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by Cressida McLaughlin


  Mason’s smile widened, and he held out his hand to her.

  Summer swallowed, felt the prickle of tears at the corners of her eyes.

  She stepped onto the bridge, hearing the slight echo of her footsteps, feeling the reverberation through her boots. She walked slowly across the bridge towards him, and took his hand.

  As she did, Mason dropped onto one knee.

  Summer’s breath stalled in her throat. Cheers and whoops drowned out the music.

  ‘Summer Freeman,’ Mason said, his voice clear, his dark, intense eyes – the eyes that had first made her notice him, made her feel that warm, nervous energy inside – holding hers. ‘I love you, more than I thought it was possible to love someone. You make me laugh, you make me feel loved; you make me happy in a way that I thought I’d lost forever. And so I wondered if, on this cold Christmas Eve in Little Venice, you would do me the honour of agreeing to marry me, to live with me on board The Sandpiper, to come to Paris with me in the spring, and to be happy with me until the end of time?’ His eyes were bright, brimming, and Summer could barely speak as the tears coursed down her face.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. It came out as a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘Yes,’ she said, loudly. ‘Yes, Mason Causey, I love you and I will marry you. Nothing would make me happier.’

  Mason’s smile set off fireworks inside her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. He opened it, and inside was an engagement ring, its blue, cushion-cut sapphire stone glinting in the glow of the fairy lights. ‘It’s not traditional, but—’

  ‘I love it,’ Summer said, as he slid the ring onto her finger. ‘I love it, I love it!’

  He stood and looked down at her, their noses touching, and he traced the line of her jaw, tilted her chin upwards and slowly, so slowly, brought his lips down to meet hers.

  Sound erupted around them, but she blocked it out and leaned into the kiss, which felt as good as it always had, but somehow new, different, more intense. Mason kissed her harder and she responded, discovering how difficult it was to have a passionate kiss when both of you were grinning, but they did it anyway, laughing and kissing and holding onto each other, in the middle of the blue bridge. When they finally pulled apart, Mason’s cheeks were wet with her tears, and Summer thought her heart would burst from happiness.

  ‘Mason, this ring …’ she held her hand up, mesmerized by the deep colour, the sparkle of the stone. ‘It’s the most beautiful thing.’

  ‘Not to me,’ he said softly. ‘But it does complement you. And there’s something else.’

  ‘What else? How can there be? Are we really going to Paris?’

  ‘I thought we could celebrate our engagement when it gets a bit warmer. But that’s not the something else.’

  He reached down for a long, cardboard tube that was leaning against the bridge wall. Archie pawed at his legs, and Mason stroked his dog between the ears before taking the lid off the tube and pulling out a rolled piece of paper.

  ‘Hold this end,’ he said, and walked away from her, unravelling the paper.

  Though they were only lit by fairy lights, she could make out some of the detail. At the top it said Plans for Madeleine – the Canal Boat Café. On it were detailed technical drawings of her boat, the top image showing what it looked like now, with the café taking up half the boat, and her living space towards the stern deck. Below it, the image was repeated, but here it showed the café extended, with more seating, including benches running down the sides, the living space gone and a new kitchen where her cabin used to be, a hatch opening out onto the behind-the-counter area of the café, a small bathroom still in place at the stern end.

  ‘Mason, what …?’

  ‘It’s just one idea,’ he said, ‘for how your café could look. I want to live with you, Summer. I’d love you to officially move onto The Sandpiper with me, and I want you to have the freedom to fulfil all the dreams you have for your beautiful café. It’s so successful already, and I want to help with that. I worked with Mick on some plans before we left Willowbeck. He finished them and sent them to me here. But we don’t have to do this, you don’t have to give up your boat if you still want to live on it, I would never try to take away your independence, but—’

  ‘This could be my café?’ Summer stared at the plans, the proposed layout of her café, increasing the capacity by at least double.

  ‘And you’d be on The Sandpiper,’ Mason said again. ‘But I know I have to go away for work sometimes, so Mick’s suggested having a sofa bed in the kitchen. It isn’t as comfortable, but there are a hundred ways we could alter the design, this is just an initial idea we came up with.’

