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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017
Copyright © Christie Barlow 2017
Cover illustrations © Shutterstock.com
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017
Christie Barlow asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008240905
Ebook Edition © August 2017 ISBN:9780008240899
Version: 2017-08-17
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Acknowledgements
Also by Christie Barlow
About the Author
About HarperImpulse
About the Publisher
For Agnes Barlow,
The brightest star shining in the sky.
Prologue
Little Rock Marina was a beautiful place to live; linked to the Trent and Mersey Canal it was home to two hundred narrowboats and set in a ninety-acre woodland. Small boutiques, coffee shops and all things crafty adorned the jetty. Nell Andrews’ narrowboat was moored in a fantastic spot on jetty number ten, right in the heart of the marina, overlooking the popular deli. To the right of the deli was the butcher’s and to the left, a gift shop, which could only be described as an explosion of all things floral and shabby chic.
Just a little way up the towpath was The Waterfront, an historic-looking pub with its reclaimed timber and brick, and a beautiful place to sit in the summer, overlooking the water, when the whole place became a hive of activity with dog-walkers and narrowboat enthusiasts.
But Nell and Ollie’s favourite time of the year had always been winter. Once December arrived they’d enjoyed early-morning frosty walks around the marina, finding the twinkly lights that were decked on the roofs of the boats magical. In the dark evenings, they’d loved battening down the hatches and cosying up in front of the log burner, feeling content inside the ‘Nollie’, a name Ollie had come up with for their floating home.
Nell and Ollie’s boat had been moored at Little Rock Marina for all of their married life. They’d met at college, aged seventeen, and the moment Nell had clapped eyes on Ollie, with his blonde corkscrew curls and infectious smile, she’d fallen in love. At the time, he’d been training to be a mechanic and she was studying business. Ollie’s passion was to tinker with engines; he was always at his happiest when covered head to toe in greasy oil, with his head under a car bonnet, and he’d opened a small mechanic’s yard on the edge of Heron’s Reach, a picturesque village, which was a stone’s throw away from the marina. It didn’t make a lot of money, but it had been enough to keep their little home afloat.
In the past five years there had been nothing more appealing than waking up, throwing open the doors of their little narrowboat and watching the world float by. But recently things had changed for Nell. Now, as she clambered up on to the deck and stared vacantly at the clouds sporadically dotted in the sky, she allowed her mind to drift along with them. With one hand she clutched tightly at the grey woollen blanket draped around her shoulders and with the other held a steaming mug of tea. As she blinked back the tears and stared out over the tranquil marina, Nell knew that today was going to be one of the most difficult of her life.
Two hours later, Nell flicked up and down her clothes rail trying to decide on an outfit. She knew it was silly to worry about what she was going to wear; Ollie wouldn’t mind what she was wearing when she said goodbye. She took a deep breath, smiled and glanced over at his overalls hanging on the back of the door. Once his yard had finally been sold, his overalls were all she’d kept. She couldn’t bear to part with them.
Finally, she set off up the towpath, her bag slung over her shoulder and her hands buried deep inside her coat pockets. She knew that the perfect place to lay Ollie to rest was on the other side of the marina, just by the lake. Over the wooden bridge there was a huge willow tree that adorned the bank and underneath its graceful foliage of arching branches was a bench where Nell and Ollie would sit talking for hours, watching the world go by.
Everywhere was peaceful, the ancient oak trees that flanked the gravel path swayed and the colourful daffodils danced in the light breeze as Nell dabbed her eyes with a tissue. She was struggling to accept that Ollie had truly left her, but she knew that however hard it was, it was time to move on.
She was on her way to meet her mum, Gilly, who she’d spotted in the distance standing on the little wooden bridge, throwing bread to the mallards below.
‘Come on, Nell Andrews, be brave! You can do this,’ the words whirled around inside her head.
Her mum swung round and smiled warmly towards her daughter, ‘Morning, you okay?’ she asked, throwing her arms open wide and giving her a hug.
‘Not really,’ Nell answered shakily, her eyes finally unleashing the tears she’d bravely been trying to hold back.
Gilly rubbed her arm, ‘It’s going to be alright,
you know, in time. Come on,’ she encouraged.
