Starboard Home

by Cressida McLaughlin

  She watched as he bent to stroke the dogs and then turned the café lights off, disappearing inside the snug living space. She wondered how much he missed The Sandpiper, with its space and its elegance, its clean lines. She loved Madeleine – her mum’s legacy – but this week had made her realize how much smaller it was, how it was more a café now than a home.

  Claire met her on the towpath and they got the bus to Oxford Street, pointing out the Christmas lights and trees to each other, the elaborate displays in shop windows. They got off outside Selfridges and wandered through the departments, stroking fabrics, ogling Kate Spade handbags and sequined notebooks, towering patent heels and brooches that cost more than Summer’s boat.

  ‘I’m not going to find Mason a ring here,’ she murmured, peering into a glass cabinet.

  ‘I know, but you have to come, don’t you? It’s bloody magnificent. Look!’ Claire found a beautiful blue scarf with silvery swallows dotted over it. The price tag surprised Summer, and when Claire was distracted by the scented candles, the smell of too many subtle scents overpowering on top of each other, she took one off the stand – it would be her Christmas present to Claire.

  As she did, her eye caught another scarf. There was only one of this particular design left, and it was nestled between two others so that she’d almost missed it. It was cream, with stylized cupcakes and coffee mugs printed on it, the colour palette pale pinks and reds with the occasional hint of blue. Subtle shimmers of gold transported it from fun to special, and the fabric was impossibly soft against her fingers. Her first thought was how much it reminded her of the designs she had painted on Madeleine’s exterior the previous summer, and the second was that her mum would love it. She would have unwrapped the classy, Selfridges tissue paper and gasped in delight, then fixed Summer with that wicked, gleeful look that said she knew her daughter had been far too generous, but she was going to accept the gift and cherish it anyway. It would have looked stunning against her mum’s blonde hair, the glinting gold complementing her perfectly.

  Summer still hadn’t got used to the fact that she didn’t need to buy her mum a Christmas present any more, that Maddy would never see this scarf, or what Summer had made of the café, or listen, greedy for every detail as she told her about the moment she asked Mason to marry her. She wouldn’t sob with delight as her daughter walked down the aisle, or throw too much confetti over them when they kissed. Her mum would have loved Mason, she knew, and would have teased him affectionately about everything, his hair and his job and his dog, while telling Summer in private that he was wonderful.

  Summer closed her eyes, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She stood and faced the scarves for a moment longer before finding the cash desk to pay for Claire’s present.

  They braved the cold, and Claire led her away from the wide, bustling pavements of Oxford Street and down the side roads, where smaller, independent shops glowed invitingly.

  ‘How about this?’ Claire asked, stopping in front of a jeweller’s, its window display understated, only a couple of silver holly leaves proving they knew what season it was.

  ‘It looks a bit pricey.’

  ‘Go inside, Summer. Stop stalling!’ She almost pushed her forward, and they stood in the doorway, the eyes of the very tall, suited shop assistant swivelling towards them.

  ‘What can I help you with?’ he asked, his tone much warmer than his stance suggested.

  ‘Do you have rings, for men?’ Summer asked, forcing the words out.

  ‘Of course, madam, this way.’ He ushered them towards a cabinet against the far wall.

  ‘Thank you.’

  The range was small, and while some of the rings were far beyond Summer’s price range, there were a few that weren’t, and one in particular that caught her eye.

  ‘Do you know his size?’ Claire asked.

  Summer nodded. This bit, she was prepared for. ‘I got some of my old rings out a few weeks ago, when we were still in Willowbeck. I said I needed to sort through them, and I got Mason to put them on – on all his fingers, in the pretence that I could decide which ones to keep. Most only went up to his first knuckle, but he has long, slim fingers, so a couple of my thumb rings fitted him. This,’ she said, pulling out a thick silver band with swirls that looked like waves, ‘fitted his ring finger perfectly.’

  ‘And he didn’t suspect a thing?’ Claire asked.

  ‘Nope.’ Summer smiled at the memory. ‘He just sighed good-naturedly when I told him he had to be a jewellery model. He didn’t seem remotely suspicious.’

  ‘Good old Mason,’ Claire murmured. ‘Which one’s caught your eye?’ She brought her face level with Summer’s, and Summer pointed at the ring she was transfixed by. It looked like brushed silver, with a silhouette of a tree etched into it.