  ‘Oh my God, Mason!’ The tears started all over again.

  ‘Do you like them?’

  She inhaled. ‘I’m not sure what the most beautiful thing is any more. I love them. I’d love my café to look like this – if my café looked half as good as this, I’d be over the moon.’

  ‘You don’t mind moving properly onto The Sandpiper?’

  ‘I’ve missed The Sandpiper,’ she said through her tears. ‘And it would only be a formality. Besides, husband and wife should live on the same boat.’

  She stared at the plans, running her fingers over the detailed, exquisite lines of her potential new café, then Latte yipped loudly, so they rolled them up and placed them back in the tube. Summer kissed Mason again.

  ‘Are you done yet?’ called a familiar voice from the side of the bridge. ‘We want to start celebrating, and our feet are going numb!’

  ‘Two secs, Claire! You did a great job, by the way.’ Mason gave her the thumbs up.

  ‘So the zoo,’ Summer said slowly. ‘That was a distraction?’

  ‘Claire’s helped with the whole thing – and you partly have her to thank for the ring. We snuck out one day when you were in the café, and she took me to a few jewellers she’d come across when she was shopping with you. And, today, I needed you to be somewhere else. I had to get everything in place, with the help of Ryder, Jas and the others. The lanterns take a long time to light and float.’

  Summer laughed. ‘They’re beautiful.’

  ‘Ryder’s surprisingly creative.’ Mason raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘He told me he’s been decorating the old river wardens’ huts along the waterways whenever he comes across them. He said that with not much effort he’s been able to completely transform them.’

  Summer’s mouth fell open. ‘That was him?’

  ‘And Harry, Greg and Tommy are here somewhere,’ Mason said, peering towards the crowd that had gathered along the railings. ‘They said they couldn’t miss it. They’ve got a hotel in the area, but I thought they could join us for lunch tomorrow.’

  ‘Even Harry was in on it?’ Summer spun round and peered into the darkness. She spotted her friend’s long, brown hair and a smaller figure beside her, bouncing up and down. ‘Harry!’ she called.

  ‘I’m so happy for you, Summer!’ Harry shouted back.

  As Summer looked closely she could also make out a large man with white hair and a beard, wearing a dark red overcoat. She was sure that if she took a couple of steps towards him, she’d be able to see his half-moon glasses and grinning face. She wondered if he was disappointed he couldn’t get any more mince pies, and how he had known to be here, at the canal’s edge, tonight.

  ‘We’ll go and see them soon,’ Mason said. ‘But I don’t want this moment to end just yet.’ He crouched down, and handed Summer two glasses. Standing again, he popped the cork on a bottle of champagne, and poured it.

  ‘How long have you been planning this?’ Summer asked.

  ‘A while.’ Mason’s shrug was sheepish. ‘Since I took you to the lake in Haddenham Country Park. I’ve known for a long time that you’re the one, Summer, but after that day, I started to seriously think about how and when to ask you. I was going to do it in Willowbeck, so when you told me about Little Venice, I … I was frustrated. I’m sorry.’

  Summer
laughed. ‘So that’s why you were grumpy?’

  ‘I had all these ideas about how it would work. I just had to rethink them.’

  ‘You did a better job than me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘At rethinking your plans,’ Summer said. ‘Champagne is good for everything, isn’t it? Renaming boats and people. I may have been practising the name Summer Causey in my head, might even have tried out my signature a couple of times.’

  ‘Oh you have, have you?’

  They clinked glasses, and Summer felt the bubbles on her tongue.

  ‘And I have something for you too, which I was also planning on giving you on Christmas Eve in Willowbeck, and then on New Year’s Eve, and then – everything got delayed because of the weather.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Mason gave her a perplexed smile.

  Summer reached inside her handbag, pulled out the box and then dropped onto one knee, putting her champagne glass on the floor. She opened the ring box, watching as Mason’s confusion turned to realization.

