by Lucy Coleman
‘You put up with my irregular lifestyle, you understand the pressures and you never moan. I mean, a man can’t get any luckier, can he? But we’ve been living in limbo and it’s time to start thinking about the changes we need to make. Mum knows that, too, and she’s trying really hard because she wants us to be happy. I confided in Mum’s friend, Hilda, and we have a plan.’
I turn my head to look at him. ‘Confided what?’
His eyes light up and he starts singing again, softly under his breath. ‘Life isn’t living without you in my arms, this simple man can’t resist your charms.’
I burst out laughing, shaking my head at him.
‘You are seriously crazy, Gray, do you know that? No more distractions – let’s wrap.’
‘I do love being bossed around,’ he replies, making it sound suspiciously like some sort of fetish. ‘Rap isn’t quite my style, though.’
And that’s why I’ll wait for him, for as long as it takes to make it all work. He puts the joy in my life and the beat in my heart. The angry, ‘why me?’ person I once was disappeared overnight when I met Gray. Quite simply, he is my silver lining.
‘Ahoy, skipper, permission to come aboard The Star Gazer?’
Abe’s voice booms out from the top of the gangplank. Abe and his wife, Ethel, own The Merry Robin. It’s a four-berth, forty-five-foot Admiral narrowboat and is one of the handful of residential moorings here on the canal side. They are like gold dust, as most narrowboats keep moving on because that’s the way the system is designed to work. When Abe decided to take early retirement on his fiftieth birthday and managed to talk Ethel into selling up and buying a narrowboat, they struck lucky.
‘Permission granted, Abe. Just the man I need to get this stove going.’ Gray pops his head out through the cabin doors and I hear the sound of feet being wiped on the coconut welcome mat.
‘Hi, Abe,’ I call out, angling my head to see over Gray’s shoulder. I’m standing in front of the first of the four dinettes, each of which seats six people. Abe steps onto the forewell, a big grin on his face. He’s carrying two large sacks of freshly picked greenery, one in front of him and one slung over his shoulder.
‘You look a little chilly there, Immi. Ethel will be along shortly to give a hand.’ I notice that Abe’s eyes stray across to the fire and his eyebrows shoot heavenwards.
‘It beats me every time,’ Gray moans, shaking his head as he stares at the charred pile of kindling inside the open door of the stove. The cabin is smelling very smoky, it’s true, but there isn’t even a hint of a flame now. After several attempts, I think it’s finally gone out.
Gray moves back towards me, making room for Abe and his sacks to negotiate the two steps down into the hull. That’s the trouble with a narrowboat, everything is so compact. Abe places his load in the opposite corner and stands with his hands on his hips, surveying the mess Gray has made trying to get the fire going.
‘Oh my. I’m guessing you weren’t in the Boy Scouts, then, or went on camping trips when you were a nipper.’
Gray gives an apologetic look. ‘No, and no. This is usually Tollie’s job, but he’s with Mrs Price.’ Gray drops his tone, reverentially. ‘They’re printing out the silver ticket letters today, ready to go out in the post on Monday.’
Mrs Price is about five-foot-two, very slim and is always smartly dressed. She’s a dead ringer for the smiley female chef who features on the packaging of my favourite pancake mix. With her hair up in a clip and perfectly made-up, she always makes me wish I glanced in the mirror more often. However, looks can be deceiving because she’s not a jolly, ‘life and soul of the party’ sort of woman. She’s rather reserved and I only see her around if it’s something to do with her community work. It’s not that she’s sharp, I muse, it’s more that she gets straight to the point.
And it’s rare, indeed, to see her at a purely social event – which is a relief, as, if you find yourself next to her, Mrs Price is not the easiest of people with whom to exchange small talk. You instinctively feel personal questions are not permitted and she can be a tad frosty if you unwittingly say the wrong thing.
Before I came to live with Tollie, she was his housekeeper and kept him very firmly in line. Shortly after I moved in she quit, saying I ‘wasn’t house-trained’, as if I were a stray puppy. At the time I thought that was rather harsh and very hurtful, given my situation. But with hindsight I came to see that she had a point. I was a lazy teenager with a chip on my shoulder, and I did nothing except feel sorry for myself and make a mess.
