The Canal Boat Café Christmas

by Cressida McLaughlin

  ‘Specifically Richard Curtis films?’

  ‘Not exclusively.’

  Summer tried to slow her pulse. ‘I despair—’

  ‘Hello, are you open?’

  ‘Yes of course.’ Summer spun so quickly that she knocked into the counter, smiling widely at the family as they stepped inside. ‘Please, come in. Have a seat and I’ll be over to take your order in a moment.’

  She watched as they took their coats off and picked up the menu, the children aged around eight and ten, wide-eyed at being on the boat, uninterested in sitting while there were so many windows to look out of.

  ‘Can you go and check on the brownies in the oven, Hugh?’

  Mason turned in the kitchen doorway. ‘I think you’ll find that line belongs to Julia Roberts.’

  Summer shook her head and went to greet her new customers.

  The Grand Union Canal was much busier than the fenland waterways, as if they had turned onto the M25 of canals. The going was much slower, the routes narrow in places, wide in others, so they often found themselves getting up a head of steam, cruising at a regular speed and then having to slow to negotiate a tight bend, while other boats tried to manoeuvre through from the opposite direction. But despite being harder work, it woke Summer’s eyes up to the buzz and chatter of a busy, good-tempered waterway.

  Welcomes were exchanged, there was time to talk to the other helmsmen and -women as they queued for locks or tackled bends, and everyone was cheerful despite the cold weather. Life as a liveaboard wasn’t without its challenges, but it was certainly a slower, less stressful pace of life. And Madeleine wasn’t the only festive boat. They passed narrowboats with Christmas trees on their decks, one with fake snow covering the roof (Mason wondered aloud how long that would take to clean off once Christmas was over) and many that were also adorned with lights, though Summer secretly decided none were as vibrant or sparkling as theirs.

  One evening, a week into their journey, they ended up on The Wanderer’s Rest, Ryder’s narrowboat. It had a small bathroom and open-plan kitchen towards the bow end, the engine at the stern, and then the rest of the interior was like a shell, a single, open space scattered with beanbags and oversized cushions. Ryder opened up his boat for the use of others, and when there was no pub to convene in, and on the nights when the group of travellers came together rather than hunkering down in their own cabins, this was often where they came.

  On this occasion, Ralph had cooked a Christmas curry, which Summer eyed suspiciously before tasting and falling instantly in love with.

  ‘Oh God,’ she said, closing her eyes as the flavours burst on her tongue, ‘what’s in this?’

  ‘Best not to ask, I always think,’ Claire said, her eyes glinting in the low light. There was a small log burner glowing and crackling in the corner, which Summer thought was a new addition since the last time she’d been on board. ‘If you enjoy it, leave it there. Don’t go digging for something you might not want to unearth.’

  ‘Good point. As long as it doesn’t have any kind of offal in it, I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Offal adds so much flavour,’ Ralph cooed, and Summer’s next mouthful hovered inches from her lips.

  ‘Ignore him,’ Claire said, laughing.

  ‘It’s delicious, Ralph. I’d love to have the recipe sometime.’

  ‘The secret,’ Ralph said, ‘along with the turkey and the spices, is sweet potato and aubergine. Remind me and I’ll bring the full recipe round in the morning.’ He gave her a thumbs up, his thin, fair hair wispy around his face, and went back to stirring the large pot on Ryder’s tiny stove.

  ‘So,’ Claire said, leaning back against the wall, curling her legs up beneath her, ‘what’s it like being back on the road again, so to speak? As good as last time?’

  Summer twirled her fork in the rice. It was so different from last time. ‘We’ve not been able to spend as much time together. And we’ve been travelling so much that I’ve barely opened the café. It’s been great to come further afield though, to see the different canals – see how busy it is here. I can’t imagine anyone actually gets anywhere during the summer. If it’s like this now, then …’

  ‘I know,’ Claire laughed. ‘You grow a good chunk of patience. But we all get where we’re going eventually, and nobody’s ever in as much of a rush as they are on land. The water slows everything down, puts us all under its spell.’

