strictly speaking part of my duties, but they didn’t seem at all perturbed by this, and one by one I served them various spirits, mostly neat.

  I sat on the arm of Arnold’s chair. He put his hand on my backside and gave it a friendly pat.

  ‘While we’re waiting,’ I said, ‘would you like me to dance, or would you prefer it if I left you to carry on your conversation?’

  ‘A dance would be good,’ Arnold said. ‘Especially since I missed the last one. I’ve heard some very good things about you, Viva.’

  ‘In that case,’ I said, working my way through the list of music on the laptop, ‘I’ll have to make sure you get something very special indeed.’

  I didn’t know if they were expecting me to be naked, or to strip, but if they were disappointed that I kept my skimpy black dress on they didn’t show it. Especially given that they could have trotted off upstairs and sampled something far more tactile if they’d chosen to do so. Instead they sat and watched, and I held their absolute and total attention until, four tracks and twenty-two minutes later, the door opened and Fitz came in.

  He was surprised to see me and for a moment he stood there in the doorway, hands in his pockets, as though he’d forgotten what he came in for. He looked lost, his shoulders slumped. My heart sank for him. He looked so defeated. Much as I didn’t want to know what this deal was all about, I wanted it to work out for him.

  There must be something I can do to help, I thought. Something to give his confidence a boost…

  Arnold and the others didn’t even stir. I had their undivided attention and now I had an extra audience member I upped the game a little bit more, until the track finished.

  Dylan got to the laptop and paused the player before it moved on again, and I took Fitz by the hand and said, ‘Can I have a word?’ while Dylan turned to the assembled men and asked them if they wanted another drink.

  I steered Fitz out of the door into the hallway and, casting a quick glance to make sure we were alone, I pushed him firmly back against the wall and kissed him.

  Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that.

  Just at the moment where he finally cottoned on to what I was doing and started to respond, I backed away.

  He was staring at me, his breathing fast, the beginnings of a smile.

  ‘You can do this,’ I whispered.

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘Whatever you want to. With Arnold. You can get the deal. Just go and do it.’

  He stroked my cheek gently. ‘Do you have any idea…?’

  ‘What?’

  He just shook his head.

  ‘Fitz,’ I said, ‘go and sort it out. This is exactly what you’re good at, you know it is. Go on.’

  He went back into the lounge and I closed the door behind him. Dylan was in the act of topping up Arnold’s glass with whisky.

  He looked up at me, and for a moment I thought I saw something in that look, unguarded. And then the shutters went up again, and it was gone.

  They did their deal. I didn’t know what it was exactly, had no wish to, but the likelihood was some importation, or a big supply. Nothing I wanted any involvement in.

  After the discussions had finished, Arnold and his associates left in several cars at about half-past four. Gray called taxis for the girls – three cabs turned up round the back of the house at five and they all went. All except Caddy. She was sitting in the kitchen.

  ‘Caddy,’ I said, touching her arm.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked, in the tone of voice that suggested she wasn’t interested in my response.

  ‘You know there’s nothing going on between me and Fitz, don’t you?’

  She looked up at me then, looked at me properly for the first time since we’d been having drinks before dinner and Fitz had kissed me on the cheek. Looked at me as though she couldn’t trust me, didn’t believe me, and would be happy if I’d just fuck off and leave her the hell alone.

  ‘Don’t give a stuff what you do with Fitz, personally,’ she said with emphasis.

  ‘Why are you pissed off with me, then?’

  An exaggerated, drunken shrug.

  ‘I thought you were my mate, Caddy?’

  Dylan was watching all this with the merest flicker of amusement behind his implacable blue eyes.

  ‘I know what he’s like,’ she said miserably. ‘You don’t realise it ’cos you’re new. I know the signs.’

  ‘What signs? What are you talking about?’

  ‘He wants you. Since you arrived, he’s not looked at me twice. Know how much that hurts? Any idea?’

  ‘Caddy, this is ridiculous. I don’t have any intention of doing anything with him.’

  I saw her eyes narrow and felt the venom when she next spoke.

  ‘You would do if he paid you enough.’

  It hurt more because she was right. I knew it and so did she. And then, in Fitz’s multi-million-pound house, in his marble kitchen, I felt cheap and ashamed of myself for the first time since I’d started down this road. What was I doing? It was a boat, it was just a boat. I was in a hurry to get the money together because I’d become greedy and mean and single-minded. I’d slipped into a dangerous spiral of consequences, wanting to buy the boat to escape from all this, and getting into it deeper still so I could earn the money in the first place.

  Gray came into the kitchen then, started banging about making coffee, and Dylan went to join Nicks in the lounge drinking and discussing the finer points of the deal.

