Dying For a Cruise Read Free Page A

that would have been kind, if it hadn’t been so patronizing.
    Jenny fixed him with an eye that was beadier than the eye the parrot was giving her. ‘Boat?’ she echoed sharply.
    ‘Course,’ Lucas said, looking surprised now. ‘The Stillwater Swan .’ He said the name as lovingly as Romeo would have addressed Juliet.
    ‘The Stillwater Swan .’ Jenny repeated his words flatly and felt herself flush. She was beginning to feel as if she and the parrot might have a lot in common, after all. ‘I don’t recall the mention of any boat in our correspondence, Mr Finch,’ she said, her voice like steel.
    The fact was, Jenny was not so sure that she liked the sound of the word ‘boat’.
    Her father, who’d been a top chef in both London and then Paris for most of his career, had told her once about working on the Queen Elizabeth II . And all about some of his more harrowing experiences during a typhoon just off Bora-Bora. She still, to this day, had nightmares about trying to cook a seven-course dinner in a kitchen that wouldn’t keep still.
    Lucas Finch suddenly slapped his forehead in a well-blow-me-down gesture, making the parrot on his shoulder jump nervously.
    ‘You silly sod,’ the parrot said, quite clearly.
    Jenny glanced at the bird in some surprise, then shrugged. No doubt the bird had picked up quite a few less than salubrious phrases from its master over the years. It was just a sheer coincidence that it had chosen to utter the comment at such an appropriate moment.
    ‘Of course, I didn’t say, did I?’ Lucas grinned at his own neglect. ‘Come on, er … Miss … er….’
    ‘Starling.’
    ‘Starling. I’ll show you my pride and joy.’
    Jenny wasn’t any too sure that she wanted to be shown Lucas Finch’s pride and joy. Nevertheless, she got rather reluctantly to her feet, and followed his tall, white-haired figure through the house and out into the vast back garden where, at the bottom, the River Thames meandered by, like some stately relative just calling in for a visit. And there, moored to a large wooden landing, was the most beautiful sight Jenny had ever seen.
    The ‘boat’ was a large, flat-bottomed, two-storeyed paddle steamer – obviously purpose-built and to spec, in order to traverse England’s biggest river. Not exactly a Mississippi riverboat special, it was certainly unusual and undeniably elegant. It had, in fact, class written all over it.
    It was also, as its name suggested, painted a bright, almost blinding white, with black and orange trim. As they approached it, the cook noticed how the steam whistle that rose above the structure was carved like the neck and head of a swan, with its orange-painted beak wide open, to allow the steam through.
    The riverboat had tiny balconies on the upper storeys, with hanging baskets affixed to the walls, frothing over with blue, red, green and yellow. Its brass fixtures gleamed like gold. Its planked decking was dry and clean, and a light gold in colour. The windows on both floors were wide and pristine, and glass sliding doors led out onto the lower deck. It was most definitely a rich man’s toy.
    ‘Isn’t she summat?’ Lucas Finch asked with masterly understatement and beaming pride, and Jenny nodded.
    ‘Oh yes,’ she agreed, her blue eyes sparkling. ‘She certainly is summat.’
    ‘Want the guided tour?’
    Jenny nodded. If she was to spend the weekend cooking on this lovely vessel, she most certainly did want the guided tour. Especially of the kitchen. Or, she supposed she should say, the galley.
    The Stillwater Swan didn’t so much as bob at her mooring as they stepped from the jetty, through the open boarding gate and onto its lower deck. Jenny went straight to the rear and looked at the large paddles below.
    Long, elegantly curved paddles rested in the still, clear water of the Thames. She could just imagine them turning, gently and smoothly pushing the boat along. What was it about paddle steamers, she mused meltingly, that