The Canal Boat Café Christmas: Starboard Home

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Mason put his arm around her and pulled her close. ‘You were wonderful,’ he said.

‘I bet you couldn’t even hear me over that guy.’ She pointed at the tall man who had been standing next to her, and who had unleashed an impressive baritone when they’d started singing. He probably led the chanting at rugby matches.

‘That doesn’t matter,’ Mason said. ‘You were by far my favourite Christmas elf – dwarf – whatever they were supposed to be.’

‘A bit of a hybrid, apparently,’ Summer said. ‘It was fun, though. And not that unexpected.’

Mason raised a questioning eyebrow.

Summer laughed. ‘We’re with this lot,’ she said, gesturing to Claire, Ryder and the others. ‘Nothing’s ever straightforward when they’re around.’

That night, sleep came to her much more easily, and with her baking done and her lie-in longer, she bounced out of bed on Monday morning ready to face whatever Little Venice had to offer her.

Unfortunately, that turned out to be Tania.

Despite the reassurances Mason had given her, she felt a churn of anxiety when the glamorous woman walked into the café mid-morning. There was a temporary lull in custom, which meant she didn’t even have an excuse to serve her quickly and keep conversation at a minimum. It was as if she knew, Summer thought, or was controlling everyone’s behaviour, making them avoid the café at the precise moment she appeared, like a baddie in an X-Men film.

She was wearing a fitted, caramel coat over pale jeans and tan boots, delicate gold studs in her ears offsetting her subtle, shimmery makeup. She looked like a mirage, and Summer was frozen to the spot.

‘Hi,’ she said, in her bold, even voice. ‘When we were talking the other night, Mason told me all about your café. I thought I’d come and sample some of the macarons. It’s very pretty,’ she added, glancing around her.

‘Thank you,’ Summer said. ‘Take a seat. What can I get you to drink? How many macarons?’

‘Oh, a selection, you choose. And a latte with skimmed milk.’

‘No problem.’ Summer waited for Tania to sit down, but she didn’t.

‘These are great,’ she said instead, picking up a carving of a sleigh adorned with gifts, one of Norman’s more elaborate creations.

‘They’re made by Norman, one of our neighbours in Willowbeck. He’s not that interested in making money from them, but he would be doing them regardless, and I think the world should know about his talent – our little corner of the world, at least. He’s slowly come round to the idea that me selling them for him is a good thing, and he’s made some of these specifically for Little Venice.’ She smiled, but Tania didn’t, intent on examining the other models.

Summer busied herself making Tania’s latte, wondering if she should get Mason, who had taken the lull as an opportunity to spend time working on his new article. He wanted to write about their trip, the wildlife they’d encountered in London and on the journey, but with the cold weather it had so far been sparse, and Summer had seen him staring at the blank page of his notepad.

‘I’m sorry our introduction wasn’t great,’ Summer said, filling the void left by Tania’s silence with an apology she didn’t need to give.

‘No problem,’ Tania replied, failing to acknowledge the way she had sprung her presence on them. ‘It was great to see Mason again after all this time. I can’t deny—’ she stopped, gave Summer a quick smile as she accepted her latte. ‘You do know about me and Mason, don’t you? How it ended?’

‘I do,’ Summer said, bristling at the assumption he’d kept her in the dark. ‘He’s told me everything.’

Tania gave her a quick, businesslike nod. ‘It was good to talk it through, to set things straight. And have a chance to catch up, too. It was surprising how easy it felt, how much of a connection there still is, after all this time.’ She smiled wistfully, and Summer’s stomach knotted.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you had that chance, and I know Mason has wanted to apologize to you, to put everything that happened behind him. It’s important that you were both able to say all you needed to.’ She kept her voice strong, controlled, hoping that Tania would get the message.

Tania gave her a quick, amused look, and Summer felt instantly smaller. She drew in a long breath, wiped her hands down her apron and started putting macarons on a plate.

‘We have some new festive flavours,’ she said. ‘I’d love to know which one’s your favourite. Will you excuse me for a moment?’ She handed the plate to Tania, waited while she picked a table and then hurried through the kitchen to the living space. Mason had his notepad on his lap, his head in his hands. She loved the way he wrote out his articles freehand first, often sitting on the deck of The Sandpiper to immerse himself in the nature he was writing about.

‘Mason?’

‘My mind is a blank,’ he said, groaning.