  I went back to the bathroom to get my stuff together, leaving Caddy in the kitchen. Fitz was in the hallway at a big glass table, counting money and stuffing it into envelopes. We exchanged looks. Then he followed me, bringing one of the envelopes with him. My pay for the evening. He put it on the top of my bag. It looked fatter than last time. I felt sick at the sight of it, and at the same time felt a sparkle of excitement in my belly. I could hardly wait to get home so I could count it all.

  ‘You were great tonight,’ he said. He shut the door behind him and sat down on the chair, watching me while I
packed away make-up, towels, dresses and shoes.

  ‘I enjoyed it,’ I said. ‘I’m glad it turned out okay.’

  ‘You’re not worried?’ he said.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘The deal,’ he said. ‘You know that’s just between us, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I trust you,’ he said, nodding.

  I was nearly done, zipping up the case and standing it up on its wheels. I was looking forward to going home and sleeping for the rest of the day.

  He stood up, between me and the door. I waited. He was buzzing; he could hardly keep still. I wondered what he’d taken.

  ‘I was thinking,’ he said, taking a step towards me and running a finger quickly up my arm, ‘about our discussion the other day.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You want to hang around for a while?’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘The guys will be going soon. You could stay. We could – er – have some fun. What do you think?’

  If it hadn’t been for Caddy, I just might have said yes. Despite the tiredness, despite the physical exhaustion, if I’d just taken a moment to consider, staying here with Fitz – he wasn’t bad-looking after all – I would have done it and I would have enjoyed it, and maybe everything that happened after that would have been different.

  But my head was heavy with the night and the need to lie down alone, undisturbed.

  ‘I’d like to,’ I said, ‘but honestly, I’m so tired. I just need to go home and sleep. Another time, maybe?’

  ‘I’ve got some good stuff here, you know – something to wake you up a bit?’

  ‘No, thank you. I just want to go home.’

  He looked at the floor, a muscle moving in his cheek. ‘Yeah.’ He stepped back and opened the door for me. ‘I’ll get Nicks to drive you.’

  When I finally left Fitz’s house, it was broad daylight. Thank God it was a Sunday and there wasn’t much traffic. I would be home within about an hour.

  Twenty-six

  Josie and I were sitting on our old bench in the shelter of the wheelhouse, listening to the sounds of Malcolm tinkering with the engine of the boat. Other than his unexpected appearance in the early hours, the night had passed without incident. The tripwire had not been needed.

  ‘Did I ever tell you,’ she said, ‘about the time he set fire to the boat?’

  ‘No,’ I said, sipping my coffee.

  She chuckled at the thought of it.

  ‘He was welding a porthole shut. Only he’d decided to weld it shut just after he’d finished all the cladding inside. He had the full face mask on, you know, and he was sitting on the pontoon welding away quite happily, oblivious to the clouds of smoke billowing off the boat. Liam had to pat him on the back and tell him the boat was on fire. Liam told him to go and look for something to put water in to douse it and he was in such a panic he came out with the lid from his shaving foam. He said he hadn’t wanted to use any of my china cups.’

  I laughed. ‘Presumably you’ve got a fire extinguisher in there now.’

  ‘Too bloody right,’ she said. ‘No idea where it is, though.’

  Malcolm had undone his elaborate system of trip wires before Josie woke up, winding the wire back into neat coils. He’d offered to re-do this every night before bed, but I’d declined – sod’s law was that some innocent person would fall over it and claim massive amounts of compensation.

  ‘He’s a flaming liability,’ she added, although this almost went without saying.

  A shout came up from the hatch under the wheelhouse. ‘Right, try starting it!’

  I went over and peered down at Malcolm’s grubby grey T-shirt hunched over the engine, then turned the key.

  A rumble from the engine, a shudder, a series of congested coughs, and the whole boat shook itself alive. From the stern came the sound of splashing and churning water.

  ‘Right, that’s enough, turn it off!’

  I turned the key again. ‘What do you think? Is it okay?’ I called down.

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ he said brightly. ‘Needs an oil change, filters, basic service. There’s no leaks or anything. In fact, she’s in bloody good nick considering.’

  I left him to it and went back to sit with Josie.

  ‘He seems happy,’ I said.

  ‘Yes,’ Josie said, ‘he loves all this. You just need to check him for stupid mistakes – like for instance it’s just pure luck that he got you to start the engine with the tide in. Can you imagine if the prop had started spinning at low tide? Mud everywhere. Not pretty.’

  ‘I didn’t realise he was quite so accident-prone,’ I said.

