Casting Off

by Cressida McLaughlin

  ‘Don’t pay any attention to her,’ Ryder said. ‘She loves sticking her nose in.’ A look passed between them, not hostile, but definitely charged. Summer wondered if she should invent an excuse to move further down the boat and leave them to it, but then she felt the boat turn as Jas negotiated it into its mooring.

  Summer said goodbye to everyone, receiving a quick hug from Jas, handshakes from Doug and Ralph, and a kiss on the cheek from Ryder, his beard soft against her skin.

  ‘Until next time,’ he said, leaning in the doorway of The Wanderer’s Rest.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Summer replied, shooting a quick glance at Claire.

  They made their way down the towpath, the glow of the streetlights hazy in a river mist that had descended while they’d been gone.

  ‘Have I convinced you, then?’ Claire asked quietly.

  ‘About what?’ Summer pulled Latte’s lead closer as she strayed towards the water’s edge. ‘I prefer your folk songs to One Direction, definitely.’

  ‘I’m with you there,’ Claire said. ‘But I was talking about the cakes. Try some new recipes – I’m sure I’ve got a baking book somewhere, but believe me, you don’t want to try any of my muffins.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Summer laughed.

  ‘I’m a hopeless cook,’ Claire said, regret in her voice. ‘Total foodie, but put a bowl and a whisk in my hand and I’ll use it as percussion.’

  ‘So you’re giving me all these instructions—’

  ‘Suggestions.’

  ‘Instructions,’ Summer repeated, ‘and you can’t do any of this yourself.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have to ask you if I could, would I?’

  ‘Fair point.’ They reached Water Music and Claire got her keys out.

  ‘You’ve enjoyed tonight?’ Claire asked. ‘I know they’re a bit whacky, but they’re a lot of fun.’

  ‘I had no idea this kind of thing went on. I haven’t laughed so much – or been so terrified – in ages. I feel like my mind’s had a workout. Thank you for tracking me down.’

  ‘For following the smell of brownies, you mean? Friendship is a mere side-effect of what I need you for.’

  ‘So when you said suggestions …’ Summer let the words trail off, and grinned.

  ‘Yeah, fair enough. Nobody ever said I was meek. But give it a go – if I can’t find this book then there’s always the internet.’

  ‘And Mason was content with simple bacon sandwiches,’ Summer said, sighing.

  ‘Mason?’ Claire paused in the doorway.

  ‘He was my neighbour at Willowbeck. He’d started to become quite a good friend.’ She tried not to sound nostalgic, but wasn’t sure she’d managed it.

  ‘Ah, right,’ Claire said, ‘so he’s … he’s not happy you’ve gone, then?’

  ‘We’re still in touch. I’ve only been here a few days, but it’s nice that he’s not treating me as out of sight, out of mind.’

  ‘The waterways are a pretty tight-knit community. It’s good you’ve still got friends there.’

  ‘Can I ask,’ Summer said, ‘what’s the deal with you and Ryder?’

  ‘Oh,’ Claire’s eyes flashed, ‘have you seen something you like there?’

  ‘No, I – I sensed something, between you. But it’s none of my business.’

  ‘Curiosity’s allowed,’ Claire said. ‘I’ve not exactly left you alone, have I? Ryder’s a good guy, despite the act. I can’t say I’m not attracted. But we’re both part of the band of roving traders, and a relationship is always a risk. If it went wrong it might cause a rift, and I’m happy as part of this haphazard little crowd. I don’t want to do anything to wreck that.’

  ‘Who says it would?’

  Claire gave her a wide grin. ‘Don’t throw logic into the mix. We’ve only just met and you’re organizing my relationships.’

  ‘You’re organizing my café!’ Summer protested.

  ‘Touché. Right, I’m heading in. We can continue this battle tomorrow.’

  Summer gave Claire a hug, waited while she bent to say goodnight to Latte, and then walked past the other narrowboats to her own. It was close to two in the morning, and A Seeker’s Fortune was closed up, all the curtains drawn. She wondered if Una and Colin had ever met Ryder, or been involved in one of the storytelling evenings.

