Canal Boat Cafe (4) - Land Ahoy

by Cressida McLaughlin

  The sun baked down on them, and Summer, carrying a bottle of water and a metal dog bowl with her, and stopping to hydrate Archie and Latte as they went, stayed under the shade of the trees where possible. It was cool and quiet in the woods, and Summer slowed her steps, enjoying the peacefulness. The dogs were energetic in spite of the heat, having been cooped up on board the boats for too many hours, and as they reached a clear, grassy glade, Summer let them off the leads and lay on the plush, springy grass, staring at the endless blue above her.

  Six months ago, even the name Willowbeck had sent a shudder of dread through her, and now she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. She had begun to make peace with Jenny, she had taken steps towards accepting her mum’s death, and facing her guilt. She had found a man she believed she could be truly, gleefully happy with, and she was the proud owner of a vibrant, beautiful café. OK, so at the moment the paintwork was less than perfect, but she knew exactly what she could do to change that, and she was relishing the thought of it. Valerie would return soon, first at the pub and then in a new boat, back in her place as Summer’s neighbour. It hadn’t always been easy, and Summer had made many mistakes along the way, but, she realized, it had all been worth it.

  She strolled slowly back across the fields, the dogs on leads at her feet, and stopped on Elizabeth Proudfoot’s bridge. Willowbeck shimmered in the afternoon sunshine. Valerie’s boat was gone, and the bow of hers was blackened, but The Sandpiper and Celeste were in their rightful places, people were beginning to fill up the picnic tables in front of the pub, oblivious to the drama that had unfolded the previous night, and the visitor moorings were still full of roving traders.

  Summer knew they would be moving on soon, but she was confident that, following on from the success of Claire’s festival, they would be back. She heard a high, sharp keening behind her, and turned just in time to see a kingfisher, flying low and fast over the water in search of a new fishing spot. Suddenly, the urge to see Mason was overwhelming, and she picked up her pace.

  She tapped gently on the door of The Sandpiper and then pushed it open, stepping inside. Archie and Latte, released from their leads, skittered forward, back on familiar ground.

  ‘Ssshh,’ Summer hissed as Archie yelped, but the door to Mason’s berth opened and he emerged, wearing only a pair of scruffy jeans. Summer stared at him, knowing she was smiling idiotically, but unable to help it. His hair was haywire – he’d probably slept on it wet after showering to remove the grime and soot – and he was blinking tiredness out of his eyes, but he looked a lot better than he had a couple of hours ago, less pale and less smudged.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.

  ‘Better,’ he said, and then tried to clear his throat. ‘Not brilliant, but better.’

  He sat on the sofa and Summer joined him, handing him a glass of water. He put his arm around her and pulled her close, into his bare chest. Summer breathed in his citrusy, vanilla scent, and his warmth, and the faintest trace of smoke that she knew would take a while to leave.

  ‘I missed you,’ she said.

  ‘You were only gone a couple of hours.’

  She could tell it was an effort for him to speak, and she rubbed his chest, wondering if it was sore. ‘I’ve realized that I will always miss you when I’m not with you. You’re very missable.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘so are you. Except I was asleep, so actually I didn’t—’ He broke off and coughed, and Summer winced. Archie put his paw up on Mason’s knee and looked at him quizzically.

  ‘He knows you’re not well.’ Summer stroked Archie’s ears.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Mason said.

  ‘I nearly lost you.’ She sat up and looked him in the eye.

  Mason’s face was passive, but she could see his Adam’s apple bobbing. ‘No, you didn’t. I would never have risked … that.’

  ‘Fires are unpredictable,’ Summer said softly. She didn’t want to argue, or tell him off, she just wanted him to know how much he mattered. ‘No more rescuing, for the time being. I’ll tell everyone to be extra specially careful so you don’t need to.’

  ‘I’d appreciate it,’ Mason said.

  ‘Or maybe, if we just stay here for the next few days, then you won’t be tempted even if someone does need rescuing, because you won’t know about it.’ She ran her hand through his curls, and kissed him softly on the lips.

  ‘Now that,’ Mason said, his voice rasping, ‘sounds like an excellent idea.’

  ‘I’m full of good ideas.’ Summer kissed him again.

