All Aboard

by Cressida McLaughlin

  Two weeks later, Summer had reduced her necessary possessions to a large hold-all and a cardboard box, and was giving her flat a final going-over, to check she hadn’t left anything vital behind. Her plan was simple. Keep her flat for a few months while she went back to live on the boat. She and Harry had gone over it, how she could continue to work on commissions, leave her car next to the butcher’s so she could get to the studio easily, begin to reduce her workload and, for the time being, open the café a few days a week. Her best friend had even offered to do some baking for her, so she had a wider range of cakes to sell.

  Harry was going to meet her at Willowbeck, and Summer was grateful for the moral support. What she hadn’t told Harry was that, after a couple of months, she thought she would sell the business and the boat as one. Ross’s plan made sense to her – she could give The Canal Boat Café the best possible start and then hand it over to someone else.

  She closed her bedroom door, clicked Latte’s lead on to her collar, and turned to the door just as there was a knock on it. She opened it, and Ross thrust a bunch of flowers towards her. ‘Surprise!’

  ‘Ross.’ Summer managed a smile. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I know you said you didn’t need me to be with you today, but I thought you might want some help.’

  ‘That’s really kind of you,’ she said, ‘but I’ll be fine. Harry’s going to be there.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I can’t be, too. All hands on deck, and all that.’ He grinned, waited for her to take the flowers and then picked up her hold-all. ‘I’ll follow you down,’ he called, and instead of leaving her bag by her car, he put it in the boot of his Corsa.

  ‘Crap,’ Summer whispered. She put the flowers on top of her box, picked it up, took Latte’s lead and double-locked the door. She’d told her landlady her plans, and Mrs Cumberland had been as matter-of-fact as ever, telling her that if she did decide to leave permanently then the notice period could be short: There are always people looking for Cambridge flats, so it won’t be empty for more than a moment. Not that Summer had expected to be missed by her landlady, but it had felt a bit miserable to be dismissed quite so easily.

  She’d been vague with Ross, told him that she was going to put her energy into making the café popular again, and had failed to acknowledge that she was considering selling it as he’d suggested. She didn’t want to show anyone her hand until she was ready.

  Harry’s words were never far from her thoughts. She knew that she needed to be firmer with him, reiterate that they would never be anything more than friends – and perhaps decide not to see him at all – but she had planned to do that once she’d got the hurdle of moving on to her mum’s boat out of the way. And now here he was, helping her. She looked at him in her rear-view mirror and he waved. She raised a hand, started the engine, and pulled away from the kerb. This was it; she was moving back to Willowbeck.

  They were two days away from March and the sun was out, the sky a clear blue. Frost shimmered on the path and the signposts, and had turned the grass a pale, minty green, so Summer knew the night had been cold, the stars winking like ice. As soon as she stepped out of the car, she felt like she’d put her face in a freezer. Ross pulled up next to her.

  She checked the key to the boat was in her pocket, let Latte out on a long lead, and took her box from the boot, the spray of colourful carnations and baby’s-breath still on top. Her arms trembled, and not just from the weight of her load.

  ‘Right then,’ Ross said, jumping out of the car and rubbing his hands together. ‘God it’s cold. Will you be warm enough on the boat?’

  Summer rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve told you already, it’s just like a house, except it’s smaller and on the water – and you’ve seen it now.’

  ‘But you have to empty the toilet.’

  ‘Well yes, there’s that, but I don’t have to do it very often, and I just take it to a pump-out station. And I can watch television and get on the internet and even do exciting things like have a shower and blow-dry my hair. It’s not like camping.’

  Ross picked up Summer’s hold-all. ‘The coffee was pretty good,’ he admitted.

  ‘There you see, I’m all set up.’ She led the way down the road, the stern of The Canal Boat Café and the red and gold of The Sandpiper’s bow soon coming into view. Summer took a deep breath and held it in. She bit her lip, as if somehow that would stop the swell of anxiety that was taking over.

  ‘Summer,’ a young, familiar voice called, and Tommy, Harriet’s ten-year-old son, rushed towards her, waving a green net on a bamboo pole. ‘Summer, we’ve been waiting!’

