Chapter 44
Daisy stared at Yvonne, not sure that she’d heard her correctly. She had cut the engine, but they were still racing down the Thames, though Daisy wasn’t really looking at where she was going. It was only when a speed-boat beeped its horn that she realised she’d drifted too far over. She pulled hard on the tiller, readjusting her trajectory before she spoke.
‘What do you mean, “missed the turning”? How do we miss a turning?’
‘Well.’ Yvonne swallowed hard. ‘I got my timings a little wrong, that’s all. That nap I had was obviously longer than I thought and I didn’t realise the speed we’d been going. Besides, I based the calculation on the book, you see. And… and…’
‘And?’
‘And I guess it might be a little out of date.’
Daisy looked at the yellow booklet from which Yvonne had gathered all the information on boating the tidal Thames. She pulled it out of Yvonne’s hand and stared at the cover. It was the first time she’d looked at it properly and it made her light-headed.
‘Yvonne, this is from 1993!’ she said, unable to stop her jaw from hanging open.
‘Of course it is. That’s the last time I did this trip. I didn’t think they’d change things that often.’
‘The tides? You didn’t think the tides would change that often?’
Yvonne pouted. ‘It was perfectly fine for the first couple of days. I’d thought if there was a problem, we’d have noticed when we left Maldon. As that wasn’t the case, I assumed it all matched up nicely.’
Daisy took a deep breath in and tried to steady her building anxiety.
‘Take the tiller,’ she said, opening up the booklet herself. As luck would have it, it flopped open to the page she needed – the Thames Lock at Brentford, which, according to this, was marked with three yellow oil drums. Daisy stared at it in disbelief before glaring at Yvonne. ‘You were looking for three yellow oil drums, marking the turning we needed?’
Yvonne pushed her shoulders back indignantly.
‘I don’t know why you’re speaking like that. If it ain’t broke, why fix it?’
Daisy was drawing in deep breaths, trying to steady her heart rate. Now that the trawler was a safe distance behind them she had cut the throttle, but the speed was still fast, and she was racing away from the turning she hadn’t seen. She glanced back at the map in the pamphlet. Yvonne had been wrong about the tide times, so maybe she’d been wrong about the position of the canal too. If that was the case, they might not have even passed it yet, though a quick check of the map and her surrounding location quickly put paid to that idea. They were already past the King’s Observatory, meaning the canal was, without doubt, behind them. And as much as Daisy hated to put all her eggs in Yvonne’s basket so soon after such a major issue, she knew she had no other choice.
‘What do we do?’ she said, making no attempt to hide the disdain in her voice, though her anger was equally directed at herself. She should have taken more responsibility for this trip from the start, then they would never have got into this mess. ‘Is there another turning somewhere else we can get onto the canal?’
She began to flick through the pages, only for Yvonne’s snort to cut her off.
‘It’s not the M4,’ Yvonne replied. ‘No, it’s fine. We’ll do what we always do. These things happen. It’s not the end of the world. We’ll just do a U-turn.’
Of all the ridiculous things Daisy had seen and heard that day, this one had to be the most absurd.
‘You’re joking?’ she said, assuming this was another of Yvonne’s peculiar jokes.
‘Of course I’m not joking. How else are we going to get back down to the turning? Honestly, what are you worried about? We’ve got plenty of room.’
Daisy shook her head, wanting to believe Yvonne was having her on. ‘It’s not about the room!’ she said. ‘It’s about the fact that there are all these other boats coming up and down. I saw a speed-boat a minute ago, for crying out loud.’
‘Well, they’ll just have to be careful, won’t they? Really, you’re not the first person this has happened to. Stop making such a fuss. We need to do it soon, though. We’ll be going against the tide on the way back. Look, it’s clear enough now. Give me the tiller.’
Daisy wanted to refuse, but before she could, Yvonne was pulling the metal bar full lock to the right. The September Rose turned sharply, the dog yelped beside Daisy and a series of clatters that sounded horribly like glass smashing rang out from inside the boat. Daisy winced at the thought of her paintings falling from the walls, the broken pieces of glass spearing hours of work, but there was nothing she could do.
‘Yvonne, I don’t think?—’
‘It’s fine, just hold on.’
The tiller remained on full lock, but they were going so fast that the boat lifted to an angle and its flat bottom, which was absolutely not created for water like this, was clearly exposed.
We’re going to sink, Daisy thought, somehow keeping the words in her mind as the left side of the boat dipped precariously close to the water. She was going to capsize on the Thames. This was it. Theo would learn of her grand gesture by seeing the September Rose on the front page of the news along with its possibly deceased crew. Though the dog would probably survive. Wasn’t that what usually happened in these situations?
‘Nearly there,’ Yvonne said, although the comment seemed near delusional to Daisy. They were smack bang in the centre of the River Thames, the boat perpendicular to all the streams of metal coming at them from both directions. If they didn’t capsize, they could be hit by something instead.
Unable to bear it any longer, Daisy closed her eyes. She had to. Whatever was going to hit her, she’d rather she didn’t see it coming.
She remained like that, with her eyes scrunched closed, for what felt like an eternity. A minute later, her heart was pounding just as hard against her ribs, but something felt different. She opened one eye just a smidgen, still squinting. Then she opened them fully and looked around. She was back, parallel to the bank of the River Thames, the way they should be.
‘We did it?’ she said, disbelief hitching her voice. ‘You actually did it. We didn’t capsize in the middle of the River Thames.’
‘You say that like I’ve never done it before,’ Yvonne said with a roll of her eyes.
‘Have you done it before?’
Yvonne’s lips twitched. ‘I’ve seen it done before. Does that count?’ Her smile stretched broader. ‘Harry and I didn’t miss a turning, though. No, we did it for fun. Three times the same day, would you believe, though the river was quieter back then, mind. Didn’t stop the feeling, though. That rush. That hasn’t changed.’
Daisy wasn’t sure it was a rush she wanted to repeat anytime soon, but she couldn’t deny the feeling of elation as she reached around and squeezed the old woman so hard, she was pretty sure she heard a bone click, but she still couldn’t stop. Of all the things they had done and seen, she knew now there was nothing on the journey they couldn’t achieve. And hopefully, nothing that would be quite as terrifying or exhilarating. After a moment, Daisy let go of Yvonne, only to have the dog bark at her.
‘Yes, you were very brave too,’ Daisy said, reaching down and stroking his head. ‘And I promise, if we don’t find you an owner and you ever end up back on the river, you’ll have a life jacket, too.’
As she finished speaking, the dog jumped up, placed both his paws on her chest and gave Daisy the most slobbery, wet lick across her cheek, but she didn’t care. She was alive and on the Thames, though they were still a long way from Theo.
‘Okay, so we need to keep an eye out.’ Daisy put her mind back on the present moment. ‘I’ll get my phone too, see if I can find out what signs there are for this canal turning. Preferably ones that have been placed there this decade. We don’t want to miss it.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry about rushing, love. We’ve got ages to get there yet.’
Daisy looked at her friend. It had been less than five minutes since Yvonne informed her they’d missed the turning and in that time, they’d also completed the successful, if somewhat miraculous, U-turn. Five minutes in Daisy’s book didn’t feel like very long. But then she realised why Yvonne had made the comment. The throttle of the September Rose was pushed all the way forward, the engine pumping out as much power as it could, yet the boat looked as if it was barely moving.
Ahead of them, a restaurant was fixed to a jetty. It couldn’t have been more than fifty metres away, yet they didn’t seem to be getting any closer to it.
This wasn’t walking pace; this was one step forward, one step back pace.
‘This is why we always try to go with the tide,’ Yvonne informed her.