All Aboard Page 3

  ‘It must have been lonely here, since Mum died.’ It hurt Summer to say the words, but over the last few hours she’d realized that if she couldn’t even say it, then she couldn’t do anything about the boat’s predicament with any kind of conviction.

  ‘I have my readings,’ Valerie said into her coffee. ‘And I’ve been serving customers, however ineffectively. Mr Dawson from the village gets a latte on his way to work, strolling along the towpath in his suit, and passing boaters are always friendly, commenting on the colour of Moonshine.’

  ‘Dark lavender’s a beautiful colour,’ Summer admitted. ‘And unusual for a narrowboat. But even so, with the pub being so hostile – do you ever go in there?’

  ‘Sometimes, when I want a hot meal and I haven’t got the energy to cook. I have no grudge with them, and as I said, Dennis is always amicable, and the other staff are pleasant enough.’

  ‘But Norman’s a bit reclusive, so I guess down here …’ She looked out of the window as a couple of mallards swam past, the drake’s green feathers glinting in the sun. ‘Who’s in The Sandpiper? That wasn’t here before.’

  ‘Oh that’s Mason,’ Valerie said looking up, her face brightening. ‘He’s very nice.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘He’s some nature buff, goes around hunting for birds and geese.’

  Summer wrinkled her nose. ‘Like a twitcher?’

  ‘It’s his job – he writes and takes photos for magazines. He’s got a strong aura, good and kind.’

  ‘Right,’ Summer said. ‘Sounds like he’s companionable then.’

  ‘Oh he is – a bright spark.’

  There was a knocking at the hatch and Summer jumped up, ready to serve a customer, and then realized the customer was a beautiful silver tabby. The cat jumped elegantly down into the café and Summer scooped him up so that his face was pressed against her cheek, his purring loud in her ear.

  ‘Harvey,’ she said, ‘oh I’ve missed you.’ She grinned and returned to the table, the cat content in her arms. ‘How are they?’

  ‘Good,’ Valerie said. ‘Harvey’s going through a phase of trying to catch moths, which is never a good idea on a boat. And after what happened to his brother, too.’

  ‘No!’ Summer said, and then directed her attention to the cat. “That’s a very silly thing to do, isn’t it, Harvey?” Harvey closed his eyes in contentment. ‘How’s Mike?’

  Mike was Harvey’s brother. A smaller cat, he had fallen into the river as a kitten, and been rescued by Valerie jumping alarmingly in after him, a frantic Ophelia with her red hair streaming out behind her.

  ‘He’s fine,’ Valerie said. ‘Though he’s never recovered his adventurous spark after that incident.’ She reached out and stroked Harvey’s silky fur. ‘He does sometimes surprise my clients, snoozing on the sofa until halfway through a reading, when he’ll pop his head up and meow, or jump on to their laps. It’s not entirely professional, but I can’t bear to move him. His world is my boat, and I’m not going to limit him further. And Harvey’s adventurous enough for both of them. Not averse to trying out other people’s boats if a window or door has been left open.’

  ‘God, I wonder if he’s got on to Norman’s boat. If only you could talk,’ Summer said, rubbing the fur between Harvey’s eyes.

  ‘His latest thing is antagonizing Mason’s dog,’ Valerie said, sighing.

  ‘What kind of dog has he got?’ Summer asked, feeling a pang of longing at the thought of Latte, alone in her flat.

  Valerie waved her hand. ‘Smallish, scruffy. A bit of a terror if you ask me, though I wouldn’t say it to Mason’s face. I’ve caught Harvey screeching at him, tail puffed out, more than once, but the dog always comes back for more – as if he enjoys it.’

  Summer couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Sounds like a pretty straightforward relationship to me.’

  Valerie gave her a curious look. ‘Do you know what, Summer Freeman? That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh since you’ve been back here.’

  Summer opened her mouth, but her lack of response was forgotten as there was a gentle rat-a-tat at the serving hatch, this time from a human visitor rather than a feline one.

  ‘Hello? Any chance of a cuppa? My hands are freezing.’ A face appeared and Valerie rushed to greet the customer, an older gentleman with a shock of white hair and a brown jacket zipped up to the neck, and Summer slipped back to the kitchen to carry on with her scones. As she rubbed the mixture between her fingers, she realized how much she’d shut herself off, and how unfair that had been to Valerie. At least she didn’t seem too lonely, was able to go in the pub and had a new, friendly neighbour, even if he did sound a little on the geeky side.

