Fit For Purpose

by Julian D. Parrott

  At Crewe, Jack waited patiently in Tom’s Land Rover at a parking spot close to the station’s entrance. Tom was on the platform, waiting less patiently for the train from London. He desperately wanted to see Nia again, to hear her voice, feel her laugh, to touch her, breathe her scent. He already couldn’t remember what life was like without her.

  The Virgin express train was on time. A number of travellers alighted at Crewe. Tom scanned the crowd and saw Nia step down from a first-class carriage. She had a large spinner bag with her. He watched as she appeared to hesitate as the platform crowd, most just off the train, thinned out, moving on to their next trains or off the platform and on to points home. She wore new hiking boots, designer combat type trousers, a colourful boiled wool Norwegian sweater and a navy pea coat. She put on a red knitted hat. She began to move down the platform when she saw Tom. Her smile moved him. They met on the platform and kissed deeply, oblivious to the travellers that moved around them.

  “I’m so happy to see you,” Tom said. “So glad you made it up here.”

  Nia hugged him again and her dark eyes shone. She carried her now well-thumbed copy of Narrowboat.

  “Ummmm,” Nia said, “God, I love how you smell.”

  Tom laughed. “How was the trip?”

  “Smooth actually,” Nia answered. “Spent most of the time reading the Rolt.”

  “What do you think of it?” Tom asked.

  “Fascinating,” began Nia. “But he’s a bit opinionated, isn’t he?”

  “Quite. Some of his observations about people haven’t aged well.”

  “Like bargees being a different race?”

  “Yes,” Tom laughed. “Like bargees being a different race.”

  “Is narrow boating still like this?” she asked pointing to a particularly romantic illustration.

  Tom smiled. “Yes,” he said simply. “It can be. But it can be rather chilly, especially these days, and some people feel the whole thing is too cramped. Are you ready for this?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, let’s go and meet Jack and the Periwinkle.”

  Nia was genuinely excited.

  Nia liked Jack immediately and the feeling was mutual. Jack continued to lick Nia’s hand as the actress positioned herself in the Land Rover’s front seat. Nia also liked the Land Rover.

  “Nice wheels Tom. Yours?”

  “Just got it,” Tom announced almost proudly. “I can keep it at the marina’s car park even when I’m off cruising. It’ll be a bit of a pain having to, sometimes, shuttle between boat and car but the benefits will outstrip any of those issues.”

  Nia was aware that Tom’s purchase had more meaning than just the getting of a vehicle.

  “By the way, you mentioned you like cars, what do you drive?” Tom asked.

  “Oh, something a little speedier,” she answered obliquely.

  “Then you should have driven up. The country roads around here are a driver’s dream.”

  “Ah, too many speed cameras for me,” she said. “Maybe next time.”

  ***

  Tom had moved the Periwinkle back to Llangollen as a starting point to give Nia, arguably, one of the best short canal trips in the British Isles. The drive from Crewe would normally take a little over an hour but Tom took a little longer route so they ran parallel to the canal for a bit. They stopped in a little border village and had a late lunch in a half-timbered Elizabethan inn that was dog friendly.

  The late afternoon grew grey and cloudy and Tom had turned on the Land Rover’s headlights by the time they pulled into Llangollen. He parked at the narrowboat basin’s car park, a grassy field, stone hard with winter temperatures. He carried Nia’s bag, which was surprisingly heavy, and Jack ran on ahead. The marina spread out before them like a shallow bowl. Tom pointed out a couple of the boats whose owners he knew, but there weren’t many boats tied up along the floating pontoons at this time of year. Tom and Nia walked up to a smart green narrowboat. The Periwinkle.

  “Home,” Tom said.

  He held her hand as they walked on the floating pontoon moorings to the boat’s stern. He continued to hold her hand to steady her as she stepped up on to the small stern deck. He unlocked two small doors, opened them, and slid open the roof cover which would allow them to walk down the stern cabin’s three steps without ducking. He turned on lights and Nia could see a small tidy bedroom cabin. On the cabin’s left, tight against the wall, was a double bed. A small cabinet at its foot. The walls and ceiling were a warm toned wood. There were windows either side of the cabin and small shelves stocked with books on either side of the windows and at the head of the bed. A few paintings, watercolours Nia thought, were screwed flat on to the cabin’s curving walls. Nice, Nia thought, cosier than she expected.

