by Paige Toon
‘I was coming to call for you next,’ I tell her. ‘You look nice.’
She’s wearing a red capped-sleeve knee-length dress covered with tiny white flowers.
‘So do you!’ she replies. ‘I love your hair.’
I woke up early this morning so took the time to braid the front section into a plait, leaving the rest of my hair down in its usual loose waves.
‘Thanks! Shall we go?’
‘I need to pop to the supermarket first to get chilled Prosecco. Archie texted to say he forgot ice.’
‘We can get some of that too.’
I hover outside on the pavement with Bertie while she does the honours, then we head to the river together.
We spy Archie before he spies us – possibly because he looks like he’s fast asleep.
He’s moored the canoe to a tree and is lying on the grass, his arms folded behind his head and his long legs crossed at the ankles. He’s wearing sunglasses, so I can’t be certain his eyes are shut, but I’m guessing they are because he doesn’t look up until Bertie is almost upon him.
‘It’s all right for some!’ Matilda calls out as he bolts upright with alarm and then grins, giving Bertie a rigorous pat. ‘Nice day?’
‘Great,’ he replies, getting to his feet and wandering over to greet us. We exchange kisses and he takes the bag of ice from me. ‘How was yours?’ he asks as he carries it back to the boat over his shoulder.
We talk for a bit and he tells us that everything went well earlier with Sonny, Imogen and Natalie – Sonny only left an hour ago to drop them home.
‘Did he seem okay?’ I’m still wondering if he went to see Evelyn yesterday.
Archie nods. ‘Yeah, but who knows if he was putting on a front for his kids. I guess we’ll find out later. He said he’d meet us in town at six thirty near Garret Hostel Bridge.’
With much clambering and wobbling, we manage to get the four of us – Bertie included – into the boat without it capsizing. Bertie’s claws scritch and scratch on the bottom and she doesn’t seem as though she wants to settle, so I stay sitting in the middle with her while Matilda and Archie paddle. Archie, the heaviest, sits at the back, while Matilda takes to the front.
The river is already busy with water traffic, but Archie and Matilda quickly get the hang of paddling and soon we’re bypassing people in punts on our way into Cambridge.
‘You guys are good at this,’ I comment, enjoying the journey. I’ve been watching brilliantly blue damselflies darting in and out of the nearby rushes, and sometimes the water is so clear that small fish are visible swimming between the reeds below.
‘Yep, she’s a natural,’ Archie replies, his paddle sluicing through the water on our left, as Matilda propels us forward with hers on the right-hand side of the boat. They’re in perfect sync with each other. ‘You should see her punting.’
From the front, Matilda laughs. ‘This is even easier.’
‘I can take over whenever you like,’ I offer. ‘Bertie seems to have settled at last.’ She’s lain down across my feet.
‘I’m happy,’ she replies. ‘But let me know if you want a turn. Or you can swap with Archie.’
‘Oi!’ he snaps. ‘This is the one thing I can do!’
‘The one thing . . .’ Matilda says with a snort. ‘The only thing you can’t do is punt.’
He laughs. ‘That’s not true, but very kind of you to pretend that I’m excellent.’
‘You are excellent,’ she says.
I make a show of act-vomiting over the side. They laugh.
‘How are we doing for time?’ I ask. ‘Shall I crack open this bottle?’
‘Go for it!’ Matilda enthuses. ‘As long as you can hold my glass for me while I’m doing this extremely important job.’
‘Yep. Archie?’
‘Can you grab me a beer?’
I sort out Archie first, passing a can to him. He brings his paddle up and over his knees, allowing the boat to coast for a bit, while Matilda steers. Then I pop the cork on the Prosecco.
‘Woohoo!’ Matilda cheers obligingly.
I pour out two glasses and she takes one, chinking mine before taking a sip.
As we continue to drift, I turn my face up to the sun. The sound of the Prosecco fizzing mingles with the noise of the water moving through the rushes and a duck incessantly quacking nearby.
Archie breaks the silence. ‘Ooh, shit!’ he gasps, and we jolt as the boat hits the bank.
