Free Fatty O'Leary's Dinner Party by Alexander McCall Smith Page B

Betty.”
    Mrs. O’Connor had invited them to use the rowing boat that they had spotted tied up at the jetty, and had pointed out a small room where the fishing tackle was stored.
    â€œYou could have a grand day on the lough,” she had said. “And if you catch a nice big pike I can get chef to serve it to everybody tonight! Mind you catch a fish now!”
    It took them half a hour or so to prepare the fishing rods and the lures, but at last they were standing on the jetty, with the sky above them a promising blue and the surface of the lough stretching out glass-smooth into the distance.
    Fatty stood with his hands clasped behind him and drew in a deep breath.
    â€œThis is perfect, Betty,” he said. “You must admit that everything is beginning to turn out well after all. I knew that things would get better.”
    Betty smiled. It gave her pleasure to see Fatty so happy, and she was looking forward to a few relaxing hours on the lough. She was not particularly keen on fishing, butshe viewed it as the only predominantly masculine pursuit which kept men occupied and
under control
for hours on end. When he was fishing, a man could hardly be getting up to any mischief, as men tended to do if left to their own devices – standing about in the water, casting metal hooks into the depths, was, in every respect, an innocent pursuit.
    They loaded the fishing gear into the boat and then, after Betty had lowered herself onto a seat in the stern, Fatty untied the painter and stepped onto the middle seat, alongside the oars and rowlocks. With a deft push at the side of the jetty, he sent the boat out into the lough and began to row, dipping the oars expertly into the water.
    It was not a large boat and the combined weight of Fatty and Betty made it ride dangerously low in the water. In fact, when Betty put her hand on the side, her fingers dipped into the lough.
    â€œThis is rather low,” she ventured. “If I put my hands …”
    â€œWhat?” said Fatty, who was exerting himself with the rowing.
    â€œRather low in the water,” warned Betty. “I don’t know if it’s going to be terribly easy to fish. All that movement.”
    â€œWe’ll be fine,” said Fatty. “Don’t you worry.”
    Betty was not sure, but Fatty, who was experienced withboats, had reassured her and she decided to concentrate on enjoying the outing rather than worrying. Fatty, having rowed them some twenty yards beyond the jetty, now decided to rest for a while, and he shipped the oars, shifting slightly in his seat as he did so. It was not a large or sudden movement, but so meagre was the clearance from the surface that it proved sufficient to tilt one side of the boat under the water. With a sudden glistening rush, like molten silver being poured into a vat, the clear water of the lough flooded into the boat.
    Betty shrieked, and Fatty instinctively moved in the opposite direction. But of course the correction was too great, and this only resulted in further flooding. With the boat now half-filled with water and the sides only mere inches above the surface, Fatty gingerly rowed back toward the jetty. They almost made it, but not quite. When still a few yards off, a ripple in the surface of the water was enough to tip the scales against them, and the rowing boat began to founder, dipping below the surface of the lough like a tiny stricken liner sinking beneath the waves.
    Fortunately, the water at the site of their sinking was not deep, and when they involuntarily abandoned ship both Fatty and Betty found that the water came up only as far as their necks. So even had they not been able to swim,they would have been able to walk ashore – slow progress, though, with their feet in the mud and weeds of the lough bottom.
    Fatty was first to clamber onto the jetty, and, from his position of safety he bent down and gave a hand to Betty, who needed assistance in getting out of the