  Summer put the scones in the oven and looked at her watch. It was two o’clock, and realistically the café would only be open until four. Summer glanced again at the doorway into the living room and shuddered. She didn’t want to admit to being spooked out – it was just a couple of empty rooms – but she had to be away from the boat before it got dark. She chided herself, wished again that she had Latte’s uncomplicated companionship, and started clearing up.

  She remembered that she had mentioned her bacon rolls to Norman, and decided that if he wasn’t prepared to come to them – and she hadn’t really expected him to – then she would take one to him. She’d surprised herself by how much she’d enjoyed seeing Valerie again, as well as getting back into baking, and part of her knew that this couldn’t be a one-off, not if she wanted the café to survive. Maybe she could come back every other weekend. Regardless, she wanted Jenny and the people of Willowbeck to know The Canal Boat Café was back in business, and getting Norman onside seemed like a good place to start.

  She fried some more bacon, sliced open a crusty roll and finished it with a dollop of ketchup.

  ‘Do you know what coffee Norman likes? I can’t remember.’

  Valerie smiled. ‘He thinks coffee is a new-fangled invention. He only ever drinks tea.’

  Summer’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, that’s right! I wonder what would happen if I took him a spiced gingerbread latte with whipped cream and cinnamon sprinkles?’

  ‘He’d throw it in the river.’

  ‘I’ll take him a tea, then.’

  She banged on the door at the bow deck, concerned that the bacon roll would be cold by the time he got it. She couldn’t hear anything, so she knocked again. Eventually, she heard a whumph, and a couple of bangs, and then the door opened an inch.

  ‘What?’ Norman asked.

  ‘I brought you a bacon roll and a tea. It’s a welcome back gift, and I thought it’d warm you up a bit.’

  ‘I’ve not be’n anywhere. Always be’n here.’

  ‘No, I meant me.’ Summer frowned. ‘So I suppose it’s not welcome back, but nice to see you.’

  ‘Y’said that earlier.’

  ‘I’m saying it again. It is nice to see you. How have things been?’

  ‘Did y’say that’s bacon?’ Norman eyed the roll, wrapped in a couple of napkins, warily.

  Summer nodded. ‘From the butcher, so it’s really good.’

  Norman’s gaze angled up, scrutinizing Summer. ‘All right,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘All right, I’ll take it.’ He held his hands out, and Summer put the cardboard cup and the bacon roll into them.

  ‘Enjoy,’ she said brightly, despite the fact he had made her feel like he was doing her a favour.

  His head moved in what could almost be a nod of thanks, then he went inside and shut the door.

  Summer sighed and hugged her arms around her. The sun was starting to descend, and it was getting colder. She was surprised that, as far as she could see, the river remained unfrozen. She jumped down from the deck of Celeste, and walked slowly past The Sandpiper. There was a light on inside now, and Summer resisted the urge to press her face against the window. Mason, the nature journalist. She couldn’t imagine the stories he wrote ever got really dramatic – herons decimating local koi carp c
olonies in residential ponds, the arrival of a rare wading bird from Africa – but living on a boat would get him closer to nature, and if she was honest, she’d love to see some of the photos.

  She was almost back at the boat when there was a commotion from inside, raised voices – Valerie’s and one other – and a dog barking. She picked up her pace and had almost reached the deck when a stocky, scruffy terrier raced past her, with what looked like a large chunk of bacon in its mouth.

  ‘Is that our—’ she started, as a man shot through the door and almost collided with her, grabbing her by the arms just in time.

  ‘Sorry! That’s my dog, he’s just stolen Valerie’s bacon and I need to …’ but his words faded as the dog, clearly deciding against its escape, trotted back and stood in front of him, the bacon sticking out of its mouth. The man loosened his grip on Summer and crouched down, appraising his dog as if unsure what the next step was. The dog’s dark eyes were bright with mischief, its tail wagging constantly, defiant in front of its owner. The man sighed and then, to Summer’s surprise, lifted up the camera that was hanging round his neck, trained it on his dog, and took a photo.

  Summer stared at them, her mouth open.

  ‘Drop it, Archie,’ he said. ‘Now.’