Bertie gets to her feet in alarm, causing me to spill some of my drink as her backside shoves against my legs.
‘It’s all right, it’s all right,’ I soothe, but to my horror she puts her feet on the side of the boat and looks as though she’s about to make an exit. I try to grab her collar at the risk of my drink going everywhere. But she’s too strong and when she wants something . . .
Too late. She’s in.
‘Oh, Bertie, no!’ I cry with dismay as Matilda starts laughing.
Now what do I do?
It’s hard not to see the funny side, but I know I’m going to be wet through when she gets back in the boat. And how exactly am I going to haul her in? Please do not tell me that I’ll need to jump in after her . . . I look around wildly for access to the bank, but it’s dense with stinging nettles.
Archie stands up, causing the boat to quiver precariously.
‘Shall I lift her in?’ He swoops down to try to grab Bertie’s bright red collar as she swims past. She’s effusively oblivious to the trouble she’s causing. A duck dashes out from between some low-hanging tree branches, quacking in fright, and Bertie swerves out of Archie’s reach.
‘There!’ I shout, spying an exposed section of the bank where I should be able to disembark.
Archie and Matilda manoeuvre us into position – I have no idea how they’re managing to paddle with drinks to contend with – and I clamber out, turning around to call for Bertie.
Of course, she’s having far too much fun to quit swimming anytime soon, but Archie guides her in my direction with his paddle, and I manage to snag her collar. Getting her out of the water is another matter entirely, but one very wet and muddy Hannah later, the dog is on the bank.
I collapse onto my back and laugh my head off, not even bothering to push Bertie away when she tries to lick my face, dripping water all over my lacy white top.
‘I’ll give us some time to dry off before we attempt to get aboard,’ I say finally, standing up. The path runs alongside the river so I can walk while they paddle along beside me.
‘At the very least, take this.’ Matilda dispenses a fresh glass of Prosecco.
‘If you insist.’
The path occasionally veers away from the river, but when we’re in eye and earshot of each other, we talk as we make our way into town. It’s clear, however, that the pace of the boat is much faster than the speed I’m capable of on foot so I soon tell my friends to go on ahead and moor up somewhere where they can enjoy their drinks. They’re happy to oblige.
Meanwhile, I revel in the peace and quiet and the light-headedness that the bubbles are bringing on.
It’s a beautifully warm evening, but Bertie soaked my top and part of my skirt right through so it’ll be a while before it dries.
There’s male laughter up ahead and around a bend I see two guys swimming, their long lean torsos glimmering in the early evening sunshine. Further along the river, I catch sight of Archie and Matilda. It looks like they’ve found somewhere to wait.
‘Hallo!’ one of the men calls to me in what sounds like a German accent.
‘Hi.’ I throw him a smile.
‘Wait!’ this same man says.
I come to a stop and stare at him. He looks familiar and, even partly submerged underwater, the breadth of his shoulders implies what I already know: that he’s very tall. His hair is blond and his eyes are denim-blue. I know this too, even though he’s too far away to truly tell. I know, because I know him, although I still don’t know how I know him.
�
�Spain,’ he tells me with a wide, attractive smile. ‘Granada. You don’t remember, Hannah?’
And then it all comes flooding back. ‘Johann!’
We met when I was twenty after I’d spent time travelling through Europe. I was delaying my return to the UK, nowhere near ready to take up studying again. I had been accepted onto an Ophthalmic Dispensing course in Bradford, but had postponed it a year and was thinking about putting it off again. I was torn between what I wanted for myself and the high expectations that June and especially Charles had for me. It was a case of heart versus head. Head won, in the end. But those months before I came home were some of the wildest and most carefree I’d ever had.
A fellow traveller had told me about a hippie commune in the Sierra Nevada mountains in Southern Spain and I’d decided to try to find it. My parents had fallen in love at a similar commune – it might have even been the same one – and I was curious to see what it was like.
As it turned out, it was just a bunch of very ordinary people living a basic, no-thrills lifestyle. I spent a few chilled, albeit unexciting, weeks there.
