He set Lizzie back on her feet and opened the door. ‘It’s not a palace but at least it’s not raining in here,’ he said.
A strong smell of mustiness hit them as they went in and it felt warm. It was dark but Lizzie could see they were in a triangular space, like the top section of a tent.
‘Welcome to the boathouse,’ said Hugo. ‘My father isn’t boat-minded so this place has always been a sort of den to Vanessa and me. I think he’s forgotten it exists. Now, let’s find you somewhere to sit.’
It was like an attic, full of strange things hanging from hooks in the ceiling. There were oars, fishing rods, oil lamps, a saw, and many things Lizzie couldn’t identify. The only light came in through dusty windows and she felt in a state of shock.
He guided her to a wicker chair that creaked loudly as she sat in it.
A thought occurred to her. ‘You should be at the ball.’
‘No, I shouldn’t,’ he said firmly. ‘I should be here, looking after you.’
No longer worried about drowning, she began to wonder how Hugo had found her in the river. But she didn’t want to ask just yet.
As her eyes became accustomed to the lack of light Lizzie saw random bits of furniture and a bundle of something that could be sails in the corner. There was a solid old table with a toolbox on topof it. There was something draped with a cloth next to the box. This old boathouse might have been forgotten by Hugo’s parents, but someone still came here.
‘I’m hoping there are some blankets in here,’ said Hugo, opening a large wicker laundry basket. ‘Vanessa’s Girl Guide troop camped here once, years ago, and left bits and pieces behind. It all got dumped in here.’
He pulled out a couple of blankets. ‘Now all we need is a box of matches.’
‘I think that would be pushing our good luck too far,’ said Lizzie as he wrapped a very smelly blanket round her shoulders and put another on her knees.
‘I don’t think so.’ He went over to the table in the corner and reached up to a shelf made under the eaves. ‘Here we are. They’ve been here a while but it’s dry here. They should be all right.’
‘What do you want matches for?’ However much she craved warmth, surely there wouldn’t be a stove or anything here?
‘This.’ He went to another corner of the boathouse and found a hook with an oil lamp hanging from it. ‘I think it’s still got oil in it.’ He shook it.
He found a tea chest which had obviously been used as a table before and set the lamp on it and lit it. The light instantly made the space feel warm and cosy.
‘You’re still shivering,’ he said. ‘Maybe you’d better get your wet things off.’
‘You’re wearing a dinner jacket,’ she reminded him. ‘And you’re shivering too.’
He turned back to the wicker basket and produced a sleeping bag. ‘If you took off your wet things you could get into this. Lie on one of the blankets and put the other on top.’
‘What’s in that pile over there?’ She pointed, reluctant to undress in front of him. ‘Isn’t there a sail or something we could lie on?’
‘That’s a good idea. I’ll have to chase the spiders out first.’
Soon he had made a bed out of old sails, Guide blankets and a sleeping bag. ‘Get in,’ he said encouragingly.
‘You get in first. I need you to check there aren’t any spiders.’
‘OK. But we won’t both fit in the sleeping bag. We can have it as a mattress.’
When he was lying down she lay down next to him, suddenly wishing she had taken off her clothes. ‘I’m making you wet,’ she said.
‘We’re as wet as each other,’ he said. ‘Lie next to me. We’ll warm each other up.
He pulled her close so she was lying with her head on his chest. She could hear his heart thumping under her ear. She wrapped her arms round him and closed her eyes. So many things were wrongand uncomfortable but at that moment she wouldn’t have been anywhere else in the world.
‘How did you know I was in the water?’ she whispered.
‘I didn’t, but I’d seen you run out of the house earlier. I came to find you. I wanted see you were all right.’ His voice was deep and low; she could feel it rumble as well as hear it.
‘Why?’ It was hardly a spoken word, more a breath.