‘You’ve had a lot to deal with over the last couple of days.’

‘That’s no excuse for this,’ he said, waving his hand at the pad. Summer took it from him, squinting as she tried to decipher his handwriting, which wasn’t so much scruffy as it was too joined-up. Words ran together, some letters were indistinguishable from each other – the thoughts spilling from his brain on to the page.

Slowly, her eyes took it in: Article no. 14. It’s understandable to think that the only wildlife about at this time of year is a handful of robins and a few brazen foxes, but if you take the time to look out of your window, or slow down on the post-Christmas lunch walk, what’s really out there? She smiled. She loved the opening line. She wanted to help him with it, but now wasn’t the time.

‘Mason, Tania’s here. She’s come to sample some macarons.’ She raised her eyebrows when he looked up, his frown deepening.

‘That’s all?’

‘Supposedly. She said you’d mentioned the café, and she wanted to come and check it out. I didn’t know if you’d want to see her, or …?’

He sighed, and pushed himself up to standing. ‘I’ll come and say hello.’

‘Great.’ Summer went back into the café, relieved to see an old couple hovering by the hatch, change purses out in anticipation.

‘Mason,’ Tania said. Summer could hear the change in her voice, the warmth that she’d held back until he appeared, the flirtation in it. She wondered how Tania had the nerve to be so forward in front of her, what she thought she would achieve by telling Summer that she and Mason still had a connection.

Summer smiled at the old couple, but it was through gritted teeth.

‘Hi, Tania, how are you?’ Mason asked.

‘Good thanks, great. How’s it going in the café? Have you had a chance to see the sights of London yet?’

‘The café’s been busy, so we’ve not been out and about that much, but we’ve taken Archie and Latte to Regent’s Park and Primrose Hill. The views from there are stunning.’

‘Oh yes, your Bichon Frise. She sounds adorable.’

‘She’s Summer’s dog,’ Mason said. ‘Though that means they’re both ours, really, which I know Summer’s delighted about. Archie can be a bit on the disobedient side.’

Summer gave the old couple their drinks and their change, and turned away from the hatch. ‘Archie’s only badly behaved with you, he’s a sweetheart with me.’

Mason inhaled sharply. ‘That’s not true. Last week he almost drowned himself under your watch!’

‘That’s because you were opening the lock, and I was steering. He was trying to get to you! And I seem to remember it was you who’d tied them onto the deck, your knots that didn’t prevent him jumping in the canal.’

Mason folded his arms, his stern expression failing against a grin. ‘You could have checked them.’

‘I didn’t think I needed to.’ She paused. ‘OK, I suppose I should have realized that nothing’s foolproof where you and Archie are concerned.’

Their eyes locked, and Summer returned his smile.

‘I need to get going,’ Tania said, frowning at her phone and shoving it deep into her pocket. She put her plate and mug on the counter and gave Summer a smile that could have frozen the canal. ‘See you soon, I hope?’ As she passed Mason she reached her hand out and brushed her fingers against his, her words directed only at him.

‘Bye,’ Summer said to Tania’s retreating back, glad she hadn’t pointed out the mistletoe the two of them had been standing beneath. Her heart sank as Mason stared incredulously at Tania, then ran his hand through his hair as if shaking off her touch. He looked disconcerted, and Summer could already feel the exhaustion at having to deal with her own insecurities – her constant wavering between worrying his ex was after him again, and reminding herself that Mason would never be unfaithful to her, however hard Tania tried.

‘I had a look at the Winter Wonderland website,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘It allows dogs, but they say that it isn’t the best place for them, because it’s so busy and noisy, so I think we should take them for a long walk before we go tomorrow. I don’t want to risk Latte or Archie getting squashed, or lost when they somehow manage to slip their leads.’

‘Unfair,’ he said, but the word didn’t have any weight behind it. ‘Lunchtime’s coming up, do you want me to stay out here?’

She did, but the café was still quiet. ‘That article won’t write itself. I’ll call you if I need you.’

‘Now this,’ Summer said the following evening, staring up at the attractions, the lights and whooshes and screams invading her senses, ‘is what London at Christmas is all about!’

‘I feel twenty years too old,’ Mason shouted, as they stood in front of waltzers adorned with a light system that was more frantic than festive.

‘Me too,’ Summer said. ‘Let’s wind the years back.’

