Canal Boat Cafe (4) - Land Ahoy

by Cressida McLaughlin

  Summer nodded.

  ‘Right,’ Dennis gave her a quick smile, ‘well then, he’s probably got a bit of stuff to sort through in his head. It might be that he’ll come back when he’s ready.’

  ‘Or that he never wants to see me – or Willowbeck – ever again,’ Summer said. She looked at Harry, whose big brown eyes were pools of emotion in the soft glow of the pub’s lanterns.

  ‘Didn’t you tell me that the thing with Tania happened not long after he’d become a liveaboard?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s what Claire said.’

  ‘So maybe that explains his behaviour. Maybe he thought he was ready for a new relationship, but it was too soon.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Summer murmured. ‘But I – I don’t want to speculate. I want to find him and talk to him properly. No more jumping to conclusions.’

  ‘I think that’s a good idea, love,’ Dennis said, giving her a warm, sympathetic smile. ‘Mason’s a good man, and if you were beginning to get close then he was probably going to tell you. You know, after the break-in, I saw how worried he was about you, how it brought back bad memories for him. That’s why I was so keen that you came back to Willowbeck. You’d both been through a lot, and I thought that you could sort of help each other.’

  ‘I remember,’ Summer said. ‘I was confused that you would want me back when it would only cause friction between Jenny and me. I had no idea.’ She shook her head. ‘I should have supported Mason more. I wish he’d felt able to tell me before I – I tried to force it out of him.’

  ‘Things don’t always go as planned, do they?’ Dennis held her gaze, and Summer smiled at him, knowing that this was, in some way, a silent apology for everything that had happened before, with her mum. ‘I think,’ he continued, ‘that Mason will come back to you. I don’t think he’s gone for good.’

  ‘But if he’s not answering his phone,’ Harry said, ‘if he wants some time away, then we should respect that. However, just because another liveaboard sees The Sandpiper, it doesn’t mean that they have to disturb him. Surely just knowing where Mason is would be a comfort?’

  Summer nodded slowly. ‘You think it’s time to call Claire?’

  ‘I think it would help put your mind at rest.’

  * * *

  Summer called Claire the following morning, rubbing her temples to try and ease the headache that had appeared when she’d woken up.

  ‘Summer Freeman, you bloody psychic!’

  ‘What?’ Summer frowned at Harry and handed her a coffee, the phone pressed to her ear. ‘No, that’s my neighbour, Val—’

  ‘I was going to call you! We’re coming to Willowbeck.’

  Summer gawped. ‘When?’

  ‘This weekend. You know how I told you that Willowbeck was pretty but that I always thought it needed something else?’

  ‘Ye-e-e-s.’ Summer drew the word out, wondering what was coming.

  ‘Well, that thing is my music festival! We’re heading down this weekend, I want to talk to the owners of the pub about using their garden, and then if all goes well in a couple of weeks we’ll have a humming, vibrant music festival.’

  ‘A couple of weeks? Claire, how can you—’

  ‘Because everyone’s teed up. I’ve been banging on about having a festival this summer for yonks, and if Willowbeck’s as perfect as I think it is, then all we’ll need to do is get word out. And you know how quickly things spread up the river – it’s like bloody wildfire.’

  Summer winced. Claire’s words reminded her of the reason she’d called in the first place, and then she wondered if she could ask about Mason without her friend thinking that her warning had come true, and that Mason had taken off because he’d gone as far as he wanted to with Summer.

  ‘Will you be a part of it?’ Claire asked.

  ‘Yes, of course! I’d love to – and I took your advice,’ she said, grinning at Harry. ‘The café’s going to be a lot more interesting from now on.’

  ‘You went on a cooking course?’

  ‘Nope, but I’ve roped in my best friend. We’re going into business together.’

  Once Summer had listened to Claire’s whoops of delight they said goodbye and she hung up.

  ‘You didn’t ask her about The Sandpiper,’ Harry said. ‘I thought that was the whole point.’

