Summer stood. ‘Can I get you anything? A coffee, tea?’
He shook his head. ‘No thanks, I’ve got to head back and load up my photos. I just thought I’d welcome you back here, officially. I definitely think you’ve made the right decision.’
Summer moved from foot to foot, wishing Ross wasn’t there. More than anyone else, she wanted to tell Mason she was considering selling the boat – she hated the idea of keeping it from him. ‘I’m going to see how it goes. My friend Harry’s helped make the cabin feel a bit more cosy.’
‘I’m glad,’ Mason said, smiling at her. ‘For what it’s worth, I think you’ll settle in quickly. I remember when I bought my boat, those first few weeks living aboard felt strange – very different from being on land.’
‘The bed’s a bit narrow though,’ Ross said.
Summer saw irritation flash across Mason’s face, and she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Mason was turning away.
‘Right. So, work. Come on, Archie, leave Latte alone.’
‘Will you pop in tomorrow?’ Summer called. ‘My first full day on the boat.’
Mason turned at the door. ‘I’m out all day tomorrow, but I’ll be back on Monday. I promise I’ll come and see you.’
‘You will?’
‘Scout’s honour.’ He saluted and jumped over the plank to the towpath. Summer watched him go, and realized she was grinning.
‘He’s quite persistent, isn’t he?’ Ross asked, his fingers drumming on the table.
‘He’s my neighbour,’ Summer said. ‘It’s good to have him around; to have some people here who I can count on.’
‘You can count on me, Summer, you know that.’
‘That’s what I want to talk to you about.’ Summer took a deep breath and sat down again. ‘I want you to know how much I appreciate you coming here today, and helping me settle in.’
‘What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t?’
‘You’re a great friend, Ross. I mean that. But it’s never going to be any more than that.’
Ross frowned and folded his arms. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that I don’t want a relationship with you, not anything more than what we have now.’
‘I know that,’ Ross said.
Summer swallowed. ‘I don’t think you do. It just seems like you’re … some of the things you said. Mentioning the bed in front of Mason.’
‘It’s a narrow bed – you wouldn’t deny that, would you?’
‘No, but – you seem so … so willing to be here, all the time.’
‘I’m your friend, and I’ve been here twice. Would you prefer me to act like I didn’t care?’
Summer shook her head, frustrated. ‘No, of course not. But I think maybe we need to be … I need to focus on making the café work.’
‘I can help, Summer. And, maybe in time, well, you never know what could happen.’
Summer squeezed her hands into fists under the table. ‘I know what’s going to happen, and what’s not going to happen – for me. Ross, I’m sorry, but I don’t feel that way about you. That’s not going to change.’
Ross stared at her, his smile fixed. ‘Just take your time. This is all so new for you. It’s only been a few months since you lost your mum, and now this. You need to find your feet here, decide what you’re going to do. You may realize you love it here, against all your expectations. You might decide to stay for good – nobody knows what the future holds, or how they’ll come to see things differently. Just know that I’m always here for you, as close – or as far away – as you want me to be.’
‘Ross—’
‘I should be getting back. Don’t think about it now. Give me a call, even if you just need some company. It can’t be easy being on the boat on your own, especially at night.’ He came round to her side of the table and wrapped her in a hug. ‘Just look after yourself, and call me whenever you need to. As you said, it’s not even an hour away.’
Summer closed her eyes, her energy and resolve gone. She wasn’t sure how, other than flinging herself at another man, she could get Ross to accept the truth.
Chapter 5
Summer’s first evening was quieter than she had originally hoped for, but by the time she got to it, she was glad of the peace. She fed Latte, put a ready meal in the oven, opened a bottle of wine and selected an Einaudi album on her iPad. She lit the cabin with lamps, recreating the cosiness that she had always associated with her mum’s boat.
She wasn’t sure she could thank Harry and Tommy, Valerie and Ross enough for what they’d done that day, helping her get over her nerves, and turning the boat into somewhere she could call her own.
