All Aboard: A perfect feel good romance. Cressida McLaughlin
have?’ Valerie’s eyes widened.
‘It was blocked up. I’ll give it a good clean, and then we can look at some of the other bits.’
‘I’ll get the dustpan and brush.’
‘Have we got any cakes?’ Alongside the Jammie Dodgers was a tray of what looked like flapjack, but was thin enough to be peanut brittle.
Valerie caught Summer’s eye. ‘I’m not much of a baker.’
‘No,’ Summer said. ‘Neither am I. That was always Mum’s thing. So.’ She glanced around her, waiting for a flash of inspiration. She could get some ingredients, fill the café with the smell of baking and entice people in. But what could they do immediately? Even if the seating area needed more work, they had the hatch, which at the moment was closed to the world. Ely and the nearest supermarket was a ten-minute drive away, she’d be back in no time. ‘Is the butcher’s still open at weekends?’
‘Saturday and Sunday mornings,’ Valerie said. ‘Another few hours before they close.’
‘Great. Give me five minutes.’ She washed her hands in the sink, put the sodden tea towel and coffee grounds in a carrier bag and tied it up, and then put her coat on and stepped outside.
The air was biting, sharp and cold compared to the belching coffee machine she’d had her head inside, and the water looked bottomless. She shuddered and stepped on to the towpath, glancing inside The Sandpiper as she passed it, but was met only with darkness. Next was Celeste. It cheered her to think of Norman still in there, even if he was the least sociable person in Willowbeck. He spent most of his time on his deck, fishing, and grumbling when other boats disturbed the calm of the water. For someone who lived on the river, he was particularly intolerant of other boat owners.
She couldn’t believe how quickly everything slipped back into place in her mind: Valerie and her readings, Norman, the butcher’s. The beautiful river, where she’d watched the orange and blue flash of kingfishers, the robin who perched on the tiller or the roof, the cacophony of ducks and geese and swans. It was quiet this morning, the colour of the narrowboats bright against the muted silvery-grey of frosty Willowbeck, but somehow that made it more of a blank canvas for all Summer’s memories.
Except that they all included her mum, laughing or winking at someone, her blonde hair pulled scruffily back, gingham apron on; taking a batch of cherry scones out of the oven; leaning out of the hatch to talk to a passing family, then turning to Summer and telling her a story about when she and Blaze were only knee-high. However many times Summer’s older brother had reminded Mum that he’d legally changed his name to Ben, Madeleine had insisted on referring to him as Blaze, his given name. Summer knew she had got off lightly, but she loved being named after her mum’s favourite season.
Summer found she’d stopped on the towpath, and was tracing the lettering on Norman’s boat with her finger, following the curved lines of Celeste. There was a loud banging from inside, and Summer jumped back as the doors on to the bow deck opened and Norman, looking exactly the same as the last time she’d seen him, navy flat cap, torn green cable-knit jumper and patchy grey beard, appeared and pointed at her.
‘Norman,’ Summer said, breaking into a smile. ‘It’s really good to see you. It’s been a long time, but you look just the same.’
He nodded once. ‘T’off my boat.’
‘What?’ She frowned.
‘Y’ll take the paint off.’ He jutted his chin in her direction, and Summer dropped her hand. Of course, he would know that Valerie had been struggling at the café, even if he hadn’t spoken to anyone. Summer realized that she had a lot to make up for, and not just with Valerie.
‘Sorry, I – I’m sorry, Norman.’
‘Hhm,’ he grunted. ‘Wha’ fer?’
Summer looked at him. ‘For not being here.’
‘Why? S’all the same t’me.’
‘OK,’ Summer said, clearing her throat. ‘Well, I’m going to do bacon rolls from the café this morning. Would you like one?’
‘Hhmmm,’ Norman said, his eyes, shadowed by grey bushy brows, watching her the whole time.
‘Right then,’ Summer said brightly. ‘Have a good day.’ She gave him a quick wave and hurried towards the butcher’s.
The welcome she got was cheerier, even if it wasn’t much warmer inside the shop than out. The sawdust on the floor, she was sure, was unnecessary, but Adam had always kept his business as traditional as possible.
‘Are my eyes deceiving me?’ Adam said, looking up from where he was scribbling something in a book. ‘I thought you’d given up this place.’
‘I’m back,’ Summer said, ‘for today at least. How are you? How’s Charlie?’
‘He’s out back,’ Adam said. ‘Turning into a good apprentice. It’s the same as ever, we’re still busy, still doing lots of deliveries. What can I do for you?’
Summer looked at the items under the glass. ‘I’d like some of your bacon please, smoked. Quite a bit, actually.’
Adam raised his eyebrows. He had thinning mid-brown hair, a cheerful face, and a red and white striped apron over his white coat. ‘You’re back in the café, then?’
Summer shifted from one foot to the other. ‘I’m helping Valerie out. I thought, as it’s so cold, bacon sandwiches might go down well. I’m glad you’re busy,’ she added. ‘It seems so quiet here today. I’ve hardly seen anyone. Is it like this all the time now?’
‘It’s still early, girl,’ Adam said. ‘But I’ve seen that it’s struggling a bit, your café.’ He counted out the rashers, his face fixed in concentration.
Summer’s words disappeared. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t hers, that she had never asked for it, that the last thing she had wanted was to be in charge, because that meant her mum wasn’t there to run it any more.
‘Of course,’ Adam continued, when she failed to fill the space, “winter months, it’s going to be quieter, isn’t it?” It’ll soon pick up. And Valerie’s a trooper, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, she’s been amazing for even trying to keep it going.’ She bit her lip, realizing how mean that sounded. Adam handed over the bacon and she got her purse out, paid and thanked him, then hurried outside, wondering if it was possible to get it wrong with everyone in Willowbeck before lunchtime. Of course, she thought, looking up at The Black Swan, she’d do that with Jenny and Dennis just by being here.
When she got back to the café Valerie had moved the chairs and tables to the edges of the space, and was polishing the floor, all trace of coffee beans and spiders gone. The smell of pine-scented cleaner filled the air. ‘I thought I’d give it a going-over,’ she said.
‘It looks better already. I’ve got bacon, but we need rolls – do you have any?’
‘Oh no,’ Valerie admitted. ‘I could barely come up with any cakes, let alone think of doing sandwich fillings. The newsagents do white bread.’
Summer chewed her lip. ‘I think rolls would be better. Will you be all right if I disappear for half an hour, get a few bits from the shop? I could get some cakes up and running too.’
Valerie nodded and smiled. ‘I knew you’d fix it all,’ she said.
‘I’m not,’ Summer protested. ‘Anyone would struggle running the café entirely on their own. I’m helping you get back on your feet, that’s all.’
‘It’s not my feet that should be here. I’m doing this for Maddy and for you, Summer, but I have my own job to be getting on with. The money I get for my readings is even more important now.’ She gestured around her, and Summer felt her cheeks redden, realizing