  Summer nodded. It was a good way of putting it. She had fallen under Willowbeck’s spell. It had been a slow burner, admittedly, but once it had her in its grip, it was never going to let go, and Summer was completely fine with that. ‘It’s a shame we can’t go to the woods this time, and terrify each other with ghost stories.’

  ‘The fairy glade.’ Claire’s voice was soft with nostalgia. ‘Yeah, that was a good time. Doesn’t mean we can’t get our storytelling on here, though. You need space, a bit of wine – which Ralph’s always got – and then create the atmosphere yourself. Fairy lights are an added bonus. Yours are spectacular, by the way. Almost like a disco barge.’

  ‘They’re very bright,’ Summer agreed. ‘Hopefully no chance of getting into any scrapes, because every other narrowboat can see us coming a mile off.’

  ‘It’s a good tactic, that.’ Claire sipped her homemade wine. ‘And Mason seems to be getting on with everyone.’

  Summer followed Claire’s gaze further up the space, where Mason and Jas were sitting against the wall, deep in conversation. They had a trio of dogs lazing around them in various states of consciousness: Chester, Archie and Latte who, Summer was surprised to see, was licking their empty food bowls. She could usually guarantee that it would be Archie who would get to that first, but the Border terrier was sparked out, his front paw twitching as he slept.

  ‘He’s very sociable, despite his geeky habits.’ She and Claire exchanged a smile.

  ‘I’m glad that he’s found his feet with this regular column,’ Claire said, ‘it sounds just right for him. And I hope you told him to ignore Ryder’s idiotic comments.’

  ‘He chose to do that all by himself,’ Summer said.

  ‘That boy needs a good talking to, though it wouldn’t change anything. Ryder is Ryder. He’s not fond of new alpha males joining the pack, always has to exert his authority.’

  ‘Mason’s not a typical alpha male, but I can see why he feels threatened.’

  ‘That’s because you’ve got love goggles on. Mason’s definitely a catch though, and all the more for it because he doesn’t realize how hot he is. He was always like that, even back when I first knew him. Much tidier then, his hair short, because he’d only just started being a liveaboard, but still walking around deep in his own thoughts, unaware that every pair of female eyes followed him greedily. That was part of the problem, I suppose.’

  Summer glanced at her friend. She seemed sad, rather than annoyed, and Summer didn’t know whether to push further or let her speak. In the end, she couldn’t help it. ‘With Tania, you mean?’

  Claire’s lips pressed together. She nodded.

  ‘He never meant for it to happen. You know that now.’

  ‘Oh God, of course. He was in the worst possible place, dealing with something I can’t ever imagine having to go through. I guess, though, that made him even more oblivious to how hard Tania had fallen for him. He thought he was trying something new, testing the waters again, seeking comfort in company, and she was falling in love with him.’

  ‘Do you … have you seen her again? Does she know what happened?’

  Claire glanced at her, looked away. ‘Yeah, I told her. I’d not seen her for a while, but our paths crossed not that long ago, and so I repeated what Mason had told me.’

  ‘And?’ Summer swallowed. She was surprised Claire hadn’t offered up the news before now, and wasn’t sure what response she was hoping for, whether she wanted Tania to be thoroughly understanding, or if she’d prefer her to stay angry with Mason. She shouldn’t feel threatened – there was no reason to – but she cou
ldn’t help it. Tania had loved Mason, and he had at least cared for her, however blinded by grief he was at the time.

  ‘Tania’s a very forgiving person,’ Claire said, almost a whisper.

  Summer’s palms prickled with heat. ‘That – that’s great, that she understands. Mason would never intentionally hurt anyone.’

  ‘Course not. As I said, he’s a total catch. Sweet guy, hot as that log burner over there. You’ve fallen on your feet, Summer. And look, there’s something I should have mentioned, before, about how we got our moorings in Little Venice.’ She shuffled round to face her and Summer did the same, waiting to hear about some other spectacular fair that was going to be on at the same time as them, or that the static narrowboat café had found out they were coming and was refusing to let Summer trade.

  ‘What is it?’