It was the peak of my angry phase and because Tollie, in his grief, didn’t know how to address it, suddenly we had to muddle through together. The cottage wasn’t always a pretty sight at first, but we learnt as we went along. When you are forced to live in the chaos you create, you soon begin to put things away and wash the dishes, and clothes, before you run out of clean stuff.
So really Mrs Price did us a favour when she quit. She is a dispenser of tough love. Rumour has it that she’s a widow; she never mentions family at all. I’d say she’s in her early fifties and I will admit I am a little curious that she appears to have cut herself off from her past. However, you learn to respect the secrets that people choose not to divulge. She’s another of the marina’s waifs and strays, I suppose. But life here wouldn’t be the same without her, despite the way we all tend to tread cautiously whenever she’s around.
Abe is already kneeling in front of the stove, moving things around with a poker.
‘Right, Gray, take note. If Tollie sees this muddle he’ll laugh his socks off! First things first. Immi, my lovely, can you fetch me a couple of pieces of kitchen towel and run them under the tap? Not too wet, ta.’
Placing the box of silver baubles back on the dinette table, I give Abe a little salute, before heading off to the galley at the far end of the boat. It’s next to the head and the rain locker. I laughed when Fisher first showed me around his pride and joy, taking time to educate me about the nautical terms. Head for toilet? Rain locker for shower made sense and I rather liked that, but head had me scratching my head.
When I return, Abe has already re-laid most of the semi-charred kindling that Gray had piled inside the stove. He takes the tissue from me, sticking his hand inside the cavity of the fire to dab it onto the ashes at the very back.
‘There,’ he says as he rubs the now smutty paper onto the blackened glass in the stove’s door. ‘Keep rubbing like this and there’s enough abrasion to clean this up without scratching the surface. No point lighting a fire if you can’t see it,’ he declares loudly.
Gray kneels down next to him, a serious look on his face as he takes instruction. I return to my task of dressing the three compact little Christmas trees. One will go on the foredeck, opposite the gangplank, one on the towpath and one in the saloon.
It’s quite an art decorating the two four-foot and one three-foot-high potted trees. The smaller one for the saloon requires trimming so it will fit snugly back into the corner. It sits on what is normally a storage locker doubling as a seat. This narrowboat is almost seven-feet wide, but in the saloon area we have the Villager Puffin stove, Santa’s bench – which is a double storage locker with a padded cushion – and the tree. Once the fire is lit I’ll put down a special mat for the older children to sit on. Little ones often prefer to sit on a parent’s lap at the dinette benches until it’s their turn to talk to Santa.
I have already entwined lights on the two outside trees, begun hanging the baubles and have moved on to the snowflakes. Thank goodness there are four dinettes, as the fourth table has all the decorations laid out neatly, like a little production line.
Hearing the two men bantering away in the background causes a satisfied little smile to fleetingly cross my face. This is what families do. They pull together and help each other out. Although it’s by default, I rationalise that Tollie and I are lucky that we can choose our family; no awkward relatives to placate, just a bunch of interesting characters with whom we lo
ve to spend time.
‘Yoo hoo! Can I hop aboard?’
‘Come on in, Ethel. Join the party!’ I exclaim, and as I look up it’s as if a rainbow has floated in through the door. Ethel is a colourful lady, both in her actions and the way she dresses.
Today it’s a leaf-green hand-knitted scarf that is wrapped around her neck at least three times and trails down almost to the hem of her cherry-red coat. ‘I’m just an old hippy,’ she’s always saying, but she brightens the room whenever she enters.
‘Oh, Lordy. Good luck with that, Abe. Ah, Imogen, I thought you might be able to use these.’ Ethel places a wicker basket on the bench seat alongside me and I peer inside.
‘Ooh. What a gorgeous scent these pine cones have. Thank you so much, Ethel, they’re perfect. It’s one of my favourite Christmas smells. That and cinnamon.’
She gives me a wonderfully warm smile and if ever I had a picture in my head of what my mother might look like, Ethel embodies it. Energetic, wiry, bubbling with enthusiasm and kind-hearted. Except Ethel cares about people, and clearly my mother didn’t.