She still felt guilty about Ross, but she also felt weary. She’d said, again, that nothing would happen between them. She’d been prepared to say they could cut off contact entirely if that would be easier for him, but again he’d failed to accept it, and she was beginning to despair at ever being able to get through to him.
Her phone chimed, and she picked it up. Harry was checking in, telling her that Tommy and Greg had been delighted with their fish and chip supper, even if it wasn’t as fresh as Tommy had hoped, and asking about her first evening. Summer sent her a quick reply and closed her eyes, the glass of wine pressed against her chest. Even when the boat was moored up, there was a gentle swaying that she barely noticed unless she focused on it, but she knew she would miss instantly if it stopped. Her boat knocked gently against the concrete of the towpath, or Valerie or Mason’s boats, when another narrowboat passed on the river, the sound hollow, almost melodic.
The magic of being on the boat was beginning to come back to her. It had always been a one-berth boat, the living space squashed because of the café space, but the sofa she was sitting on folded down into an additional bed, and Summer had often ended up staying. She was used to the sounds, the sensations of being on a boat at night, entirely cocooned in her own world. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed it and now, even without her mum there, she felt calm.
That night, she climbed under the fresh-smelling checked sheets, turned out the light and closed her eyes. Only moments later, it seemed, it was morning.
Summer got up early, took Latte for a walk along the towpath, then opened up the café. It was a Sunday, so Willowbeck was busy, and she worked solidly, baking and cleaning and serving. A few people ventured inside the café, enjoying the views of the river through windows which were much cleaner than they had been. Summer had found a coil of fabric bunting, in different patterns in red, yellow and blue, at the bottom of the bag Harry had left, and she’d strung it up along the back of the counter. She planned to use it as inspiration, and make some of her own.
Harry was by far the most creative person Summer knew, and could turn her attention to anything – textiles, food, jewellery, wood – and create something special. Summer’s artistic talents were limited to sign-writing and acrylics, but Harry seemed to have magic fingers and an eye for detail. They’d met at art college, and Summer had always expected Harry to have a versatile career, perhaps owning her own shop or gallery. But Harry had met Greg at twenty, had Tommy at twenty-one and seemed content to raise her family and keep crafting as a hobby. But the previous day, Summer had sensed that not everything was right with her best friend, and wondered if maybe she was beginning to regret not exploring some of the endless possibilities at her fingertips.
By the end of Sunday, Summer was happily exhausted. She’d had no major disasters, only run out of cakes as a fresh batch came out of the oven, and joined forces with an old gentleman and his umbrella to coax an intrepid duck out of the café. She’d decided she would spend the first week on the boat and work out a strategy – which days were busier, on which ones she could close and go to the studio without losing too much custom. She’d finished her urgent commissions before moving on to the boat, and the Daft Duckling sign wasn’t due until the beginning of April. She went to bed early, snuggling up in her berth and rocking asleep to the gentle
lull of the river.
Monday was the twenty-ninth of February. Leap day. She peered out at the grey sky, Latte snuffling at her feet, impatient for her walk, and wondered if anything strange would happen. She had nobody to propose to, and she thought that was a pretty outdated custom anyway. She locked the boat up and strolled down the towpath, past the pub and under the bridge. She gave an involuntary shudder at the few moments of dank darkness, and remembered, a long time ago, Valerie telling her and Mum a story about a ghost that appeared on top of the bridge, looking down into the water. Valerie’s story was elaborate; she had names and dates, the ghost supposedly a woman who had been jilted by her lover and thrown herself into the depths of the river, but Summer just remembered thinking that it was a tragic event that had, over time, become a myth. She was sure nobody other than Valerie would admit to having seen the ghost.
Summer kept walking, letting Latte explore, enjoying the quiet of the towpath until her hands went numb. She turned and strolled back towards Willowbeck, waving at other boats as they passed, most helmsmen cheery despite the cold. She’d just gone back under the bridge when Latte started barking. For a moment, Summer worried that her memory had conjured up the ghost, but then a Border terrier raced up to Latte, both their tails wagging excitedly.
