The sunshine had been deceptively warm, and with all their exercise Summer felt quite toasty, so she wasn’t prepared for the wall of heat that hit her when they walked inside the Duck and Duckling pub. The dogs raced ahead and settled themselves on the rug in front of the crackling fire. Mason went to the bar, while Summer found a corner table close to where the dogs were stretched out, but far enough away that they wouldn’t melt. Even after all this time, she wasn’t sure how Mason felt about large, open fires, but she certainly wasn’t as happy near them as she once had been – the wood burner on her boat was as much as she could deal with.
‘Is this OK?’ she asked when Mason returned with two glasses of red wine and some menus.
He glanced behind him, then turned to her and smiled. ‘It’s fine, honestly. I promise I’ll tell you if I ever feel uncomfortable.’
‘You will?’
‘Scout’s honour.’
They turned their attention to the menu, and the wealth of winter warmer dishes it offered: sausage and mash, chicken casserole, hearty fish and chips, beef stew served in a giant Yorkshire pudding. Summer’s stomach rumbled as she read, and it took her a long time to narrow down her options, eventually deciding on the chicken casserole and dumplings.
As Mason returned to the bar to order, a spatter of mud up the back of his jeans, Summer sipped her wine and wondered why she had been so worried. Asking someone to marry you was a huge thing, a show of eternal commitment not to be taken lightly – however much some people did these days. Summer wanted to spend the rest of her life with this man and she was sure, now, that he felt the same way about her.
She watched Archie and Latte lying next to each other on the rug, their bodies close, Archie’s fur drying after his dip in the lake, and realized she was happier than she’d ever been. Their future looked bright, full of possibility and hope, and she felt suddenly impatient, wanting – now she was sure – to pop the question immediately. But Christmas would no doubt come hurtling towards them, and she needed to be careful what she wished for.
As she and Mason chatted over lunch, trying to scoop bits of food off each other’s plates without covering the table in gravy, Summer’s mind turned to her proposal. How was she going to do it? She had already decided on the day – Christmas Eve – but beyond that, she was at a loss. It had to be intimate, but also unique. She’d thought about decking out the café somehow, taking him on a personal tour up the river, and popping the question somewhere along the waterways that was beautiful or stand-out. She would have to do some research. Or she could hang a large banner from Willowbeck’s brick bridge, saying: Mason Causey, will you marry me? While that might lack a certain grandness, she loved its simplicity, and with her background as a sign writer she would be able to make the banner striking – better, at least, than a protest banner on a motorway bridge.
‘Hello, is anyone home?’ Mason tapped her temple, and Summer realized she was holding her fork aloft, chicken gravy dripping over the table as she imagined Mason saying yes and sweeping her into his arms, after putting on the ring. That was another thing. She needed to find him a ring. He didn’t wear much jewellery, he didn’t still wear his wedding ring, though Summer thought he must have it somewhere on board The Sandpiper. Was it too macabre to look for it, so she could get the right size without asking him?
‘Earth to Summer,’ Mason tried again, and Summer shovelled the forkful of food into her mouth and wiped the table with her napkin.
‘Sorry, sorry. Miles away.’
‘Fresh air and exercise, followed by food and wine – it’s a lethal combination. The beauty of arriving by boat is that we can have a nap before we head back to Willowbeck, if you want?’
‘That’s tempting,’ Summer said, ‘but we’ll never want to go home if we’re curled up in your cabin. It’ll be too hard to go outside in the cold to steer home. Or we’ll sleep for too long and end up cruising back at night.’
‘I wasn’t being that serious,’ Mason said. ‘But I have loved today, and you’re right that we need to spend more time together away from Willowbeck, broaden our horizons. Besides, I think I have a trip to Paris to plan.’
‘Oh yes, you do!’
‘Right then.’ Mason nodded decisively and finished his wine. ‘I’ll just settle up.’
‘I’ll gather up the dogs, which might take a while.’
‘Give me a couple of minutes, between us we might be able to coax them away from the fire.’
Fifteen minutes later they were back on board The Sandpiper, and Mason was expertly turning the narrowboat round so that it pointed in the direction of Willowbeck and home.
