All Aboard Page 6

  She stomped up towards the pub, and then realized she had no idea what she’d say. She needed to think, and that was exactly what she’d come here to do. She changed direction, passed The Sandpiper with a quick glance, fumbled her key in the lock and opened up the boat.

  She turned on the lights and the coffee machine, slipped off her coat and, waiting for the water to heat up, sat at one of the tables. Latte stood on the chair opposite, her front paws on the window, and barked at the towpath.

  ‘Ssshh, Latte,’ Summer said. ‘Pipe down.’

  Latte kept barking and Summer looked, her breath halting in her throat as she saw the figure approaching.

  ‘What is he doing here?’ She considered turning the lights off and hiding in the kitchen, but it was too late. Ross would have seen her car in the car park, even if he hadn’t spotted her yet.

  He raised a hand in greeting, and climbed across the plank and on to the bow deck, then pushed open the door.

  ‘Hey, Summer.’

  ‘Ross.’ Summer went to check the coffee machine. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘You said you weren’t going to make it into the shop today because you had to come here, so I thought I’d join you.’

  ‘It’s still early.’

  ‘You’re an early riser,’ he said. ‘We both know that.’ His short, chestnut hair was spiked with gel, a black, Diesel jacket open to reveal a slogan T-shirt that Summer couldn’t quite read.

  Summer nodded, swallowing down her anxiety. She had thought her need to come here would be a good – and not dishonest – way of putting Ross off, but she should have realized it would only encourage him.

  ‘This is smart,’ Ross said, appraising the café. ‘I can’t believe I haven’t seen it until now. I mean, I get why, after your mum died, but before that. Why have I never been to Willowbeck before?’

  ‘Do you want a drink?’

  ‘Cappuccino would be great, thanks.’ He moved slowly through the space, examining everything, his eyes lingering. He picked up the wooden heart and, giving Summer a quick glance, put it back down again. ‘Does it feel strange to be back?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Summer said. ‘I hadn’t imagined it, had never considered …’

  ‘I must admit,’ Ross said, leaning on the counter, ‘I was surprised when you mentioned it in your text. From everything you told me, I thought it would be too hard.’

  Summer frothed the milk. ‘It’s been different to how I imagined it,’ she said, raising her voice over the sound of the machine.

  ‘Different how?’

  ‘It was lovely seeing Valerie,’ Summer said. ‘She needed help, and it reminded me of everything good about this place, what it used to be like, and that it’s my responsibility now.’

  ‘It’s a long way away,’ Ross said, accepting his drink with a smile that crinkled his eyes.

  ‘It’s less than an hour.’

  ‘Yeah, but every day, Summer?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t be travelling if I—’ She stopped herself.

  ‘If you what? Moved aboard?’ Ross gave a gentle chuckle. ‘Come on, Summer. I was there, remember? I helped you deal with everything. Do you really think you’re ready for the upheaval of moving your whole life to Willowbeck? What about the co-op, your work, your flat? You’ve never run a café before.’

  ‘Yes, but the co-op’s a business, I help run it, so it wouldn’t all be completely alien to me. And I was here with Mum, so often.’

  ‘Yes, but with your mum, not doing it all alone. Look, Summer,’ Ross reached out and took her hand, ‘this is a big thing. You first came back here how long ago?’

  ‘A week.’ Summer tried to release her fingers, but Ross held them tightly.

  He shook his head. ‘It’s not enough time. And is it really you? Just because your mum loved it, doesn’t mean you have to follow in her footsteps. You’re an artist. I don’t know anything about boats, but surely something like this would go for quite a bit? You could get your own studio.’

  ‘I can’t just sell it.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I can’t leave it like this, when it’s floundering.’

  ‘So put it in someone else’s hands.’ Ross took her other hand and held them between his.

  ‘Ross—’

  ‘Give yourself some more time, at least. It’s a big decision.’

  ‘I know. I just …’ She turned at a skittering sound, and Latte started yelping, her high-pitched barks instantly joined by lower, gruffer sounds.

  ‘Hello? Summer, are you there?’