  Pain flashed momentarily across Claire’s face. ‘The thing is, Sum—’

  ‘How’s it going over here?’ Ryder slid to the floor, somehow managing to come between them and drape his arms around both their shoulders. ‘How are you enjoying the GU, Summer?’

  When she frowned, Claire interpreted. ‘Grand Union. Actually, Ryder, we were in the middle of something.’

  ‘Oh great,’ he said, his blue eyes bright despite the gloom. ‘I love a something.’

  ‘It’s not …’ Claire sighed, giving Summer a meaningful look that said Later. Summer nodded.

  ‘Oh.’ Ryder did fake-petulant. ‘So, ladies, if you won’t spill the beans, then I’ll have to. It turns out our esteemed friend Jas is, at this very moment, convincing your better half to set up his own blog, all about birdies and fish and snakes, and whatever else it is you get out here that he goes all paparazzi over.’

  ‘Your ignorance is astounding, considering how long you’ve been on the water.’ Claire shook her head, exasperated.

  ‘There are more exciting things to focus on than the immediate surroundings.’ He was airy, false, and Summer wondered if he actually had a guidebook about wildlife on the British waterways in his back pocket. The idea made her grin.

  ‘Someone’s enjoying themselves,’ he said, quick as a flash. ‘Imbibing your fair share of Ralph’s homemade wine, Summer?’

  ‘Nope. Just having a good time. And I think Mason writing a blog is a great idea. Some people love knowing more about the wildlife outside their window, and Jas’s online following proves that narrowboats aren’t unfashionable. If Jas gave him a bit of a plug, he’d be bound to get lots of followers.’

  Ryder nodded. ‘You play the dutiful wife well, I’ll give you that.’

  Summer felt her cheeks redden. ‘I’m not his wife.’

  Ryder narrowed his eyes. ‘Oh, and is that a sore spot?’

  ‘Sod off, Ryder.’ Claire shoved his shoulder and Ryder shrugged, kissed Claire on the forehead and sloped off to annoy someone else.

  ‘Why does he have to be so irritating?’ Summer asked, noticing that Claire was gazing after him, her expression unreadable.

  ‘Because he loves winding people up. It’s his superhero power, he’s scarily good at it.’

  ‘Ugh.’ Summer shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, but Claire, eagle-eyed, had picked up on the last exchange.

  ‘Is it a sore spot, that you’re not married? You’ve only been together a year and a bit, Sum.’

  ‘It’s not, it’s just …’ She chewed her lip, wondering whether to let Claire in on her plans. But she’d already told Harry, and Jenny, and Jenny would have told Dennis by now, and while they were good friends, Claire was close to Ryder and everything would be ruined if he got his hands on the information. ‘I love him, and I want to be with him. I don’t want anything to get in the way of that.’ It was a lame explanation, but she didn’t know what else she could say.

  ‘What would get in the way?’ Claire asked quietly.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Summer glanced at Mason. He was gesticulating wildly, explaining something to Jas that had the blogger doubled over in laughter, and a smile curved her lips automatically. ‘It was so complicated at the beginning, so much delayed us admitting how we really felt – the past, misunderstandings, Ross – and then there was the fire. Even though we love each other, and we’re good together, I get this irrational fear that it’s more fragile than it is, that something’s going to come along and change everything.’ She stopped, wondering where the words had come from, realizing they’d been dragged up from deep inside her.

  Claire’s smile was reassuring. ‘I get that fear, it’s totally understandable. Worried it’s too good to be true, waiting for something to go wrong. But you know Mason loves you, right? Even if something were to happen, something totally unexpected, you’d be strong through it. I know you would, because I know you, Sum. Everything will be fine.’

  ‘Thank you. I don’t know why I said all that. I’m excited about our future, I have so many plans, and along with that comes the fear that they’ll be derailed, but there’s nothing behind it. Besides,’ Summer said, feeling buoyed by her friend’s encouragement, ‘what could possibly go wrong?’

  Chapter Eight

  They cruised into Little Venice on the second of December, the time when, usually, Summer’s excitement about impending Christmas turned into terror, and she became frantic and panicked, even though there were still over three weeks to go to get everything ready. But this year she didn’t have time to worry about that, because her entire brain was taken up with falling in love with Little Venice on sight.

