Canal Boat Cafe (4) - Land Ahoy

by Cressida McLaughlin

  ‘You know,’ Valerie said, ‘when someone has had something catastrophic happen to them, any further blow is harder to recover from. If a vase gets smashed and put back together, any subsequent break and recovery is slow and painstaking, because you can’t ignore the earlier cracks.’

  Summer looked at her friend, and swallowed. ‘You know?’ she whispered. ‘Did Mason tell you?’

  ‘No, Summer,’ Valerie said, putting a hand on her knee, ‘but I can tell. He’s suffered a great loss in his life, and it’s one that, as hard as he tries to push it away, will always affect him, no matter what else happens. He’s a good, kind man, with a warm heart. He just needs a little more care and attention than he’d like to admit.’

  Summer dropped her head, and then she had a thought. It was a crazy, wilful thought, but she said it before she could change her mind. ‘Will you give me a reading, Valerie, and tell me what’s in my future?’

  ‘You don’t want a reading from me, Summer.’

  ‘Yes I do – I really do. Will you tell me?’

  Valerie turned to her on the bench and Harvey sprang down onto the towpath and then up onto the picnic table in two leaps, his tail tickling Summer’s nose. Summer lifted the cat into her lap, glancing at Latte to check the dog was otherwise engaged.

  ‘I’m not going to give you a reading, Summer,’ she said.

  Summer’s shoulders sagged. ‘Why not?’

  Valerie smiled at her, her eyes bright. ‘Because you know what’s in your heart, and you don’t need me to tell you what you need to do.’

  ‘But how can I do it – how can I do what I need to if he’s not here, if he’s gone?’

  Valerie put a hand over Summer’s and Harvey licked the older woman’s arm. ‘Trust yourself, and trust that it will all work out.’

  Summer looked at her, trying to read Valerie’s meaning in her expression, and in the tone of her voice. She was smiling, which Summer thought had to be a good thing. Norman had told her about the cranes, Valerie was telling her to trust herself, and Dennis had said that he believed Mason would come back. She knew she was grasping at straws, trying to put the pieces together even though they were vague and insubstantial, but it was all that she had. And then Valerie said something that made Summer’s mouth dry out for an entirely different reason.

  ‘Have you spoken to Ross about it? Maybe he’s heard from Mason.’

  Summer replayed Valerie’s words in her head before replying. ‘Ross? Why would he have heard from him?’

  ‘I got the impression they were good friends, from the things Ross says when he comes for his readings.’

  Summer held onto Harvey, his soft ears tickling her chin. ‘What kind of things?’ she asked, the words coming out as a whisper.

  ‘Oh, he just mentions him a fair bit. You introduced them, didn’t you? Ross speaks very highly of him, and I have to agree, of course. It must be good to know that they get on, for if – when – Mason comes back.’

  Summer blinked. This wasn’t true. She knew it wasn’t, because of what Ross had told her just before she’d gone to Mason’s boat that evening, the doubts he’d stirred up in her about Mason’s intentions. She knew because of Ross’s hostility whenever he’d been in the same room as Mason, whenever she’d mentioned his name. She took a deep breath. ‘Valerie, did you give Ross a reading saying that he would have to look after someone. Someone who would end up getting hurt by a Lothario?’

  Valerie turned slowly to face her, her brows knitted in confusion. ‘No, I didn’t say anything like that. Why on earth do you think that happened?’

  Summer swallowed. ‘Because Ross told me. He told me that, in his reading, you had warned him that he would need to be there for someone. He made it obvious that it was me; he said that I was going to be hurt by someone, and I tried not to believe him, but I let it cloud my thoughts about Mason, and then that night I discovered the compass on his boat …’

  Valerie shook her head vigorously. ‘No, you must have got it wrong. Ross wouldn’t try and … no, he’s Mason’s friend. Maybe you misinterpreted what he was saying? Ross doesn’t always explain himself very well, so—’ She gasped. Harvey looked up at her, his green eyes wide, his purr loud.

  ‘What?’ Summer asked, a wave of nausea sweeping over her.

