Page 4 of Fire Must Burn

‘The pound isn’t good enough for the Portuguese? The nerve of those people! First they sit out the war, then this. If I didn’t like pineapples so much, I would boycott them on principle.’

‘It’s too bad those mystery planters on top of your boat didn’t hold any pineapple trees,’ said Gwen.

‘True, but the tomatoes have been spectacular, at least. Unfortunately, the birds have discovered them, and I don’t have any netting to keep them away. If you hadn’t sent your son to the country for the summer, I would hire him as a human scarecrow.’

‘A job jumping up and down, waving his arms and screaming all day would have been perfect for Ronnie,’ said Gwen.

The two women were walking back to Maida Vale from their offices in Mayfair where they ran The Right Sort Marriage Bureau. It was a late Wednesday afternoon in early July, and the air was cool and damp, though it wasn’t raining at the moment. Nevertheless, the ladies had their umbrellas with them. Gwen’s was a recent purchase from a speciality shop recommended to her by her martial arts tutor, and she was still self-conscious about carrying it, with the extra weight in the handle more of a distraction than a reassurance.

‘It sounds so strange to have a Minister of Food,’ continued Iris. ‘Something so basic shouldn’t be controlled by politicians.Next thing you know they’ll create a Ministry of Air and start rationing oxygen. I don’t like Strachey in the job. All he knows about food is eating it. Hell, if that’s a qualification they should make me Undersecretary of Wine.’

‘I promise to vote for you when you stand for election,’ said Gwen.

‘Strachey’s sister was Principal at Newnham when I was there. I can’t tell you how many times she nearly caught me on the Clough Hall roof. I dislike the entire family.’

‘At least he’s relaxed some of the restrictions on wedding cakes. That will be good for business. I thought the one at the Haights’ reception was quite yummy.’

‘That was a nice wedding,’ said Iris. ‘And a quick engagement. Well done, us!’

There had been a plethora of weddings in June, and each resulted in the prompt payment of the contractual bounty the couples owed for being matched so well. As a result, the firm was financially flush after a lean stretch over the winter. They had taken advantage of their new stability to institute reduced summer hours, even planning for holidays in August, their first since they began the enterprise the previous year.

‘What’s the latest on your landlord?’ asked Gwen. ‘Or should I call him a waterlord?’

‘His parents are still ailing, so he continues to reside in Yorkshire for the near future,’ said Iris. ‘I wish them a full recovery, but not a speedy one. I am enjoying the narrowboat life.’

‘Are you looking for any place for after he returns?’ asked Gwen. ‘Perhaps something fixed to the earth’s surface?’

‘Not until it’s absolutely necessary. May I tell you a secret?’

‘Of course.’

‘I’ve been taking piloting lessons with Casper, my neighbour.’

‘Piloting? You mean narrowboat piloting? Don’t you need some form of licence to do that?’

‘Apparently not,’ said Iris. ‘Not that the lack of a licence ever stopped me from driving anything, but that’s a whole collection of thrilling tales.’

‘Which I don’t want to hear. But are you actually planning to take your boat out into the wild?’

‘I think it would be great fun. See England at my own pace, not tied to railway schedules. Since the war ended, the narrowboat traffic on the canals has dropped considerably, so I might be able to manage it without bumping into anything important. And I’d be taking my whole digs with me, so apart from fuel and the overnight mooring fees, it would be quite economical.’

‘But you’d be alone the entire time.’

‘I’ve been alone for a while now,’ said Iris sombrely. ‘It’s been six months since Archie died. I’m not ready yet to look for the next disastrous relationship with a man, and despiteThe Friendly Young Ladiesaspects of the setting, I’d rather not bring any female companions aboard, either.’

She sighed.

‘What?’ asked Gwen.

‘I’m turning thirty soon.’

‘I know. We should celebrate.’

‘Celebrate what? The fulfilment of my mother’s predictions? That I would be alone at thirty if I didn’t change my wicked ways?’

‘When did she say that?’

‘When she caught me sneaking a boy into the house while I thought she was out handing out pamphlets.’