Ethel is the Mother Earth to Abe’s Green Man. I start laughing.
‘What’s going on inside that wicked little mind of yours, Immi?’ she enquires.
‘Dangerous question,’ Gray butts in and she beams at him.
‘I’ve brought some paper clips,’ she adds, lifting a little envelope out of the basket. ‘If you open them up you can hook one end around the scales and use the other end to hang the cones from the branches.’
Suddenly Tollie appears, stopping to survey the scene in front of him before stepping down into the hull.
‘Well, guess I’m not going to be needed after all,’ he comments, casting his eye around appreciatively.
The fire now has a few little sparks of red glinting at us from behind the freshly cleaned glass and the Christmas trees are beginning to gleam with an assortment of treasures. With sparkly silver and red baubles, and white glittery snowflakes, as I hang the first pine cone it’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.
‘We have five hours to go and there’s still a fair bit to do.’ I look up at him, smiling. I can see how happy he is to see us all here, pulling together.
‘Mrs Price will be along later with the gingerbread biscuits and cupcakes. I just popped in to drop off the first of the sacks and then I’m off to The Bullrush to collect the cartons of fruit juice. Immi, do you want me to rustle up the non-alcoholic Christmas punch?’
I’d forgotten that. ‘No, it’s fine. Maybe Ethel will kindly finish off the trees for me and I can pop back and get the ingredients prepped ready for later. Is that okay with everyone?’
Ethel nods and Gray stands, stretching out his back and looking with awe at the flames that are now leaping up with increasing vigour. It’s freezing on the boat and a part of the attraction for me in heading back to the cottage is in order to warm up a little.
‘Absolutely. Abe and I can make a start on the garlands for the outside.’ He motions towards the sacks of greenery Abe brought.
‘I’ll hurry back as quickly as I can,’ I promise, and Gray leans in to give me a lingering kiss on my cheek.
‘Abe, is there any mistletoe in there?’ Gray enquires rather cheekily as he points towards the bountiful sacks.
‘You can’t have Christmas without mistletoe – ’course there is!’
I roll my eyes as I head off to the sanctuary of a warm kitchen. This elf is going to be donning thermal leggings beneath those new, woollen trousers.
3
The Christmas Crew
‘Hey, guys, the greenery is beginning to look really good! Kurt just texted to say Sarah is making everyone bacon sandwiches on the house. Is anyone hungry?’
It doesn’t take any persuasion at all for everyone to put down their tools and troop off to The Bullrush. Having added another layer of clothing, I’m now feeling quite toasty in my thick navy coat, and burgundy bobble hat pulled down over my ears.
As we walk into the inn, no one fails to spot the big display that has suddenly appeared alongside the bar in the far corner. Pete and David are assembling a sturdy-looking, free-standing shelving unit for the stack of Christmas gift boxes, piled high at their feet. We all head over to check it out. Pride of place in each of the Christmas beer hampers is The Bullrush Christmas Brew, together with an assortment ranging from Santa’s Best to Reindeer Hops.
‘Great-looking display going on there, just up my street. Who comes up with these names? Sounds like my sort of job. You could pay me in beer…’ Abe looks on, amused.
Pete straightens, grinning. ‘Good one, Abe. I’m proud to say that’s down to us, but we usually come up with them on a Saturday night when we’ve had a beer or two ourselves. Our team is out setting up all the displays today, but we thought we’d come and get a little hands-on.’ He stands back, holding up one last, remaining screw and scratches his head. David turns around, revealing a small metal bracket and frowns.
‘Guess we missed one out,’ he groans. Pete shrugs his shoulders, sticking the screw back in the toolbox.
‘Who’s for coffee, who’s for tea?’ Kurt appears to take our orders. ‘You’re doing a great job there guys and it’s much appreciated. Hopefully there will be a nice little contribution to the Santa Ahoy Christmas charity fund. If it’s a success, then maybe we can do it again next year, seeing as it’s a special special.’
Tollie raises an eyebrow. ‘Special special?’
Sarah has joined us, and she gives Kurt a cutting look, as an awkward silence descends upon us all. He instantly realises what he’s done – it was supposed to be a secret.