  Foxburn was dark and still. Ducks and geese were asleep, the little cottages were all in darkness, and the boat owners who had been with her that evening were quietly climbing aboard their boats and closing their doors behind them. It was ridiculous, but the story about the Shucky Dog and Jas’s tale about the ghostly narrowboat had left an impression on Summer, and she felt a sharp tug of fear at being out in the dark with only Latte for company. The little Bichon Frise wouldn’t be a match for a snarling hound with chains and red eyes.

  When Summer was safely under the covers, she sent a text to Harry, inviting her to visit. She had a proposition she wanted to talk to her friend about, something that could be beneficial for Claire, her café customers and her best friend as well. Summer turned out her light, and with the gentle lulling of the boat, the feel of Latte’s warm body on her feet, and despite demon dogs and ghostly helmsman hovering at the edge of her thoughts, she soon fell asleep.

  Summer woke the following morning with grand plans. She was going to try and broaden her repertoire – maybe not as far as cream horns, because she was sure she didn’t have the skill or the space needed to make French patisserie masterpieces – but she agreed with Claire that variety could only improve the café’s reputation.

  On the phone, Harry was enthusiastic.

  ‘Of course you can do it, Sum, all you need is a sound recipe and perseverance.’

  ‘But I don’t have your magic fingers.’

  ‘Come off it. Your signs are exquisite, and that’s all done with your hands and an eye for detail. Add in a bit of taste and smell and you’re there.’

  ‘You make it sound so simple. Will you come and see me? We can talk it through, and maybe some of your magic will rub off on me.’

  ‘I’d love to, I really would. I want to see this place, all these amazing new people you’ve met, but it’s – I’m just a bit busy at the moment, a bit tied up with things. I’ll see though – maybe I can come some time next week. I’ll check with Greg.’

  Summer paused. ‘Are you OK, Harry?’

  ‘Sure, fine. Why wouldn’t I be?’

  Summer pulled back the curtains in her cabin. The sun was high and bright, as if it was also choosing today to be bold.

  ‘You sound … evasive. As if you don’t want to see me.’

  ‘Summer, of course I do. Things are just hectic here, Tommy’s getting mountains of homework and Greg’s doing long hours. I’m sure I can come and see you soon.’

  ‘You have to promise. Bring Greg and Tommy with you if you like.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘I miss you, Harry.’

  ‘Well you don’t need to. We’ll see each other very soon.’

  Summer opened up the café. It was Friday which, Claire had informed her, meant market day in Foxburn. There was a steady flow of people heading from the towpath into the market square and vice versa, which meant that for the first time in ages, Summer had barely any time to think. Latte got over-excited and, when she almost jumped into a pushchair to say hello to the pudgy little boy who was sitting in it, Summer had to shut her in the cabin. She hated doing it, but she had no time to keep an eye on her, and Latte’s affection wasn’t always taken in the way it was meant, especially with people who weren’t as fond of dogs as she was.

  There were no requests for outlandish desserts or pastries, which made Summer think that Claire was being kept similarly busy, and by the time three o’clock came round, her feet ached and her countertop was almost bare. She must have made over fifty cappuccinos, and the sound of the milk frother was on repeat inside her head.

  With the market packing up, the custom began to thin out. A blue and white narrowboat-for-hire called T
he Blue Heron moored in the visitor space beyond A Seeker’s Fortune, and a group of men in their twenties, all wearing loud shirts and no jackets, jumped on to the towpath.

  ‘Stag do,’ said an older woman with a neat white bob and large, tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses, shaking her head and watching as they went past, jostling each other and laughing. She was sitting at the table closest to the counter, drinking Earl Grey and eating a scone. ‘Why they think a narrowboat is the best way of letting off steam before marriage, I’ll never know. I thought they all went to Eastern Europe these days, to shoot guns and drink vodka.’

  Summer laughed. ‘It’s quite unusual, isn’t it?’

  ‘No dear,’ the woman said, ‘not around these parts.’

  ‘Do you get lots of stag parties stopping, then?’

  ‘Stags and hens, fortieth birthday parties.’ The woman spread strawberry jam liberally on to her scone. ‘Combining high spirits, alcohol and deep, murky water is award-winning stupidity in my opinion. And that poor boat.’ She pointed in the direction of The Blue Heron. ‘When you compare it to yours, or that antique boat further down, it looks like a wreck. And it’s not as if your boats are private – you get people tromping on here all the time – but you don’t neglect it, do you?’