‘Archie,’ called a familiar voice, and Summer buried her smile into her collar and picked up her pace.
Mason was standing on the towpath next to his boat, exasperation on his face and a rolled-up magazine in his hand.
‘So well-behaved,’ she said.
Mason gave her a sheepish grin. ‘There was a fly buzzing around, dozy and irritating. I was trying to coax it out of the door, and Archie took the opportunity to break free.’
‘At least he’s not gone too far.’
‘He never does. It’s like he’s testing me. Letting me know he could really cause trouble if I took my eye off the ball. He keeps me on my toes.’
‘Perhaps better than nibbling them?’ Summer pointed at Latte.
‘Maybe,’ Mason considered. ‘How is life in charge of the café?’
‘Not disastrous,’ Summer said, grinning. ‘So far, anyway. How was work?’
Mason nodded and crouched to stroke Archie, who had returned to him, and then Latte, who saw the opportunity for some extra attention. ‘It was fine. Not as interesting as I’d hoped – most of the wildlife was hibernating – but I got some good shots.’ He lifted his camera, waited for Latte to look at him and then snapped her.
‘I’d love to see them some time.’
‘You’re more than welcome to come aboard The Sandpiper and have a gander.’ They enjoyed an easy silence for a moment, and then Summer felt the atmosphere change. ‘I know it’s not been easy for you, making the decision to come back. Your mum’s death wasn’t that long ago, was it?’
Summer sighed and looked at the floor. ‘It was last summer, and I wasn’t sure I’d come back. I loved it so much when we were here together, I didn’t think I’d ever want to erase those memories by creating new ones without her.’
‘I can understand that,’ Mason said softly. ‘It’s none of my business, but I think it’s a courageous thing to do. And I also think that, even if it’s hard at first, it’ll be worth it.’
‘You do?’
Mason nodded. ‘Aside from the fact that this was your mum’s boat, the water is a calming place to be. I’ve always believed that it has healing properties.’
Summer narrowed her eyes. ‘In a mystical kind of way?’ Maybe he had more in common with Valerie than she’d appreciated.
‘No,’ Mason said, matter-of-factly, ‘in a natural way. Nature is healing. Nobody in the world could argue that going for a walk in the fresh air was bad for you.’
‘Jane Austen might.’
Mason frowned at her. ‘What?’
‘Many a Jane Austen heroine has nearly caught their death from a hearty walk in the rain.’
‘Well, more fool Jane Austen then. I bet it wasn’t the walk that nearly killed them, I expect it was all the romantic turmoil they were being put through.’
‘An interesting theory.’
‘I’m full of them,’ Mason said, standing and stretching his hands up to the sky. He was wearing a rusty red jumper, and it rode up as he stretched, revealing an inch of toned stomach. ‘Are you doing bacon sandwiches today?’
‘How can you be so fond of bacon and still—’ she stopped, realizing that Mason had caught her looking at him, again. ‘Never mind.’
‘What?’ His smile grew, hovering on the edge of kilowatt, and Summer swallowed.
‘I can do bacon,’ she said quietly. ‘Give me half an hour to get the place in order and warm up the coffee machine.’
‘Deal.’ He lifted his camera again and pointed it at her, asking her a question with his eyes.
Summer breathed in, surprised by how nervous she felt having Mason’s lens on her. But then he seemed to change his mind, gave her a quick smile and, lowering his camera, walked back to The Sandpiper, Archie soon leaving Latte and following behind.
As Summer stepped on to the bow deck, her breathing slowly returning to normal, her eyes fell on something nestled up against the wall. She crouched and picked it up, but not before Latte had sniffed at it, and quickly decided that despite the intriguing shape it wasn’t something she was interested in. Summer turned it over in her hands, and then, realizing she was alone besides a squirrel and a pair of mallards on the grass in front of the pub, picked it up and went inside.
Once Mason was leaning on the counter, tucking into a crispy bacon sandwich, Summer asked him about her new find. She’d placed it alongside the wooden heart and Harry’s crocheted cakes.