  ‘That one’s cobalt with a matt finish,’ said the assistant, hovering close by. ‘Not many men go for diamonds, understandably, but the tree detail is unusual. It’s from one of our independent jewellers. They carve the shape in with a tiny chisel, and then blacken it so it will stand out against the metal.’

  ‘Do you have different sizes?’ Summer asked.

  ‘Of course. Do you know what you need?’

  She held out her thumb ring. He took it and ducked down behind the counter.

  Claire’s grin was wide. ‘Summer, it’s perfect. Oh my God, he’ll love it!’

  ‘I think so too.’ She hugged her friend, giddy with excitement. ‘Thank you for bringing me here. I never knew I’d find something so … so totally Mason!’

  ‘Serendipity,’ Claire said. Summer couldn’t disagree.

  They made it to the Riverside Inn at half-past nine, their bellies full of Wagamamas, the boxed ring tucked safely inside Summer’s handbag. It was Friday night, and the pub was packed. They wove through the throng of bodies and found their friends close to the window, two tables pulled together, a sea of empty glasses covering them. It seemed none of them were suffering with hangovers after their cocktail experience the previous night, or else they were self-medicating with hair of the dog. Summer waved at Jas and Doug, dumped her shopping bags under the table and flopped happily into a chair, her gaze taking in the rest of the scene. Mason was chatting to Ralph, and Tania and Ryder sat against the wall, their faces angled towards each other. She was wearing a figure-hugging raspberry jumper, her full, smiling lips painted to match.

  Summer smiled brightly when Mason spotted her, and he said something to Ralph and slid off the bench, coming round to kiss her.

  ‘You’re freezing,’ he said. ‘Let me get you a drink. Mulled wine?’

  ‘Sure. Claire?’

  ‘Sounds good to me.’

  She followed him to the bar, pushing her elbows out to make it through the scrum.

  ‘How was late-night shopping?’ he asked.

  ‘Productive, and fun. I’m ready for Christmas.’ She’d been able to pick up most of the things she’d been looking for, unsurprising considering where they’d been. As well as several smaller, silly gifts, she’d bought Mason a folio to keep all the copies of his magazines in, a record of his achievements bound in impossibly soft leather. Everything was stored on his computer, of course, but this was special – like the framed photos he had dotted around The Sandpiper. She hoped he’d like it, hoped he’d love the ring. Hoped, hoped, hoped …

  ‘Wow,’ he laughed, ‘you’re ready?’

  ‘Perhaps a bit over-prepared – it’s easy to get carried away. But if we’re travelling right up until Christmas Day …’

  He nodded, distracted by the barman asking for his order.

  ‘How’s your evening been?’ she asked brightly.

  ‘I’ve made progress on my article,’ he said. ‘Not as much as I’d hoped, but some. Archie and Latte demanded a long walk, but it gave me time to think, to decide how I’d frame it.’

  ‘That’s great,’ she said. ‘Can I read it later?’

  ‘I’d love you to.’

  She led the way back to the t
able, clearing a path, Mason clutching the drinks behind her. Claire patted the seat next to hers and Summer landed on it, her throbbing feet immediately grateful. Mason put their drinks down and took the seat next to Summer, resting his arm along the back of her chair.

  ‘You’re a star, Mason,’ Claire said, holding her drink up.

  ‘Sounds like you’ve had a good night,’ Mason replied. ‘Are you completely sorted for Christmas now too?’

  ‘Oh God no,’ Claire laughed. ‘I got one thing. But it’s been a successful evening all round, hasn’t it, Summer?’ She gave her a pointed look and Summer tried not to blush.

  ‘I need to get moving on mine.’ Mason ran his hand through his hair. ‘I don’t want to run out of time.’

  ‘If you need any help with Summer’s gift, just let me know.’ Claire said, grinning.

  ‘Thanks, Claire, I might—’

  ‘Mason,’ Tania said, appearing behind them, her hand on his shoulder. ‘Can I chat to you for a second?’

  Mason frowned, glanced up at her. ‘I’m just catching up with—’

  ‘It won’t take long,’ she cooed. ‘I need your advice about something.’

  Mason didn’t reply immediately, but leaned into Summer, kissing her cheek, whispering in her ear. ‘Do you mind?’

