The chatter and laughter grew, the bar filled up and, at some point during the evening, a black curtain was drawn back to reveal a large screen and state-of-the-art karaoke machine, the whole thing surrounded by glowing lights like a dressing-room mirror.
All the faces, bar Claire and Ralph’s, turned to Ryder in horror.
‘You didn’t,’ Jas said.
Ryder lounged back on the sofa, his leg crossed at the knee. ‘First one to do Whitney Houston gets a free drink on me.’
‘You’ve been plying us with free drinks all night,’ Doug said, ‘probably so we wouldn’t walk out when this happened.’
‘I was inspired by Summer’s bashful performance the other night. And who doesn’t love a bit of karaoke?’ Five hands went up, and Mason looked as if he was in physical pain. ‘Fine,’ Ryder said, shrugging. ‘But give it half an hour and you’ll be climbing over me to get to the stage.’
Summer wasn’t convinced, and she wasn’t sure anyone else was either, especially when a man from the opposite side of the bar lurched to the stage and started a shaky rendition of ‘Wonderwall’.
‘As a connoisseur of music,’ Summer whispered to Claire, ‘you can’t possibly approve of this?’
‘I embrace all music,’ Claire said. ‘My particular favourite for this kind of occasion is “Build Me Up Buttercup”. You should join in!’
Summer laughed. ‘I don’t think so. I’ve done enough singing in public for one week.’ She turned as Mason sat beside her and poured them both another drink. ‘I didn’t expect this,’ she whispered, leaning in close.
‘You’d warned me about storytelling, but I had no idea this was on the cards.’
‘There was categorically no karaoke when I was roving before. There were folk songs, but they were fun, intimate, no audience outside the group, and definitely no Queen renditions.’ Mr Wonderwall had finished, and a young woman started to perform a Beyoncé song, her voice in tune, but not quite powerful enough to pull it off. ‘You’re not up for it, then?’ she asked.
Mason rubbed his jaw. ‘Not even with another jug of Canal Boat Christmas inside me. When can we escape?’
The answer turned out to be not soon enough, and Claire managed to pull both of them up to join in with The Foundations song, the cocktails working their magic on Summer so that when Claire asked her for the fifth time, she jumped eagerly out of her seat. Mason, she was sure, only succumbed to Claire’s entreaties so that he wouldn’t be forced to perform something else on his own.
Their rendition received resounding applause from the whole bar, especially Ryder who, Summer noticed, had avoided singing all evening. She wasn’t surprised that he had got away with it, and was shocked into silence when, as the evening was drawing to a close, he sauntered to the stage, dragging Tania by the hand, and they gave a confident, if not entirely tuneful performance of ‘Somethin’ Stupid’. The catcalls and whoops from their group almost drowned out the singing, but Ryder, pushing his floppy blond hair back from his face, was entirely unflustered. Tania seemed, to Summer’s biased, not entirely sober eye, as if she relished being the centre of attention.
It was after two in the morning when they left the bar, and as they walked home in the freezing air Summer decided, through her drunken haze, that it had been one of the most entertaining nights she’d had in a while. Her flat pumps with their grippy soles had been the right decision, but Claire and Tania weren’t so lucky, and Claire skidded on the slippery pavement, Doug and Jas catching her just before she fell.
Tania was firmly clamped to Ryder’s side, and while Summer was wondering whether Claire minded, how strong her feelings really were for the most enigmatic member of their group and why she refused to confide in her about it, they slunk up beside her without her noticing.
‘We haven’t had a chance to chat all evening,’ Tania said smoothly. ‘It’s been great fun. I had no idea Ryder was a karaoke hound.’ She placed a hand, fingers splayed, against his chest. It was both sexy and territorial, and confusion clouded Summer’s already misty thoughts. Was Tania after Mason, or Ryder, or was she imagining it all?
‘Me either,’ Summer replied. ‘He’s full of surprises.’
‘That,’ Tania said, ‘is most definitely true.’ She grinned at Summer, her eyes sparkling, and Summer had the sense that it was genuine, a conspiratorial glance between friends.