  ‘Why do you think I was attracted to you in the first place?’

  ‘My incredible bacon sandwiches,’ Summer said.

  Mason leaned back and looked at her, his dark eyes fixing on to hers and his face suddenly transformed by one of the grins that made Summer glad she was sitting down. ‘Fair point,’ he said, ‘but you’re pretty special too.’

  * * *

  When Summer made it back to her boat later that day, leaving Mason to sleep, she found another wooden sculpture on her bow deck. It was clean, while the wooden slats and the paintwork surrounding it were blackened and sticky with soot. She picked it up, frowning. It was a flag, crafted with a slight ripple in it, as if it was blowing in a breeze. There were stripes and stars, and even though it didn’t have the required fifty, Summer could tell it was the American flag. This one, she decided, was the most baffling of all.

  She went inside the café, which felt hollow and empty after the rammed, bustling days of the festival. She walked up to the counter and laid her flag alongside the others, looking at them each in turn. She had no connections to America, no reason to be given a flag, and its appearance confirmed that Mason hadn’t been leaving them for her, unless he’d made it while he was away on the reserve. Besides, wouldn’t he have told her by now if he were responsible?

  Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her pocket, smiling when she saw that it was a text from Mason. Miss you already, he’d written. She replied quickly: Go to sleep. Xx She looked down at her home screen, and noticed the date at the top. The fourth of July. Independence Day. Her mouth falling open, she stared at the flag, and then went back to each of the others in turn.

  She’d received the heart the second day she’d returned to Willowbeck, in the middle of February. She’d made heart-shaped cookies because it had been Valentine’s Day. Then there was the frog, which she’d received a couple of weeks later, on the twenty-ninth of February. Leap day.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she murmured. The daffodil – St David’s Day, the rabbit for Easter, and the Jester’s hat, which she’d thought was a dig at her, someone telling her she was a joke, was on April Fool’s Day. She picked up the sun and turned it round in her hands, wondering if it was just because it was summer, or whether it, too, had a special meaning. She tried to remember the exact day she’d received it – it was the day after she’d argued with Mason.

  She didn’t hear Claire come up behind her.

  ‘Oh God, look how many Norman originals you’ve got.’

  ‘What?’ Summer spun to face her. ‘Norman?’

  ‘Those gorgeous little sculptures. He’s given us all one as a leaving gift. An LP for me, a sandwich for Ralph, a little dresser for Doug. Jas has got a computer, and Ryder’s is a little stage. The detail is incredible, and Doug got quite worked up about them. They’re new, not antiques, but he says the quality is amazing. Better not show him your collection, or he’ll swipe them.’

  ‘Norman made these?’

  ‘Hello, earth to Summer? I know you haven’t had any sleep, but did you not hear what I just said?’

  ‘But he … he’s been leaving them for me, anonymously, on my deck. I had no idea. Look.’ She went through the different models, explaining them.

  ‘Summer solstice,’ Claire said when Summer got to the sun. ‘Got to be.’

  ‘Oh, of course! But why did he leave them for me?’

  ‘To cheer you up? To give you something to look forward to? Y
ou were pretty down when you first came back to Willowbeck, weren’t you? Maybe it was just a little mystery to keep you interested. Gifts cheer everyone up, don’t they?’

  Summer leant on the counter, examining the rabbit. ‘Norman was looking out for me. I thought he was mad at me for coming back when I’d abandoned Valerie for so long, but he wanted me to stay. He was encouraging me in his own way. And these are … I’ll have to tell Mason. We’d been trying to work the mystery out together.’

  ‘I bet you’ll be doing lots of things together from now on, won’t you?’

  Summer smiled down at the counter.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘yes, I think we will.’

  Chapter 7

  Summer stared at her boat. It was her boat, her café, and it was about to have its grand reopening. Mason came and stood beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist in a gesture that now seemed so natural to both of them, but still sent a happy shiver through Summer’s whole body.

  ‘You’ve done an incredible job,’ he said, bending low to whisper into her ear. ‘It’s the most beautiful boat in Willowbeck.’

  ‘More beautiful than The Sandpiper?’ Summer asked, laughing.

  ‘Yes,’ Mason said decisively. ‘Definitely.’