  ‘It’s not that he’s accident-prone, just that he doesn’t think. When we first moved on to the boat, he dropped his keys down the side into the water. Did he tell you about that?’

  ‘He told me to always make sure my stuff had a float on it.’

  ‘Ha!’

  ‘So what happened? Did he get the keys back?’

  ‘The tide was coming in and it was just over waist-height. So he went down in the water and stood with his ankles in the mud and of course he couldn’t quite reach the bottom, even with his arm in up to the shoulder. So he had to get a broom and force himself down the handle head-first until he found the keys.’

  ‘Lord. Was he alright?’

  ‘He smelt foul. And he was puking in the night. Doesn’t do you any good to put your face in this river, truth be told.’

  ‘I can hear you!’ came a shout from inside the wheelhouse.

  We laughed at this. I felt more relaxed than I had for ages.

  ‘Why are you wanting to get the boat started, then?’ Josie asked, giving me a gentle dig in the ribs. ‘You moving on?’

  I blushed. ‘No, nothing like that. Well, not yet, anyway. It just seemed like the next step in the process.’

  ‘I thought the bathroom was the next step in the process.’

  ‘Yeah, that. Or the conservatory. I keep changing my mind.’

  I slept in the back of the car, jolting awake every time it turned, braked or accelerated. I couldn’t bring myself to make small talk and I was so shattered I found it hard to think straight about all the things that had gone on.

  The main thing was that it had ended well. The deal had been done, and when Arnold left, kissing me delicately on the inside of my wrist, he had given me a smile and shaken Fitz’s hand warmly. And, of course, I was financially one step closer to the boat. Maybe I could have another talk with Caddy when she was sober, try and get our friendship back on track.

  I was planning to take Thursday and Friday off to visit boatyards in Kent, on the river Medway. There were a couple of boats for sale at one residential marina, then a much larger yard further up the river had several more. The Medway seemed as good a place as any. Near enough to London to be able to come back if I wanted a night out, and yet far enough away that I could escape from the city and from all the shit that came with the job. I also had it in the back of my mind that, if I wanted to find another job at the end of the year, being a short train ride away from London would be a bonus. I might not have to sell the boat after the year was up. I might even be able to carry on living on my boat and work in the city again if the money ran out.

  I had enough money to buy a boat, preferably one that was at least partly fitted out, so that I could live on it while I was finishing it off. I probably had enough cash to at least start the renovation, as well. As things stood at the moment, I would have to carry on working, or at least find a part-time job, to be able to keep myself going while I worked on the boat.

  I wished I could fast-forward, speed through the last few months of earning, saving, dancing, struggling for bonuses at work.

  I was ready for this all to come to an end.

  I opened my eyes and glanced out of the window to see a familiar row of shops. Nearly home, at last.

  ‘Cheers for the lift, Nicksy,’ I said, as I got out of the car and took my wheelie case from the boot.
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  As soon as I slammed the boot lid shut he sped off towards the main road.

  An hour later, and Malcolm declared the Revenge of the Tide fit to travel. Of course, by that time the tide had gone out and there was no hope of trying it out today.

  ‘You can’t do it tomorrow either,’ said Josie.

  ‘Why not?’ asked Malcolm, looking disappointed.

  ‘Because we’ve got things to do!’ said Josie, smacking him around the shoulder. ‘Anyway, what’s the great rush all of a sudden?’

  ‘Well, the boat’s fixed,’ I said. ‘I’d love to just go for a little motor upriver, just to see what’s there.’

  ‘Well, you can wait until after the weekend,’ said Josie firmly, and that appeared to be that.

  She went up to the laundry to unload the machine, leaving Malcolm packing up his various tools into a filthy canvas bag. When he was done, he sat back on the bench with me. The smell of him reminded me a bit of my dad – engine oil, sweat, effort.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Fixing the boat, of course. You’ve been great.’

  ‘Ah, it’s nothing,’ he said. ‘Be good to get her out for a motor, anyway.’

  As though the Revenge were a little pleasure boat and not a hulking great seventy-five-foot-long barge with all my worldly possessions on it. But it was what I needed to do, after all. I just wished he weren’t quite so casual about it all.

  Josie was heading back down the slope to the pontoon, a plastic laundry bag weighing her down. When she’d nearly reached the Scarisbrick Jean, Malcolm eased himself up and went down the gangplank to help her. When they’d gone into the cabin I went inside, washing up the mugs and the plates from the sandwiches we’d had at lunchtime.

  On the table, the two mobile phones were lying side by side. I hadn’t remembered them being there, like that. They were in the bag I’d taken to the Aunty Jean the night before. Had I taken them out of my bag? I couldn’t remember.

  I checked the phones and saw two missed calls.