  Summer thought of the eight months she had abandoned it. ‘Not any more,’ she said.

  ‘Exactly. Those hire boats are often kept only to the minimum standard. They become a blight on the river, and not just because of the people on board. My Terrence and I were liveaboards for twenty years, with a residential mooring near Northampton. We travelled a lot, all the way up the Grand Union canal and back on a regular basis.’

  ‘It sounds amazing,’ Summer said, leaning on the counter.

  ‘And these parties weren’t popular back then. Just other folk respecting the river, delighting in its beauty.’

  ‘You’re not on a boat now?’

  ‘No dear, I have a little flat in Foxburn. I like to stay close to the water, but since Terrence passed, it’s just me and Ginny.’

  ‘Ginny?’

  ‘Yorkshire terrier. She’s got a gammy paw at the moment, otherwise I’d have brought her out. But she adores chasing the geese, and it’s torture if I bring her to the towpath and she can’t move properly.’

  ‘The geese? She’s brave for such a small dog.’

  ‘Size has never been an issue for her,’ the woman said. ‘In her mind, she’s a mighty bear.’

  Summer laughed. ‘My Latte would probably be chased by a duckling, she’s so timid.’

  ‘Oh?’ The woman looked at her with interest. ‘You have a dog?’

  ‘A Bichon Frise,’ Summer confirmed, and the woman’s eyes lit up. ‘It was so hectic earlier that I had to shut her away – not everyone feels comfortable having a dog onboard when there’s food being served – but it’s fairly quiet now. Hang on.’ Summer slipped into the kitchen and opened the door to the cabin. Latte was asleep on the sofa, the sleeve of Summer’s red wool jumper in her mouth. ‘Come on, you,’ Summer said. ‘Come and say hello.’

  Latte opened her eyes and looked dozily up, then rested her head on her paws.

  ‘Please, Latte, come and meet a new friend.’

  Latte sniffed and turned away.

  Summer crouched and stroked her. Latte pretended to be asleep.

  ‘Latte, you’ll love her. She’s really friendly, like a grandma, and she loves dogs, she’s got—’ Latte sat up, her ears suddenly alert. Summer listened, but couldn’t hear anything, and then Latte barked so loudly and so close to Summer’s face that she almost fell backwards. ‘Hey—’ she started, but the little dog bounded off the sofa and through the kitchen, and Summer scrambled up and raced after her.

  ‘Latte—’ she called, bursting through the door into the café, and then stopped dead.

  Latte was turning in tiny circles and yapping, directly in front of a Border terrier whose tail was wagging like a metronome set to the fastest beat, and whose lead was far too long for the small space, and looked like it was wound around three table legs. Summer didn’t need to follow the lead to see who would be attached to the other end, because Mason was standing next to the older woman’s table, and they were both laughing at something he’d just said.

  His scarf was wound tightly around his neck, his battered denim jacket was done up and his jeans were tucked into serious-looking walking boots. He turned and grinned at her.

  ‘Hi,’ Summer heard herself say, and then wondered if her boat had become untethered, because she felt like she might be floating away.

  ‘You’ll need a warm coat,’ he said, ‘and gloves, and maybe a hat.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’ve come to take you out on our walk.’

  ‘But I—’ She glanced at the older woman.

  ‘Oh don’t worry about me, I’m off home before it gets too cold. I’ve been introduced to Archie, and I can see that Latte’s otherwise engaged.’ The two dogs were weaving in and out of each other, as if performing some complicated dance they’d spent months rehearsing.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’ll be back for another scone tomorrow, if you’re still here.’

  ‘I will be,’ Summer said, smiling. ‘It would be lovely to have a few regulars while I was in this part of the world.’

  The older woman got to her feet, and Mason helped her to put her coat on.

  ‘Goodbye dear,’ she said. ‘It’s a lovely evening for a walk, but Mason’s right, you need to wrap up.’

  Summer watched her go, and then turned back to Mason. She couldn’t stop smiling. ‘She knows you?’ she asked.