  ‘Mason Causey, I know you’ve already proposed, and I’ve accepted, so this is all very redundant, but I wondered if you’d do me the honour of wearing this ring, because I was going to ask you to marry me, but you’ve beaten me to it. Though to be fair, the lanterns and lights and music and friends beat all my ideas hands down.’

  Mason stared at her, then at the ring, then at her again. He shook his head slowly. ‘You were going to propose to me?’

  ‘I wanted to be with you from the first moment I saw you, and that’s never going to change. It may have taken us a while to get here, and it’s been a bit like a rough sea in places, but I think – I hoped – we would always end up here. You’re my ideal nature buff, Mason Causey.’ She took his hand and slipped the ring onto his finger.

  He held it out, staring at it. ‘It’s perfect.’ He ran his finger over the tree etched into the metal. ‘Sure you’re not disappointed I didn’t turn out to be a buff naturist, after all?’

  Summer laughed. ‘There’s still time,’ she said, wrapping her arms around him. ‘You’ve already got the buff part sorted.’

  ‘Flattery will get you everywhere.’ He kissed her again, and Summer lost herself in his embrace, knowing her friends would wait for them.

  As the music played, changing from Lucy Rose to ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’, and the fairy lights twinkled, and the lanterns floated on the water, twisting and spinning, filling Little Venice with colour, the first flakes of snow fell onto their coats and cheeks, settling in Mason’s hair, making the dogs bark excitedly.

  They broke apart and looked up at the sky, at the flakes falling down towards them.

  For a moment, both of them were dumbstruck, and then Mason shrugged and grinned at her, a grin that, Summer knew, would always melt her in the same way that the snowflakes were melting on her skin.

  ‘I’m sure we’ll get back to Willowbeck eventually,’ he said, and kissed her again.

  Chapter Ten

  It was Christmas Day, and the canal boat café was full, but this time it was packed with friends rather than customers. The coffee machine was on in preparation for the last course, but for now, it was champagne that was flowing round the table where Summer and Mason, the roving traders and Harry, Greg and Tommy sat. Christmas music played softly in the background, and Madeleine’s sparkly bunting glittered in weak sunlight that bounced off a thin layer of quickly fading snow.

  It had continued to fall the night before, though it hadn’t settled properly until the small hours, when the night was at its coldest. Now it was beginning to disappear, having done its job of giving Little Venice, Summer, her friends and her new fiancé, the almost mythical delight of waking up to a white Christmas.

  Summer looked at Mason, who was topping up everyone’s glasses, his purple Christmas cracker hat sitting wonkily over his curls. Her fiancé. That’s what he was now. Against all the odds, despite all the problems and delays they’d faced, and despite it happening in a way that wasn’t at all how she had planned it – mainly because he had asked her, instead of the other way round – they were engaged.

  Summer would remember it forever.

  Standing on the blue bridge in Mason’s arms, Latte and Archie at their feet, and the celebrations afterwards in the Riverside Inn, which included not only their roving trader friends but Harry and Greg – until they had had to take an already over-excited Tommy back to their hotel to bed – and Alan, which was dress-down Santa’s real name. Even Archie and Latte had been allowed in, news about the proposal spreading quickly due to it being anything but low key – Mason had even arranged for the road over the bridge to be closed for an hour so that traffic wouldn’t get in the way.

  Afterwards, they had made it back to Madeleine, high on happiness, and settled the dogs down for the night. It was the first time they had been alone since he’d asked her, and they’d had a few hours for it to sink in, to realize that they would be spending the rest of their lives together. Summer shivered as she recalled the emotion, the intensity once they had closed the cabin door, and looked down at the table, hoping she wasn’t blushing.

  ‘Summer,’ Tommy asked, startling her out of her reverie, ‘why do I have to eat the Brussels sprouts?’

  Summer was taken aback by the question, and glanced at Harry, who rewarded her with a shrug. ‘Because,’ she said, ‘you have to balance out dessert with vegetables. If you don’t eat all your veg then you won’t be able to have as much Christmas pudding.’

