‘Octavia,’ he said softly.

I didn’t answer. I ached for Jeremy. I wanted him to take me in his arms, to caress and console me and reconcile me with myself.

I didn’t sleep all night. Great waves of anguish kept sweeping over me. I toyed with the idea of creeping off the boat before anyone was up and going back to London. But how would I get there? There wasn’t a railway station for miles. I suppose I could ring one of my boyfriends and ask them to drive down and collect me. But would they? I’d never doubted I could get a man back at the drop of a hat. Now, suddenly, I wasn’t sure.

I was feeling so paranoid I could hardly get myself out of bed. Thank God I’d brought the biggest pair of dark glasses in the world with me. In the kitchen Jeremy and Gussie were cooking breakfast.

‘If you’ve got a hangover like the rest of us,’ said Gussie, ‘there’s some Alka Seltzer in the cupboard.’

‘No, I haven’t actually.’ Gussie poured me out a cup of coffee.

‘Do you take sugar?’

‘Of course she doesn’t, she’s quite sweet enough as it is,’ said Jeremy, smiling at me. He was so used to getting the come-on sign from me, he seemed amazed I didn’t crack back, and when he handed me my cup, his fingers closed over mine for a second. Yesterday I would have been certain he was trying to make contact with me; now my self-confidence had taken such a bashing, I felt it must be accidental.

I took my coffee up on deck. Three vast pairs of pants and the biggest bra in the Western Hemisphere were dripping from the railing. Gussie had obviously been doing some washing. A silver haze lay over the countryside. Pale green trees rose tender as lovers from the opposite bank. I couldn’t stop shaking. Amidst all this beauty and sunshine, I felt like an empty shell.

A minute later Gussie came and joined me.

‘What a beautiful shirt that is,’ she said. ‘I do envy you, Tavy. It doesn’t matter if you’ve got a hangover or feel off colour, you’ve got such a lovely figure and such marvellous hair, people still think you’re a knockout. But with me, my face is the only thing I’ve got — and that isn’t all that great — and when that looks awful,’ — she squinted at herself in the cabin window — ‘like today, with this spot, I’ve got nothing to offer.’

She looked down at her left hand and flashed her engagement ring in the sun.

‘Jeremy’s wild about you,’ she said wistfully. ‘He was teasing me yesterday, saying that I was lucky I’d got his ring on my finger before he met you, or heaven knows what would have happened.’

I suddenly wondered what Jeremy was playing at.

‘He’s got no right to say that,’ I said crossly. ‘He adores you. You’ve only got to see the way he looks at you when you don’t know he’s looking.’

She looked at me, delighted.

‘Do you really think so? Oh that does make me feel so much better. You don’t think me silly?’

I shook my head and she went on. ‘I was convinced Jeremy’d fallen for you. I was really screwed up about it. That’s why I’ve been eating so much lately. Not that I thought for a moment you’d lead him on. I mean, you’re one of my best friends — at least you were at school, I hope you still are. But you’re so beautiful I didn’t see how he could help it. And somehow you look so good together.

‘That’s why when he suggested asking you down for the weekend, I persuaded him to ask Gareth as well. Gareth’s so attractive, I thought you were bound to fancy him and that would put Jeremy off.’

God, how naive she was! I concentrated on lighting a cigarette. Oh why were my hands shaking so much?

‘I like Jeremy enormously,’ I said slowly. ‘He’s extremely attractive too, but I also think he’s perfect for you.’

‘I’m not sure he’s perfect for me at all,’ said Gussie. ‘I think he’ll probably be wildly unfaithful to me, but that’s because underneath he’s not very sure of himself, and he’ll need to make passes at women from time to time, just to boost his ego. But I hope so long as I make him happy enough, he’ll always come back to me in the end.’

I looked at her round earnest face, appalled.

‘But you can’t marry him, Gus, not thinking that!’

‘Oh yes I can. I love him so much it hurts sometimes. And I know it’ll kill me when he is unfaithful, but at least I can try and make him more secure by loving him.’

I looked at her in awe. This was the sort of girl Gareth was talking about last night. Friday’s child, loving and giving, prepared to give far more than she took.

Jeremy came up on deck. His blond hair gleamed almost white from the sun. Instinctively I turned my head away.

‘I wish Gareth would step on it,’ he said.

‘Where’s he gone?’

‘To ring up some friends of his who live a few miles up the river,’ said Jeremy. ‘He thought we might take a drink off them. He must have run out of 2ps by now.’

‘Here he comes,’ said Gussie.