Saturday at the café was busier than it had been for a while; it was lunchtime before Summer had a chance to stop and think, wipe down the tables and check the stock levels of her macarons, brownies and pastries. She would spend late afternoon baking, and start to draw up a menu of Christmas specials. She had two festive parties booked in for early December, something she was very proud of. Not many people thought of the river as an ideal spot for a pre-Christmas knees-up; they thought that narrowboats would be damp, draughty and uncomfortable. She hoped that, over time, she would prove more and more people wrong.
Her mobile rang as she was stacking the dishwasher and, glancing at the screen, she grinned.
‘Hello?’
‘Ahh, Summer,’ said a familiar voice with a hint of a Welsh accent. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m good thanks, Claire, how about you? How are Jas, Ryder and the others?’
Claire was bold, positive and larger than life, the first person Summer had met when she left Willowbeck, not long after moving aboard The Canal Boat Café, unsure of what she wanted and with no real plans about where she was going. Claire had taken her under her wing, and Summer had spent a couple of months travelling the waterways with her band of roving traders, opening her café alongside Claire’s music boat, an antiques barge, sandwich boat and several other floating businesses. They had formed a firm friendship, and Claire and the others had visited to trade in Willowbeck on several occasions. It had been a few months since they had seen each other, but they stayed in touch via phone and online. Claire had started posting the most wonderful Instagram photos and Summer wanted to know all her tricks.
‘We’re all grand, thanks. Moseying along as ever, trying out new places, new people. And look, we’ve had this idea and we want you to be a part of it.’
‘Ooh, what is it?’ Summer leaned against the counter, keeping an eye on the hatch and the doorway for any new customers.
‘A Christmas fair! A barnstorming, beautiful, boatiful Christmas fair. Will you join us? Cinnamon-spiced lattes and chunks of Christmas cake would certainly help to fuel the punters.’
Summer thought of the music festival they had hosted the previous summer. The buzz and busyness, the fun they’d had working long days serving customers, getting together to swap stories and listen to the bands in the evenings. It was relentless, breathless, and one of the best things Summer had ever done.
‘It sounds amazing!’ she said. ‘I’d love to. Where are you thinking? Are you coming back to Willowbeck? I know it’s small, but if we advertised well enough – remember how popular the music festival was.’ If they were here, then she could organize her proposal at the same time, perhaps finding inspiration from the other traders.
‘Yeah,’ Claire said, dragging the word out, ‘that’s the thing. Willowbeck is beautiful, and it’s perfect in the summer, it’s got the whole picturesque, pretty English countryside vibe going on, but it’s not right for Christmas. We’re going to London.’
Summer blinked, wondering if she’d heard right. ‘London?’
‘Little Venice. Have you been? It’s a stunner. A haven of water and boats and magic in the middle of the city. But it’s London, and it’s touristy, so even on a cold, dark day, our boats will be busy. We can adorn them with Christmas lights, make them shine.’
‘London?’ Summer repeated, unable to take it in. She had visited the area with her mum, years ago, and remembered its fairytale quality, how it was unlike any other part of the capital. But taking the café there seemed like madness. ‘Can we even get our boats to London?’
‘Of course, Summer! The canal network is pretty well established, and I’ve been down to London a lot – I’ve got friends there, and they’ve secured us visitor moorings for seven days, which is no mean feat I can assure you.’
‘When?’ Summer’s voice was faint. Was she really prepared to take Madeleine to London, for Christmas, at such short notice? What about Harry, Mason – what would Willowbeck do without its café? How would Toby cope without his bacon sandwich in the mornings?
‘We’ve got the slot three weeks before Christmas, and even that was touch and go. But it’ll take us a couple of weeks to get there. All the way along the Grand Union canal, it’s a wonderful journey and it’ll open your eyes, I promise you.’