  Tom placed her bag on the bed. The bag looked huge.

  “Oh my God, where do you keep all your stuff,” Nia said alarmed at the lack of drawers and closets.

  Tom had cleared out two of the cabinet’s drawers for her and showed her a little wardrobe at the front of the cabin for coats and boots and another in the corridor that ran from the bedroom to the galley kitchen. The bathroom was on the left of the corridor. Tom showed her the small bathroom and demonstrated the odd way to flush the toilet and the need to pump out the shower when in use. The bathroom was spotless. She went to the tiny shower.

  “Ever get two people in this?” she asked with a smirk.

  “Once,” Tom answered. “But she was very small.”

  Nia laughed.

  “And pretty?” Nia asked with a cheeky smile.

  “Oh yes, stunning.”

  “Okay, you can stop right there,” Nia said with a giggle.

  Tom showed her through the rest of the boat. Nia appreciated the fact that he had filled every space with books. There were some fresh flowers in a vase on one of the galley kitchen’s small counters.

  Tom made a fire in the boat’s Morso pot-bellied stove. After the fire had taken, he went to the galley and made some tea. With mugs of tea in hand, they sat in the front cabin talking, Nia expressing genuine interest in all things canal. Tom answered her questions about his boat and the canal as best he could. Then Nia noticed the small collection of DVDs resting on a bookshelf, recognising them instantly as her work. She was touched. She stood up and started looking through the DVDs.

  “On my God, Tom!” she exclaimed. She pulled out one of the DVDs. “Oh My God,” she repeated. “This has a nude scene.”

  “Errr,” Tom stammered a little embarrassed. “I discovered that.”

  “Tell me, Mister Price, are you some kind of pervert?” Nia laughed. “Seriously though, Tom, what made you get these?”

  “Well,” Tom took a gulp of his tea, draining it. “I was so sorry that I hadn’t seen any of your work before that I wanted to acquaint myself with it.”

  “And, what did you think then?”

  “Nia, you are very good. Your talent is obvious from your earliest stuff on and Jack’s a big fan too,” Tom said.

  They both laughed. Nia felt a sense of pride.

  “Talking of Jack,” Tom added. “It’s time for her walk. Would you like to join us?”

  Nia nodded, “Absolutely.”

  They walked down the towpath past the shut cafe and souvenir shop and took a right turn down a steep hill into the village proper. There was a light misting rain rolling in from the mountains to the west. They walked across the village’s ancient bridge and watched the Dee’s water below rush, churn, and dance. Nia looped her arm in Tom’s as they walked back. The mist became rain in earnest and the temperature dropped. By the time they walked back up the hill and along the towpath to Periwinkle’s mooring, Nia was wet and chilled.

  ***

  Jack lay on one of the cosy chairs enjoying the stove’s warmth while Tom made dinner. Chicken was sautéing in a pan with shallots and a wine reduction sauce. Tom chopped mushrooms. Nia was showering and getting warm after the cold and damp walk. She dried herself in the bathroom, a
pplied some subtle mascara and then slipped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and moved quickly the few feet down the corridor to the bedroom cabin. She closed the door. She made sure the curtains were fully closed as she slipped out of the towel, stepped into lacey lavender panties and matching bra, and then dressed simply in jeans, a white designer T-shirt, and, as she was still cold, an Aran sweater. She checked herself in the cabin’s mirror, nodded to her reflection, then she moved down the narrow corridor from bathroom to kitchen. There, she asked whether she could help, secretly hoping Tom would say no. He suggested she open the bottle of wine, which was a chore she gladly embraced. A bottle of red was on the counter. She opened it with expert ease and poured two generous glasses and went over and hugged Tom.

  “Music?” she asked.

  “Try the iPad.”