‘Ladies, ladies.’ Ryder’s protest was lazy. ‘I only ever aim to please.’
‘Yourself,’ Summer added quickly, and they all burst out laughing, Ryder included.
Quiet descended for a moment, punctuated by the sound of their footsteps.
‘It’s been lovely to spend time with you,’ Tania said. ‘And I’m sorry, Summer, if our introduction was awkward. I didn’t mean to cause you, or Mason, any discomfort.’
Summer was so surprised by her apology that she took a few seconds to reply. ‘That’s fine,’ she mumbled, self-conscious that Ryder was listening intently to everything.
‘I’m so pleased we had a chance to talk things through. It feels like a fresh start. Thank you for letting me borrow your boyfriend for a bit.’
Summer almost tripped as she stared at Tania, wondering why she was suddenly being friendly, whether this was actually another, more veiled attempt to wind her up. But then Tania whispered something in Ryder’s ear, making him laugh, and Summer knew their chat was over. She left them to it, her heart pounding in her ears as she caught up with Mason.
He took her bare hand and slipped it, along with his gloved one, inside his coat pocket.
‘Where are your gloves?’ he asked.
‘On the bed, I think. I got them out, but then Latte distracted me.’
‘Here.’ He took a glove off and gave it to her.
‘No, you keep them.’
‘Wear it.’ He paused, pulling it onto her left hand, then put her right one back in his pocket.
London was by no means quiet, but they were walking through pockets of sleepy, residential side roads where only streetlights glowed, past alleys that were disconcertingly dark, slinking cats and darting foxes occasionally crossing their path. The thick frost gave everything an ethereal quality, entirely in contrast with drunken revellers, shouting incoherently in the distance, their fervour increasing as Christmas got closer.
Summer replayed the evening’s events in her mind, and giggled. ‘You did karaoke.’ Saying it out loud made her giggle harder.
‘Not one of my finest moments,’ he admitted, steering her round a bus stop. ‘You and Claire carried it.’
‘Shush with your flattery. Singing’s not my strong point. Claire’s amazing though, she’s got music running through her veins, and you—’
‘Managed to murder The Foundations’ greatest hit. I think we need a rule that what happens in London, stays in London.’
‘I’m happy with that, but I’m not sure Ryder will agree – he was filming our performance.’
Mason looked at her aghast, and almost walked into Jas. They had reached the canal, Jas and the others standing on the pavement looking down at the sleepy boats with their colourful Christmas lights.
‘Holy fuck,’ Claire whispered.
‘Oh shit,’ Jas echoed.
‘What?’ Mason asked. ‘What is it? Why have we stopped?’
‘Look,’ Claire said, standing aside to let Summer and Mason see what had brought them to a sudden halt.
Summer stared. Her first thought was that the canal had never looked prettier, everything twinkling in a dreamlike way. Her second was that there was something clearly very wrong about the nighttime scene in front of them. ‘Oh,’ she heard herself say. ‘Wow.’
‘Crap,’ Mason murmured, his hand squeezing hers as they stared down at the beautiful, and definitely frozen, canal. ‘Santa Claus was right.’
Chapter Four
They made their way gingerly down the steps, clutching onto handrails and each other, their chattering silenced in the wake of such an unexpected, trip-changing even
t.
‘The canal is frozen,’ Ralph said, shaking his head. ‘The canal is actually frozen. In London.’
‘Unprecedented,’ Doug agreed. ‘When’s the last time this happened?’
‘No idea,’ Jas said, testing the towpath for slipperiness, then taking one of Claire’s arms while Ralph took the other. ‘These shoes were not meant for ice, Claire.’
‘God, I know that now,’ she said, clinging onto the two men gratefully. ‘And if there was ever a time not to fall into the canal, this is it. I don’t want anyone here to test out how thick the ice is, OK?’
‘What do you take us for?’ Ryder murmured, helping Tania down the steps. Even he seemed shell-shocked by the discovery, one that would undoubtedly halt their journey out of Little Venice the following day, all of them at the mercy of the weather.