Anyway, Johann was Interrailing through Europe and we met on the train en route to Granada. There was an instant attraction between us so I decided to hang in the city with him for a few days before going my own way.
He swims towards me now, taking in my appearance. ‘It’s incredible to see you again.’
‘What are you doing here?’
He nods at his friend. ‘Giles is getting married next weekend. I’m here for the wedding.’
Giles waves at me. ‘Hello!’
He’s British.
‘Hi,’ I reply with a smile.
‘Where are you off to now?’ Johann asks.
‘I’m heading into Cambridge with some friends.’
‘You live around here? Perhaps we could meet up later?’
‘Oh, I’m not sure what we’re doing yet. Also we’re going to be on a canoe that only fits four at a push. Well, five.’ I indicate Bertie.
He seems disappointed and something occurs to me . . . Could this be the distraction I need?
‘But maybe we could catch up while you’re here?’ I run with that thought.
‘Great! Let me get your number.’
Before I can suggest taking his instead, he’s pushing himself out of the water on muscled arms. As he gracefully gets to his feet, rivulets of water stream down the entire length of his super-ripped body. I pull my eyes away from his abs as he grabs a towel to dry his hands.
‘What’s your number?’ he prompts, having retrieved his mobile phone from a pocket of his discarded jeans.
I come to with a start, reeling it off for him.
‘I’ll text you,’ he promises with a significant look. ‘It’s really good to see you again,’ he repeats with a grin.
‘It’s good to see you too,’ I reply, heat collecting on my cheeks.
At that moment I’m hit with a flashback of our last night together.
Yes, this is exactly the distraction I need.
We say our goodbyes and I walk on.
Chapter 15
By the time we reach the weir, I’m extremely tipsy. Unbeknownst to me, Matilda and Archie witnessed my entire exchange with Johann, so Matilda has spent the last part of the journey plying me for details about him. The more I’ve drunk, the looser my tongue has become. I think she worked this out because she kept pausing in her paddling to top up our glasses.
Now we have to concentrate on lifting the canoe out of the water and carrying it across the footpath to the ramps that will ease it into the lower part of the river. It would be hard enough doing this sober, but drunk is another matter. We have to avoid cyclists, pedestrians and, bizarrely, a single cow that has wandered here from the nearby meadow. Luckily Archie can hold his liquor better than Matilda and I can. She and I are in fits of giggles, and when she asks the cow to ‘please mooooooove’, I almost wet myself.
God knows how we manage to get back into the boat without falling in.
The section of the Cam up near Grantchester felt busy, but that river traffic was inconsequential compared to what’s in town. It’s a sunny Saturday evening and the punters are out in force. There are dozens and dozens of vessels to contend with. Many of them are larger tour boats seating twelve passengers, but there are plenty of smaller six-seater boats containing novices who have no idea how to steer themselves away from danger.
‘You guys are amazing!’ I exclaim, awed at how my friends keep managing to avoid collision. ‘Even drunk, you can paddle straight.’
Matilda laughs.
This is Cambridge at its most picturesque, with bridges arching over the glittering water and historic buildings butting right up to the river in places. And then there’s the grand sight of the towering King’s College Chapel, set back behind a huge, perfectly mown lawn.
‘I need a wee,’ I say loudly, aware that this crude statement is not really in keeping with our glorious surroundings.
‘We’re almost there,’ Archie tells me, and I think he’s trying not to laugh, even though he’s behind me and I can’t see his face.
The need to go intensifies to such an extent that by the time we’re approaching Garret Hostel Bridge, my thoughts are almost entirely consumed by how quickly I’ll be able to run to McDonald’s to sneakily use the bathroom. I do look up at the bridge to see if Sonny is here yet, but I’m too preoccupied to mind when there’s no sign of him. Then we turn into the small waterway where I plan to disembark and he’s right there, sitting on the edge of the platform with the safety railings behind him, dangling his bare feet in the water.
‘Hi!’ he says, grinning.
‘Hi!’ I reply with surprise, already standing up and attempting to keep my balance while holding Bertie back.
