Casting Off
Page 10
Summer shook her head and pulled her knees up to her chest, wondering what her mum would have done, how she probably would have confronted anyone who tried to damage her beloved café, how she would have shrugged it off afterwards and used it as an excuse to redecorate.
‘Hey, hey, Summer,’ Claire said, sitting next to her on the sofa, ‘shhhhhh.’
Summer hadn’t realized that she was crying until she felt the wet on her cheeks. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured.
‘What for? You’ve been through an awful experience.’
‘I should just get on with it,’ she murmured.
‘Like hell,’ Claire said. ‘Please will you go and get some sleep?’
Summer shook her head. ‘I’m fine here.’
‘Right,’ Claire said, sighing. ‘Well, let me get you a blanket. And can I borrow your phone a sec – I need to let the others know Jas is back safely, and I’m not sure where mine is.’
Summer unlocked her phone and handed it to Claire. She closed her eyes and an image of the dark, glistening water as she crouched on the stern deck came back to her, along with the panic of not knowing whether to stay or go, listening to the sound of someone ransacking her boat, and the café that she’d taken so much care over recently. She imagined the freesias and forget-me-nots amongst broken glass on the floor, and swallowed down a sob.
Claire reappeared and covered her with a large, fleecy blanket, putting her phone on the sofa next to her. ‘You’re sure you don’t want my bed?’ she asked.
Summer shook her head and curled up under the blanket, bringing it up to her chin. Latte snuggled in close, and Summer fell into a fitful doze, her body alert to every sound and every movement. She thought she heard voices, but her eyelids felt heavy and unwilling to open, her shoulders rigid with tension.
‘Where is she?’ the voice said, and Summer knew she must be dreaming because Mason was miles away, but it was Mason’s voice, edged with anxiety.
‘How bad is the boat?’ said an older, deeper voice, and Summer recognized Dennis’s calm tones, felt a flash of fondness for him, despite everything that had happened between him and Mum. Willowbeck was creeping back in, and Summer felt comforted by it. She turned over and tried to get comfortable, pulling the blanket up further, and heard Latte yip and jump off the sofa, leaving a cold patch where she’d been.
‘Summer?’ It was Claire now, gently shaking her awake. She forced her eyes open, turned to look at Claire and gasped when she saw the two figures behind her, crowded into the compact living area.
Mason and Dennis looked down at her, their faces tight with worry, the effect slightly dulled by Latte yipping happily in Mason’s arms and trying to lick his chin.
Summer scrabbled to sit up, throwing off the blanket. ‘What are they doing here?’ she whispered. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Now, don’t be cross with me,’ Claire said, her hand on Summer’s knee. ‘After what happened last night, I used your phone to call Mason. I thought you’d want a friendly face – not that I’m not friendly, but you’ve known him longer.’ She glanced behind her. ‘I thought he’d be reassuring.’
Summer swallowed. ‘Hi.’ She raised a hand in greeting.
‘I had to come,’ Mason said, ‘after Claire phoned me and told me what happened. How are you? Are you all right?’
Claire stood and slipped into the kitchen, and Dennis followed her, asking if she needed a hand making the tea.
‘It’s not even six o’clock,’ Summer said, glancing at her phone. ‘I can’t believe you came straight away. I’m sorry Claire phoned you.’
‘I’m not,’ he said, sitting next to her on the sofa and setting Latte down. Archie was hovering in the doorway, but trotted forward to greet the Bichon Frise now that she was at his level.
‘I’m sorry you’ve had to go through this,’ Mason continued. ‘I needed to see for myself that you were OK. Are you OK?’ He squeezed her arm, and Summer felt a shiver of emotion at his kindness. He looked sleep-worn, his hair all over the place, the grey T-shirt and dark jeans slightly creased, his dark-rimmed glasses masking his tiredness.