‘I found this,’ she said, moving the wooden frog in front of him. ‘It was left out on the deck.’
Mason looked at her, and then examined the carving. ‘It’s good craftsmanship, don’t you think?’
‘I do,’ she nodded. ‘Rough but beautiful, like a charcoal sketch.’
‘Same as this one?’ Mason picked up the heart.
‘I’m sure of it. I found them in the same place, and at first, with the heart, I thought maybe it had fallen off another boat, or out of someone’s bag or pocket on the towpath. But now?’ She shook her head.
‘What do they mean? A heart, and then a frog?’
Summer shook her head again. ‘Beats me. It’s my own little mystery.’ She had one theory, but she wasn’t about to share it with Mason, because it seemed ridiculous, even to her. Could it be Mason who had been leaving them for her? The heart had appeared the day after she’d met him, the frog just as she was moving on to the boat full time, and she was experiencing strange leaps of her heart at Mason’s smile or a glimpse of his flesh. Perhaps it was a sign that she was thinking about him too much, making connections where they didn’t exist.
‘And you’re sure the wood’s not poisoned?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow.
‘Ha ha. Jenny’s threats are much more straightforward. I’m baking cakes, look how good they are, now piss off.’
‘What is it with you two, anyway?’
Summer looked out of the window. ‘She doesn’t like the competition.’
‘But you’ve hardly been here – how come she got so angry so quickly?’
‘Because I’m a threat.’
Mason folded his arms on the counter, and rested his chin on them. He looked up at Summer, and she fumbled with the cup she was drying. ‘I’ve spoken to Dennis and Jenny quite a few times since I’ve been here,’ he said, ‘and they both seem perfectly pleasant.’
‘How long have you been in Willowbeck? You weren’t here last June.’
‘Only since November. I’m usually much more mobile, but there’s lots of activity at the local nature reserve and they’re having a revamp. They want me to take photos for their new guidebook, and they’ve got an arrangement with a wildlife magazine for a series of features over the next year or so, about the changing seasons, habitats, wildlife, so I’
ve made this sort of a long-term temporary home.’
‘And then you’ll be off again?’
‘Probably.’ Mason sipped his coffee.
‘Have you lived on boats all your life?’ Summer tidied the cups and then leaned on her side of the counter.
Mason shook his head. ‘Five years.’
‘Why? What made you take to life on the water?’
Mason remained fixated on his coffee. ‘Various things. I felt I needed to get away, have a simpler life. It’s a good way of travelling, of getting closer to nature. It suits me.’
‘Your boat’s beautiful.’
‘When I bought it, it was a wreck.’
‘Did you do everything?’
‘No, I’m not skilled like that. I took it to the boat builders and concentrated on getting it seaworthy, and then the other bits and pieces have followed over the years. It’s not been as polished as this for very long. Anyway,’ he said, poking her forearm gently, ‘you’ve changed the subject. What’s going on with Dennis and Jenny? It doesn’t quite fit. Come to the pub with me this evening.’
‘What?’ Summer’s heartbeat ratcheted up a notch.
‘It’s not like he’s Norman Bates.’
‘No, I – I’m not sure I can.’
‘Are you allergic to beer?’
‘Jenny won’t want to see me.’
‘Well she won’t mind seeing me, so that’ll dilute the effect.’
‘Mason.’
‘Summer?’ He gave her one of his disarming smiles, and it transformed him. His seriousness was gone, he looked as warm and open as anyone she’d ever met. She wanted to know him, to delve more into the man who didn’t mind that he couldn’t control his dog, who trained his camera on everything, and spent his days hiding in bushes waiting for wildlife to surprise him. She realized that if she hadn’t been worried about purposely putting herself in Jenny’s way, she would be equally nervous that he had invited her to the pub, however casual that offer might have been.
‘OK,’ she said, the words coming out with more conviction than she felt, ‘I’ll come.’
All Aboard Page 8