  Summer forced a smile, shook her head. ‘Of course not.’

  Mason squeezed her hand, held it for a moment longer than necessary and then followed Tania round to the other side of the table.

  Summer watched them go, then picked up her glass and took a tentative sip. The wine was hot and spiced and exactly what she needed.

  ‘Summer,’ Claire said, a warning in her voice. ‘Don’t you dare.’

  ‘I’m not doing anything,’ she said calmly. ‘I’m not thinking anything, not wondering anything, not imagining anything. I’m just drinking my drink, taking a load off.’

  ‘You’ve just bought him the most stunning ring,’ Claire whispered.

  ‘I know, and I can’t wait to give it to him. I want Mason to be happy, and I would never stop him from being friends with anyone.’

  ‘But?’ Claire asked softly.

  ‘But,’ Summer echoed. ‘It’s not the easiest thing, watching them. And Tania’s been … she’s said some predatory things, as if she still wants to be with him. And why is she here in the first place, when she told you she was going to be away?’

  She swallowed, panic rising inside her at the returning swell of emotion. It was only exhaustion, she told herself, that dog-tired feeling the evening after the night before, the hangover screaming at her to go to bed and sleep it into oblivion. And the fact that they couldn’t go back to Willowbeck yet, their plans suddenly off-kilter, the thought of missing Christmas Day in her sleepy, fenland village, missing out on a drink at the pub, seeing Jenny and Dennis’s display of glowing penguins and reindeer, not enough time to prepare everything in exactly the way she wanted for her proposal. And then there was the scarf, the reminder that her mum wasn’t there to see her living her life, happy and successful and in love.

  She wiped frantically at her eyes, dipping her head, hoping nobody would notice.

  ‘Summer,’ Claire said, ‘God. I didn’t realize—’

  Summer blinked. ‘Don’t let Mason see me like this, he’ll think it’s because of Tania.’ ‘Is it not?’ Claire asked softly. She put her arm around Summer’s shoulders and pushed their shopping bags securely underneath the table, towards Jas’s feet. He glanced at them, and nodded his understanding as Claire led Summer towards the door.

  Shivering outside, because the inside of the pub was too busy to find a quiet corner, Summer told Claire everything, releasing her words, along with her sobs, into the inky black sky. The force of her emotion surprised her; she was happy, on the verge of something monumental, but she’d let the doubts niggle at her constantly since Tania had appeared, and she’d kept them from Mason after that first night in Benji’s snug bar, trying not to let her insecurities get the better of her.

  And it wasn’t just Tania, she told Claire. It was because she cared so deeply for Mason, because she didn’t have her mum to guide her, because there were so many ways it could go wrong.

  ‘I was even worried when I saw how concerned Mason was about a couple of boys playing close to the frozen canal.’ She laughed at her own ridiculousness as her tears continued to fall, the tissue Claire had given her sodden. ‘I thought he was preparing to go in after them if they fell. I’m so scared of losing him, either to Tania or to some horrendous accident, or simply that he’ll say no. But I know it’s irrational, I know he loves me. Why am I being like this?’

  ‘It’s human nature,’ Claire said. ‘You’ve dealt with so much loss – both of you have. Your mum, Lisa, the fire last summer. It’s entirely understandable that you’re worried about it when you’re about to take this step. Tania being here has raked up the past, and your mum’s not far from your thoughts because you wish she was here to see you do this. It’s pre-proposal nerves, Sum, and I’m glad you’ve told me, stopped keeping it to yourself. Hopefully you can see that you don’t need to be worried. Not. At. All.’

  Summer sniffed, feeling better after Claire’s reassurance and noisily purging her fears. She owed her friend more than one drink for putting up with her in this state. ‘If I’m like this before the proposal, imagine what I’ll be like leading up to the wedding!’

  ‘Oh God, total Bridezilla. Glad I’ll be roving. Harry can deal with it.’ She took out another tissue and wiped under Summer’s eyes. ‘Can’t have you going back in looking like I’ve assaulted you with Midnight-Black Perfect Lash.’

  ‘You won’t tell Mason any of this?’

  ‘Of course not, but I think you should. Obviously not the proposal bit, the root of it, but be honest about Tania, and about your mum – you talk to him about her, don’t you?’