‘I’m fine,’ Summer said, ‘except … I’m not, not really. I was so scared,’ she whispered, the words tumbling out of her in Mason’s presence. ‘I felt like he was getting closer and closer to the cabin, that he was going to confront me and I would be trapped, that he could do anything …’ She swallowed and coughed.
Mason leaned in, his arm squeeze becoming a hug, his citrusy-vanilla scent washing over her. ‘It’s OK now,’ he said, ‘you’re safe.’
‘But there’s this wedge, right here.’ She pulled back slightly and pressed her hand against her chest. ‘It won’t go away. Every time I close my eyes, I can see the dark water and I can hear him, moving among my things, on my mum’s boat, getting nearer to me, and I feel like I can’t breathe.’
‘I know,’ Mason said quietly.
Summer looked at him, at the dark brush of stubble where he hadn’t had a chance to shave, the lines at the corners of his eyes, the intensity of his gaze overwhelming.
‘It won’t go,’ she murmured.
‘It will,’ Mason said, reaching up to brush a strand of her hair away from her face. ‘Not for a while, admittedly, but it will go.’
‘How do you know?’ Summer asked.
‘It’s unbearable at first,’ he said, ignoring her question. ‘It feels like it’s crushing you, the weight of the memory, the fear, but it will go. It’s only been a few hours, and being on the water will help.’
‘But that’s where it happened,’ Summer said, though already thoughts of her own pain were being diluted by her curiosity, by how Mason could be so sure of how she was feeling. ‘I know you said the water was calming, but how can it be, after this? How can I go back on to my boat?’
‘Because we’ll fix it. We’ll fix the damage that’s been done, and soon you’ll go back to being you, confident and happy and in charge of your café. Don’t let one dickhead ruin this for you.’
‘Is that what you did?’
‘What?’ Mason asked, his fingers still hovering at the side of her face, the light touch feeling like a burn.
‘When you … felt like that. Did you turn to the water for comfort?’
He nodded gently, though suddenly she felt like he was somewhere else, and it was his reflection, pale and insubstantial, in front of her. ‘I did,’ he whispered.
‘And what happened?’
‘I’ve been here ever since.’
They sat in silence until Claire and Dennis returned with the tea, the four of them crowding into Claire’s small living space, Latte and Archie in the centre, lapping up the attention. Summer was relieved to see that Latte didn’t seem traumatized, and had greeted the Border terrier as enthusiastically as ever.
‘We’ll check out the damage,’ Dennis said, glancing at Mason. ‘You don’t have to come, Summer, if you don’t want to.’
Summer shook her head. ‘I’ll need to face it some time, and I’d rather do it while you’re both here.’
‘Right you are,’ Dennis said. ‘And then will you be coming back with us, to Willowbeck?’
Summer gawped, unable to respond immediately. She could sense Mason watching her closely, though he didn’t say anything.
‘We’ll be moving on from here in a few days,’ Claire said. ‘Tivesham hasn’t been a great experience, to say the least, but there are much better places, friendlier and safer.’
‘None safer than Willowbeck,’ Dennis said cheerily.
‘I’m not sure I can come back,’ Summer murmured. ‘What about Jenny?’
Dennis shook his head. ‘You leave Jenny to me, love. Just because she’s been aggrieved doesn’t mean it’s right for her to keep taking it out on you. I can have a word with her, and you’ve got a permanent mooring, haven’t you?’
Summer nodded.
‘But you can’t head back just because this has happened,’ Claire said, ‘otherwise you’re letting them win. Keep goi
ng with us, Summer, we’d be lost without you. I mean,’ she sighed, exasperated, ‘of course it’s up to you, and you’ve had a shock, I know that, but I’m not sure how you’d be any safer in Willowbeck.’
‘But you know everyone there,’ Dennis said calmly. Summer stared at him, wondering why he was suddenly so intent on her coming back, when she couldn’t do anything for him other than make his life more complicated with Jenny.
‘Maybe I should see the boat first,’ she said slowly. ‘I – I don’t know if I can think about that yet.’