Breaking the ice, Summer remembered her mum telling her years ago, was a fool’s errand. It would damage the boats, as well as being hard work, dangerous and entirely pointless. The ice on the canal could continue for miles. The only thing to be done was to sit it out. And as long as they couldn’t vacate their visitor moorings, then nobody else could come and take their places, either.
‘It looks like we’ve at least one more day of trading,’ Claire said, as Jas and Ralph deposited her on the deck of Water Music. ‘I guess we make the most of it, and keep an eye on the weather forecast. Night.’
They all said their goodnights. Ryder stood on the towpath with Tania having a low, whispered conversation, and Summer and Mason left them to it, stepping carefully onto Madeleine’s bow deck. Summer felt more sober than she had five minutes ago, and a headache was thrumming behind her eyes, warning of tomorrow’s hangover. She rubbed her forehead, and Mason paused to kiss it before unlocking the door. He had to wrestle with it, the ice creeping into the lock and along the doorjamb, and his expression was pensive as they made their way through the darkened café. Summer stopped to cuddle Archie and Latte who were blinking up at them, disturbed from their slumber as she switched on the lights, and they took off their coats.
‘You OK?’ Mason asked. ‘Glass of water?’
‘I’ll get it. Why did I think trusting Ryder’s cocktails – or his choice of entertainment – would be a good idea?’
‘Hey, it was a good night, wasn’t it? We survived karaoke, and if you drink a pint of water now, tomorrow won’t feel so horrible.’
‘But it will still be frozen,’ Summer said, as Mason gently guided her through to the cabin, tickling Archie under the chin as he passed. ‘We’ll be trapped here.’
‘Trapped? Is that how you feel?’ He sounded confused, concerned, but when she didn’t answer he disappeared, and Summer cleaned her teeth, peeled off her clothes and climbed under the covers. Mason returned with two glasses of water and sat on the side of the bed, refusing to budge until she’d drunk hers, then went back and refilled it.
He slipped under the covers, his feet colder than hers, and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against his bare chest. She rubbed his feet with her own, trying to warm him up.
‘Do you feel trapped here?’ he asked again. ‘Haven’t you enjoyed it? I know Tania’s appearance has made things more complicated, but …’
‘Little Venice is wonderful,’ she said. ‘Meeting people in the café, skating with you, new territory for the dogs to explore, the pubs – even karaoke tonight. But it’s like all holidays, you enjoy it, and then you love going home again. This week’s been fun, but we were only going to make it back to Willowbeck just in time for Christmas to begin with, and I haven’t even sorted out when I’m going to see Dad and Ben.’ She wondered whether she was prepared to compromise her proposal plans, do something much simpler on New Year’s Eve, or if she should delay it again. The thought made her sad.
‘The ice could melt tomorrow,’ Mason said. ‘We could set off a day late, cruise earlier in the mornings, longer into the evenings, and still make it back in time. I know what you mean about home, though.’
‘I miss Valerie and Norman, Dennis and Jenny,’ she said, aware she was rambling, her words slurring slightly. ‘I miss the robin that lands on the hatch shelf and chirps at me, I miss my regular customers and the way Mike and Harvey tease Archie from the roof of Cosmic. And I miss The Sandpiper. Your bed’s so much more comfortable than this one.’ She knew she sounded morose, but she couldn’t reveal the main reason she was upset, that her plans to propose to him were being delayed again, this time by – of all unlikely things – a frozen canal.
‘We’ll get back to all that,’ Mason said softly, his kisses feathery in her hair. ‘And if we’re stuck here for a couple more days, then the best thing to do is embrace it. The cold won’t stop the customers, even if it’s stopped the canal. And Latte loves Regent’s Park. We can take her and Archie for another walk there before we go. In a couple of days, we’ll be on our way back to Willowbeck. Now, get some sleep.’ He kissed her gently and Summer responded, comforted by his words, his calm, the way that he could dispel any worry, however big it seemed. Her eyes didn’t need much encouragement to close, and she fell asleep with Mason’s feet still entwined with hers.
