Dying For a Cruise (9 page)

Only Gabriel Olney looked at ease.

As well he might.

‘I’ve called you all here to join me in a toast to the new master of the
Stillwater Swan
,’ he said, dropping the bombshell in a voice so monotone that it was obvious he had been rehearsing the simple stark line for a long time.

Jasmine Olney gasped audibly.

Tobias Lester looked as if he’d been poleaxed.

Brian O’Keefe went as pale as his swarthy colouring would let him – which was surprisingly pale indeed.

Francis almost dropped his glass. His eyes flew to those of his master.

Lucas’s left eye twitched as he raised his glass. ‘To Gabby,’ he said, and swigged the finest Grende as if it were cyanide.

I
T WAS JUST
beginning to turn dark – that lovely deepening of lavender into something more nocturnal. A warm breeze played like velvet over the skin, whilst a more than three-quarters moon celebrated by turning from the colour of milk to the more emphatic colour of a mature cheese.

The last of the aerial patrols of swooping swifts peeled off high overheard, their screeching and screaming calls piercing the night air in a last hurrah. A rarely seen soft-winged, ghostly barn owl set off on his night’s hunting, whilst the sky steadily turned to sapphire and the stars began to twinkle like an accompaniment of diamonds.

Jenny rested against the deck rails on the port deck, glad that the evening meal was over and the debris from it all cleared away, and she could now mourn it in a dignified silence. Tomorrow, for lunch, she would have to do something clever with all the leftovers. She refused, but simply
refused
, to let good food go to waste.

She heard a soft footfall behind her and half turned, seeing the leonine head of Tobias Lester as he crossed the rear decking and pushed open the engine room door. ‘All settled down for the night?’ she heard his voice, dull and flat, echo easily across in the stillness of the night.

Brian O’Keefe’s reply was a terse affirmative. Both men sounded tense, and little wonder, Jenny mused. And as the captain and the engineer talked together quietly, she strained to catch their words, but couldn’t quite manage it. They sounded friendly enough though, as if adversity had bonded them together with a far stronger cement than the mere shared duties of keeping the
Swan
in good working order.

In fact, the more they talked, the more conspiratorial their tone seemed to become – as if they were plotting some scheme, and thus needed to whisper.

The thought made her feel uneasy.

Jenny sighed, knowing she had to get away from the murmur of masculine voices, otherwise she was going to become downright paranoid. On the other hand, she had no wish to retire early. Her bedroom was a cramped space in which she could hardly turn around, and she was still roiling and simmering with righteous indignation over the fate of her feast. Perhaps a moonlit stroll along the banks of the Thames would calm her and bring about a return of her equilibrium.

As a large person, with a large personality to match, Jenny Starling cherished her equilibrium. She liked to feel centred and balanced.

She left the boat, glad of the light from the nearly full moon, and found a well-worn path that meandered through the open meadows. Buttercups had closed up their business for the night, their petals furled tightly into pale orbs. Every now and then, the perfume of clover wafted on the warm night breeze, and moths and bats winged by in a mutual, potentially fatal, ballet. After a while, Chimney’s church clock tolled out the hour of eleven. Jenny paused to listen, then, somewhat reluctantly, turned back towards the
Stillwater Swan
.

She wasn’t happy with the way things were going. What on earth had induced Lucas Finch to sell the boat to Gabriel Olney of all people? That afternoon’s rumpus between the two men had obviously played a big part in it – it hardly took a genius to come to that conclusion! And if she had figured out as much, so had everyone else.

One thing was for certain – no one but Gabriel himself seemed at all happy about it. Even his wife had been shooting daggers at him all evening, which was faintly surprising. She’d have thought a woman like Jasmine Olney would have relished being the mistress of such a prestigious acquisition as the swan. She could easily see the chic and stylish Jasmine holding soirees and playing the gracious hostess to a party of B-list celebs. Obviously, there was something else going on in the Olney marriage that was causing friction.

And something was seriously biting David Leigh. Every time she went near him, she could feel him practically vibrating with angst. It was scaring his sweet and devoted wife too, and that couldn’t be good for her.

Jenny sighed deeply and wearily. Things were becoming nasty, and no doubt about it. And although she’d only known them a short time, the passengers and crew of the
Stillwater Swan
were beginning to exert their influence over her. She’d be glad to get back to the security of Oxford, before she became even more embroiled. Still, she cheered herself up with the thought that there was only one more day to go – and a Sunday, the traditional day of peace and rest, at that.

