The Canal Boat Cafe 3 - Cabin Fever

by Cressida McLaughlin

  ‘Argh! What is this? Am I sinking?’ She screeched it at Latte, but unsurprisingly the little dog was unable to answer her, and simply added to the noise by yelping back at her.

  Summer ran back through her cabin and jumped on to the stern deck. She banged on Mason’s door, startling a young man who was passing on a bicycle. Latte was at her heels, her yelping reaching an almost inaudibly high pitch.

  She thought she heard a voice from inside, and then the door opened and Mason was there, his face a mix of concern and sleepiness, his eyes crinkled. The quickest glance told Summer that he was only wearing shorts, and that he was incredibly toned, but she didn’t really have the time to get distracted.

  ‘Summer,’ he yawned, ‘what is it? Are you OK?’ She caught his eyes quickly flicker over her legs, bare below her tiny pyjama shorts, before meeting her gaze.

  ‘My boat’s full of water,’ she rushed. ‘The café – am I sinking?’

  ‘Shit,’ Mason said, suddenly alert. ‘Hopefully not. Two secs.’ He disappeared inside, and Summer held on to Latte, who was as desperate to see inside The Sandpiper as Summer had been. A few moments later he appeared again, a white T-shirt over his shorts, his feet still bare. ‘Archie, stay.’ He shut the door and followed Summer back to her boat and through the cabin, giving her a quick, puzzled glance at all the balloons, and then into the café.

  ‘Crap,’ he murmured.

  ‘Am I sinking?’ Summer asked again. ‘Please tell me I’m not.’

  Mason shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. I think maybe one of the pipes has burst. Hopefully it’s that, otherwise you may have a leak in the hull.’

  ‘I can’t have. That – that would be awful, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘It’s probably a pipe. Let’s say it’s a pipe.’

  ‘OK, I like your optimism. What do we do?’

  Mason looked at her, then rubbed his face with both hands. ‘We call Mick,’ he said.

  ‘Good plan.’ Summer quickly found her phone and called the boatbuilder. He was cheery and helpful, but Summer’s heart sank when he told her he couldn’t get there until lunchtime.

  Summer told Mason the bad news.

  ‘Right,’ he said, appraising the café, his hand worrying his hair, making the curls even more unruly. ‘Right. Well, we can find the leak, then when he gets here, it’ll be a quicker job.’

  ‘H-how do we do that?’

  ‘We take up the floorboards.’

  Summer gawped. ‘Us?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mason said, his voice defiant.

  ‘OK,’ Summer said. ‘What do we need?’

  ‘Screwdriver and chisel.’

  ‘I’ll get my toolbox.’ As Summer hurried to the engine room to get her tools, she had time to realize that Mason’s surprise was ruined. Even if they managed to get the boat fixed, he’d seen the balloons. Summer had no idea how serious the leak was, how costly it would be, but it was unlikely that they could go ahead with the party now – not to mention the impact it might have on her business. Swearing to herself, she picked up her toolbox and made her way back to the café.

  Chapter 3

  Summer didn’t think she’d ever been more flustered in her life. They’d moved the chairs and tables to the back of the café, closest to the counter, and were focusing their attention on the bow of the boat, which was where Mason thought the leak was likely to be. They were prising up the floorboards one by one, Mason taking care not to break them as he chiselled them out, exposing the pipework and the bilges beneath.

  ‘Why is she doing this?’ Summer asked, as she helped lift one of the floorboards out of place.

  ‘Who?’ Mason looked up, frowning. There were beads of perspiration on his forehead, his curls tightening into ringlets in the humidity.

  ‘My boat,’ Summer said. ‘All I’ve done recently is repair her.’

  ‘The break-in wasn’t the boat’s fault,’ Mason said, his voice straining as he worked at a floorboard edge with the chisel. ‘And we don’t know what’s happened here yet.’

  ‘I think you’re a bad influence,’ Summer said.

  ‘Me?’ Mason looked up, shocked. ‘Why? What have I done?’

  ‘I think The Canal Boat Café has seen how gorgeous The Sandpiper is, and she’s jealous. I think she keeps breaking so I’ll have to keep repairing her, until she’s up to the standard of your boat.’

