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As we passed Limehouse, Amanda gave a nervous glance towards an ocean-going junk that was moored there. I suspected that, for a moment at least, she imagined she was about to be consigned to the fate that she had fantasised for herself so many times, but we soon left the Hong Kong company's wharf behind us.The car hissed to a stop at Island Gardens, a most inappropriately named stop, I feel. The small park was in shadow from the great forest of masts of the ships moored in the river. The road alongside was noisy with the toing and froing of numerous trucks carrying their cargoes on to the rail yards to the north. I ushered the girls towards the domed housing over the entrance to Sir Alexander Binnie's foot tunnel[1] under the river to Greenwich. They had evidently never heard of the footway and seemed surprised when we emerged on the southern riverside to be greeted by Sir Bristow on the steps of the Royal Naval College.Ngoya Mbute was standing behind him. She was dressed in a cream. I’d always thought that my wife was mostly sensible and level-headed – and now she was spouting complete drivel. Maybe she had scrambled her brain on that closet door.“Helen, how the heck do you work THAT one out?”“I was afraid that you were getting bored with making love with me! We were both so inexperienced when we met, and I’ve never been with anyone else, so I don’t know all the ways to please you. I was worried that we might be missing out, that our loving might be getting too vanilla, so I wanted to see what I could learn.”I exhaled loudly to show my disbelief. I guess the expression on my face didn’t look too sympathetic, either.“It’s true, sweetie! It was only sex, I was doing it out of curiosity. You’re the one I love, the one I wanted to learn to please.”I snorted. I’d been with only a couple of girls before I’d started dating Helen, and we’d been learning together since we’d tied the knot. Okay, we weren’t doing some of the extreme sexual athletics that porn stars do, but.
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