  Archie didn’t let go of the bacon.

  ‘Archie,’ the man said, a warning in his voice. He held his hand out.

  Archie moved further away.

  ‘Archie,’ he repeated, more forcefully this time. The terrier hesitated, looked up at Summer and then dropped the chunk of bacon, complete with dog-drool, into his owner’s hand.

  The man stared at it for a moment, murmured something to his dog that Summer couldn’t quite hear and then stood.

  ‘I’m sorry for running into you,’ he said.

  Summer shook her head, trying to ignore the ruined bacon he was holding. ‘No, it’s—’

  “Oh, Summer,” Valerie said, hurrying out to join them on the deck. ‘You’ve met Mason, then? I’m sorry it’s not an ideal introduction.’

  Mason gave her a sharp look, and Summer gawped. ‘This is Mason?’

  ‘Why are you surprised?’ Mason asked. ‘What’ve you heard about me? I’m so sorry about Archie. I had no idea you were …’ His words trailed off, and he looked at her, his eyes narrowing. Summer couldn’t help but do the same.

  His eyes were dark and, as Valerie had indicated, seemed kind despite the situation. They were framed by dark brows and his face, in turn, was framed by a halo of near-black curls, unruly and teased-out. Summer wondered how soft they were, and resisted the urge to reach out and tug a few strands. He wore a washed-out denim jacket over a white T-shirt and dark jeans, a green wool scarf his only concession to the cold. The camera round his neck was chrome and black, modern, but styled like a vintage Leica. It looked expensive.

  ‘So you’re Summer,’ he said eventually, echoing her words.

  ‘You’ve heard about me too,’ Summer said, her mouth drying out. She knew Valerie would have been kind, but she was pretty sure the true story, that she had abandoned her mum’s boat and best friend when they needed her most, could be inferred from whatever Valerie had told him.

  ‘A bit,’ Mason admitted, glancing at Valerie. ‘Just in passing,’ he added, ‘when I get a coffee.’

  ‘And this is Archie?’ The dog was panting gently, still waiting to be congratulated for his find, or perhaps have it returned to him now it was clearly unfit for human consumption. ‘Valerie said he was a bit of a terror.’

  ‘Summer,’ Valerie hissed.

  Mason glanced at Valerie and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Really? He’s cheeky, but he’s not usually this much of a pain – but then you’ve never had bacon at the café before. I was actually coming to ask if I could get a roll, but,’ he looked at his dog, ‘I guess that won’t be happening now.’

  ‘Why did you take a photo of him? Do you catalogue all his errors?’

  Mason shrugged. ‘I like taking photos. It’s not Archie’s finest moment, but it made a good photo.’

  Summer shook her head and started to laugh, but Valerie put her hand on her arm.

  ‘I think he got through to the back of the boat.’

  ‘What?’ Summer inhaled.

  ‘I’m not sure the door was shut.’

  ‘Mum’s things.’ She slipped past Valerie and hurried through the café, into the kitchen and then, without allowing herself time to think, pushed the door fully open and stepped into the living area. She turned the light on, blinked, and reached out to touch a shelf. There was no visible disruption by Mason’s dog, because there was nothing to disrupt.

  The room was bare. The furniture was still there, the sofa and the built-in cupboards, but the trinkets, the cushions, the photographs were all gone. Everything that had made the space her mum’s had been taken. There was nothing of her left. Summer rushed ahead, into the berth. The bed had been stripped, the photo Madeleine had above the headboard, of the three of them – Mum, Summer and her brother Ben – was missing. In the tiny bathroom at the end, the cabinet was empty, the towels and bathmat gone, no rubber duck on the basin.

  It could have been any boat.

  She went back to the living room, feeling the pinch in her nose that meant tears weren’t far away. She hadn’t wanted to come in here, but she had never imagined it would be completely stripped of her mum’s memory. Mason was standing next to the sofa, looking slowly round him, rubbing the side of his face.

  ‘Has he done much damage?’

  Dazed, she shook her head. ‘Where’s Valerie?’

  ‘There was a customer.’

  ‘You need to keep your dog on a lead,’ she said, shrugging past him.

  Mason followed her. ‘He’s usually well behaved. The bacon just got him over-excited.’

  ‘Valerie,’ Summer said, ‘where are Mum’s things? Why is it like that?’ She heard the crack in her voice and inwardly cursed herself.