  ‘My boat’s not that great.’

  ‘Your boat is a James Bond boat.’

  ‘Which film was that? I can’t imagine any director thinking that a narrowboat chase would get hearts racing, even if Bond did break the four mile an hour speed limit.’ Mason peered down into the bilges. ‘If I can just find out where it is …’ His voice trailed away until he emerged, wiping his forehead with a blackened hand.

  Summer stared at his dirty forehead, and his complete obliviousness, and tried hard not to laugh. ‘It was something Ross said, that my boat was like one of those swanky yachts in Bond films. Mine doesn’t come close, but yours does.’

  ‘I object to the word “swanky” in any situation, and definitely about my boat.’

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Summer said dreamily, and then looked around her at the water and the cavern they were opening up in her boat, as if they were gutting her. They were both sitting in the water, shorts soaked, and Summer may have been laughing at the smudge on Mason’s forehead, but she probably looked as bad. The Canal Boat Café and The Sandpiper were complete opposites right now. Summer sighed, and bent over to where Mason was looking.

  ‘I think it’s down there,’ he said, pointing. He reached up and got the torch from the windowsill, and hovered its beam over the pipework below them.

  Summer thought she could see where Mason was pointing, at the underside of one of the pipes that looked like it had cracked. ‘So it’s fixable, and it’s not the hull.’

  ‘Exactly, and I’m sure Mick can repair it in no time.’

  ‘And we’re definitely not sinking?’

  Mason glanced around him. ‘Doesn’t look like it.’

  ‘That’s a huge relief,’ Summer said. ‘Phew. Phew, puppy.’ She picked Latte up and hugged her. The dog’s paws were damp, and when she put her down, Summer realized she had little dirty paw prints stamped across her yellow vest top. She sighed, looked up and saw that Mason was smirking.

  She folded her arms.

  Mason gave her an innocent smile.

  ‘Don’t say anything,’ she warned.

  ‘Wasn’t going to utter a word.’

  ‘What on earth are you two doing? What’s happened to the floor? Are you wearing your pyjamas?’

  They both looked up to see Valerie standing in the doorway, her hair an orange mane around her face.

  ‘My boat’s leaking,’ Summer said. ‘We’ve been on a leak hunt.’

  ‘Good Lord! You’re soaked.’

  ‘So’s the café,’ Summer said grimly.

  ‘I’m going to take some photos and send them to Mick,’ Mason said, ‘that way he’ll know what to bring with him when he comes.’

  Summer pulled herself to standing and, skirting around the hole in the floor, went and sat on the bow deck with Valerie. ‘I think tonight’s ruined,’ she said.

  ‘Is that what you’re really worried about, when your boat’s in pieces like this?’

  ‘I wanted it to be perfect.’

  ‘It’s not raining as far as I can tell,’ Valerie said, looking up at the cloudless blue sky.

  ‘Wow, are you a fortune-teller, Valerie? That’s amazing.’

  Valerie gasped. ‘What’s got into you, you cheeky thing!’

  ‘Sorry,’ Summer said, rubbing her eyes with her wrists. ‘This has been a surreal morning.’

  ‘It’s a good thing Mason was there to call on.’ Summer thought she detected more weight to Valerie’s voice than usual, but decided it wasn’t something she wanted to probe.

  ‘I thought I was sinking. I’m so glad I’m not sinking.’ She put her head in her hands.
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  ‘Mick’s on his way,’ Mason said, appearing in the doorway. ‘He knows which pipe he needs to bring, and it should be fixed today. But you’ll need to leave the floorboards up and all the doors and windows open as long as possible, to dry everything out. He said it’s a good thing it happened in the summer. It would have been much harder to deal with if it was cold.’

  ‘What a considerate leak,’ Summer said, ‘just like the burglar.’

  Mason and Valerie exchanged a confused glance, and Summer repeated her conversation with Mick from the previous week.

  ‘I can’t really even serve from the hatch until everything’s dried out,’ Summer said. ‘And – oh my God, Mason, I haven’t even said happy birthday! Look what I’ve made you do on your birthday!’