Nell could only manage a nod, not trusting herself to speak. They linked arms and slowly walked over the bridge towards the huge willow tree and perched on the wooden bench underneath it. Nell clutched her bag against her chest, feeling close to Ollie for one last time. For a moment neither spoke; they just stared out over the tranquil water of the lake, Nell lost in her own memories.
It had been six months since the decision was made to switch off Ollie’s life-support machine, and she still missed him dreadfully. The pain twisted in her heart; it was still raw and never went away.
Every time Nell thought of Ollie, her eyes brimmed with instant tears. She remembered the night of the accident as though it was yesterday, and could still hear Ollie’s voice swirling around inside her head, ‘Gherkins, you want gherkins? Are you sure you aren’t pregnant?’ He’d joked.
‘Of course I’m not, it’s just that I’ve picked up some of those fancy biscuits from the deli and I could murder a slab of Stilton and pickles to go with them.’
‘Your wish is my command,’ he’d laughed, picking up his keys and kissing Nell lightly on top of her head.
‘I’ll be ten minutes max.’
He’d climbed on to his motorbike and pulled on his helmet. Nell had watched him disappear into the foggy night from the window of the boat. Once the roar of his bike had petered out she’d switched on the TV and thrown some more logs on to the fire. She’d drifted off to sleep and the next thing she knew she’d heard footsteps and a rap on the door.
Ollie hadn’t been gone nearly ten minutes; in fact he’d been away for over two hours.
The moment she opened the door her heart had sank and she knew Ollie wasn’t coming back. There, standing on the deck of their narrowboat were a couple of policeman, who’d informed her that Ollie had been knocked off his bike by a lorry. From that moment on, Nell’s life had descended into complete darkness.
Nell turned towards her mum, ‘I can still smell him at times,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper, ‘Is that madness?’
‘No,’ Gilly answered softly, feeling her daughter’s pain.
‘Sometimes, I wake up and I actually think he’s still there, lying next to me and then I remember – he’s never coming home. My life feels so dark all the time.’
‘You will get through this and be happy again,’ Gilly rested her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and pulled her in close, ‘I promise.’
‘When?’ Nell’s voice faltered.
‘One day,’ was the only comfort Gilly could offer. Her own heart was breaking seeing her daughter in so much pain. ‘Are you ready?’ she asked tentatively.
Nell nodded and bit down on her lip before looking up at the sky.
‘I love you, Ollie Andrews, with all my heart. The love we shared was so special,’ she paused, ‘Thank you for choosing to marry me and loving me so unconditionally,’ the words tumbled out of her mouth.
Nell’s eyes glistened with tears as she reached inside her bag and took out the urn. She stood up and clutched it to her chest, her hands visibly shaking and her legs trembling as she slowly walked towards the water’s edge.
‘This is our special place and I promise I’ll visit all the time. You just try and keep me away,’ smiled Nell through her tears.
She unscrewed the lid and scattered Ollie’s ashes into the air, ‘Goodbye, Ollie. I’ll love you forever.’
‘Goodbye, Ollie,’ Gilly whispered, standing by her daughter’s side.
They clung to each other as the tears freely flowed down their cheeks. Nell wished with her heart that Ollie was still here but that was one wish that would never come true.
Chapter 1
Two years later …
Nell heard the creak of the door and looked up, startled, ‘Hey, I can’t believe you’re up so early. I noticed the light on.’
Bea was standing in the doorway of the Nollie, her breath misting. She was wrapped up tightly in her duffel coat, sporting a warm smile and clasping a white paper bag.
‘Come on in and shut the door, it’s freezing out there.’ Nell smiled up at her best friend.
Bea unbuttoned her coat and scooted over to the seat next to her.
‘I couldn’t sleep, I’ve had a bit of a restless night,’ admitted Nell.
Bea touched her hand affectionately, ‘Ollie’s birthday?’ Her voice was suddenly wobbly.
Nell met her gaze and they shared a sad smile.
‘Yes, Ollie’s birthday. The first of February.’
For a moment, they sat in silence, ‘Cuppa?’ Nell asked. ‘I think I can squeeze a couple more cups out of the tank and have a shower before the water needs filling up this morning.’