Gareth walked up the path, whistling. He grinned when he saw us, wicked gypsy eyes narrowed against the sun. He bounded up the bank and, scorning the gangplank, jumped across onto the boat. He looked up at Gussie’s underclothes on the line.

‘Is that a signal?’ he said. ‘England expects every man to do Octavia?’

‘Did you get through?’ snapped Jeremy.

Gareth nodded. ‘We’ve timed it very well. They’re giving a party tonight. They want us all to go. The land at the back of their house slopes straight down to the river. They suggested we tie up there about teatime. Then you two girls can have baths and tart up at your leisure.’

‘How super,’ said Gussie. ‘But I haven’t got anything to wear. Will it be very smart?’

‘I don’t expect so. Anyway they can lend you something if it is.’

I turned away. My palms were damp with sweat. The thought of a party terrified me. Drinks and noise and people I didn’t know. They would be Gareth’s friends too, probably as tough and flash and sarcastic as Gareth himself. He must have warned them about me already — the tart with the heart of ice.

‘We’d better get moving,’ said Jeremy. ‘I’ll start up the engine.’

‘I’ll wash up,’ I said, diving into the kitchen.

No one had washed up last night’s plates and, as we were running short of water, I had to wash everything in the same grey, greasy liquid.

‘Hi,’ said a voice. Gareth was standing in the doorway. I stiffened and concentrated hard on the bubbles of yellow fat floating on top of the washing-up water.

‘Hullo,’ I said with studied lightness. I was determined to show him that yesterday’s showdown hadn’t bothered me in the least.

He came and put his hand on my shoulder. I jumped away as though he’d burnt me.

‘Easy now,’ he said. ‘I only wanted to apologize for last night. Not for what I said, because it needed saying, but I should have put it more tactfully.’

‘If you think anything you said last night had any effect on me, you’re very much mistaken,’ I said in a stifled voice. ‘Damn! We’re out of Quix.’

With a swift movement he took off my dark glasses.

‘Don’t! Don’t you dare!’ I spat at him. I didn’t want him to see how red and puffed my eyes were with crying.

‘All in good time,’ he said. He had me cornered now. God, he was big. His very size in that kitchen was stifling, overpowering. I backed away against the draining board, looking down at my hands, trembling with humiliation.

‘Why do you keep bullying me?’ I whispered.

I’d done that trick before, letting my breasts rise and fall very fast in simulated emotion, but now I found I couldn’t stop myself.

Gareth put his hand under my chin and forced it upwards. For an insane, panicky moment, I wondered whether to bite him, anything to drive him away, to destroy this suffocating nearness. Then he let go of me, and handed me back my dark glasses.

‘You can actually look ugly,’ he said, in surprise. ‘I don’t know why, but I find that very encouraging.’

‘Gareth,’ shouted Jeremy, ‘can you come and open the lock gates?’

‘Just coming,’ Gareth shouted. He turned as he went up the steps. ‘Don’t forget it’s your turn to put on the chef’s hat and cook us lunch.’

That was all I needed. I opened the door of the fridge and the baleful eye of a huge chicken peered out at me. How the hell did one cook the beastly thing?

Gussie popped her head through the door.

‘Gareth says you’re going to cook lunch. How lovely. I’ll truss the chicken for you if you like, and then you can make that thing you made us the other night. There’s masses of cream and lemon juice in the fridge.’

She’d only just had breakfast and her mouth was watering already.

‘Thank you,’ I said weakly. Why, oh why, had I been so foolish as to pass Luigi’s haute cuisine off as my own last week?

I go hot and cold every time I remember that lunch. I got in such a muddle that we didn’t eat until three o’clock, by which time the others were absolutely starving. I shall never forget their hungry flushed faces turning gradually to dismay as they sat down to eat and realized the chicken was burnt to a frazzle, the sauce was curdled past redemption and the spinach boiled away to a few gritty stalks. But the potatoes were the worst disaster. Because I hadn’t realized you had to roast them longer than twenty minutes, they were hard as bullets.

‘It’s a pity we haven’t got a twelve bore on board,’ said Gareth. ‘Then we could have spent the afternoon shooting pigeons with them.’

‘It’s absolutely delicious,’ said Gussie, chewing valiantly away at a piece of impossibly dry chicken.

Jeremy said nothing. Gareth laughed himself sick. He didn’t even make any attempt to eat, just lit a cigar, blew smoke over everyone, and said at last he understood why Gussie was always going on about the importance of having a good breakfast.