‘Take a cab to the Chelsea Embankment. I’ll see you by the dolphin statue at the foot of the Albert Bridge.’
‘OK. When?’
He was plainly astonished. ‘Now, of course.’
He was waiting for her. He made a lonely figure, standing by the statue as cars came to a stop at the traffic lights or swooshed past along the river road, speeding home. There was hardly anyone else about, just a couple of people hurrying over the bridge. They were hunched against the cold, anxious to get home. An edging of fairy lights picked out the struts and pretty gothic towers of the bridge, turning it magical. But everyone shot past, intent on their own affairs. It was, she realised, a good place to meet if you didn’t want anyone to notice.
Richard was wearing an old fisherman’s navy jacket with toggles on the front and an obviously torn pocket, stamping his feet against the cold. As she climbed out of the taxi Bella almost didn’t recognise him for a moment. Almost.
He was looking across the river and didn’t see her as she crossed the road. She hesitated. Last time they’d met she had run into his arms. But that didn’t feel right this time, and anyway it needed to be mutual. She cleared her throat.
‘Um—’
He turned.
She said the first thing that came into her head. It was idiotic. ‘I’ve never seen you wear a jacket like that before.’
‘I borrowed it. Don’t you like it?’
‘Borrowed it from whom?’
‘Well, more inherited it really. I don’t have to wear it again if you don’t care for it.’
‘Inherited it?’
His voice was warm with laughter. ‘Come and see.’
He held out his hand. She took it. And, as simply as that, everything was all right again.
He walked her along beside the dark river, their hands entwined. Eventually they came to a collection of houseboats, bobbing gently on the tide.
‘This way.’
Stunned, Bella followed him down on to the dock and then a walkway over the water. It all seemed very domestic. There were even garden planters on some of the decks. There were lights on in a couple of the boats but mostly they seemed dark. It didn’t seem the place for a restaurant, even a super-discreet one. She said so.
‘You’re right. Not another restaurant. Tonight I’m cooking.’
‘You have a houseboat?’ She couldn’t believe it.
‘A share in one. Here we are.’
It was one of the smaller boats. At first Bella thought it was in darkness too, but as he led the way on deck, she saw that there was a sort of porch light above a door. He opened it and held out his hand to her again.
‘Welcome aboard – and mind the step. We go down the companionway and then we’re home.’
It was like stepping into another universe. The companionway was not much more than a spruced-up wooden stepladder at a sixty-degree angle, painted white. She stopped halfway down, looking round, trying to get her bearings.
It was more like a large friendly wooden tunnel than a boat. There were soft lights at waist-height set into the walls and skylights set in the ceiling. To her right, at the end of the narrow space, she saw a small kitchen, clearly already in use, with vegetables waiting on a chopping block. Between cupboards and the companionway, there was a table, old and well polished, with a motley set of bentwood and bar-room chairs set round it. Bella counted nine. To her left there was built-in seating, a beaten-up armchair that had clearly seen better days and a small desk. There seemed to be bookcases in every corner that could be found, but everything was wonderfully neat.
‘This is yours?’
He beamed with pride.
‘Like I said, I share it. My godfather left it to me and all his other godchildren when he died. We decided to keep it on. We run it between us. It’s a bolt hole very few people know about. None of my family has ever been here but I love it. Come and talk to me while I cook. You can even have a seat.’
He pulled out a tall folding stool and set it for her with some ceremony. He gave her a glass of wine and returned to his interrupted cooking. Bella watched, fascinated.
‘I didn’t have you down as a cook.’
He flashed her a smile. ‘You had me down as a useless Royal who couldn’t even dress himself.’
She blushed but said with spirit, ‘Can you blame me?’
‘Not after my last performance, no. I’m sorry about that.’