‘Well, judgin’ by the way you are all gazin’ around tryin’ not to look shifty, I think someone should ’fess up.’ Tollie is trying to catch my eye, but I studiously avoid his gaze. Ethel comes to the rescue.
‘Oh, well, he was bound to find out. You can’t really keep a secret when we’re in and out of each other’s lives on a daily basis. In case it’s slipped your mind, Tollie, next year is the tenth anniversary of the Santa Ahoy cruises. A tradition you began and we’re all so proud of the way it’s grown; it represents what this community is all about and raising funds for charity has become the beat of our collective heart.’
Tollie looks a little taken aback at the tenderness and pride in Ethel’s words.
‘We thought it might be nice to celebrate the anniversary in style and bring everyone together as an acknowledgement of what has been achieved. So, we’re hoping to do a few things, like the special brew here, to raise some money. And we’re not just doing that to make it another bumper year, as this one is already shaping up to be, but we also plan to hold a smart dinner to mark the occasion. And you are going to be the guest of honour.’
It takes a lot to shock Tollie; he often says he’s seen and done just about everything in his life. But I can see this has shaken him and he’s standing there looking decidedly uncomfortable.
‘Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but the smell of that bacon is seriously making my stomach grumble,’ I jump in quickly.
‘Oh.’ Sarah throws her hands up in the air. ‘You must all be starving. Hang up your coats and grab a seat at the long table in the conservatory. We’ll start carrying in the platters. Go on, everyone.’ She starts shooing people off in the right direction, while I head into the kitchen with Kurt, who is still mortified at his faux pas.
‘I am so sorry, Immi,’ he whispers as we walk away. ‘It just slipped out. Sarah is going to kill me!’
‘Well,’ Sarah says, hurrying to catch up with us, ‘maybe not until after you’ve delivered the hot drinks to warm everyone up. Tollie was bound to find out and I think we all knew that.’
As we head through the swing doors, I’m delighted to see Jude and Jade standing at the long stainless-steel bench wearing bright blue vinyl gloves and buttering thickly sliced bread.
‘Immi!’ they chorus, in their twinly fashion.
‘Hey, girls. Are
you dressing up for Santa’s first trip along the canal this afternoon?’
They elbow each other, excitedly.
‘Of course. It’s a surprise though, so we can’t tell you what we’re going to be. But it’s been a lot of fun as we made the costumes ourselves – well, Dad did help us – using Mum’s sewing machine.’
I look at Sarah and she shrugs her shoulders, as if to say it’s all down to Kurt and the girls, so beware.
Kurt is already loading up a tray with an assortment of drinks as Sarah begins sandwiching-up a huge stack of bacon rashers. Between us, it doesn’t take long to have two big platters packed with rather rustic, although expertly sliced, sandwiches. Kurt and Sarah carry through the trays of hot drinks, Jude and I carry the platters, and Jade follows with a tray of napkins and little packets of sauce.
As we approach the long table in the conservatory a cheer goes up.
Tollie smooths down his beard, as he sits in the carver chair at the top end of the table, looking very at home. Abe sits to his left, with Ethel next to him. On the opposite side is Gray, next to Pete and David, who are deep in conversation. As soon as I place the platter on the table both Pete and David jump up, insisting I slide along the bench to sit next to my man.
‘Thanks, guys. This is awesome. What a way to start the first day of season nine. A bacon sarnie is guaranteed to keep out the chill.’
We raise our mugs to toast and wait for Tollie to do the honours.
‘To our Aysbury family. Most people don’t get to choose theirs, but I guess everyone around this table has chosen to be a part of the clan. Even if it’s only by virtue of the fact that they came and never left. One thing I do know for sure is that I count myself lucky to be sittin’ here with you all today. Certainly, both my life and Immi’s are the richer for your support and friendship.’
There’s a ‘hear, hear’ and a lot of nodding of heads. I believe that every single one of us around the table has a reason to count their blessings. Even Pete and David’s story isn’t straightforward. The brothers were born in Brighton, but both ended up living and working in London. Pete was in finance and David was an advertising executive. David was only thirty-two when he had a heart-attack. Stress, they think, was the cause, but the shock waves affected his entire family.