  She touched the tablet’s screen and found the music icon. She looked at Tom’s playlists and stopped at the one labelled ‘Phone Songs’. She turned to Tom who was stirring dinner in a large pan. It smelled lovely, she thought.

  “You have a playlist of songs about phones?”

  “Don’t we all?” Tom asked. “Try it, it’s brilliant.”

  Nia shrugged and hit play. ELO’s ‘Telephone Line’ started.

  “Classic,” said Tom.

  “Clichéd,” said Nia. “But good.”

  Tom added a few more coal briquettes to the lounge cabin’s stove. The cabin warmed sufficiently for Nia to pull off her sweater. She leaned against a kitchen cabinet and took a long draw on her wine. Dinner simmered.

  “You know, I don’t know this part of Wales at all,” Nia said. “It’s lovely though isn’t it? The view from the bridge in the village, wow. And the hills, and that one with a castle on the top. I’m from the south, Cardiff way. Don’t get back very often but have even done some filming there. Did an episode of Dr Who in Cardiff once. It’s filmed there now.”

  “I always liked Dr Who,” Tom attempted to interject.

  “Kinda booming now, Welsh TV. Would have loved to have been able to be in some of the recent Welsh dramas,” Nia continued. “But I don’t speak Welsh. Have to speak Welsh as they film in both English and Welsh.” She laughed, “I’m babbling. I’ll stop.”

  “No, don’t,” Tom said. “I like it. It’s like music.”

  Nia laughed her loud throaty rasp. “No one has ever told me that my voice sounded like music before.”

  “Then, nobody’s really listened to you before,” Tom said.

  Tom opened another bottle of wine to have with dinner. The small table was set simply, and Tom quickly served the food. Nia took a tasting bite and was immediately impressed with Tom’s culinary skills. They ate and talked. Nia loved how the conversation flowed naturally. She felt free to be her authentic self, not worried about how she appeared, she enjoyed telling her stories or discussing opinions with this sweet man as he genuinely listened to her. It wasn’t the kind of listening, she knew, that a guy may have picked up from a GQ article on how to impress women, but real listening that reflected genuine interest. Nia liked his stories but noticed that he was still guarded about facets of his army career and experience. He was beginning to share more things with her, but she still felt he was only allowing her to peel back one layer of onion skin at a time. As he talked and as he listened, she was finding his charm almost irresistibly attractive. They finished the meal with coffee and whisky.

  Nia excused herself and she made her way, a little unsteadily, to the bedroom cabin. She returned to the dining table holding what was obvious to Tom as an exquisitely wrapped book. “Please,” Nia began. “Open it.”

  Tom took the book and unwrapped it. It was a first edition of Philip Hoare’s biography of Noel Coward. He noticed that there was a flyleaf inscription: “Tom, who attended Blithe Spirt and revived mine. Love always, Nia.”

  “Wow, thanks,” Tom said. “It’s lovely.” He was touched by her inscription.

  Nia put her empty glass down on the table and leant back in her chair.

  “Time for bed?” she said raising an eyebrow coquettishly.

  They quickly and haphazardly cleared the dinner service. Tom tucked Jack into her bed in the lounge cabin and closed the door to the rear cabin. Nia lay back on the bed and stretched her arms over her head. Her hair spilt around her on her pillow.

  “Take my clothes off,” she said.

  Tom found her self-confidence incredibly attractive.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. They were both tipsy. He climbed on the bed, straddled her, and gently eased her T-shirt over her breasts and then her head. He sat back on his haunches. Her breasts filled the lacy lavender bra lasciviously. He moved down and unfastened her jeans’ button, and unzipped her fly, she arched her back as he pulled the jeans over her bottom and hips, then down and off her legs.

  “Another matching bra and panties,” Tom stated. “Damn it, woman, how many knickers do you have?”

  Nia giggled and laid there on his narrow bed on his narrowboat. Tom thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever been with. She opened her eyes. What was he waiting for? He pulled his T-shirt over his head.

  “I want to imagine you like this always,” Tom said. He slipped out of his jeans and underpants in one move.