  They’d cruised down the Grand Union Canal, through Uxbridge and Watford, to their destination. They were in the middle of London, but this was a part of the capital that was so different to the busy, crowded streets, the endless buildings, the noise and clamour.

  Here, nestled amongst it all, was an oasis. The weak winter sun reflected off the water, the boats moored along both sides of the canal – sometimes two abreast – were colourful and welcoming, the skeletons of trees bowing above them. It was more bustling than Willowbeck, but no less picturesque. And it felt instantly friendly.

  She turned to Mason, who was at the helm, and saw his expression mirrored hers.

  ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ she asked.

  Further along the canal she could see a bridge, similar to Willowbeck’s arched brick structure, but more ornate, its royal blue paintwork vibrant. She had seen this in the photos, and now it was in front of her she wanted to walk over that bridge, to gaze on the boats from above, to look down on her café and remember it in this iconic place, this kingdom amongst Britain’s waterways.

  ‘It’s stunning,’ Mason agreed. ‘Better than I imagined.’

  His curls were tucked inside a grey beanie hat, his nose red from the cold. She took his hand and he squeezed it, their gloved fingers holding on as they slowed, following the instructions Jas was shouting, his boat in front of theirs.

  People on the towpath and on the street above stopped to watch their convoy arrive, this new influx of beautiful, brightly coloured boats, decked out in their Christmas finery. Some of them, children especially, waved down at them, and Summer couldn’t help but wave back. Mason tooted their horn, and then Jas and Ryder joined in, and soon they were all tooting and waving, and other liveaboards emerged from the narrowboats already moored along the canal, standing on their decks as they cruised slowly past.

  Their visitor moorings were along the approach to the blue bridge, and Summer knew from her research that beyond it was the permanent riverside café, stationed at the point where the water opened up, and the Great Union Canal met the Regent’s Canal and the Paddington Basin. She hoped that if they stayed here, where the water was thick with narrowboats, and didn’t pass the café, then she wouldn’t be seen as competition – perhaps wouldn’t even be noticed by the other café owner. She’d had nightmares of being drummed out of Little Venice, a Wild West scenario with narrowboats instead of horses, pushing Madeleine’s throttle as hard as she could, Latte and Archie barking furiously while the angry café manager hur
led abuse, and possibly scones, in her direction.

  Mason rubbed her shoulders, squeezing the knotted muscles. ‘We made it. We’ve voluntarily travelled for miles and miles to participate in a week of London madness before Christmas.’

  ‘We have! That other narrowboat café …’ she turned to him.

  ‘They won’t even know you’re here, and if they do, they’ll embrace it. It’s London, and we’re here for one week. What could they possibly do?’

  She was speechless. ‘How—?’

  Mason’s smile was gentle. ‘I did some Googling before we left. I have been excited about this too, you know, and I wanted to see what I was letting myself in for. OK, here we go.’ He focused on manoeuvring Madeleine into her new mooring, Jas and Ryder giving slightly contradictory hand gestures from their boats. Despite that, he slid it expertly into place, and Summer surveyed their position.

  It was perfect.

  They were between Water Music – always helpful as an alarm clock if she was ever tempted to have a lie-in – and Doug’s Antiques Barge. The towpath was a constant flow of people in black overcoats or brightly coloured jackets, trailing scarves and woolly hats, all slowing to examine the new arrivals, to read the signs and noticeboards on the sides of the trading boats.

  ‘We’re going to be rushed off our feet, aren’t we?’ Mason asked, his gaze following hers.

  ‘The busiest week of our lives.’

  It was half past two, and the sun was already beginning to sink behind the buildings. The shadows were long, creeping their icy tendrils towards everything, and Summer shivered. Latte barked and, with their ropes secured, they headed inside, stamping their feet to try and get the feeling back in their toes.

  Claire knocked on the door a few minutes later.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked, throwing her arms wide.

  ‘I think it looks amazing,’ Summer said. ‘And busy. Are you opening up for a couple of hours, or starting afresh tomorrow?’