  ‘I did have a glimmer of hope earlier, when there was such an early knock on my door, that maybe someone had sent me a huge present.’ He sighed dramatically. ‘Instead I had you screeching that you were sinking. It’s not been the best start.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Summer started, and then saw that Mason was grinning at her. ‘You don’t mind?’

  ‘Happy to help,’ he said.

  ‘Again,’ Summer added.

  ‘Again,’ Mason echoed. ‘Are you still on for dinner later? I can cook now you’ve been thrown into disarray.’

  ‘N-no, that’s OK,’ Summer said, shooting a quick glance at Valerie. ‘Let me do that. I’m sure I can work something out.’

  ‘OK.’ Mason shrugged, then lifted his T-shirt and wiped his grimy face with it, exposing his toned stomach above the shorts. ‘Give me a shout when Mick gets here, and I’ll give him a hand.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Summer said. ‘What are we going to do?’ she asked, once Mason had gone. ‘We can’t have the party on my boat any more.’

  ‘So we’ll get your outdoor furniture on the towpath and have it there instead.’

  ‘Unless there’s a huge thunderstorm,’ Summer said, giving Valerie a rueful smile.

  Valerie raised her hand up to the sky. ‘I predict there will be none, and as I’m a fortune-teller, you can count on me to know what the weather’s doing.’

  ‘Touché,’ Summer grinned. ‘We’ll just have to make sure we tie the balloons very tightly on to the chairs.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Because they’re filled with helium.’

  ‘Ah,’ Valerie said. ‘Good point.’

  While Mason and Mick worked on repairing the pipe, Summer took Latte and Archie for a long, slow walk up the river and across the fields, into a small, cool patch of wood. She wanted to help, but it was such a small space and she knew she’d just get in the way. She took time to enjoy the glorious summer day, making sure she kept the dogs hydrated, and listened out for bird sounds and any signs of wildlife. Her walk with Mason seemed like years ago, so much had happened since then, and she knew her knowledge was still very limited. But she recognized the songs of a blackbird and a robin, the birds hiding amongst the trees, away from the heat of the sun. It reminded her of her time with Jas and Ryder, of the stories in the woods on cooler nights, the crackling fire and the fear and the suspense. It might be bright sunshine beyond the trees, but under the canopy, there was a stillness that was almost otherworldly.

  When she returned from her walk, hot but relaxed, the dogs trotting placidly alongside her, Mason and Mick were replacing the floorboards.

  ‘Is it OK to put them back, then?’ Summer asked, peering into the café from the doorway.

  ‘We’ve pumped out the bilges,’ Mick said, ‘so you’ll just need to air this place for the rest of the day, and tomorrow too, and all will be right as rain.’

  ‘You’ve come to my rescue, again!’

  ‘Not a bother,’ Mick said, standing and wiping his hands on a cloth.

  Summer couldn’t help it. She flung her arms around him, squeezing tightly. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘Not a bother,’ Mick repeated, his voice suddenly quiet and unsure.

  Summer pulled back, and then, because she couldn’t hug Mick and leave out Mason, she flung her arms around him too. ‘Thank you, Mason,’ she murmured into his neck. He smelt of oil or grease, and of wood, and his body was warm and much firmer than Mick’s. She felt his arms go round her, hugging her awkwardly. She inhaled, and wondered if she could get away with running her hands through his hair. She quickly decided not.

  ‘You’ve spent your birthday crawling around in muddy water and yanking up floorboards for me,’ she said, reluctantly unwrapping herself from him. She noticed how dirty his hands were, and realized that he hadn’t embraced her properly because he didn’t want to mark her clothes.

  ‘I didn’t have any other plans,’ Mason said. ‘Not until tonight, anyway.’ His smile was hesitant, as if he was aware her hug was more than just a thank you, as it had been with Mick.

  ‘I’ll be off then,’ the boatbuilder said.

  Summer paid him, briefly wondering if she should offer to set up a direct debit, and watched him head back to his van.

  ‘Shall I come about seven?’ Summer asked, hoping Mason still didn’t suspect anything, and that he’d forgotten about the balloons in the excitement of dealing with pipes and bilges.

  ‘Sounds good,’ Mason said. ‘It might take me that long to get cleaned up.’

  ‘The favours I owe you are beginning to stack up,’ Summer said. ‘I don’t know how I can ever repay you for all of this.’