‘Are you sure you want to go now?’ Mason asked. ‘You could get some more rest.’
Summer gave a little shudder, but she stood before she lost her resolve. ‘I’m sure.’ She forced a smile, then strode out of Claire’s boat and down the towpath towards The Canal Boat Café.
The door at the bow deck was boarded up, just as the policeman had said it would be, and so she led the way through the boat from the stern, feeling a slight flush as Mason, and then Dennis and Claire, followed her through her berth, where she’d discarded the covers in fear the previous night. She slowed as she reached the living space, but nothing seemed too out of place apart from the sampler that Harry had made for her, which was at a slight angle on the wall. The safe was behind it, and Summer moved it aside to check it was still locked after the police had investigated.
She stepped over the threshold into the kitchen and came to a sudden halt, as if her blood had frozen to ice. Every implement, every spoon, whisk, knife and plate, had been hurled on to the small floor space. It looked more like a moment of madness than a methodical search for precious goods.
‘Shit,’ Mason breathed behind her.
Speechless, Summer took a step forward and felt Mason grip her shoulder. ‘Careful,’ he said, ‘you haven’t got any shoes on.’
Summer went back to the berth for her Sketchers, and by the time she returned, shutting Latte and Archie in her cabin to protect their paws, the others had moved ahead of her. She picked through the mess on the kitchen floor and stepped into the café. This time her gasp quickly became a sob, and Mason straightened from where he’d been picking up bits of broken vase, concern etched on his face.
‘Summer,’ Claire said, ‘I’m so sorry, but it looks worse than it is.’
Her towpath A-frame had been broken in half, and the counter swept clear as if by an angry arm, everything on the floor, cake domes and crocheted cakes and wooden carvings. The coffee machine, at a glance, seemed OK, but coffee grounds and beans had been thrown across the floor, mingling with flowers and broken glass and upturned chairs and tables. The bunting had been pulled down, and her burglar had written a filthy word in red chalk across the blackboard. The cash register had been broken into and flung on the floor along with almost everything else.
Summer leant against the counter, her legs unsteady beneath her, and Dennis held her by the shoulders in a way that was both comforting and forceful. ‘You’ll be fine, Summer. It’s a blip, a pretty grim one, but a blip nonetheless. All of this can be fixed – the window and the door and the till. Don’t look at the whole, look at how easy it is to fix each part.’ He got a damp cloth from the kitchen and wiped the blackboard clean. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Ready for a new message.’
Summer nodded faintly, trying to feel the weight of Dennis’s convictions. He gave her arm a quick squeeze, and went back to picking up chairs.
Claire headed towards the kitchen. ‘I’ll get the dustpan and brush.’
‘If you can find it in all that mess,’ Summer said, offering her a faint smile.
‘That’s the spirit,’ Claire said brightly. ‘And I think you need to check on the coffee machine, because if it’s not broken we’re going to need espressos. I think we’re all pretty much running on empty, isn’t that right boys?’
Neither of them answered, and Summer turned towards Mason in time to see Dennis gripping his shoulder, giving him a similar pep-talk, though his voice was quieter, Mason nodding weakly in response to whatever he was saying.
Summer waited until Dennis had gone to look at the damage to the bow door, and then tiptoed through the mess towards Mason, feeling the crunch of broken glass beneath her feet. His face was pale and his dark eyes, usually so full of warmth, seemed distant. It was as if Mason was a mirror of the fear she felt, the terror of realizing she wasn’t alone on the boat, the panic, all logical thoughts of escape deserting her. She was certain, at that moment, that his words about the wedge of fear, the memories fading, had been spoken from experience. She could see that Mason was struggling to hold her gaze, that he was desperate to turn away, but couldn’t.
‘I think Dennis is right,’ she said softly, stopping in front of him. ‘I think this can all be fixed, and that I can get the café running again soon enough. It looks bad now,’ she said, gesturing around her, ‘but once we start mending and righting things, it won’t feel so bad any more.’