Hah! A little voice sneered at the back of her mind, and she determinedly ignored it.

They had a long stretch of river to negotiate tomorrow, with no further villages in which to moor before their final destination of Swinford. There she would spend the night at the local pub then catch the first bus back to Wainscott House and collect her trusty little van.

Perhaps, next year, she really
would
take a holiday. Oh, not to the seaside, but inland somewhere. Scotland, perhaps. She could learn how to make a proper haggis.

As she approached the river, she heard the low murmur of voices from the riverbank, and stopped, in some amazement, to watch Tobias and Brian put up a fairly large tent.

As Brian rolled out some sleeping bags, the cook suddenly realized that, with all the rooms on the
Swan
currently occupied, the crew had no other choice but to camp out on the shore. She glanced to the right and, sure enough, pitched a good few yards away was a slightly smaller but very neat little tent.

The good Francis, no doubt, preferred not to kip down with mere engineers and a glorified – if nautical – chauffeur. Jenny coughed, just to alert all concerned that she was about, and then stepped out from the shadows of the trees.

‘Good evening, Captain,’ she said pleasantly, and saw Tobias turn her way briefly. In the darkness she couldn’t make out the expression on his face.

‘Hello there … er … Cook,’ he said, his voice still stuck in a flat, dreary monotone. No doubt, in the aftermath of Lucas Finch’s announcement, he had forgotten her given name, but Jenny didn’t mind. Being called by her title was more gratifying anyway.

She walked to the wide plank that connected the
Swan
safely with the bank and stepped onto the deck, almost bumping into somebody coming the opposite way. It was, of course, the other person who rebounded off her girth, and had to take a few staggering steps backwards. ‘Sorry,’ Jenny said automatically.

‘That’s all right, dear lady,’ came back the unmistakable voice of Gabriel Olney. ‘I should have been looking where you were going,’ he added with what he supposed was a dry wit. His voice, unlike that of the captain, was rich with feeling. Too much feeling, in fact. Jenny didn’t appreciate being patronized.

‘Yes, perhaps you should,’ she said, somewhat coolly. ‘I am, after all, big enough to be seen,’ she added, totally flooring the old ex-soldier, who stared after her as she left, his mouth falling open in surprise.

Jenny, about to carry on and stomp off to her bedroom in high dudgeon, suddenly remembered the cramped proportions of said bedroom, and did an abrupt turn in the direction of the railings instead. A few more breaths of air before turning in would do her no harm, after all.

She heard Gabriel’s footsteps on the plank, and a moment later saw his dark shape silently make its way towards the large tent.

‘Ah, chaps, I was hoping to catch you alone for a few minutes,’ she heard him say jovially. ‘I thought it best to tell you straightaway, so there would be no misunderstandings, so to speak.’

Jenny, who had already guessed exactly what it was that Gabriel Olney wished to say – namely ‘you’re both fired’ – hastily decided she’d had enough air for one night, and stepped through into the games room.

Although most of the lights had been turned off now that the
Swan
’s engines were idle (the bulk of the electricity coming via a generator that the turning paddle wheels kept charged up), she easily made her way into the salon. She’d gone through the room so often, her mind had memorized the layout of it without her conscious thought. From there she went through the galley and into her own little cubbyhole of a bedroom. There she brushed her teeth at a tiny washbasin, donned her nightgown and crawled into the tiny bed.

It squeaked and groaned like a tub of trampled mice.

Jenny gave a grunt, turned off the puny overhead light, and rolled onto her side. She only just managed to stop herself falling off the narrow mattress, and gave a long, tremulous sigh.

Then she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Breakfast next morning was an odd affair. Lucas Finch was determinedly jovial. It was almost as if he was trying to fool himself into thinking that he didn’t really care that the
Swan
was lost to him. He helped himself to huge amounts of food, and ate it with every outward appearance of pleasure.

Francis watched him with blank eyes that Lucas would catch now and then, and ignore.

Jasmine simply sat and glowered, at her husband, at Lucas, and at the parrot.

The parrot, sensitive soul that he was, was very much aware of her acrimonious gaze and paced nervously across the sideboard. So intent was he on keeping an eye on Jasmine that, when he reached the end, he kept on walking, and with a squawk of utter surprise, fell off the other end.