  ‘I think considering all the bacon butties and espressos, we’re pretty much even.’

  ‘That’s too generous,’ Summer said. Mason took Archie’s lead and led him back to The Sandpiper. It was mid-afternoon, the day was still sweltering, and Summer thought she had time to mop up the café and give the drying process a helping hand before she set up the al fresco birthday party. She’d been set off course, but again she had to remind herself it could have been a lot worse, with her boat, her café and her entire life sitting on the riverbed. She’d had all the help she could ever have hoped for, and now there was even more reason to show Mason how grateful she was.

  Everything was ready. Summer and Valerie had set out the tables on the towpath, covered them with streamers, and tied the balloons to the chair backs with triple knots. On her sturdy A-frame, Summer had written: It’s Mason’s birthday, hip hip hooray, but the café is closed for the rest of today. Harry, Greg and Tommy appeared at about six thirty, Tommy in a smart red shirt and dark shorts, his hair reaching his collar. Harry looked beautiful in a peach-coloured dress, and Greg was all smiles, though when Summer peered closely she could see the tiredness around his eyes.

  ‘Harry, you gorgeous thing,’ Summer embraced her friend. ‘Thank you so much for coming!’

  ‘I couldn’t miss getting to meet Mason properly,’ she said, ‘and of course seeing you again.’

  ‘Glad to see you’ve got your priorities straight,’ Summer grinned. ‘And I’m back in Willowbeck. For good.’

  ‘I can see that,’ Harry said. ‘Which means that …’

  ‘We can think about going into business together. Unless of course you’ve got something else, or the café—’

  ‘No no, there’s nothing else. Let’s talk about it properly. And I promise this isn’t a pitch, but I’ve brought this to add to the celebrations.’ Harry handed her a large tin and, holding it against her, Summer popped the lid. It was a huge, triple-layered cake with pale green icing. She looked at Harry quizzically.

  ‘Pistachio cake,’ Harry said. ‘I’ve got some ice cream too. It’s in a cold bag, but it needs to go in the freezer quickly, if you’ve got room?’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ Valerie said, taking the bag from Harry. ‘I’m going to get Tommy a lemonade anyway.’

  Summer thanked her and turned back to her friend. ‘How’s Greg?’

  ‘He’s hanging in there,’ Harry said, glancing towards where her husband and son were peering down into the river. ‘But the work’s so infrequent now. He’s looking around for something else, b
ut so far it’s not been the most buoyant of job markets.’ Her large brown eyes blinked away sadness, and she gave Summer a weak smile.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ Summer rubbed her arm.

  ‘Anyway, tonight’s a celebration. What time does the guest of honour arrive? I’m desperate to talk to him.’

  ‘When I go and get him.’

  ‘Which should be now,’ Valerie said, reappearing with a bottle of lemonade. ‘He’s probably seen all the kerfuffle out of the window anyway.’

  ‘He saw the balloons this morning.’ Summer regaled Harry, Greg and Tommy with the leak story, waved as Adam and his son, Charlie, made their way over from the butcher’s, and then, wiping her hands down her blue sundress and cursing herself for being nervous, approached The Sandpiper.

  Latte had accompanied her to Mason’s front door, and Summer turned to the little dog before she knocked.

  ‘What do you think, Latte? Will he be delighted, or mad?’ Latte cocked her head on one side, and Summer crossed her fingers, then rapped gently on the wood.

  Mason opened the door, his smile wide, the blue of his shirt as dark and deep as the midnight sky. His hair was tamed into neat curls, his feet bare below the hem of his jeans. Summer inhaled.

  ‘Summer, you look lovely. Come in.’ He stepped back and gestured inside The Sandpiper, and Summer bit her lip, hovering in the doorway. Mason’s smile faded. ‘What’s wrong? Has something happened – your boat—’

  ‘No, no, my boat’s fine,’ Summer rushed, ‘I wondered if you could come outside, just for a moment.’

  He frowned. ‘Sure. Archie – stay.’

  ‘No, bring Archie.’ It came out as a squeak. The dogs were touching noses, their tails wagging madly, Archie skittering backwards and forwards on the spot.