  ‘Ross told me that you didn’t believe in what I did, that you’d admitted to him that you thought I was a fraud. All those months ago.’ Valerie pressed her fingers to her lips, her eyes bright with shock. ‘He was so sweet, so apologetic, saying he hated telling me, but that he thought I needed to know when we were friends, neighbours. At first I was furious with you, but the more I thought about it, the less sense it made. I couldn’t believe you would have said that, and thought I must just have misinterpreted his words. I didn’t mention it to him again because I was sure it was my fault, that I must have got the wrong end of the stick. He’s always so cheerful, so friendly.’

  Summer stared at the blue water shimmering beyond the narrowboats as she tried to let the extent of Ross’s manipulation sink in. ‘I thought it was Jenny who’d told you that, that she was telling lies because she wanted us to fall out, for me to feel unhappy enough to leave Willowbeck. And I did – I left! Ross got between us, and I think – I know now that he got between me and Mason.’

  ‘Summer, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘What for?’ Her disbelief was slowly being overtaken by anger. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘I believed him,’ Valerie said. ‘I thought he was genuine, warm, sweet. I thought he wanted readings, that he was interested in what I did. I thought, when he asked about you and Mason, he just wanted to know how his friends were getting on.’

  ‘Valerie,’ Summer said, reaching over the silver tabby and putting a hand on her knee, ‘I believed him too. I …’ She thought back to the way he had comforted her, and then held her, after her mum’s death. She closed her eyes, her jaw clenching. ‘I have been taken in by him for a long time. Shit. He’s never liked Mason, but he made you believe that he does, to find out more about him, to learn things that he can use as ammunition. Did you—’ she started, then sighed, sure she already knew the answer. ‘Did you tell Ross that Mick’s nickname for Mason was Lothario? I had heard Mick call him that, and so when Ross used the same word, supposedly from your reading, the warning he’d got, part of me believed that it had been genuine, and that Mason really didn’t care about me.’

  Valerie stared at Summer’s hand on her knee, and shook her head. ‘He asked how you’d been. I told him about the leak on your boat, about Mick coming to help, that he and Mason knew each other because they’d worked on The Sandpiper together. I may have mentioned it, but … oh, no.’

  ‘I should have known none of it was true,’ Summer said, pressing her free hand against her forehead. ‘If you’d really given Ross that reading, then you wouldn’t be encouraging me to believe in Mason, to wait for him. You’d be as distrustful as Ross is about him. I’ve been so stupid.’

  ‘No, Summer,’ Valerie said. ‘You’ve been manipulated. And that’s not necessarily true. I don’t always get names in my readings; I don’t know all the details. I just get strong feelings, strong suggestions of what is happening or going to happen in a person’s life. Ross was clever, using Mason’s nickname, planting the seeds of doubt without being explicit. He’s been learning how I work, learning the type of information I’m able to pass on. Oh Summer! What will you do?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Summer said truthfully. ‘I’ll have to confront him, but I – I think I need to focus on the festival first. I can’t deal with it right now. But if Mason doesn’t come back—’

  ‘Trust yourself,’ Valerie said vehemently, putting her own hand over Summer’s and repeating her earlier words. ‘Trust it will all work out. Don’t let Ross come between the two of you.’

  At that moment, Madonna’s ‘Holiday’ burst out of the speakers on Water Music, and Summer knew it was time to start opening up. ‘Thanks, Valerie,’ she sa
id, sighing. ‘For listening. For helping me to see what’s been going on.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Summer, for my part in this. But I am always here for you, remember that.’

  Summer nodded and, collecting Latte on the way, and with a heavy mix of anger and regret churning in her head, went back to The Canal Boat Café. It was one thing telling Summer not to let Ross come between her and Mason, but what if it was already too late?

  Her life, over the next few days, became a strange hybrid of her Willowbeck and roving-trader lifestyles. She spent the days working on board the café, which was noticeably busier since the arrival of the roving traders, selling bacon and sausage sandwiches, cakes and muffins, a variety of different traybakes that Harry had made in her country cottage kitchen, and a selection of flavoured macarons that they’d made together when Harry had come back for their festival planning session. Summer was ridiculously excited at the thought of having Harry’s help for two whole days, and was already thinking about how best to ask her if she wanted a more permanent, varied role as a staple part of The Canal Boat Café.