‘Hannah’s desperate for the loo!’ Matilda helpfully interjects.
Sensing the urgency, Sonny jumps to his feet and climbs through the railings to assist me. I jolt at the touch of his strong hands closing around mine as he helps me onto solid ground. He places his hands on my waist, steadying me.
‘Um, do you know your top is currently see-through?’ he asks with raised eyebrows.
‘Is it?’ I glance down at myself with alarm and see the coral colour of my lacy bra emanating through the fabric of my still-damp white top.
‘Is it?’ Matilda asks with equal alarm, turning to stare at me. Her eyes boggle. ‘Archie, why didn’t you tell her?’ She sounds accusatory.
‘I didn’t notice! She had her back to me! Why didn’t you tell her?’ he barks in return.
‘Right now, I wouldn’t care if I was running through the streets naked!’ I yell as they continue to bicker, but before I can reach the road, Sonny has whipped off his white shirt and held it out for me to put on.
‘Much as I’d love to see that,’ he murmurs in a low voice that only I can hear as I slip my arms in – the sleeves are rolled up.
I flash him a cheeky grin and set off at a run across the uneven cobblestones, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder.
Five minutes later, I exit a cubicle feeling a lot happier. Tying Sonny’s shirt into a knot at my waist, I come out onto Rose Crescent and see him leaning up against the sandstone walls of the building opposite, waiting for me.
‘It’s as well you were wearing that underneath,’ I say with a grin, nodding at his white T-shirt.
Not that I would have minded seeing him run through the streets naked . . . Well, half-naked.
He’s looking very cool and summery in sunglasses, light-grey shorts and cream-coloured Vans.
He pushes off from the wall and comes towards me, bending his head down to casually kiss my cheek.
‘You really have run out of aftershave, haven’t you?’ I say sadly.
‘I’m afraid so,’ he replies.
‘I’ve already sniffed your shirt.’ Pause. ‘Not saying that’s not weird.’
He laughs and nods at the restaurant spilling out onto the pavement up ahea
d. ‘Archie and Matilda suggested pizza for dinner. I volunteered to come and get them. Thought you might wait with me?’
‘Of course.’
A table comes available outside so one of the servers lets us sit down and order a couple of drinks to pass the time.
‘I need to slow down,’ I say, opting for an apple juice.
‘I need to catch up,’ he replies, going for a beer. ‘You’re drinking tonight?’
He nods. ‘My mum gave me a lift in. What?’ he asks, seeing the spark of excitement on my face.
I completely forgot I had something to tell him.
He loves the sound of Abbey’s sister Cecily’s place and right then and there sends her a text, telling her he’s definitely interested. She replies within minutes and makes arrangements for him to visit tomorrow. While this is going on, we find time to chat about today and how much Imogen and Natalie enjoyed canoeing. They took a picnic with them, moored up and even went swimming.
‘They were still chattering ten to the dozen when I dropped them home,’ he says fondly. ‘Asking when we can go out in it again.’
‘As I’ve already said, you’re welcome to borrow it anytime.’
‘Maybe next time you can come with us?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude,’ I brush him off.
‘You wouldn’t be. You could bring Bertie.’
‘Bertie! Ha! You saw the state of me – the little madam jumped over the side!’
‘Is that what happened?’
‘Yes, it was a total nightmare trying to get her out onto dry land.’
He seems entertained by the thought of it.
‘Rochelle asked me to look after the girls next Saturday night,’ he reveals. ‘She’s got a date.’
‘Ooh.’
‘Yeah.’ His smile is half-hearted. ‘Unfortunately, I can’t. I have to go to Amsterdam for that job.’
‘Oh.’
He sighs. ‘I asked if I could do Friday night instead. She said she’d get back to me. I’d really love to have them for a sleepover. Maybe if Cecily’s place works out.’
‘That’d be good. How are you feeling about going home?’
He shrugs. ‘Same. Not looking forward to it, but it’s something I’ve got to do.’ He gives me a small smile. ‘Want to come with me? See your friend?’