  Valerie turned from the hatch, frowning. ‘Ben cleared it out.’

  ‘What? When?’

  ‘Straight after the funeral. I know things were … you didn’t want to come back here, and so I assumed you’d agreed for him to sort it out. We kept the kitchen fully stocked, for the café, but the rest he said he’d get rid of. I left you a message, I assumed you’d discussed it.’

  ‘I had no idea. There were things …’ She shook her head. Could she be angry at Ben? She’d never have dreamed of doing it so soon, but equally he would never consider leaving things this late to deal with. Summer had assumed that he and their dad had shown so little interest in the boat that they would never come here, and that everything would be preserved until Summer chose to look at it. And she hadn’t listened to Valerie’s messages. As with everything else, she’d chosen denial, and was now having to deal with the consequences.

  ‘I’m sure Ben’s kept the special things,’ Valerie said, rubbing her arm. ‘Why not give him a call? I know Maddy was happy that he did it, that her belongings didn’t linger too long, dusty and unloved. It’s ready for a new owner now, a new beginning.’ Valerie gave Summer a pointed look. ‘Maddy wants that more than anything.’

  Summer stepped back, right into Mason, catching a whiff of citrus and vanilla aftershave before moving quickly away. ‘How do you know that, Valerie? How do you know my mum agreed with Ben? She’s dead! She can’t agree, or approve, or disapprove of anything, however much you want her to.’

  Valerie’s eyes went wide, like saucers. ‘But Summer, her presence—’

  ‘Her presence isn’t here,’ Summer said, the anger stoking inside her, ‘she’s not here, Valerie. There isn’t anything of her left!’

  ‘I feel her.’ Valerie held a hand to her chest. ‘And if you’d just let me talk to her for you—’

  ‘No,’ Summer said. ‘No, I won’t. It’s not possible.’ She put her coat on too quickly, her hand getting stuck in the arm.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Home. I’m going back home, to m
y flat and my dog and my life. It’s better now,’ she said gesturing around her, ‘we’ve sorted some of it out. You’ll be fine.’

  ‘Summer,’ Valerie said aghast, ‘of course I won’t. This place can’t survive without you.’

  ‘Sure it can.’

  ‘You’re coming back tomorrow, though?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear me?’ Summer said, her gaze darting from Valerie to Mason, who was standing against the window, his face impassive but his eyes fixed on her. She felt a flash of embarrassment, knowing this was all wrong, that it wasn’t Valerie’s fault and she was coming across badly. It doused her anger, but didn’t change her mind. ‘I’m going back to my life,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Please come back,’ Valerie said. ‘I’m not against begging.’

  ‘I could do with a bacon sandwich tomorrow,’ Mason said, ‘seeing as I didn’t get one today.’

  ‘You don’t need me – you’ve got all the bacon.’ Summer picked up her handbag and walked outside, closing the door behind her. In the dying light, she saw that Mason had tied Archie’s lead to the side of the boat. She crouched and stroked the terrier, who looked up at her with big brown eyes and tried to lick her hand. ‘That was cruel, wasn’t it?’ she said. ‘Will you tell Mason I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at him.’

  ‘You’re forgiven,’ said a voice behind her. She turned to see Mason in the doorway, almost smiling. ‘I deserve the worst you can give, after what Archie did. The bacon’s in the bin – let me buy some more tomorrow and I can cook for you, make it up to you.’

  Summer stood and looked at him, finding it difficult to turn away. His voice was soft, with no hint of an accent. She could tell, from the way he spoke, that he was an infinitely patient person, but it was more than that. His hair was wild, his appearance on her boat had been shambolic, and he couldn’t seem to control his dog, but there was something compelling about him, a directness and depth in his eyes that she found hard to ignore. She wanted to know more about him.

  ‘I have to go,’ she said quietly. She moved towards the towpath, her gaze drawn to a white box that sat against the deck wall. She opened it, her anger returning at the red velvet cake inside. She picked it up and thrust it at Mason. ‘Here, enjoy – with the compliments of Jenny. Maybe you could take a photo of it before you eat it.’ She looked up at the pub, but in the gloom could see nothing beyond the glow of the lit windows. She knew she’d be watching, though, delighting in her joke, which may as well have been a ‘Get out of town’ poster.