  The landscape of Willowbeck looked slightly different to how it had done six weeks ago, with Moonshine moored next to The Canal Boat Café. Celeste and The Sandpiper were still in place, but Moonshine was gone, replaced by a deep purple boat with gold trim, called Cosmic. The investigation had ruled that the fire had started because a spark had left Valerie’s woodburner and fallen on a curtain, a terrible, but innocent, accident.

  Summer had, very briefly, entertained the thought that Ross had been behind it – a last, vindictive act because Summer had finally told him she didn’t want him in her life. But, she’d reasoned, everything he’d done he thought he’d been doing to help her, however misguided his actions had been. She hadn’t reported him to the police, unable to be the cause of any more pain or suffering, but instead had written him a long letter, telling him that they could never be friends again, and asking him to stay away from Willowbeck. It had hurt, but she knew she had to leave it behind her, those horrible few months after her mother’s death, and the memory of the break-in. While Harry and Mason had, at first, been adamant that she should go to the police, once she’d explained her reasoning they had understood why she didn’t want to go through with it.

  Valerie, too, had been forgiving, also choosing to focus on the future, rather than the past. Out of hospital and in one of Dennis and Jenny’s spare bedrooms, she had found Cosmic searching on websites of boats for sale, and said she had to have it – the name was perfect. It’s fuchsia paintwork, however, was not.

  ‘I can’t have that, Summer! It’ll clash with my hair. What should I do?’

  Summer knew exactly what Valerie needed to do, and that was let her paint her boat.

  Summer had spent most of July and August at the boatyard with Mick, working first on Valerie’s new boat and then the repaint of her own, finishing her kingfisher painting for Mason in the few quiet moments in between. Mick was great fun to work alongside, their days were filled with laughter, and he showed her how to prime and sand and paint the boats, giving her full rein on the design and details once the base colours were in place. Summer was concerned that she was losing custom, but, with Harry’s help, she’d worked on a plan and geared it towards a big relaunch at the beginning of September.

  Jas had agreed to spread word on his blog, and Adam, Carole from the gift shop, and even Jenny, were handing out flyers, explaining that the café was closed for refurbishment and would have a grand, Indian Summer reopening.

  While she worked, and on the days that Mason wasn’t at the reserve, he brought them both sandwiches and cake, and the odd home-made espresso from his cafetiere on board The Sandpiper. Summer loved the work, creating beautiful designs on the boats, but she relished these moments, when Mason would come and interrupt her, sit outside with her for half an hour, Archie and Latte scrapping playfully at their feet. It seemed he missed her as much as she did him, and in the evenings, with her boat in the boatyard, Summer stayed on The Sandpiper, sharing Mason’s bed and finding out about him slowly and deliciously, in a way that was as far from an instant download as possible.

  His cough had taken several weeks to go completely, and Valerie had stayed in bed at The Black Swan for nearly a month before she felt strong enough to get up and move about properly. Mason’s physical recovery had been quick, but she knew that the emotional scars would take longer to heal. He talked to Summer about it, the fear he’d felt battling against the determination that he wasn’t going to let anybody else die in the way that Lisa had. Sometimes he would disappear in the evenings, taking Latte and Archie along the towpath or across the fields, always returning to Summer with a hug and a kiss, his skin warm and his hair smelling of late summer. She knew it would take time, but also that they had all the time in the world.

  ‘I asked Mick,’ Summer said as she looked at her boat, with its new, improved paint job and its new name.

  ‘Asked him what?’ Mason murmured into her ear.

  ‘Why he calls you Lothario.’

  ‘I didn’t know that he did until you told me.’

  ‘Well, it’s because they all agree, at the boatyard, all those big burly men, that you’re a lady-killer. He didn’t go as far as to say that he fancies you, but his admiration was pretty clear. You set people’s hearts fluttering, and I can vouch for that.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief. It’d be a sad state of affairs if I couldn’t make my girlfriend weak at the knees.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said, patting his hand, ‘you definitely do that.’

  ‘Summeeeerrrrrr!’ called a voice from behind them, and they turned to see Tommy racing along the towpath towards them, Greg and Harry hand in hand behind him.

