Revenge of the Tide Read Free Page B

point in the future, the Revenge of the Tide would be a fantastic party boat, big enough for lots of people to socialise in and crash out on – but not yet. If they all turned up, some of them would have to sit on the deck, and some of them would probably never even set foot below deck – there simply wouldn’t be room. They would all have a laugh about it and then they would walk back up to the main road and go to the pub. The other liveaboards would make some remarks about city dwellers, laugh a lot, drink more beer and end up going back to their own boats in the early hours.
    They would be here soon. Josie closed her eyes against the low sun and breathed in, a smile of contentment on her face as though she were sunbathing on a yacht in the Mediterranean instead of an old Dutch barge on the Medway.
    ‘We’ll love them,’ she said at last. ‘We love everyone. Unless they’re real snobs.’
    It had got to the point where I didn’t actually care what my city friends thought. At the start of this year I had cared very much. It had mattered what I thought, what I wore, what I said, what music I listened to, what pubs I drank in after work, and what I did at the weekends. London was a vast social network where you met people in bars and clubs, at the gym, at work and at events, in parks and at the theatre, at salsa dance nights in the local pub. You spent enough time with them to establish whether they were on your wavelength, and eventually decided whether they could be classed as friends. People came and went in and out of your life in a transitory fashion, and it never really seemed to matter. There was always someone else to go out with, always an invitation to some party or gathering. So I had plenty of people I knew, and in London they would generally be called friends, or mates. But were they? Were they people you could call on in a crisis? Would they stay with you if you were ill, or in danger? Would they protect you, if you needed protecting?
    Dylan would. Dylan had, in fact.
    ‘They’re not snobs, not really. But to be honest I think it’s going to be a bit of a shock for them. I think they’re expecting some kind of gorgeous loft apartment squeezed into a boat.’
    ‘Rubbish, you’ve done a fabulous job.’
    ‘I’ve still got a long way to go. And there isn’t a single thing on my boat that I’ve bought new. Unfortunately that lot don’t really get the recycling ethos.’
    ‘Seriously? But your boat’s looking fabulous. And you’ve done it all yourself. Not many of us have done the fitting out on our own.’
    ‘At least the tide’s coming in.’
    The hull was presently sitting comfortably on a cushion of mud, the boat steady. When the tide came in, it would rise on the water and, depending on the weather, rock gently for six hours or so, until the tide ebbed again. The boat looked much better when it was floating, and of course the mud didn’t always smell particularly nice.
    Josie looked across the pontoon. ‘Who’s this?’
    The sight of the shiny 4x4 pulling into the marina car park meant that some of the London lot had arrived, and in fact it turned out to be most of them. Lucy was first to jump down. She’d made an effort to dress down in jeans and boots, but the boots still had heels on them. Almost immediately she sank down into the earth and from our position on deck we heard her shout, ‘Fuck!’
    From the back came Gavin and Chrissie, and someone else, from the passenger side – at first I couldn’t see who it was, and then he came round the front of the big bonnet and I could see him, in all his glory.
    ‘I don’t believe it,’ I murmured.
    ‘Ooh, he looks nice,’ said Josie.
    ‘It’s Ben.’
    ‘What, the gorgeous one?’
    ‘Yes. The one in the jacket is Gavin. I used to work with him. The blonde girl is Lucy, and the other one is Chrissie, she’s a model.’
    I stood up on the deck and waved. It was Ben who saw me and returned the wave, and then they all started