  Summer sat next to her on the sofa. ‘It was, but Claire distracted me with the news that she and Jas, Ralph and Ryder and the others are all coming to Willowbeck to put on this summer festival, and then I realized if I asked Claire to look out for Mason, she’d know that he’d left, and she’d think that she was right. I can’t tell Claire the truth about Mason’s past – Dennis has confided in us, but we can’t tell anyone else – so it’s going to look like exactly what Claire was warning me against.’

  Harry sipped her coffee and looked at Summer seriously over the edge of the cup. ‘So what are you going to do?’

  Summer shrugged, hoping that she looked more confident than she felt. ‘I’m just going to have to wait for him to get in touch.’

  That afternoon, after Harry had gone home with a promise to come back on Friday so they could start to plan what would be needed for the music festival, and making Summer swear she would let her know the moment she heard about, or from, Mason, Summer found that she couldn’t focus. Harry had helped her in the café in the morning, and Summer had loved having her on board. It made everything about running the café easier and more fun, and it felt like they were the perfect double act. It had started Summer wondering if Harry baking cakes at home in her kitchen was as far as their business partnership would go, or if she could convince her friend to be an even bigger part of it.

  Those thoughts, along with the revelation about Mason, and the fact that Claire and Ryder would soon be descending on sleepy little Willowbeck, meant that Summer got several drinks orders completely wrong, and found herself spreading chocolate icing on someone’s scone instead of butter. Her customers were very good-natured, laughing off her failures, but Summer knew she needed to get a grip.

  When the custom had died away, Summer made a large cup of builder’s tea, cut a huge slice of coffee cake, and took them to Celeste. She had barely seen Norman since she’d been back in Willowbeck, and now that she was determined to stay, she wanted to try and grow some kind of relationship with her neighbour. She also thought Norman should be warned about the festival. Averting her eyes from the space where The Sandpiper should have been, Summer climbed on to the deck of Celeste and knocked on the door.

  It took an age, but eventually it opened and Norman stood there, squinting up at Summer as if she was shining a torch into his face. ‘Wharisit?’ he asked.

  ‘I brought you some tea.’ She proffered the takeaway cup and the paper bag with the cake in it.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I wanted to be friendly,’ she said.

  ‘No need for that,’ Norman replied.

  Summer counted to three inside her head. ‘I know there isn’t a need, but I wanted to. I’m back in Willowbeck for good now, and I think it would be nice if we got to know each other a bit better.’

  ‘Suit yerself,’ Norman said. He took the cup and paper bag, and nodded briefly at Summer. He backed into his doorway and Summer turned to go, but then realized he was coming back out onto the deck.

  She stared at him.

  ‘Puttin’ the tea down,’ he said, and angled his body back towards his door, as if explaining.

  ‘Oh,’ Summer murmured, ‘right.’

  ‘So you’re stayin’ then? Not chasing off after your fella?’

  Summer blinked. ‘S-sorry?’

  ‘Mason,’ Norman said. ‘Sandpiper. I heard him callin’ t’you, t’other night. Bangin’ yer door down.’

  ‘Oh,’ Summer said again. Something swooped, low and sickening, inside her stomach. ‘Sorry.’

  Norman shook his head. She could see flecks of pure white in his grey beard, the parts of his jumper that were worn thin. ‘Ain’t bothered, but so
unded like ’t’was sad for you. Decent man, Mason, even if his dog’s a nuisance.’

  Summer’s laugh was slightly hysterical. She thought of Archie and how badly behaved he was, and how, though Norman stayed hidden inside his boat most of the time and was terminally unsociable even when he was fishing on his deck, even he knew that Mason was worth trusting. Was it only her that had been doubtful? Granted, she had more to lose if they started a relationship and things went wrong, but she’d still not had faith in him. She sagged her shoulders, wondering if she even deserved the chance to make things right between them.

  ‘He’s off after them cranes,’ Norman said. ‘Sure of it.’

  ‘Cranes?’

  ‘Seen ’em up at that reserve, ain’t they? iPad told me.’

  Summer resisted the smile. She thought Norman must be in his seventies, and wouldn’t touch coffee because it was too modern, and here he was confessing that he had an iPad. But her pulse increased, because he was also offering her an explanation for Mason’s sudden disappearance. ‘You think he’s gone to the reserve because they’ve found cranes? You don’t think that he … He …’

  ‘Cranes,’ Norman said again, nodding decisively. ‘Mad about ’em, isn’t he?’