Mason nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
‘And I think this,’ she said, putting her hand against her chest again, ‘will go too. It feels pretty scary right now, but I know that the memories will fade in time, and so will the fear.’ She held his gaze. ‘What happened to you, Mason?’
He sagged against the side of the boat and shook his head. Summer wanted to reach out to him, but she wasn’t sure whether he would find it comforting or intrusive. She felt guilty that what had happened to her could cause him so much pain, so instead of physically reaching out, she did what she thought was the next best thing.
‘What if I come back to Willowbeck?’ she asked. Claire was sweeping up behind her and she heard the sweeping stop, so she moved closer to him. ‘Do you want me to come back?’
Mason ran his hand over his jaw. ‘I didn’t think you were ready,’ he said, ‘and I was wrong to ask you, before.’
‘I was defensive,’ Summer said, ‘I shouldn’t have got angry. But now this has happened, everything’s different. I don’t want to be afraid, and I never felt afraid in Willowbeck. I was frustrated – with Jenny, with Valerie’s insistence that Mum is still there, with Archie’s bacon-stealing tendencies,’ she tried to raise a smile out of him, but it didn’t work. She swallowed, wondering if it no longer mattered to him, if she’d left it too late, been away for too long. ‘What do you think I should do?’ she continued. ‘Do you think I’m being a coward if I come back to Willowbeck, avoiding complications, my tail between my legs, or do you think it’s the right thing to do?’
Mason sighed. ‘You know what I think, Summer. But this has to be your decision, and I don’t want to force you into making one you’ll regret.’
‘You’re not forcing me into anything.’
‘I only came up here to check that you were OK. I was lucky, it would have taken too long on the boat, so I went to Dennis, I woke them up – I’ve probably joined you in Jenny’s doghouse – and he didn’t hesitate. He drove me straight here.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’ Summer put her hand on his arm. His skin was warm, his muscles tensed.
He shrugged. ‘I want you to know, Summer, that I care about you. But I care about you enough to let you do what you have to, even if that means never coming back to Willowbeck. I can’t hold on to things forever. Life isn’t like that – so much is out of our control. Maybe it’s all down to fate.’
Summer narrowed her eyes. ‘Have you been spending a lot of time with Valerie while I’ve been gone?’
This did raise a smile, and Summer felt a glimmer of hope.
‘Maybe this is all part of it,’ he said, ‘taking the rough with the smooth, so that you believe in yourself, and know that you can face the odds. You’ve got Claire here, and the other traders. It could work, it could be where you belong.’
‘But …?’ Summer’s gaze danced over his curls, followed the lines of his strong eyebrows, his lips. She was desperate for a ‘but’ from him.
Mason smiled and took her hand, and Summer knew that he wasn’t going to help her.
And now he was here, and he wasn’t the assured person she had thought she was beginning to know. He had closed down after seeing Claire, and now, in the face of her devastated café, he seemed as shell-shocked as she was. But, far from putting her off, Summer realized she only wanted to know him more, to understand him and, if she could, to help him the way he had already helped her.
‘Right,’ she said, squeezing his hand and then letting go. ‘Right, I think I know what I need to do. But first, I’m going to fix the bunting.’ She hefted her damaged cash register back on to the counter and lifted the forlorn bunting, smiling when she realized that it hadn’t been broken, just dislodged. Stretching on to her toes, Summer tied it back up above the blackboard, the black surface, still damp from where Dennis had cleaned it, glistening invitingly, waiting for a new menu and a new message.
Already, Summer knew what she was going to write on it.
A new message for a new direction – either north, further up the river with Claire and Jas, with Water Music and The Wanderer’s Rest, or back to Willowbeck, to Valerie and Norman and Mason. There was no longer any doubt in Summer’s mind as to which direction she would choose, she only wished she had her mum’s compass with her to help guide the way.
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