Later that evening, Matt wound down the window of his ancient Mini to let in the cool night air. After leaving the pub, the four of them had enjoyed a very good, if extortionately priced meal at Grantley Manor. Robert had paid, which had made the food taste even better, but Matt had still felt uncomfortable. Spending so much on feeding just four people felt wrong, but it wasn’t only his social conscience that was bothering him. Natasha had been regaling him with gossip about the Carrie-Huw-Fenella thing for most of the evening.
‘Of course, this was where Huw had booked the reception for his wedding to that girl,’ she’d said as soon as they’d set foot in the oak-paneled foyer of Grantley Manor.
‘Really?’ Matt gritted his teeth but it had taken him some time to steer the girls off the subject.
He’d wondered, too many times, whether he should have interfered that day at the church. After all, Carrie was entitled to do what she wanted; he wasn’t her keeper. He admired her feistiness, her spark, and her guts and he didn’t blame her for being mad with Huw either.
She hated him now, and he could understand that. He’d hate someone who had seen him in that state: raw and upset. Slightly deranged too, he thought with a smile. No wonder she was angry and awkward with him. That was why he hadn’t stood up for her in the beer garden, why he’d kept his mouth shut this time and let her fight her own battles.
By the time the waiters had brought the first course, Matt had been determined to force any thoughts of Carrie from his mind, despite the fact that Natasha gossiped about her for most of the evening, and by the end of the night, he’d actually found he was rather enjoying himself. He’d dropped Robert and Bryony off at his brother’s house in Summertown and then surprised Natasha by sailing past the flat and heading towards the city.
He had the perfect antidote to his guilty conscience about Carrie.
‘Oh, are we going clubbing? Or for a cocktail at Quod?’ asked Natasha.
‘That isn’t quite what I had in mind. Close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you.’
‘Can I look yet?’ she begged from the passenger seat. ‘I can’t wait much longer.’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Matt, flicking the indicator to turn left off the main road.
‘Oh please.’
‘Not long now.’
The Mini trundled happily between the parked cars and bicycles that lined either side of the quiet north Oxford street. It was midnight but it was also midsummer and not properly dark. The orange glow of streetlights combined with the moon shining down from an almost cloudless sky lent the houses and trees a strange gilded quality. Matt was glad of the twilight because he couldn’t have done what he was planning if it had been pitch dark.
‘Matt,’ pleaded Natasha, almost bouncing up and down in her seat.
He grinned. ‘Patience.’
Seeing the gates of the boathouse ahead, he managed to squeeze the Mini into a space between a scooter and some yellow lines, then got out and opened the door for Natasha. ‘Okay. You can look now.’
She took her hands from her face and seemed puzzled. ‘Oh.’
‘I thought we’d take a stroll in the moonlight,’ said Matt.
‘A stroll?’
‘Yes. What did you think we were going to do?’
He almost laughed at her disappointment but took her hand and led her between the stone pillars and into the grounds. The river glittered in the distance. It had been years since he’d been there, but like so many things in Oxford, virtually nothing had changed. The boathouse was shuttered and dark. The water was dappled silver in the moonlight, fringed with tiny eddies where black willow trees dipped their branches into the water. Dozens of shallow wooden punts were moored side by side against the duckboard jetty. A few were half drawn up a stone slipway next to a wall.
Stepping into one, Matt rearranged the seat cushions into a makeshift bed.
‘Oh my word. Now I see what you have in mind,’ said Natasha.
Matt took off his jacket and laid it on the cushions. ‘I’m afraid it’s a bit damp in here, but there’s not a lot I can do about that.’
‘I think I can cope,’ said Natasha. She was purring again, which he took to be a promising sign.
The punt wobbled a little as he helped her climb inside, barefoot. Natasha let out a giggle.
‘What’s up?’
‘Have you seen the number of this punt?’
‘What?’ Matt glanced at the figures painted on the back of the seat. ‘Sixty-nine. How appropriate. I hope we can live up to it.’
He kissed her, softly and deeply, and started to unbutton the front of her dress, knowing she had no bra on underneath and that her golden breasts would spill out. But Natasha clamped her fingers firmly over his hand. ‘Now, Minty, slow down. I want to make the most of this.’
He propped himself up on one elbow, watching her open her tiny evening bag. He guessed what was coming next, and sure enough, she drew out a wrap of white powder and held it out to him, licking her lips seductively. Matt had been offered almost everything in his time, including some substances he didn’t think Natasha could possibly imagine existed, but he managed to look surprised nonetheless.
‘Tasha. You disappoint me. There’s no need for that,’ he said sternly.
‘Now don’t be a bore, Minty. I didn’t have you down as one of the thought police. You know how amazing this could be.’
He kissed her lips softly. ‘It will be amazing. But there’s no need for you to waste that when I’ve got a much more exciting alternative.’
Her green eyes shone like a cat’s in the moonlight as he slid his fingers into the inside pocket of his jacket. He could hear her breathing quicken as he pulled out a twist of brown paper. Inside were two pieces of twig.
She seemed confused.
‘I promised you amazing. You’re going to get amazing,’ said Matt.
‘Is this from… from the jungle?’
He winked. ‘Well, it’s not from the local pharmacy, I can tell you that.’
‘What’s in it? Nothing made from the blood of cockroaches or anything like that, I hope!’
Matt smiled and ran his finger along her leg, and she shivered. He slid his hand under the hem of her dress until he reached the top of her thigh, which confirmed his diagnosis that she wasn’t wearing any knickers.
‘Tasha, if you want an extraordinary experience, you have to be prepared to go to extraordinary lengths. Now, just close your eyes and open your mouth.’
As he broke off a tiny piece of bark and placed it on her tongue, the warmth of her mouth around his finger made him realize he had no need of stimulants. He couldn’t wait much longer.
‘Do I shwallow or sthuck?’ mumbled Natasha.
‘Chew. I’ll take some too. Now lie back and try and relax.’
‘What will it do?’
He smiled. ‘Wait and see.’
Some time later, Matt lay gazing up at the stars as Natasha regained her breath. He knew they’d have to leave soon; it was a miracle no one had heard them before, the noise she’d made as he’d made love to her the second time. The first time she’d expressed her pleasure by digging her nails into his backside until he’d almost squealed himself.
‘What the fack was that stuff?’ she demanded as they got dressed. ‘And please, please, can I have some more? That was the most amazing shag I’ve ever had, and you, Minty, were enormous, if you don’t mind me saying. I want every time to be like that.’
Matt patted her bottom. ‘I can’t tell you. In fact, no one really knows. I was given them by some tribal elder and he said he’d have to shoot me with a poisoned arrow if I found out the ingredients.’
‘Facking hell!’
‘Quite. I didn’t dare bring any more through customs. Now, you’re getting cold. Shall we go and have a coffee?’
‘Just a coffee?’ said Natasha, her face crestfallen.
He kissed her as he ushered her into the car, trying not to laugh. He’d known the so-called herbal aphrodisiac he’d given her couldn’t possibly work, but Natasha had believed it would give her the shag of a lifetime and that was all that mattered. ‘You’ve had more than the recommended dose already, I’m afraid. If we do it again, I’ll have to give it to you straight. You’ll have to make do with the ordinary variety.’