  ‘Tommy!’ Summer put the box down and hugged him. He’d grown since the last time she’d seen him; his dark hair was longer, scruffy in a way that suited him, and he had Harry’s big dark eyes and Greg’s long limbs. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Cool,’ he said, stepping back, as if realizing that his enthusiasm at seeing her was distinctly un-cool. ‘Mum said I could do some fishing, but there’s nothing here.’

  ‘You’ve only been trying about three minutes,’ Harry said. ‘How are you, Sum?’ She squeezed Summer tightly, then pushed her back to arm’s length and looked at her. ‘Ready to do this?’

  Summer nodded, but Harry saw straight through it.

  ‘Of course it’s going to be hard,’ she said, ‘but look—’

  ‘Harry! Great to see you.’

  Harry gave Summer a quick glare, then turned back to Ross with a smile. ‘Ross,’ she said, ‘how are you?’

  ‘Not bad. I thought Summer could do with a little help settling in.’

  ‘How thoughtful of you,’ Harry said.

  ‘Isn’t that what we’re doing?’ Tommy asked, looking up at her mum.

  ‘Sure, Tommy. We all are.’ She ruffled her son’s hair, and turned to a giant jute bag sitting on the towpath behind her. ‘We brought a few things. Nothing useful, obviously, but hopefully they’ll make it feel a bit cosier.’

  Summer crouched and looked inside the bag, and Latte, determined not to be left out, put her nose in it. ‘Harry, this is – did you make these?’

  Harry laughed. ‘I’m not going to spend money on this stuff.’

  Summer pulled out a small cushion in cream and pale blue, embroidered with a kingfisher motif, and then two crocheted cakes – a Victoria Sponge and a Battenberg.

  ‘For the café,’ Harry said. ‘I thought they’d be a bit quirky.’

  ‘They’re incredible,’ Summer breathed. ‘Knitted cakes.’

  ‘Crocheted,’ Harry corrected. ‘And there’s this.’ She put her hand into the bag and pulled out a large square frame wrapped in tissue paper. ‘I should let you unwrap it really, but I can’t wait.’ The two friends smiled at each other, and Summer helped Harry pull off the white tissue paper. When she saw what was inside, she couldn’t do anything but stare at it.

  It was a needlework sampler, similar to the one Tommy’d had above his bed since he was born with the alphabet on, and farm animals along the bottom. But this one had The Canal Boat Café on, blue and red, sitting on a calm river, with a willow tree stooping over the side. Above it, in boat-matching red and blue, and with her name in sunshine yellow, were the words: ‘Summer at The Canal Boat Café’.

  Harry put both of her hands over Summer’s, which were gripping the frame. ‘This is yours, Sum. Enjoy it.’

  Summer shook her head and swallowed. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Don’t say anything. Let’s go and put your stamp on your new home.’

  ‘Mum did that,’ Tommy chipped in. ‘She made it specially for you.’

  ‘I know,’ Summer said, her voice a whisper. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘It’s a bit girly,’ Tommy asserted. ‘But it’s clever, because it’s your name, and it’s a season. It’s like you’re here, and so is sunshine and ice creams and stuff. Like that boat will always be a happy, sunny place with you on it.’ He grinned and pointed at the boat.

  ‘I think he’s
got a point,’ Harry said, her eyes bright with pride.

  ‘I think he’s a plant,’ Summer said quietly.

  ‘Why else do you think I brought him?’

  ‘And, uhm, what shall I do?’

  Summer turned to Ross. ‘It was so kind of you to bring my bags down, but you don’t have to stay.’

  ‘I’d like to, though.’

  ‘Sure,’ Summer said, nodding, and felt Harry kick her on the ankle. ‘The more the merrier.’

  Ross’s uncertainty was replaced by a wide smile. He picked up the bag and followed Summer, Harry, Tommy and Latte on to the boat.

  ‘I’ve made up some brownie mix,’ Summer said, ‘so I just need to put it in a tray and I can pop it in the oven. I’ll stay out here to get it done, then I’ll come through.’

  Harry gave her an even stare. ‘I’ll do the brownies, you make a start.’ She pointed at the door to the boat’s cabin.

  Sighing, Summer took her Tupperware container out of the cardboard box and handed it to Harry. She went through the galley and, squeezing her hands together, slipped through into the living area of the boat. She switched all the lights on, stared again at the bare walls, the brown-leather sofa, the built-in shelves devoid of personality.