  In the evenings, after the café, the music shop, the sandwich boat and antique barge had all closed, Summer and Valerie would join the other roving traders on the grassland at the far side of the pub, away from the moorings. It was a large, unused patch of unkempt grass, partly hidden from the picnic tables and the towpath by the trees that bordered it. An outdoor stage was in the process of being erected, and Summer noticed that Ryder seemed to be in charge of it. He had probably sourced the equipment through one of his shady contacts, and every time she saw him he seemed to be ordering several sweaty men and women around from his relaxed position, cross-legged on the grass with a pint of cider in his hands.

  Thursday evening was the night before the festival started and, as usual, Valerie and Summer went to meet the others. The stage looked ready, and the whole area had been adorned with fairy lights. They ran along the side of the pub, draped down on either side of the stage and even hung in the trees surrounding the area.

  ‘Goodness me,’ Valerie said, stopping on the edge of the grass. ‘This looks incredible.’

  Summer gasped, and then laughed. ‘The roving traders do like their fairy lights. What a perfect setting.’

  ‘Come on, ladies,’ Claire called, ‘stop gawping. Come and have a drink.’ Claire poured wine into two glasses, and Summer noticed the trays of sandwiches and red velvet cupcakes in the middle of the cluster of people. Dennis and Jenny had agreed to them taking over the space on the understanding that, when they were using it, they would buy their food and drink from them. Summer had seen a large order of plastic pint glasses being hauled from a van into the back door of the pub, and knew that, like everyone else, the Greenways were excited about the extra custom and life the three-day event would bring.

  Summer sat next to Jas and put her arms around Chester’s shaggy neck. Latte bounded up and jumped on Summer’s lap, desperate to be involved. Summer hugged the Bichon Frise and the Irish wolfhound at the same time, and Jas grinned at her from under his baseball cap.

  ‘How’s the blog going?’ Summer asked. ‘Still getting lots of followers?’

  ‘Yup,’ Jas nodded. ‘Another few thousand since we were up at Tivesham. The summer months help because people dream about how great it would be to be on board a boat, cruising up and down with the sun shining on them, so you get lots of interested folk. It helps to remind them that the winters are very different.’

  ‘Not that you want to put people off,’ Claire said.

  ‘No, no, of course not, but you need to be realistic. River life’s not always easy.’

  Summer nodded and sipped her wine. Though her time in Willowbeck and everything that she’d faced since she’d stepped back on board her mum’s boat hadn’t been plain sailing, she wouldn’t change it now. She wouldn’t change what had happened, except for the one evening that was still haunting her thoughts.

  ‘Are we going to have some stories?’ Valerie asked. ‘Summer’s told me so much about them. She said that you were particularly good, Doug, that your Black Shuck story was really sinister.’

  ‘It wasn’t that scary,’ Summer protested, trying to give off a confident air, remembering how terrified she’d been at Doug’s words and hoping that wasn’t the roving trader’s lasting memory of her.

  Doug sat up straight and rubbed his hands together, grinning at Valerie. ‘Let me have a think,’ he said. ‘Give me ten minutes and I’ll come up with something spectacular.’

  ‘I can’t wait.’ Valerie’s eyes met Doug’s with a sparkle that Summer hadn’t noticed before.

  ‘The stage is set,’ Ryder said, ‘and all of us are merely players.’ He sauntered over to the group and crouched down. He was wearing a loud, Hawaiian-style yellow and pink shirt and jeans so pale they were almost white. Summer thought she could see tassels on his shoes, but didn’t want to look too closely for fear of being proved right. ‘Looks pretty sweet, doesn’t it?’

  ‘That is an awful misquote,’ Claire said, ‘but it does look incredible. The bands will be so stoked. I’ve sorted out Herald at the last minute, and a good new indie band from Norwich called Swordfish with some pretty solid backing. I thought they could play Sunday night, close things down in spectacular fashion.’

  ‘It sounds amazing,’ Summer said. ‘I’m just gutted I’ll miss the early music while I’m working.’

  ‘We’ll make sure the volume’s up,’ Claire said. ‘And with Harry along to help, you’ll get breaks.’