  Summer embraced her friend, and gratefully accepted the cake tin that came in between them. ‘A little something for the grand opening,’ she said. ‘Just to sit alongside your wonderful offerings.’

  Summer narrowed her eyes. ‘I think wonderful is taking it a bit too far.’

  ‘Well, I don’t,’ Harry said, ‘and nobody else will either.’

  People had begun to arrive, clustering towards the towpath, eager to see what the grand ceremony involved. Summer and Harry went on board the boat and opened up the hatch, Summer starting up the coffee machine. She looked at the display of wooden objects on the counter in front of her – cakes and narrowboats, kingfishers and herons – all for sale for what Summer thought was a modest price.

  She had gone to Norman after the revelation about his carvings, and thanked him for keeping her spirits up. He had been as gruff as ever, hardly daring to admit it, let alone accept the compliments she thrust at him. Over the weeks she had convinced him that his carvings were special, and that anyone would be delighted to own one. Selling them in her café wasn’t about making any money for Norman – he almost flat out refused to accept any – but about spreading the joy they had given her, and giving her guests mementos of their visit to Willowbeck and The Canal Boat Café.

  ‘All set?’ Harry asked.

  ‘All set.’ Summer nodded. ‘Thank you so much for coming on board with this,’ she said, and Harry rolled her eyes. ‘Sorry, sorry, no pun intended.’

  ‘Your café is a million times more fun to work in than my old place,’ Harry said. ‘Working with my best friend, in an idyllic river setting, is a dream job. And it’s helping us to get back on our feet. Greg is as grateful as I am, though I’m not sure his pride will let him admit it to you.’

  ‘Well, neither of you can be as grateful as I am,’ Summer said. ‘This café is going to fly with you baking and working here. We are the perfect team.’

  ‘I hope it doesn’t fly. I think sail would be more appropriate.’

  Summer tutted. ‘Narrowboats don’t sail, they cruise. You’ve got a lot to learn.�
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  ‘Well, as hard as this might be to believe,’ Harry said, ‘I’m looking forward to every minute. Do you have the bottle?’

  Summer grinned and went into the kitchen, getting the bottle of champagne that Mason had bought out of the fridge. She carried it through the café and out to the towpath, where the crowd had gathered. There was Greg and Tommy, Dennis and Jenny, Adam from the butcher’s and Valerie and Norman. She could see a few of her regular customers, Barry and even the green-eyed businessman who she’d sung with at the festival. She was almost tempted to run over and point Mason out to him, telling him that they had both been right to believe he’d return. Mason was there with Archie and Latte, both of whom were looking up at the roof of The Sandpiper, where Harvey and Mike were sitting next to each other, sunning themselves in the late summer glow.

  Since the fire, Mike had gained a new lease of life, and no longer stayed inside. Summer thought that was probably to do with the fact that for a few weeks they had been forced to stay in the noisy, busy pub rather than on a narrowboat, but she didn’t want to burst Valerie’s bubble of enthusiasm. Mason, it seemed, had not only rescued the cat, but had also shown him what he was missing.

  ‘Right,’ Summer said, standing and facing the crowd, clutching the bottle of champagne. ‘Thank you so much for coming today, to the grand reopening of The Canal Boat Café, and the renaming ceremony of my boat. As lots of you will know, a few weeks ago Valerie’s boat Moonshine suffered a devastating fire. Her own boat couldn’t be saved, and the damage to the café was superficial, but enough to warrant a repaint. As you can see, Valerie’s new boat, Cosmic, is even more beautiful than Moonshine was, and if you want to talk to her about psychic readings or astrology, then please do.’ She gestured towards Valerie, who gave a quick wave.

  Summer took a deep breath, and continued. ‘When it came to repriming and painting The Canal Boat Café, I discovered that, beneath the existing paint job, this boat had another, real name. That name,’ she said, glancing at everyone staring back at her, ‘was Summer Breeze.’ She heard a familiar snicker from Mason’s direction, and saw Valerie bite back her laugh. ‘It seemed a bit ridiculous – and a bit arrogant – to have a boat that was named after me, and it also suggested that I might be slightly flatulent. So, anyway, it had to go – but it gave me an idea about what I could call my boat, my beautiful café.