  ‘Oh,’ Ross said, coming up behind her, ‘this is really neat.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘It’s bloody amazing,’ he said, moving in front of her and walking to the end of the room. ‘Swanky.’

  ‘It’s swanky?’

  ‘Don’t you think so? Get your bits and pieces in here, and it’s going to look like one of those luxury yachts in James Bond films.’

  ‘I think you’re overselling it a bit.’

  ‘I’m serious, Summer. I know you said it was like a house, with all mod cons, but I didn’t imagine this. Wow.’

  Summer watched him, his genuine surprise as he stared around the place that Summer had been thinking of only with a sense of foreboding. She felt a surge of gratitude, followed by a rush of excitement. It was hers. She could make her mark on it. She reached into Harry’s bag, took out the kingfisher cushion and plopped it on the sofa.

  ‘There,’ she said. ‘What do you think?’

  Ross nodded, his cheek chinking with the one dimple that appeared when he smiled. ‘I think it looks great. You’ll have no trouble selling this place once it’s all set up.’

  They worked through the morning, fuelled by Summer’s brownies, unpacking her bags, putting books on the shelves, her artist’s palette clock on the wall, toiletries in the bathroom, clothes in the tiny wardrobe. The bed was only a small double, four-foot wide, so Summer had bought a new duvet and searched the shops for the ideal bedding. She’d fixed on a blue checked design, simple but cosy, and she knew it would go well with the wood walls and interior.

  Valerie arrived at eleven, a successful morning of readings giving her a glow that made Summer feel guilty for dismissing her profession. She may not believe in what Valerie did, but her customers got something out of it, and surely that was all that mattered.

  ‘I’m going to have a neighbour again,’ she said, embracing Summer as she tried to make Valerie a cappuccino. ‘And not just any neighbour, but Summer Freeman.’

  Latte looked up at her, bounced slightly on her front feet, and let out a piercing yip. ‘And you of course, Latte. I can tell you’re going to demand a lot of attention.’ She lifted the small dog up, and Latte licked Valerie’s nose.

  ‘That’s true,’ Summer said, smiling. ‘I don’t know what I did to make her such high-maintenance.’

  ‘Spoiled her rotten, I expect,’ Tommy said seriously.

  ‘Thomas Poole,’ Harry gasped, ‘what on earth makes you say that?’

  ‘That’s what you say to me when I’m getting all high and mighty.’

  Valerie laughed and put Latte on the floor. ‘You’re a walking phrase-book, young man.’

  ‘I’m imprinting, that’s what young people do. That’s why it’s important to surround yourself with good people.’

  ‘Where is he getting this stuff?’ Summer asked.

  Harry shook her head. ‘A young head on old shoulders, or possibly too much grown-up TV.’

  ‘More brownies,’ Ross said, coming out of the kitchen. ‘How much of this mix did you make, Summer?’

  ‘Enough for a few days’ worth. I’m hoping to open up after lunch, so I don’t completely miss the weekend trade.’

  ‘You really think you’ve settled in enough?’

  ‘I think getting trade going again will help me settle in. My boat is called The Canal Boat Café, after all.’

  ‘I like the name Sandpiper,’ Tommy said. ‘And it’s all gold and red and black, like some kind of uniform. Who lives there, Summer?’

  ‘Oh that’s Mason,’ Summer said, aiming for breezy. ‘I don’t know him very well yet, but Valerie does.’

  ‘He’s a nice chap,’ Valerie admitted. ‘He was pleased you were coming back, and said he’d try and pop over, but I think he’s out on a bird hunt.’

  ‘He’s a hunter?’ Tommy said, his voice a mix of fear and admiration.

  ‘Only with lenses,’ Summer said, ‘not guns. He takes photos of the wildlife and writes about it.’

  ‘Like the fish?’

  ‘I’m not sure he’s into fish, but you can ask him if you’re still here when he arrives.’

  ‘I expect he’ll be pleased to have another neighbour too,’ Valerie said. ‘At the moment his immediate neighbour is Norman.’

  ‘I remember Norman,’ Tommy said, his hand shooting up. ‘He does fishing, doesn’t he? But silently, and all a bit grumpy, like he’s annoyed with the fish or something. Or maybe it’s ’cause there aren’t any fish in this river.’

