Dead in the Water by Carola Dunn

of us.”

    At least they did not seem to hold his lack of the proper accent against him. Not for the first time, Alec blessed his mother for not allowing him to pick up the slightest trace of North London speech patterns. He spoke the King’s English, better in fact than they did, with their university slang and the plummy voices which made them sound like pompous fools.
    Eton and Oxford did not automatically make a man a pompous fool, Alec reminded himself charitably.
    They all went down to the river-bank together. Two double-scull skiffs were moored there. Each had a forward-facing seat in the stern, a V-shaped seat fitting into the bow, and two benches for oarsmen amidships.
    â€œI hope you’re not expecting me to row you over,” Alec said to Daisy in a low voice, regarding the swarm of small craft heading upstream. “I might manage the current or the traffic, but not both. The Serpentine is the limit of my experience.”
    â€œI’ve rowed on the Severn.”
    â€œThen you can row me over.”
    â€œNot likely! It was years ago, and a much smaller, quieter river. Luckily, we have four stalwart oarsmen to hand.”
    In fact, the Ambrose men took it for granted that they would man the sculls. Miss Cheringham and Miss Carrick embarked with Meredith and Leigh, Alec and Daisy with Wells and Poindexter.
    â€œYou do know how to steer, don’t you, Mr. Fletcher?” Miss Carrick called as he settled on the well-cushioned rear seat with Daisy.
    Daisy put the tiller-lines in his hands.
    â€œI think so,” Alec said cautiously.

    Miss Carrick and Miss Cheringham exchanged a glance. “There are an awful lot of boats out,” said Miss Cheringham. “I’ll come with you.”
    Though there was plenty of room for all of them, Daisy didn’t want to leave Miss Carrick on her own, so she took her cousin’s place in the other skiff.
    â€œI thought I’d better ask,” Miss Cheringham said apologetically as Alec pushed off with the boat-hook. “Daisy steered us all over the place yesterday. I expect you would have managed perfectly well.”
    Alec smiled at her. “Or I might have steered into someone else and upset a couple of boatloads into the river. You were quite right not to trust me, Miss Cheringham.”
    â€œDo call me Tish. After all, we’ll be cousins soon. Unless you prefer Patricia.”
    Reciprocating, Alec intimated that Tish would do very well. Her suggestion that he might prefer to use her proper name once again made him feel his age. He was beginning to wonder if his hair had greyed overnight without his noticing.
    Daisy was five years older than her cousin, he reminded himself. Not that she looked a day over eighteen in her pretty summer frock and daisy-garlanded hat.
    Two whole days with nothing to do but enjoy her company.
    They reached the opposite bank and disembarked. As they set off along the towpath, Alec and Daisy lagged behind the others, who were anxious not to miss the start of the Ambrose four’s heat.
    â€œYour cousin is charming,” Alec said. “Do I gather her cousin is rowing? Tell me a bit about this crew I’m to cheer.”
    â€œYes, Cherry’s one of them.” Daisy tucked her hand under
his arm. “He’s more like a brother, really. His parents pretty much brought her up, my aunt and uncle being abroad so much. He’s engaged to Dottie. They’re both brainy types, heading for academic careers. But nice, not a bit condescending to us mortals with merely average minds.”
    â€œSpeak for yourself!”
    â€œI do.” Her eyes danced as she glanced up at him. “I’m quite aware of your brilliance, even though you don’t toss around ancient Greek quotations like Jove tossing thunderbolts.”
    â€œZeus. Do they?”
    â€œRarely, but they can. Rollo Frieth, on the other hand, failed his exams, poor chap. He and Cherry are older than most