  ‘I do,’ Summer said quietly.

  ‘So be as honest as you can without spoiling the surprise. And whenever you start to worry, think of that ring with its fancy cobalt and its etched tree, and Mason’s reaction when you open the box in front of him. Honestly, Sum, the fact you found that ring means you’re meant to be together. It’s a sign.’

  ‘Thanks, Claire, I don’t know where I’d be without you.’

  ‘Still in Willowbeck with none of this stress or frozen-canal malarkey, that’s where. Now, shall we go in? I’m freezing my tits off out here.’

  When they went back inside, Tania was deep in conversation with Doug, and Mason was sitting in Summer’s chair, talking distractedly to Jas. He shot up when they reappeared.

  ‘Are you OK? Where did you go?’ He put his hands on her arms, his dark eyes latching onto hers, and Summer drank in his concern, biting back the urge to tell him everything, including her New Year plans.

  ‘Outside,’ Claire said. ‘Sorry, I was feeling a bit faint – it’s hot in here, and I needed some fresh air. Summer came with me.’

  Mason’s brows lowered in confusion. He looked carefully at Claire, and then Summer. ‘How do you feel now? Come and sit down. Do you want some water?’

  There was shuffling as they moved chairs around, and Summer found herself between Claire and Mason for the rest of the evening. She wasn’t sure if Mason believed Claire’s story – she couldn’t imagine her eyes didn’t still have the telltale signs of her outburst – but he seemed to take it at face value, and she tried to heed her friend’s advice and stop worrying.

  When they got back to Madeleine and the neat cabin with its warm winter duvet, Summer almost cried with relief.

  ‘You look exhausted,’ Mason said. ‘Are you sure you’re OK? Was Claire …’ he hesitated, clearly uncomfortable calling her out in a lie.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said quietly. ‘And Claire was taking the fall for me, she didn’t feel faint. I got a bit overwhelmed, and needed to get out of the pub for a moment. But it’s tiredness, mainly, too many cocktails last night. I found a scarf in Selfridges, and it reminded me of Mum
; it would have been perfect for her Christmas present.’

  ‘Oh, Summer.’ He wrapped her up, his hug strong and warm and all-consuming, as if he wanted to protect her from the world. She took deep breaths, refusing to give in to more tears. He kissed her forehead, stroked her hair, and Summer blocked out everything except the feel of being in his arms, the sensation of his lips, his fingers, touching her. And despite her tiredness, her body began to wake up. She lifted her head up and he brought his lips down onto hers, his kiss familiar and intoxicating. As their movements became more urgent, as they discarded their coats and she slid his jumper over his head, felt the tug as he unbuttoned her jeans, she realized this was what she needed; to be lost in him. She wanted to feel nothing else but Mason.

  When she woke the next morning, she reached an arm out to find that Mason’s side of the bed was empty. It was still fairly early, and there were no tantalizing smells coming from the kitchen. Pulling her hoody over her pyjamas, Summer moved blearily through the boat, noticing that the canal was still very much frozen. Latte was asleep, her small body a cotton wool ball, but Archie was pacing, his tail wagging sporadically, as if he wasn’t sure whether he was happy or not.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked him, crouching, trying to ignore the knot that was tightening her stomach. ‘Where’s he gone, Archie?’

  Her phone didn’t have any answers, the screen resolutely clear of notifications.

  Dazed and unthinking, she switched on the kettle. Valerie always told her things would be better with a cup of tea, and she was sure they would, that Mason had just nipped out to check on one of the other boats, called on by Jas or Doug to a potential problem, and Summer had slept through the commotion. But then she saw the note, scribbled hastily on one of her order pads in blue Biro. She recognized Mason’s untidy handwriting.

  Had to go - fighting - urgent!! Be in touch v soon. I LOVE YOU. M. Xxx

  She should have been reassured, especially by the last words. But she didn’t understand what it meant, didn’t understand the references – who was fighting? Was there something he needed to clear up with Tania from last night that he’d failed to mention? She couldn’t make sense of it, why he’d had to leave without waking her. She tried his phone but it went straight through to voicemail. Little Venice was still and quiet outside, not even ripples on the water to comfort her. Standing in the empty café in her pyjamas, holding onto Mason’s note as if it was only a matter of time before it revealed its secrets, Summer had no idea what to do next.