She waved to Claire and Jas; they’d arranged to meet up in the Belgian Bar in a couple of hours, and her friends were soon lost in the crowds.

She dragged Mason into one of the seats, waited until the security bar was brought down over them, and then snuggled into him, closing her eyes as the music ramped up, its rhythm getting faster and faster in time with the ride. It was years since she’d been to an amusement park, so long since she’d smelt the overwhelmingly sweet scent of candy floss and butter popcorn mingled together. She felt giddy, reckless, and leaned over to kiss Mason despite the pull of the ride stealing control of her body. She got his chin and he laughed, burying his head into her neck, his nose squashed against her as the direction changed again.

They went on the Ferris Wheel, drinking in the view, the city twinkling in the darkness, the gold and red of headlights and taillights marking the larger roads, the cold air numbing their lips. Mason bought her a white fluffy hat with pink-tinged ears from one of the market stalls, and they drank mulled wine and shared a bag of roasted chestnuts. When they approached the ice rink, it was Mason’s turn to pull her forward. Summer laughed, until she realized he was serious.

‘Come on, polar bear,’ he said, tugging the ears of her hat, ‘it’ll be fun.’

‘Can you skate?’ It had never crossed her mind to ask him before now.

‘A bit,’ he admitted, sheepishly. ‘We lived close to an ice rink when I was younger, and I went there with friends quite often, not just at Christmas.’

‘OK then,’ Summer said. She could put aside her fear of falling over and having her fingers sliced off for him. They finished their chestnuts as they stood in the queue, and then were given the heavy, solid boots with lethal-looking blades on the bottoms. They changed into them on benches that weren’t quite dry, the laces rough against her cold hands. She remembered going skating with Ben as a child, the way he had zoomed fearlessly around the rink while she had clung onto the edge for dear life, her brother completing about twenty laps to every one of hers.

They walked over the thick rubber matting together, and then Mason stepped onto the ice and turned, the movement quick and expert. Summer’s mouth fell open. ‘How often did you say you went?’

‘Come on,’ he said softly, holding out his hands. She ached to be able to cling onto the wall, to have at least half of her body pressed against it so if she did lose her footing she could simply slide down to the compact ice, away from the other skaters. But Mason wasn’t having any of it. She took his hands, squeezing them tightly, and stepped out onto the ice, feeling the immediate loss of grip, so that her foot slid forwards and Mason’s arms were around her in a flash, holding her firmly.

‘I can’t,’ she murmured into his shoulder.

‘Yes, you can.’ He put his hands on her waist this time, and skated slowly backwards, his movements small and controlled, allowing Summer to test out her legs on the ice. She was sure she looked like a baby giraffe taking its first steps, but with Mason’s hands to steady her, the warmth in his eyes, she began to feel more confident. As they made their way slowly around the rink, she held onto his elbows, and then his hands, so he was no longer supporting her waist, so she was further from him, more independent. He was still skating backwards, and she shook her head, smiling.

‘You’re a pro.’

‘Far from it. But it’s like riding a bike, it all comes back to you.’

‘I wish it didn’t for me,’ Summer said. ‘I remember clutching onto the sides and flinching whenever someone whooshed past me.’

‘And look at you now. But we can stop any time you want.’

‘No, I want to do this.’ And she did.

She wanted to be here, the air thick with a cold, clean freshness that wasn’t due just to the ice; the dark of the winter’s night high above, the rides flashing, whizzing and blaring around them, trapping them in a festive cocoon. There was a giant Christmas tree at one end of the rink, its lights white against decorations in gold, pink, blue and silver. It was glitzy but tasteful, and being there, on the ice, made Summer feel like she was in a Christmas film. Elf, or Serendipity. Oh, how she loved the ending of Serendipity, the deserted ice rink, the snow, the glove floating down to land on John Cusack. She closed her eyes and the air whipped around her as someone sailed past, clipping the heel of her boot and catching her off balance. She squealed as the momentum twisted her away from Mason.

‘Whoa!’ He grabbed her waist and pulled her into him before she landed on the ice, as someone yelled ‘Sorry’ in their direction, already halfway round the rink. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked. They were pressed together, his nose millimetres from hers, his eyes wide with concern.

‘I’m OK,’ she said, thinking that this was much better than Serendipity, because how could she have coped with meeting Mason, spending a day falling for him, and then having to pass all those years apart, never knowing where he was?