  Summer gasped. She hadn’t noticed him walking past the windows, she’d been too fixated on what Ross had been saying, but now Mason was standing in the doorway, wearing a chunky navy jumper and scuffed jeans. His camera was in place around his neck, and his eyes were trained on Summer’s hands, clasped between Ross’s.

  Summer wriggled out of Ross’s grasp. ‘Mason, come in. How are you? This is Ross.’

  ‘Hi,’ Mason said, holding out his hand.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Mason.’ Ross shook Mason’s hand and Summer turned away, watching as Archie and Latte sniffed and pawed at each other, Latte’s high-pitched barks expressing her delight at seeing the Border terrier again, her earlier wariness gone.

  ‘They like each other,’ Mason said, following Summer’s gaze.

  ‘You sound surprised.’

  ‘I’m surprised Archie’s not trying to assert his authority now that Latte’s less shy.’

  ‘Just because he doesn’t listen to you,’ Summer said.

  ‘Hey,’ Mason grinned, ‘Archie pays attention to me at least one time in five.’

  ‘But not when there’s bacon involved. Espresso?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘I could do with a top-up, too,’ Ross said.

  Summer took his mug and made the drinks, peering round the side of the machine at Mason and Ross.

  ‘You live in Willowbeck, then?’ Ross asked.

  Mason nodded. ‘I’m in the boat next door.’

  ‘That’s close,’ Ross muttered. ‘So you’re a bit of a traveller?’

  ‘Sometimes,’ Mason said, shrugging. ‘I feel settled in Willowbeck, though. It’s good for work, and now with Summer here and the café back on form, I’m not considering moving on any time soon.’

  Summer’s insides gave an involuntary flip and she hid her smile.

  ‘We were just talking about Summer selling the boat,’ Ross said.

  ‘What?’ Mason’s voice was loud, and Latte and Archie both stopped fussing and looked up at him.

  ‘Ross suggested it,’ Summer said quickly. ‘I haven’t decided what to do yet.’

  ‘But it makes sense,’ Ross said, accepting a fresh drink from her.

  ‘In what way?’ Summer could hear exasperation in Mason’s voice. ‘Summer, last weekend, when you were here, I’m not sure I can explain what a difference you made. I’m not just talking about this,’ he said, holding up his espresso cup. ‘You bring a new lease of life to the moorings. This boat, and what it offers, is an important part of what Willowbeck is. That may sound melodramatic, but I know I’m not the only one who feels that way.’

  Summer felt the warmth of his words, replayed the feel of his hand over hers only a few days before. But Ross, too, had made sense. Summer didn’t know if she could make this her dream, and if she couldn’t put everything into it, wasn’t it better that someone else had that opportunity?

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘for saying that. I just need some time to work out what’s best for me.’

  ‘You know I’m happy to talk it through, Summer.’ Ross downed his cappuccino, which Summer thought must still be too hot, and kissed her on the cheek.

  Summer shook her head. ‘I‘m not sure—’

  ‘I need to go and open up the shop, but I’ll call you later. Nice to meet you, Mason.’

  Summer watched him go. She could sense Mason’s eyes on her, but he held the silence until Ross was out of sight.r />
  ‘You’re really thinking of selling the café?’ His voice was soft, with no hint of accusation.

  ‘It’s just all so strange,’ Summer said. ‘I know Valerie wants me to come back, and I know the café can’t survive if someone doesn’t take it on properly, but I’m not sure I’m the right person.’

  ‘From what I’ve seen, you are exactly the right person.’ Mason moved close to her, and Summer held her breath. ‘Don’t decide right now – unless, of course, your decision now would be to stay. If you’re thinking about selling, then think a bit longer.’ His eyes flashed, breaking his serious expression.

  ‘Oh right,’ she said, smiling, ‘so I’m allowed to think about it until I come to the right decision?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Mason slipped past her and put his empty mug in the kitchen.

  ‘Customers aren’t supposed to go back there,’ Summer called. ‘You’re breaking the fourth wall! Anyway, why do you care so much?’

  Mason whistled. Archie looked up from where he lay, snuggled up with Latte against the counter, then closed his eyes again. ‘Archie, come!’