  ‘Maybe you need to give it another go,’ Summer said, putting her hand on Tommy’s shoulder. ‘I’m sure he catches things, even if he never seems that pleased about it. But he did let me give him a bacon sandwich the other day. I felt very privileged.’ She raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Good old Norman,’ Harry said, laughing. She looked out of the window, her expression suddenly unreadable. Harry had spent a lot of time at Willowbeck with Summer and her mum, and Tommy and Greg had often accompanied her. It was Harry’s first visit for months, too. Summer squeezed her hand. ‘Thanks so much for all you’ve done.’

  ‘Make the most of it, Summer. Your mum would be so proud.’

  Summer looked around her. ‘It depends if I can make it as successful as she did. But then, it seems I’ve got lots of help. I’m just going to trim these flowers and put them on the tables.’ She picked up Ross’s bouquet. ‘You don’t mind do you, Ross?’

  ‘Whatever’s best,’ Ross said, looking up from his phone. ‘They’re for you, after all.’

  ‘We’ll have to head off in a moment,’ Harry said, ‘we’re getting Greg from work.’

  ‘I haven’t seen him for ages, does he ever have a day off?’ Summer laughed, but Harry didn’t join in.

  ‘There’s a bit too much work to go around at the moment, and they need as many staff as possible.’

  ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ Harry’s husband, Greg, worked for a small landscaping company that worked across Cambridgeshire.

  ‘Yeah,’ Harry said, but she didn’t sound convinced.

  ‘He does still get time off, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Of course – they’re just particularly busy at the moment.’

  ‘So the company’s doing well?’

  A shadow crossed Harry’s face, and she gave a little shrug. ‘Come on Tommy, let’s go and get Dad.’

  ‘But I haven’t caught a fish for dinner!’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Harry said, ‘we can catch some from Jimmy’s Plaice this evening.’

  Summer, Valerie and Ross kept going once Harry and Tommy had left. The tables looked welcoming with their bright bouquets, and Summer opened the hatch, put a tower of brownies on the counter and a batch of blueberry muffins in the oven. She wished she had some of Harry�
�s orange and cinnamon cake to draw in more people, or some of the Florentines she made – something unusual but homely. Red velvet cakes were all very well, but they were a bit too boutique for Summer’s liking – and it sounded like she wasn’t the only one who felt that way. She wanted to be friendly, different but not too trendy.

  Valerie piled a stack of freshly washed plates next to the coffee machine. ‘I’ve got a couple of readings this afternoon, so I’d best be off.’

  ‘Come back for a tea once you’ve done?’ Summer tried not to sound desperate, but it was still February, the evenings drew in early, and she would be alone on the boat for the first time. She had her iPad, her Netflix subscription, and the Wi-Fi booster her mum had had installed almost as soon as she’d bought the boat, and the cabin was a far cry from the empty hull it had been that morning, but she still felt nervous.

  ‘Perhaps we could brave the pub for dinner?’

  ‘Really?’ Summer baulked.

  ‘We’ll have to at some point,’ Valerie said. ‘Jenny needs to know you’re here to stay.’

  ‘What can I do now?’ Ross asked once Valerie had left.

  ‘You’ve been brilliant, thank you so much. And I … I wanted to talk to you,’ Summer said, remembering Harry’s words.

  ‘Sure.’ Ross sat at one of the tables, a puddle of coffee in the bottom of his mug. ‘Shoot.’

  ‘Right, Ross. Look, the thing is …’ she sat opposite him, fiddling with the buttons on her long, navy cardigan, ‘about what’s happened between us, in the past. I—’

  ‘Hello? Anyone home?’ Summer stopped mid-sentence and looked up to see Mason push open the door. His black curls were more tamed than usual, he had a green khaki jacket done up to the neck over jeans and black walking boots, and the camera round his neck. Archie was close at his feet, and Latte jumped down from her chair and padded over to him.

  ‘Mason, hi. How are you?’

  ‘Bit chilly, but good otherwise.’ His smile faltered as he saw Ross, and he offered him a quick nod. ‘Hi again. How’s it going, Summer? This place is looking great,’ he said, turning in a slow circle. ‘Like a different café already.’