From the wheelhouse, I see Chase dragging in the ropes that tie us to the dock. He turns and gives me the thumbs-up.
‘Stand by to reverse, Officer Amy.’ I clunk the silver lever into R. ‘Engine reversed, sir! Revolutions up. Oh, a bit more, kid.’ I feel the power lift quite substantially. ‘As we’re in a hurry.’
Slowly, the Solange draws backwards from the dock. Amy, standing on the dashboard, barks excitedly, her paws starting the windscreen wipers, which isn’t super-helpful.
‘Steady,’ I say, switching them off. ‘I have to work out the steering.’
Barges don’t have brakes, which I’ve just figured out. Nor do they seem to go in a straight line. But by turning the wheel to the left, or port, I somehow manage to have the Solange sitting with her black steel bow pointed to the open river. So I select Forward gear, lift the revs, and just as Amy turns on the sound system, Isobel appears. And it appears she’s furious.
‘What are you doing, George?’
‘That’s Captain George,’ I say. ‘And you’ll have to speak up. This Strauss waltz is rather loud. First Officer Amy just put it on.’
Da da da da dah! Duh-duh! Duh-duh!
Isobel turns off the music, which I was quite enjoying.
‘Stop the boat!’ Isobel yells. ‘Are you mad?’
I point to the dock, where Roland, Olga, and Katerina are running after us – hopelessly, it seems, thank goodness, because they all have wetsuits, flippers, knives, and spear guns.
‘I had no choice, Izzy.’ This is true. ‘Although I must say I’m enjoying it.’ This is also true. ‘Most people, at some point in their lives, Isobel, would like to run away to sea. So I’m killing two birds with one stone, which is a—’
From the dock, I can hear Roland.
‘You ztinking Gheorge Parkair boat burglair! I will ketch you zomewhair on zis magnifizent but treacher-rooz waterway zelebrated in zongs and tourizt broshurez! And zen ze reward will be mine and you will be nozzing but an ’orrible memory I will forget az zoon az pozzible.’
You won’t catch me, Rolly old chap, I think, as I steer the beautiful black barge downstream towards Normandy. Unless you’re a hell of a good swimmer.
‘Anyway, Isobel,’ I continue, ‘why don’t you go and put the kettle on?’
She slaps my arm. ‘If we ever get off this thing alive,’ she says. ‘You’re in big trouble.’
‘I’ll already be in big trouble,’ I say, ‘if I end up hitting the Pont de Sully bridge here, which was built in the year—’
‘Shut up, George!’ Isobel turns away. ‘I’m going downstairs. And you’d better work out what you’re doing and fast!’
I pull a face at First Officer Amy but keep quiet, even though I am the captain. And down the river we peacefully go, until I realise that Roland might get his hands on a boat that might be somewhat – or a lot – faster than ours. I increase the Solange’s speed, which suddenly seems very slow. Then, since a monstrous white tourist ferry is coming straight towards us, it seems rather rapid.
‘Hold on to your hats, ladies and gents,’ I say. ‘Hard a-port!’
Amy runs along the instrument panel, barking at the big white boat, and hits the music, the horn, and the heater.
‘Well, it’s all happening now,’ I mutter. ‘But don’t panic, kid. There’s no point.’
Chase’s smiling face appears in the wheelhouse. He looks rather impressed with what Amy and I are managing to do.
‘I have chocolate, Captain.’
‘Well done, Officer Chase.’ I’m getting the hang of steering the Solange now by anticipating the slow swinging of the barge’s bow. ‘It’ll keep our energy up and observation levels high.’
So Chase and I eat a block or two, and I must say it does seem to have hit the spot, because after we’ve listened to some cheerful German beer-drinking tunes, some soppy songs from Cats, and a few old favourite folksy foot-tappers from yesteryear, we say au revoir to the Eiffel Tower and bonjour to some brown and white cows!
‘Yes,’ says Chase with satisfaction, looking out over the dark green countryside, ‘we really are cruisin’!’