  ‘She used to be a liveaboard. I haven’t seen her for a few years, and she was just telling me her husband died last year, that she’s moved to a flat nearby.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Did you know him well?’

  ‘Not really. You meet a lot of people on the water – you must be finding that out by now – but, unless you stay somewhere for any length of time, you don’t ever get to know them properly. But –’ his eyes met hers in a way that made her shiver from head to toe – ‘I’m not letting you slip away so easily. Are you up for a walk? I know I’ve sprung it – and myself – on you a bit.’

  ‘It’s a lovely surprise,’ Summer said, wondering whether to hug him or kiss his cheek. In the end she did neither. ‘It’s so good to see you. And as long as you promise not to force me back to Willowbeck, then I’m game.’

  Mason held his hands up. ‘Why do you think I’ve brought the walk to you? This area’s got a lot to see, especially in the late afternoons.’

  ‘Give me a few minutes, and I’ll close up.’

  Chapter 3

  Summer’s cheeks were burning with the cold by the time Mason opened the wooden gate and stood back to let her through, but in her woolly hat, gloves and boots, the sting was pleasant, the fresh air freeing after a day spent on board her boat. The area Mason had brought her to was a ten-minute walk from the mooring at Foxburn, and Summer was amazed at how close the town was to the stretch of stark, open marshland.

  After their enthusiastic reunion, Archie and Latte were quietly investigating, noses to the ground, determined to trip Summer and Mason up by crossing the path constantly, backtracking and changing direction.

  ‘Dogs are allowed,’ Mason said, ‘but we have to stick to the pathways and bridleways, and shorten their leads.’

  They were on a firm, gravel pathway, an expanse of long, unkempt grass to either side. Summer could see the glint of water in the distance, but around her the land was flat, with no hills or buildings breaking the skyline. The only other feature was a forest to their right, the trees plush with new leaf growth, the chatter of rooks drifting up into the air. Ahead of her was nothing but the long grass and the pale blue sky, no cloud cover to raise the temperature.

  The dogs’ leads shortened, Mason picked up his pace, making sure Summer was alongside him.

  ‘What will we see?’ Summer asked, her voice h
ushed, not wanting to disturb anything.

  ‘There’s a good flock of wading birds and geese on the lakes,’ Mason said, ‘and you get common tern here from Africa at this time of year. We might see a hobby, or a cuckoo, and if we’re really lucky there might be an otter, though I’m not sure with the dogs around we’ll have that chance.’ Every few moments he brought his camera up in front of him, snapping pictures of the landscape. Summer noticed that he looked into the viewfinder, winking to get the shot, rather than at the digital screen – old school, despite all the technology at his fingertips.

  ‘I feel completely unprepared – you’ve got your camera and binoculars.’

  Mason tapped them. ‘I do this for a living. I wouldn’t be much good if I just squinted in the distance and guessed at what I’d seen. But you can use them too, as soon as we find something.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Summer said. She stole a glance at his strong profile, his gaze taking everything in, making sure he didn’t miss something important. But when she looked away, she sensed him doing the same to her, and she had to bite back her smile. ‘You didn’t have to come and find me, you know.’

  ‘I wanted to,’ Mason said. ‘You took off without saying goodbye and I – well, Valerie came to see me, and she was worried. Of course I knew she was upset, that she’d confronted you, but neither you or Valerie strike me as the kind to hold grudges, so I thought that you would have put that behind you quickly.’

  ‘I tried,’ Summer said, keeping her voice low, her eyes and ears alert for movement in the grass at either side. They were walking towards a large lake, the surface shimmering like patterned glass, ducks and geese sitting in clusters around the edges and on islands in the middle. ‘I went to see Valerie, and either she wasn’t there or she wasn’t prepared to talk to me. And then I …’ She stopped, wondering how much to reveal about what had happened with Jenny. She knew Mason got on with the Greenways – there was no reason why he shouldn’t – and she didn’t want him to have a bad opinion of Maddy, or of her, because of what had happened. ‘I had another run-in with Jenny,’ she settled on.

  She waited for a response from Mason, but he kept walking, checking every now and then how far Archie had strayed, his camera going up to his face and back down almost unconsciously. ‘Valerie told me,’ he said eventually, and Summer’s breath got stuck halfway between her chest and her throat. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’