When she woke the following morning, the world was light, but not bright. She peeled the curtain back, preparing to wince, and found that, even with her tender head, she didn’t need to. There was no sun, just a sky full of dull, grey cloud. The smells were the next thing she noticed: coffee and bacon and something fruity and comforting. Her stomach growled, insisting on some stodge to soak up the remaining alcohol in her system, and she picked up her phone, staring at the screen, trying to take in what she was seeing. It was half past ten!
She jumped out of bed and raced through to the kitchen. Bacon was sizzling slowly on the hob, and the fruity scent turned out to be blueberry muffins, rising and browning in the oven. Shape-wise they were slightly haphazard, but they looked and smelled delicious. She tiptoed to the café doorway and peered around the frame. Mason was standing at the hatch, serving a customer, and three of the tables inside were occupied. The others were covered in used crockery and crumbs, and a similar scene of dirty cups and glasses, scattered coffee grains, surrounded the coffee machine. He turned away from the hatch and pushed his hair back from his forehead. His face was flushed, his apron covered in telltale smudges: butter, chocolate, icing sugar.
‘Mason,’ she called, and an old couple at one of the tables turned in her direction. The old lady gave her an amused smile, and she glanced down at her penguin pyjamas, the heat rushing to her cheeks.
‘Summer.’ Mason planted a firm, hurried kiss on her lips. ‘How are you feeling?’ He took a tray and began piling up the empty crockery, a latte glass wobbling precariously.
‘Why didn’t you wake me?’
‘Because you needed to sleep,’ he whispered, approaching her with the full tray. ‘I’ve got this. Sort of.’ He gave her a lopsided smile, and Summer had to resist the urge to snog his face off in the café doorway.
‘You’re amazing,’ she said. ‘Have I ever told you that?’
‘I’m covered in milk,’ he said. ‘I had an accident with the frother on the coffee machine. At least five people saw me get a face full of semi-skimmed.’
‘Give me five minutes,’ Summer said, turning away from him.
Mason grabbed her hand. ‘You sure you’re OK?’
‘I am,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I was so miserable last night. You’re right, we should treat this as a bonus. I’m going to embrace it.’
They worked as a team while the surface of the water stayed steadfastly frozen beneath a gunmetal sky. The pavements were heavily gritted, and signs had been put up on the towpath warning people of the dangers of going near the canal.
‘They need to be more careful,’ Mason said, drying his hands on a tea towel and frowning as two teenage boys had a friendly tussle at the edge of the towpath. ‘If they fall on the ice and go through …’ He shook his head and pressed his hands into the counter.
One of th
e outcomes of Lisa’s death, and the circumstances surrounding it, was Mason’s heightened awareness of danger. She knew that if one of those boys – or anyone else for that matter – fell into the canal, through the ice, then he would try to save them. She had seen it first hand, and while it was another reason she loved him so much, it also scared her. She had almost lost him once, and she didn’t know what she’d do if he gave his life saving someone else’s.
‘It’ll thaw soon,’ she said, with more confidence than she felt. It was so cold, the word bitter not doing it justice, and she found herself constantly patting the walls, windows and ceiling of Madeleine, whispering a mantra, asking her boat to stay strong through the worst and get them safely back to Willowbeck. The engine hadn’t repeated its banging noises of the other morning, so maybe Mason’s tinkering had worked, but she couldn’t entirely banish her unease. But Londoners weren’t going to let a bit of cold stop them – it hadn’t snowed, after all – and so the café’s hot drinks, breakfast butties and warm pastries were more welcome than ever.
They closed around six, the combination of sub-zero temperatures and darkness sending people scurrying indoors, and even though Summer could feel the weariness in her legs, the ache in her head from a late night and too much to drink, she wasn’t going to cancel her shopping trip with Claire.
‘Stay safe, stay warm,’ Mason said, pulling the polar bear hat low over her ears and smiling with approval.
‘The boys are going to the pub about eight,’ she said, ‘and Claire and I will aim to get there at nine-ish.’
‘I’ll spend a couple of hours on my article,’ he said. ‘But I’ll be there later. Don’t buy the whole of Harrods.’
‘As if. There’s only so much we can fit on two narrowboats. I’ve been working it out.’ She gave him an angelic smile and he waved her off from the bow deck.
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