Dying For a Cruise Read Free Page B

so boggled the imagination? She felt like a giddy schoolgirl about to go to her first dance. She’d cooked in castles, in colleges, and indeed in some of the stateliest homes of England in her time. But this was something special. Perhaps it was the magic of steam, or simply the call and romance of a bygone era that made her heart flutter.
    ‘This here’s the engine room.’ Lucas briefly opened the door, giving her a glimpse of a large but modern boiler, and a row of technical-looking, state-of-the-art dials. ‘The coal and water are stored here.’ He nodded to the side, where a small door led off to the storerooms. ‘We also have another freshwater butt on the starboard side, in case of fires, or if the tanks run low.’
    Jenny nodded but in fact knew nothing about the mechanics of how such a boat must work. Nor was she particularly interested. Just so long as, when she turned on the taps in her kitchen – no, her galley – the water came on, then she was happy.
    ‘But the guests, of course, have nothing to do with the dirty, smelly end,’ Lucas laughed. ‘Up there—’ He nodded above, to the balconies on the second storey ‘—are three bedrooms and a bathroom. Double beds, mind. And thick carpets. And real antiques. When I had the Swan built, must be twenty years ago now, I had her fitted out with nothing but the best.’
    Jenny ignored the boasting, having got her measure of the man by now.
    She didn’t doubt that Lucas always had to have the best of everything, and for once she was not amused or touched by his extravagance. The Stillwater Swan , it was plain, simply deserved the best of everything.
    She followed him as he led her to the main salon, that also served, she saw at once, as the dining room.
    In the centre of the room was a large, gleaming mahogany table that could easily have seated twenty. The cook could just imagine it set with a snowy white cloth (what other colour for the Stillwater Swan ?) and awash with gleaming crystal, a towering candle-and-flower centrepiece, and silver cutlery set for a seven-course feast.
    She began to practically quiver in anticipation.
    Lucas Finch watched her reaction with a smile of satisfaction, and nodded. In that instant, he knew that this surprising cook would not let him down. His guests would be treated to nothing but the best. ‘I’ve got flowers arriving later on tonight, plus the delivery of food.’
    At the magical word ‘food’, Jenny turned to him, her blue eyes sparkling. ‘Yes?’
    Lucas smiled. ‘Don’t worry, love, you can check it all out for yourself, and if I’ve forgotten anything, then tell me. I have an arrangement with the butchers and greengrocers around here. What I want, I get.’ And his eyes glinted, just for a moment losing their jovial, laid-back twinkle.
    Jenny made a mental note to watch out for that particular gleam. Only truly ruthless men could get quite that expression in their eye. She followed with a rather wry smile as he led her to the galley, which was nowhere near as poky as she had feared and imagined.
    A large gas cooker stood in one corner, surrounded by adequate top-space. Cupboards were arranged in that very neat way that was peculiar to boats, taking up the minimum amount of space, whilst at the same time making the most of every square inch. A large sink and a small table completed the ensemble. All in all, not too shabby.
    She made a quick inspection of the utensils – plenty of pots, pans, and cutlery. She had with her, of course, and packed securely in the van, her own portable set of knives, spoons, spatulas etc. No cook worth her salt travelled without them.
    After a long, thorough inspection, she nodded, turned to look at him, and smiled. ‘This will do nicely,’ she said judiciously.
    Lucas Finch grinned.
    The parrot on his shoulder coughed.
    ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to kip in the adjoining cook’s bunkhouse,’ he said, and went to a small door set in one bulkhead. It opened into a tiny