Jasmine laughed nastily.

Lucas looked down at the parrot, which turned and looked up at him, and said mildly, ‘What a pillock.’

He returned his attention back to his eggs and bacon, and beamed at Dorothy Leigh, who was half-heartedly picking her way through some deliciously fragrant scrambled eggs with herbs.

‘Do you have any pets, love?’ he asked, and nodded at the parrot, which had flown back to the sideboard, and was eyeing his dish of nuts and fruit with a somewhat bilious eye.

Dorothy smiled. She was rather fond of the parrot. ‘I have a dog. She’s a Collie, actually. I have a devil of a job keeping her coat in top condition. I seem to spend hours grooming her.’

Lucas cast the parrot an amiable look, and then reached for a piece of peach with which to tempt him. ‘The things you do, hey?’ he said softly, watching the bird eat with a crinkle-eyed smile.

Dorothy gave him a rather tender look. She thought Lucas was being a really good sport about all this, and she liked that in a man. She had no idea what Gabriel had done to him to make him part with the boat, but she knew it must be breaking his heart. Yet here he was the next morning, acting as right as rain, and trying to make sure that all his guests were having a good time. He might be a diamond in the rough, but at least he was acting like a real man should.

When he turned back from feeding his bird, she gave him a dazzling smile.

Gabriel watched her, his lips twisting into a malicious grin. Let old Lucas have his moment of glory. He could afford to be magnanimous, now that he had what he wanted. Now, all he had to do was get rid of Jasmine.

David Leigh suddenly pushed his plate away. ‘If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just … er … go and change. I was hoping to take a walk before we started off.’

Lucas glanced at the young solicitor. He had difficulty in focusing his thoughts. All he could think about was the
Swan
. His lovely, elegant and beloved
Swan
. ‘What? Oh, yes, that’s fine. We won’t set off until ten o’clock or so. Take your time, me old china,’ he said heartily.

David nodded. Dorothy tried to catch his eye, but he studiously avoided looking at her as he rose. She gnawed on her lower lip worriedly as she watched him go. He’d said nothing about her joining him for this walk of his. Should she go up to their room and invite herself along? Or was he desperate for some time alone? Oh, if only Gabriel wasn’t aboard this trip. She was sure that all of this tension was his fault. Poor Lucas. Poor Jasmine. And poor, poor David.

She stabbed her mound of eggs viciously with her fork.

But she was not the only one who’d be glad when this trip was over. Jasmine Olney, for one, was desperate to get to the bank. If only she could withdraw some money before the second cheque Gabby had written out could be cleared, she might yet still be able to salvage something. Better still, if she could only think of some way of getting her hands on
all
their money! She’d be off like a shot. Let Gabriel divorce her if he couldn’t find her!

Lucas was finding it harder and harder to carry on playing the role of genial host. All he could think about was what happened once they docked. For as soon as David Leigh had drawn up the papers, and they’d been signed and processed, the
Swan
would glide out of his life forever.

With Gabriel Olney at the wheel.

It was a thought that left a gaping hole in his soul. He couldn’t bring himself to look across at the gloating ex-solider. If he did …. His hands curled so hard around the knife he was using that his fingers ached.

Jenny, knowing that everyone was at breakfast, had taken the opportunity to use the bathroom. She had luxuriated in a ten-minute soak in the tub, and now, powdered and glowing a healthy pink, she opened the door, dressed in a fresh summer dress of pansy purple.

As she shut the door behind her, she heard a second, echoing click, and stared at the door handle blankly for a moment. Then she quickly turned around and saw David Leigh coming through the open door opposite. She made a rapid show of rooting about in her toiletries bag, checking that her soap and flannel were present, and not even glancing up as David Leigh passed her.

If she had done so, she might have noticed the rather pensive glance he gave her. Only when she heard his light steps going quickly down the stairs did she close the bath bag and look up thoughtfully.

The bathroom was on the port side of the boat, at the rear.

That meant that the bedroom opposite her, the bedroom that David Leigh had just exited, was on the rear side of the starboard deck. But yesterday she’d clearly seen Dorothy Leigh lean on the balcony of the bedroom nearest the
prow
– the front end of the boat. Or the pointed end, as her father had been wont to call it. So either Dorothy had been in Gabriel Olney’s bedroom yesterday – a patently absurd thought – or David Leigh had just emerged from the Olneys’ room just now.