  ‘It depends how packed it is. From the conversations I’ve overheard in the café, it seems your stealth-marketing campaign has worked wonders.’

  ‘We’ve got the river alight with it,’ Ryder said, ‘not to mention the fan-bases of the bands and artists. Willowbeck’s not the biggest place, so I have no concerns about the atmosphere. It’ll go off with a bang, and banging’s what we’re all about.’ He gave Claire a sideways glance and she turned away, her cheeks reddening.

  Summer covered her smile with her hand, and made a mental note to ask Claire what was going on with her and Ryder when they could talk in private.

  ‘Shame about the empty berth though,’ Ryder added, ‘that’s some custom, or help for the festival, that’s going begging.’

  ‘It’s a residential mooring,’ Valerie said, her voice stern, ‘and Mason could return any day. He’s only gone away for a few days for work. In fact, I bet he knows about the festival, and is planning on coming back over the weekend.’

  Ryder raised his eyebrows, clearly unconvinced, but Summer was touched by Valerie’s loyalty to Mason. She felt a tug on her T-shirt.

  ‘Still no word?’ Claire asked. Her voice was sympathetic, and Summer resisted the wall that was attempting to build itself up against the question.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Norman said he’s gone after the cranes at the reserve, which I can believe, but I know that’s not the whole picture.’

  Claire squeezed Summer’s shoulder. ‘He’ll come back,’ she said.

  Summer exhaled. ‘You don’t believe that.’

  ‘I do. After what you’ve told me, about how he seemed prepared to talk to you about Tania, I do. He’s a changed man, clearly – or you’ve made him see things differently.’

  ‘You’re kind, and I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but I think I’m going to have to track him down if I want to try and explain. He’s chosen to go off-grid, and I don’t blame him.’ Summer sipped her wine and then lay down, her head cushioned by the springy grass. She stared at the patches of blue sky through the pattern of leaves and branches above her. She’d told Claire that Mason had got close, about the compass, and about the night on his boat when she’d discovered it. She hadn’t mentioned anything about his wife or the fire because that wasn’t her story to tell, and Claire had seemed sympathetic, even though, without the tragedy in his past, it made Mason’s disappearance seem irrational.

  She blinked a couple of times, and when sh
e opened her eyes, there was a face looking down at her, his features upside down, his smile appearing in her mind like a frown.

  ‘Ross.’ Claire said, ‘Long time no see. I didn’t realize you were joining us!’

  ‘It sounded fun,’ Ross said, ‘I couldn’t miss out now that Willowbeck is one of my favourite places.’ He smiled at them, but it faltered slightly when neither Valerie nor Summer greeted him warmly.

  Summer sat up. ‘Hi,’ she said. He was wearing a bright yellow T-shirt, his hair gelled into spikes, his knees poking out below black shorts.

  ‘Summer, how are you? Ready for the festival?’

  ‘Let’s go and get a drink.’ Her mind was racing. She hadn’t prepared for this, hadn’t worked through everything she needed to say to him yet. But he was here, and she couldn’t pretend to be friendly now she knew what he was responsible for.

  ’There’s plenty of wine here,’ Claire said, holding up a bottle.

  Summer shook her head and stood, beckoning for Ross to follow her. The picnic tables were busy, but Summer felt freer, more able to talk, away from the others. Inside the pub, blinking so her eyes could adjust to the gloom, she ordered a pint for Ross and a glass of lime and soda for herself. She took them back outside and sat opposite him.

  Ross had his back to the river, a curious, amused smile on his face. Summer let her eyes follow the line of the boats: Purple Moonshine, closest to the bridge, The Canal Boat Café and then the gap where The Sandpiper had been, green and red Celeste and, finally, the cluster of roving trader boats in the visitor moorings and along the opposite towpath. The water was glittering and the breeze was warm, caressing Summer’s arms. It was a perfect day.

  ‘Summer, what did you want to talk to me about?’ Ross puffed up his chest, as if he was preparing for good news. Summer wanted to feel sorry for him, for the desperate measures he’d taken to be in her life, but all she felt was anger.

  ‘You lied to me about Mason,’ she said.

  It took a moment for Ross’s grin to falter and for his chest to deflate. ‘What? No, of course I didn’t.’