  Now the smile did creep onto her lips, and she fought the urge to reach out and hug him. She thought if she did he might be so surprised he’d fall over the edge of the boat. ‘Thank you, Norman,’ she said.

  ‘Ta for the tea.’ He turned in a small, shuffled circle and disappeared back inside Celeste.

  Summer jumped down onto the towpath and raced back to The Canal Boat Café. She didn’t know how true Norman’s assertion was that Mason had gone after the cranes – the timing was a bit too perfect – but it had given her thoughts a lifeline, given her some breathing space if she imagined that he was out there being enthusiastic about the wildlife and not devastated because she’d forced him to drag up the past. She could rest easier, try and wait to hear from him, and look forward to Claire and the roving traders arriving.

  She smacked a hand to her forehead as she realized she hadn’t mentioned the festival to Norman. She would just have to go back tomorrow – as far as she was concerned he deserved tea and cake every day for the rest of his life. He’d given her a slice of the hope she was so desperate for.

  Summer watched The Wanderer’s Rest cruise into Willowbeck on Friday morning, followed by Water Music and Doug’s Antiques Barge and all the other roving trader narrowboats, with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Only a few weeks ago she’d been part of their band and she’d had a lot of fun, but there were some bad memories too, and not just the break-in. Ryder would be there, ready to take over, and Claire would want to know what was happening with Mason. Summer suddenly felt protective of Willowbeck and Valerie, of Dennis, and Adam at the butcher’s, and of Norman.

  She’d taken him another tea and a cherry muffin, and told him about the festival. He’d looked at her with narrowed eyes and nodded, and then told her – though in not quite as many words – that there were six cranes, according to his iPad, and that meant Mason was bound to be busy for a while. Summer hadn’t hugged him then, but she had reached out and squeezed his arm, feeling how thin it was through the threadbare jumper. She didn’t want him to feel threatened by the newcomers.

  Summer bit her lip and cleaned a table for the fourth time, and then Claire stepped on board her boat and all Summer’s worries vanished.

  ‘Summer, you beautiful creature.’ Claire walked towards her, her arms held out wide, filling up the café. Summer left her cloth and her antibacterial spray and hugged Claire back. ‘You were never going to escape us for too long, did I mention that?’

  Summer laughed. ‘You didn’t, but I always believed it. It feels a lot longer than a few weeks.’

  ‘How are you? The café’s looking tiptop, considering.’ She fixed her gaze on Summer, asking an unvoiced question.

  ‘Everything’s going really well,’ Summer said. ‘It didn’t take long at all to patch up the boat.’

  ‘And how about your confidence? Is that patched up too?’

  Summer nodded. ‘I feel safe here in Willowbeck. And it’s not that I didn’t feel safe with you, or that I wouldn’t consider roving again, but I need to be here for a while. I need to make this home first, so I always know I can come back when I need to.’

  ‘That makes sense,’ Claire said, folding her arms. They looked bronzed against the pale green of her dress, which looked far too floaty and feminine to steer a boat and work locks in, and then Summer noticed her orange Converse, and smiled.

  ‘So this music festival’s definitely going ahead, then?’

  Claire nodded, her eyes lighting up. ‘Sure. I just need to speak to the owners of the pub, but I can’t see they’d turn down the opportunity for a shed-load of extra business, and then Ryder, Jas and I will get on the phones and it’ll be all systems go.’

  ‘Willowbeck won’t know what’s hit it,’ Summer said.

  ‘We’re not going to wreck the joint,’ Claire said. ‘We’re going to liven it up a bit.’

  Summer gave her a warm smile. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘just tell me what I can do to help. I can’t wait.’ And she meant it, too. In only a few moments, the presence of her bold, beautiful friend had made Summer feel that everything would be OK. There was no way Claire would allow the festival to harm Willowbeck or its occupants – she had one of the biggest hearts of anyone Summer knew. She didn’t know how long she would get away with avoiding the subject of Mason, but she knew that the Willowbeck music festival was the perfect distraction, and would help to put The Canal Boat Café on the map.