‘Yes please, and in there is a couple of warm croissants,’ Bea slid the paper bag over the table towards her.
‘Have you already been to the deli?’
She nodded, ‘I couldn’t sleep much either. I’m way ahead of schedule today.’
Bea owned the delicatessen in the hub of the marina called The Melting Pot, which was famous for its hot chocolate, savouries and scrumptious homemade cakes. Nell used to work for her part time, taking care of the accounts, but since Ollie had passed away Bea had taken her under her wing and she now worked for her full time behind the counter of the deli, serving customers, which was a welcomed distraction.
From the first day of high school Nell and Bea’s friendship had been cemented over a pair of laddered tights. Bea had saved Nell with a spare pair she’d whipped out of her bag and from that moment they’d become best friends. They’d sat next to each other for the next five years, then from the age of eighteen frequented the local pubs together. Bea had attended catering college and spent most of time testing out new recipes on Nell. Her work ethic was faultless and she’d soon landed a job alongside a well-known chef in the city of Lichfield. This had been Bea’s ticket to freedom, and she had escaped her suffocating parents, flown the nest and rented a flat above the delicatessen at the marina.
When the owners of The Melting Pot had decided to sell the business, Bea had immediately snapped it up for herself, whipping it into shape with counter array of cakes, speciality cheeses and flapjacks to die for.
Nell had beamed with such pride for her friend on her first day of opening – the deli was a dream come true for Bea.
Bea was married to Nathan and they had one five-year-old son called Jacob, who was the cutest thing Nell had ever set eyes on. But as his godmother, Nell knew she was biased.
When Ollie had been alive, the four of them had been firm friends and had enjoyed most weekends in each other’s company, rambling around the marina and eating Sunday lunches at The Waterfront. Life had been perfect.
‘What are you doing after work today?’ asked Bea, ‘Would you like to come over to the cottage for your tea? Jacob would love to see you.’
‘I’d love to see him too, but I’m having tea with Mum, after we’ve visited the lake.’
Bea nodded, ‘How is Gilly? I’ve not seen her for a couple of weeks.’
Gilly lived down the lane from Bea in Bluebell Cottage, the same property in which Nell had lived for the whole of her life. Gilly was the proud owner of a vintage bicycle with a basket and a bell and could often be seen cycling around the marina.
Nell rolled her eyes and smiled, ‘She has her hands full at the moment!’
‘Intriguing. What’s she up to this time?’
Gilly, who was in her mid-fifties, but appeared much younger than her age, had been drowning in her own grief. Her husband, Nell’s father, Benny, had unexpectedly passed away from pneumonia five years ago – an event that had rocked their world. Since then Gilly had thrown herself wholeheartedly into every local crafty organisation in the village, from basket weaving, painting antique furniture and had even joined the pottery club.
‘Last week she was ferreting around in the greenhouse at the bottom of the garden when she found a tabby cat curled up in an old blanket on top of a
bag of compost. She took it into the cottage and made it up a bed in front of the Aga. She thought it seemed a little unwell and a little plump and decided to make it an appointment at the vets for the following morning. There was no collar or tag. She didn’t even know its name, but by the time next morning arrived Mum found three extra bundles of fluff curled up next to the mother.’
‘Kittens?’
Nell nodded.
‘How wonderful!’
‘The little mews made my heart melt; utterly gorgeous to say the least.’
‘What’s Gilly going to do with them?’
‘She’s placed a notice in the vets and the local post office, but as yet no one has come forward to claim her. At the moment she’s named her Rosie, because she was lying on the bag of compost she uses to plant her roses, and knowing Mum I think she would be quite happy to keep them all!’
‘Maybe I could talk Nathan into homing one. I just need to make him think it’s his idea and we’d be on to a winner,’ she grinned. ‘Jacob would love a kitten.’
Nell smiled at Bea. She pictured her curled up in front of the fire after a long hard day at the deli with a kitten snoozing on her lap.
They both finished their tea, then Bea glanced at her watch, ‘The scones are due out any minute; I’d best nip back to the shop.’
‘What time is it? I feel like I’ve been up for hours.’
The Cosy Canal Boat Dream: A funny, feel-good romantic comedy you won’t be able to put down! Page 1