  Summer folded her arms and watched Mason physically untangle his dog from hers. ‘You were saying something about him listening to you?’

  Mason sighed. ‘This is obviously not one of those times. I care,’ he said, changing the subject, ‘because you have an espresso machine, and you make the best bacon sandwiches.’

  Summer’s throat dried out. ‘Anyone could run the café.’

  ‘I don’t want anyone to run it, I want you to run it.’ Holding on to Archie’s collar, he looked up at her. ‘I meant what I said, you’re a welcome addition to Willowbeck, and I’d be sad to see you go. But if you and Ross want a life elsewhere, then—’

  ‘Oh no,’ Summer said quickly. ‘It’s nothing to do with Ross.’

  ‘Then promise me you’ll think about it,’ Mason said. Archie struggled out of his grip and raced out on to the deck. Mason called after his dog and followed him out, and Summer felt Latte bump against her ankles.

  ‘I promise,’ she said, scooping the dog into her arms. ‘I promise I’ll think about it.’

  After a quiet morning of baking and serving, Summer brought in the blackboard and pulled the connecting plank on to the deck of the boat. She went through to the back, wondering how long it had been since it had moved from its mooring. It was probably over eight months ago, and the thought of her mum being the last person at the helm both steeled and scared her.

  She went to the controls, disengaged the gearbox and opened the throttle slightly. She turned the key, and checked that all the ignition lights came on – they did – and she turned the key further, closing her eyes in a silent prayer. It took a moment, but the engine burst to life, giving its deep, growly thrum. She set it on tick-over, moved slowly up the boat and tied a centre rope. Then she went through and untied the other ropes, the process that her mum had taught her coming instantly back to her. She untied the centre rope, stepped back on board at the stern, and took the engine out of tick-over.

  Summer pushed away from the bank and slowly manoeuvred The Canal Boat Café away from its mooring, away from The Sandpiper and Moonshine, the wake of her boat reaching theirs. She steered out, straightened up, and took her boat slowly up the river, ducks swimming out of her way, the rich smell of vegetation reaching her despite the cold.

  She’d forgotten how beautiful the river was. She passed beneath the brick bridge, keeping her steering as slow as possible. As she moved away from Willowbeck, the river widened, trees stooped over the water in their leafless nakedness, the landscape beyond fields and woods, no other sign of life. A heron stood, motionless at the bank, poised for a silver flash of breakfast beneath the surface. Summer breathed in and out, filling her lungs with the river air, absorbing the peacefulness, the steady, gentle chug of her boat.

  Latte sat close to her at the stern, a constant companion, unused to the boat’s movement, the strange new way of being. Summer passed familiar signs as a stretch of towpath emerged to her left, the benches alongside painted different colours – purple, then yellow, then green. A tiny shack that, she remembered being told, had once housed a river warden, employed to look out for boatmen in trouble on the water, and warn them about the upcoming locks. Now it was dilapidated, ivy snaking through the doorway and window, prising a hole between the body of the hut and the roof.

  She passed another narrowboat painted different shades of blue, a man in a black windbreaker at the helm. He nodded at her, and she waved back, the smile coming easily. The river widened further, and Summer steered her boat over to the towpath, slowed the engine and brought it to a halt. She tied up the central rope, and then secured it with ropes at the stern and the bow, attaching them to the mooring posts. She climbed up on to the roof of the boat, realizing first that it needed a good clean and then, soon afterwards, that she didn’t care. Pulling the hood of her jacket up over her hair, she lay down, staring up into a sky of shifting grey clouds, passing quickly above her, the afternoon sun trying to peer through.

  Summer tried to empty her mind, and as soon as she did, the questions came flooding in. Would her work suffer if she was responsible for the café as well? Could she really run it with help from Valerie, encouragement from Harry and Mason and not much else? She didn’t think she could do justice to the wonderful place The Canal Boat Café had become under her mum’s vibrant management, but could she do something else, something that was all of her own making? Or was Ross right, should she sell up and move on? Was it too difficult, with Jenny so against her? She could have all the reassurances and supposed messages that Valerie was prepared to channel from her mum, but Summer had to be comfortable with what she was doing or, she knew, she would run away at the first hurdle. Was she strong enough?

