Free Swing, Swing Together by Peter Lovesey Page A

trouble, miss. We’ll manage between us. Take the other end, Ted. Hello, that’s a familiar blazer out there.” The others followed the direction of his eyes and saw a skiff steering towards the Goring bank with obvious respect for the foaming water on the weir side. The crew were Mr. Bustard, still in his blazer, and Jim Hackett in braces. An odd sensation of revulsion afflicted Harriet at the sight of them. She supposed the yellow blazer reminded her of her angry mood the previous afternoon, when Hardy had made his tactless remarks and she had rebuked him by taking extra notice of Mr. Bustard. It was a cheap thing to have done, and she would have preferred to forget it.
    She was not allowed to.
    â€œIt’s your friend Bustard,” Hardy pointed out in an unconvincing attempt to be casual. “Aren’t you goin’ to wave to him?”
    The fury rose in Harriet like a head of steam. “Yes, I am,” she said on the impulse. “Certainly I am.” She stood up in the boat, took off her hat and brandished it like a battle standard. “Mr. Bustard! Mr. Bustard! Don’t pass us by!”
    It was the more infuriating that Hardy took no notice as the skiff changed course and headed towards them. He simply carried on moving the case out of the boat and onto the towpath.
    â€œWhat a capital surprise!” called Mr. Bustard when they came parallel, an oar’s length away. “What do you think of that, Jim? If it isn’t the Lady of the Lock herself, the delectable Miss Shaw, with her two sturdy watermen in attendance. Where are you going, Miss Shaw? Not abandoning the trip, I trust. There’s nothing wrong, is there?”
    Everything was wrong that could be, but Harriet answered, “No, we have decided to continue our journey by train, that is all.”
    â€œOn a day like this? It’s criminal to go by train. Look at those hills ahead. Beautiful country!”
    â€œMr. Thackeray and Mr. Hardy have done enough rowing,” said Harriet.
    â€œSo that’s it. Watermen not so sturdy after all, what? I say, I have a suggestion, my dear. Come aboard with us. Allow me to repay your kindness yesterday. Then if the others go by train, they can wait for you further up the river.”
    â€œI couldn’t do that,” said Harriet.
    â€œWhy not, for goodness’ sake?”
    â€œIt wouldn’t be proper, going on a boat with two gentlemen I hardly know at all.”
    â€œNot so, my dear. Two’s quite safe. I wouldn’t recommend an outing with one gentleman, but two’s a most acceptable arrangement. Besides, I’m a married man, as Jim will testify. He used to work for my father-in-law, a very upright gent. You don’t see me doing anything my pa-in-law wouldn’t approve of, do you, Jim?”
    â€œChrist, no,” said Jim emphatically.
    Harriet was still dubious. “It’s much too far. We have to get to Clifton Hampden.”
    â€œWe can make it to Clifton by tonight. What do you say, Jim? Jim can row all day. I might take a rest now and then, but he carries on. Part of his philosophy, you see.”
    On cue, Jim Hackett quoted his authority, “Psalm 104, Verse 23: ‘Man goeth forth unto his work and to his labour until the evening.’ ”
    â€œSo it’s agreed,” said Mr. Bustard. “We’ll come alongside and you can step aboard.”
    Harriet stole a glance at Hardy. He was back on board, putting up the hoops that supported the cover. He appeared to be totally absorbed in the task.
    â€œCould you really take me as far as Clifton?” Harriet asked. “It’s fourteen miles, I’m told.”
    â€œNo trouble at all. Stand by to come aboard.”
    Hardy’s voice, thick and close at hand, muttered, “Put one foot into that boat, Harriet Shaw, and I’ll hump you over my shoulder and carry you to Goring Station myself.” She was in no doubt that he meant it.