  Chapter 3

  Willowbeck was transformed by the roving traders. Claire’s boat set the scene, blasting out its usual array of musical genres throughout the day, though Summer thought that it was at a slightly lower volume than it had been in Foxburn or Tivesham, and the cluster of brightly painted narrowboats moored up in the visitor moorings and along the opposite towpath added vibrancy and colour that only served to enhance the small, riverside village.

  Summer sat on a picnic table at the edge of the towpath, next to Valerie. It was early Saturday morning, and there was a layer of mist on the surface of the water, just waiting to be burnt off by the sun. It was too early for Claire’s music to have started and there was a chill in the air, though Summer thought that, too, would soon disappear. Latte was chasing a leaf along the towpath and Harvey, Valerie’s more adventurous silver tabby, sat watching her from the roof of Moonshine, Valerie’s boat.

  ‘I think it’s lovely,’ Valerie was saying. ‘Claire and Jas and Ryder all seem very nice, as do Ralph and Doug – such beautiful antiques on board his boat.’

  ‘You’ve been?’ Summer asked.

  ‘Oh yes.’ Valerie flicked her red hair over her shoulder. ‘I’ve been on board most of the boats now.’

  Summer stared at her for a moment, and then started laughing. ‘You’re a social butterfly, Valerie,’ she said. ‘How come I didn’t realize before?’

  ‘There haven’t been lots of other liveaboards to get to know in Willowbeck before,’ she said. ‘But the music festival will bring them in, and I’m bound to get a good lot of interest in my readings. Have you got reinforcements for the café?’

  Summer nodded. ‘Harry came round yesterday and helped me plan it all out. She’s going to help me on the Friday and Saturday, but she’s got a wedding to go to on Sunday. I’ll just have to manage, but it’s only one day so I’m sure I’ll be fine.’ She sipped her spiced latte, trying to push aside the niggle that Harry had left her with the day before.

  ‘You’re rushed off your feet on a normal weekend aren’t you?’ Harry had asked her, when she’d told Summer about the wedding she and Greg and Tommy were going to. ‘Can you imagine how much busier it’ll be during the festival? You’ll need some help on the Sunday.’

  ‘I’ve done it before,’ Summer had said, waving an airy hand in Harry’s direction, hoping it
would hide the fire of panic low down in her stomach, thinking that market day at Foxburn couldn’t really be compared to a music festival.

  Harry wasn’t fooled. ‘Summer, I really think you’ll need an extra pair of hands. What about Charlie, the butcher’s son? I’m sure that there’ll be more demand for cappuccinos than raw sausages and mince. Why not ask him?’

  Summer had nodded, but she didn’t know Charlie very well, didn’t know if he had any experience beyond the butcher’s shop, and the thought of working alongside someone she was unsure of in her precious café, on one of its busiest ever days, seemed even less appealing than working alone.

  ‘And you’ll be able to see the music in the evenings,’ Valerie said, snapping her out of her reverie. ‘It’s very kind of Dennis and Jenny to let them use the grassland at the side of the pub.’

  ‘I know. I was quite surprised – not at Dennis, he’s a sweetheart – but Jenny.’ Summer sighed. ‘I think I may have been unkind to her.’

  ‘Well,’ Valerie said, bristling, ‘she was unkind right back. You’re in a difficult position with her and I think she’s treated you very unfairly, although I do understand why it’s not been easy for her to get past her anger. Maybe she isn’t a monster, after all.’

  ‘You’re forgiving Jenny now? What has happened to you?’

  Valerie gave a little chuckle, and Summer nudged her good-naturedly with her shoulder.

  ‘And how are you otherwise, Summer? Have you heard from Mason?’

  Summer pressed her lips together and shook her head. She’d tried calling a few more times, but it always went to voicemail, and Summer didn’t trust herself to leave a composed message. ‘Maybe he’s really engrossed with the cranes,’ Summer said. For five whole days, she added silently. She’d checked the nature reserve website after Norman’s insistence that was where he’d gone and discovered that there had been crane sightings, which had reassured her slightly. But she wasn’t a fool, she knew that what had happened between them on board The Sandpiper had made Mason change his mind about her, or at least take time out to work out how he really felt.