  She heard a high, familiar peeping sound and sat up just in time to see the flash of orange and blue as a kingfisher dived past on its way down the river. Summer smiled. Her favourite bird, and one that was almost commonplace on the quiet stretches of river. She never tired of seeing them.

  The sight took her thoughts back to Mason, and his passion for photography, his love of wildlife. She wanted to know more about what he did, she wanted to see his photographs, but to do that she had to be in Willowbeck, running the café.

  ‘Excuse me?’ A loud voice brought her out of her reverie. ‘Are you open?’

  Summer sat up, and peered down at the towpath. A couple were standing, parkas zipped up, eyes narrowed against the cold.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you.’ The woman, in her forties and with long auburn hair, pointed at the side of her boat. ‘Are you open? We could both do with a cup of tea, something to warm us up. We’ve been a bit ambitious with our walk, and we might be blocks of ice before we make it back to our hotel.’

  ‘Of course,’ Summer said, pulling Latte to her and scrambling down to the deck. ‘I don’t have many cakes left,’ she said, ‘but I can do you a coffee or tea.’

  ‘We’d best keep going,’ the man said, ‘or we’ll get too warm and never want to leave. But a hot drink would be a marvel.’

  Summer switched the café lights on and led the way to the counter, Latte close at her feet. ‘It’ll just need a couple of minutes to heat the water,’ she said, switching on the coffee machine, ‘please come in.’

  ‘That’ll give us a chance to warm up too,’ the woman said, rubbing her hands together and looking about her. ‘Are you anything to do with the café at Willowbeck?’

  Summer stared at her. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘There’s a café on a narrowboat a little way down the river, in a beautiful place called Willowbeck. Our friends live close by, and they’re always going on about how lovely it is. Apparently it’s had a few problems, but they’re hopeful it’ll be back in the spring.’

  ‘I, uhm … I’m usually moored in Willowbeck.’

  The woman gazed at her, wide-eyed. ‘You are that boat. I did wonder – they said the tables were painted blue. Have you move
d on?’

  ‘No, I’m just here for the afternoon. It’s been a while since I saw this part of the river.’

  ‘And we’ve interrupted you?’ the man chimed in. ‘We’re so sorry.’

  ‘It’s not a problem at all. It’s lovely to hear that the café’s had such a good reputation.’

  ‘Had?’ the woman prompted.

  Summer busied herself making the tea. ‘There have been a few changes recently, and I need to make some decisions.’

  ‘Well, don’t leave Willowbeck, that’s all I’ll say. Jeff and Annie will be devastated if you close and we’ll never hear the end of it.’

  ‘They can’t face the cakes at that pub on the corner,’ the woman added. ‘Apparently it’s a strange cross between a bistro pub and a boutique patisserie. No charm, all a bit bland.’

  ‘I heard the cakes were really good.’ Summer tried to sound matter-of-fact.

  ‘No point in good cakes if they don’t come with a smile,’ the woman said, gratefully accepting a steaming takeaway cup. ‘I think this might be the most welcome cuppa I’ve ever had.’

  Summer laughed. ‘You’re welcome to stay for a while. I’ve got a couple of cupcakes left, and it’s warm in here at least.’

  ‘We’d better be off, pet, or we’ll want to move aboard.’ The man shook her hand. ‘We’ll come and see you in Willowbeck though, with Jeff and Annie.’

  The woman bent to stroke Latte, who was showing interest in them now that they were about to depart, and then zipped her coat back up.

  ‘That would be lovely,’ Summer said. She watched them go, bracing against the cold as they pushed open the door. ‘And I can’t very well let them down now, can I?’ she said to Latte. The little dog looked up at her expectantly, and then settled on a chair and looked out of the window, one paw on the glass. ‘At the very least, I have to get the café ready for spring, even if someone else is going to run it.’ She went to the stern, started up the boat, undid the ropes and began the slow, cautious process of turning it round. She was going to take her mum’s boat back to Willowbeck, and then she was going to start making plans.