  Nia laughed, “What about this way?” she said as she unfastened her bra, a front loader, and wriggled out of her panties. She lay there totally naked. Tom moved his hands down her body in gentle stroking and massaging motions. She responded to his touch. He kissed her on the lips, she teased him with her tongue. She reached down and held his erection and moved it against her body so he could enter her.

  They lay side by side, each enjoying the warm afterglow of satisfying sex. Their skin touching and sticking to each other. “That was lovely,” said Nia.

  “Thanks, you make it sound like a cup of tea,” laughed Tom.

  Nia giggled and pulled the sheet partway off her body. “Blimey, it does get hot in here.”

  Tom turned on to his stomach, resting on his elbows and leaned over and kissed her lightly on her lips. “I love your body,” he said.

  She laughed and made some mime movements. “My body is my tool,” she said in an exaggerated French accent. She pulled the sheet off her body completely.

  He laughed and kissed her, “Ah, it’s a nude scene.”

  She guffawed. “Well, I don’t do them any more. But, when I was young, and pretty, and had perky boobs, and a flat tummy…”

  “I love your boobs,” he said, and moved over and kissed each of her breasts gently. “I love your tummy too.” He moved down her body and kissed her stomach, her navel, and started moving down lower but she grabbed him by his ears and pulled him back up.

  “This is nothing like acting,” she said. “Those scenes are so rehearsed, so choreographed, that you don’t think about how you move, it’s like dancing.”

  “I like dancing,” he said.

  She guffawed and reached for him. “Yes, but you’re really rubbish at it.”

  Tom laughed. “Is there anything that I am good at?”

  “Yes,” Nia said with a lascivious grin and a dramatic pause. “Making tea.”

  Tom gently hit her with his pillow. Nia bounced up and hit him back with her pillow. She straddled him and gently bounced the pillow off his chest and head. She felt him harden beneath her. It excited her. Tom eased her over his erection and she pulled him into her. They made love again slowly as the boat rocked gently at its moorings.

  ***

  Tom was in the Periwinkle’s small but efficient kitchen making breakfast. Jack curled up on her bed in front of the Morso stove. In the stern cabin, Nia curled under the bed’s duvet enjoying its warmth. She felt ridiculously happy. She had so carefully guarded her emotions for so long that the depth and suddenness of her feelings for Tom continued to scare her. As Nia listened to Tom as he moved around the kitchen, gently talking to Jack, and humming unselfconsciously to yet another of his quirky playlists she was irresistibly drawn to him.
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  She slipped on her dressing gown and moved down the small corridor to the kitchen. Tom was making fresh coffee, toast and scrambled eggs. She went up to him and, from behind, wrapped her arms around him. She placed her cheek against his back she shut her eyes.

  “Tom,” she began earnestly. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

  Tom stopped his cooking and stood silently for a moment and then, without turning to face her, responded,

  “No thinking for me. I’m sure I love you Nia.” Then he turned to her; they kissed while the scrambled eggs burnt.

  ***

  The Periwinkle slowly nosed her way eastward through the thin Llangollen canal. With no other boats on the canal, the narrowboat made good time. Nia stood on the stern deck enjoying her first time on a narrowboat and taking in the view of the misty Dee valley down to her right. As the canal approached the basin at the little town of Trevor, Tom steered the Periwinkle through a narrow bridge that led to a sharp right turn.

  “Okay,” he said with a smile. “Get ready for the best but also the scariest trip across any aqueduct on any British canal.”

  Nia beamed and gave him a thumbs’ up.

  “You may want to stand on the left,” Tom said. “There is going to be no railing on the right side of the aqueduct. You could simply step off the boat into thin air and down to the valley floor something like one hundred and twenty feet below.”

  “I wouldn’t want that to happen,” Nia smiled.

  “Neither would I.”

  The canal narrowed as the mouth of the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct neared. The aqueduct had been in operation since 1805 and it continued to inspire awe given its radical design: the canal ran through a cast iron trough supported by eighteen high stone arches which gave it an elegant and light feel. It was the longest aqueduct in the UK and the highest in the world.