‘Do you want to get off the ice?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I’m starting to enjoy myself. But there’s something that would help me enjoy it even more.’

‘Anything,’ he said, solemnly, and then watched in horror as she took her fluffy-eared hat off and, while Mason was holding tightly onto her, used both hands to pull it down over his wayward hair, his curls sticking out beneath it.

‘You have to skate with this on,’ she said, only just managing to say it before laughter took over. He looked ridiculous and cross and utterly gorgeous.

‘Oh I do, do I?’ He spun them both round, making her squeal again, and then they began their slow, steady progress over the ice, Mason skating backwards, holding onto her, never letting go, never breaking eye contact, wearing the fluffy hat in a way that only he could. As they skated, London sparkled and sang around them, and Summer lost herself in it, deciding that in this moment, everything was as it should be. Even if she did look like a baby giraffe skating with a curly-haired polar bear.

Chapter Three (#uac503456-2c7b-5c72-958d-6353fbe61d5f)

When Summer woke on Thursday morning, their penultimate day in Little Venice, Mason wasn’t beside her. And then, as she began to emerge from the fug of slumber, she heard banging. Her stomach knotted with a familiar tension, one that came from nearly two years of being a liveaboard, her senses – and worry – tuned to all the things that could go wrong on the boat, especially in the cold.

She thought of Norman and Valerie in Willowbeck, and hoped that Jenny and Dennis were on hand to help them should they need it. Sliding out of bed and pulling a hoody over her pyjamas, she followed the bangs and thumps, past the tiny bathroom to where the engine was housed, in front of the stern deck. She found her boyfriend, clad in only his boxer shorts, peering at parts of the engine Summer didn’t entirely understand.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, and Mason jumped, cracking his head against the engine casing.

‘Fuck,’ he muttered, rubbing his temple.

Summer winced and squeezed his shoulder. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Is everything OK?’

He turned, his smile a half-grimace. ‘It’s making a funny noise. Stating the obvious, I know, but I’m worried that one of the pipes is blocked somewhere. Have you seen the weather this morning?’

Summer shook her head, anxiety prickling down her spine. ‘Frozen?’

‘Not the river, but – it’s getting colder, and I think we need to be prepared.’ There was an uncharacteristic wariness in his voice, and Summer knew that he was worried. ‘The last thing we want is for the pipes to freeze and then crack, or for the heating to break down. Mick’s given me a few tips, so I’m checking it over. Go back to bed for a bit.’

‘Why don’t you have any clothes on? Never mind the river being frozen, your extremities will fall off!’

Mason laughed. ‘I’m safe, don’t worry. To give her credit, Madeleine’s heating is efficient, and the fact that she’s still cosy this morning means the worst hasn’t happened – yet. But I’m not happy with this banging.’

‘Maybe it’s a ghost,’ Summer said, widening her eyes dramatically.

‘That,’ Mason said, turning to the toolbox on the floor, ‘would be a harder problem to solve. I’ll be a while, get back under the duvet.’ He put a screwdriver between his teeth and turned back to the engine.

Summer ignored his suggestion and went to make tea. She returned with a steaming mug, one of his tattier jumpers – not that she ever minded staring at his body, but she didn’t want to add any more drama to their trip by failing to prevent him from catching hypothermia – and two very curious dogs, who would no doubt hinder rather than help him.

Realizing that hovering behind him would be about as helpful as Archie and Latte’s contributions, she left him to it, checking the kitchen appliances and the café, ensuring everything was working, and also that the doors and windows hadn’t frozen solid. She’d been getting more liveaboard-savvy since she’d been in her café, but that didn’t mean she could diagnose every unusual sound her houseboat made, and she was grateful that Mason was prepared to take on that role, however un-feminist that sentiment was.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the extent of the frost was revealed, its sharpness diluting the colours of Little Venice as everything was given a white, shimmering coat. The hot drinks machine would be working hard today, and she was glad she had extra bacon.

Once Mason appeared, declaring everything seemed to be without issue, rubbing his forehead either because of the perplexing sounds that he hadn’t diagnosed, or because he was still smarting from knocking his head, she showered and started her fifth full day in the café. She winced at the cold air that sliced at her when she opened the hatch, and knew she would have to balance being welcoming at the takeaway counter with keeping the café’s interior snug enough for people to want to sit inside.