  Tommy folded his arms and raised his chin. ‘I don’t like Christmas pudding anyway,’ he said.

  Summer tried not to laugh at how precocious her friend’s son had become. ‘What about my macarons, you like those don’t you?’

  He nodded, his confidence slipping.

  ‘Well then, if you want to try every flavour you have to eat your greens.’

  Tommy sighed and slowly, as if it was a monumental effort, speared a sprout with his fork.

  Summer and Harry exchanged a grin, and then, as the conversation moved on to where everyone was heading after Christmas Day, and what the state of the canal would be on the journey out of London, Summer’s eyes drifted back to Mason.

  He smiled at her, and Summer felt a lump in her throat. She would have to get a grip – she couldn’t well up every time her fiancé looked at her. And then she thought of everything that she had to look forward to – Paris in spring, the changes to Madeleine, moving properly on board The Sandpiper with Mason and, to top it all, marrying the man she loved. She returned his smile, wishing she could reach out and take his hand.

  They were at either end of the large table that Jas and Ryder had constructed out of all the smaller ones in the café, because Claire had said that she couldn’t trust them to be next to each other and pay anyone else any attention. She had only realized, halfway through the starters of caramelized onion tart and Ralph’s tomato chutney, that being opposite each other was perhaps even worse, and was giving them regular reminders that they weren’t the only two people in the room.

  ‘Oi, you two,’ she said, chucking a red napkin in Summer’s direction, ‘stop making googly eyes at each other. It’s putting everyone else off their lunch.’

  ‘It’s not putting me off,’ Harry said, sighing. ‘I think it’s the most wonderful thing ever.’

  ‘Of course it’s wonderful,’ Claire said, ‘I never said it wasn’t. I’m just wondering if we should have left them to have Christmas Day all by themselves, in their post-proposal bubble. Y’know, no clothes required, that sort of thing.’

  Mason grinned. ‘I’m not sure I’d want to risk cooking a full Christmas lunch naked; there’s too much potential for complete – and very painful – disaster.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Ralph said. ‘Pigs in blankets are a no-no, and I’m talking from experience.’

  ‘Ew.’ Summer grimaced, and the table descended into laughter.

  Tommy looked perplexed, and Harry patted him on t
he head. ‘I’ll explain later,’ she said, and he shrugged and mopped up the last of his gravy with his final Brussels sprout, giving Summer a triumphant look.

  ‘Y’know,’ Ryder said nonchalantly, running a hand through his hair as Ralph and Summer started to clear away the plates, ‘if you’re feeling a bit bereft in the love department, Claire, I could always help out.’

  Claire stared at him, and Summer paused in the doorway, her heart in her throat. She couldn’t read her friend’s expression, but there were pinpoints of colour on her cheeks.

  ‘Oh what,’ Claire said bolshily, though there was a definite tremor in her voice, ‘have you got a friend you can set me up with? I’m not interested, Ryder.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant at all.’ He moved closer to her, and lifted his left arm above their heads. He was holding a piece of mistletoe, and Summer’s breath stalled, waiting for Claire’s reaction. She had always suspected that they cared a lot for each other, but were both too stubborn, too fiercely independent to admit it. Was Ryder finally relenting? Surely he wouldn’t wind Claire up in this way – that would be too cruel even for him.

  ‘Ryder,’ Claire said, her eyes wide. ‘What are you—?’

  ‘I would have thought that was obvious,’ he said, leaning in and kissing her on the lips, unconcerned that everyone’s eyes were glued to them. After a moment’s hesitation, Claire kissed him back. It wasn’t long – she was much more self-conscious than Ryder – but the passion was obvious. Summer resisted the urge to squeal, and then Tommy started clapping, and soon everyone was joining in. Claire’s whole face turned red and Ryder gave a rather awkward bow at the table.

  ‘About. Bloody. Time,’ Jas said. ‘You’ll have to actually get a bed now, will you, Ryder?’

  ‘Or just upgrade my suite at the Hilton to a king-sized?’ He raised an eyebrow, and everyone laughed.

 

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