‘So five weeks altogether?’ Summer asked, thinking it through. They would be home just before Christmas Day. No time to organize a proposal in Willowbeck, and she would have to cancel her festive parties, which wouldn’t be ideal when she was just getting that side of the business off the ground. But it was a great opportunity to be part of the hubbub and festive fun of London’s canal community in the run-up to Christmas. She remembered her mum telling her that it had been visiting Little Venice that had made her want a boat in the first place, that in the middle of the traffic fumes, noise and endless busyness, was this mirage of tranquillity. If Summer didn’t take the chance to be part of it, with friends who knew what they were doing, she would regret it.
‘Five weeks, Summer,’ Claire pushed, sensing her uncertainty. ‘Five short weeks. And think how much fun it will be, being part of the band again. Remember the good times when we were travelling together. You must miss it just that teensy weensy little bit.’
She felt a pang. She did miss it. But she knew she would miss something else more if she went. ‘What about Mason?’
‘Bring him with you!’ Claire said. ‘He’d be welcome, absolutely, and you’ll need help in the café, it’s going to get busy.’
Summer grinned. Claire and Mason had known each other years ago, before either of them knew Summer, but their friendship had ended when Mason walked out of a relationship with Claire’s friend, Tania. Claire had thought Mason was a love rat, and hadn’t been too pleased when, once she and Summer had got to know each other, Mason had turned up on Summer’s boat, and she had seen how much Summer cared about him.
Mason had finally given up his secrets and told Summer that his marriage had ended in tragedy, that when he’d met Tania he’d been grieving for his wife Lisa, and hadn’t been ready for a new relationship. He knew that he’d messed things up, that Tania had been collateral damage in his grief, and had regretted it ever since. Summer had encouraged Mason to tell Claire the truth, and since then her boyfriend and her roving trader pal had got on well.
Summer didn’t know if Claire was still in touch with Tania after all this time, but she knew that, now he was beginning to move on, Mason was keen to face up to his past and apologize to Tania for the way he’d treated her. Summer would do anything to make Mason happy, but the thought of him seeing Tania again unsettled her. From what Claire had told her at the time, it was clear that Tania’s feelings for Mason had been more than just fleeting.
‘I’ll have to check what his plans are,’ Summer said. ‘He might have time scheduled on the reserve.’ But already she knew she wanted him to come, to share this adventure with her.
‘Have a think about it,’ Claire said. ‘Give me a call in a couple of days with your answer.’
Summer was pretty sure what her answer would be, but she had to get all her ducks in a row before she could say yes.
‘Five weeks away from Willowbeck, just before Christmas. This Christmas?’ Mason asked, his brows lowering, his expression suddenly stormy.
‘It’s not going to be next Christmas,’ Summer said, trying to keep the levity in her voice. ‘You think Claire would plan that far in advance?’
Mason rubbed his cheek. He was sitting at his desk, his chair swivelled to face her. He had his dark-rimmed glasses on, the sleeves of his grey jumper rolled up, a hole in the toe of his sock. He looked gorgeously dishevelled, but now he also looked disgruntled.
‘I know it’s a bit of a bombshell,’ Summer said. ‘Short notice, a long way, a hectic week sandwiched between lots of travel. But it’s exciting too, isn’t it? Little Venice at Christmas – it could be the title of a film. It sounds romantic, and I don’t want to go without you.’
Mason rested his elbows on his knees and looked at the floor. ‘It’s so soon, and – my articles, I need to submit them up until the twentieth of December. The reserves have got a lot of migrating birds at the moment, there are some other things …’ He drifted away, clearly mulling it over. ‘I can’t drop everything at a moment’s notice!’
‘You don’t have to decide now,’ Summer rushed, surprised by the sharpness of his tone. ‘Claire wants me to call her back in the next couple of days, so we can sleep on it.’ She stepped forward, sinking onto the sofa next to his chair, putting her bare foot over his, covering the hole in his sock. ‘When I first met Claire and the others, it was a difficult time. I was trying to decide what I wanted to do, if it was too hard being back in Mum’s café, whether I could cope with all the shit that was happening with Jenny. Claire was a good friend to me, didn’t put up with any nonsense, and wouldn’t let me dwell on things. I enjoyed seeing that different side of living on the river. I know you were a rover for a long time before you came to Willowbeck, and I know that you’re settled now, that this is our home, but this doesn’t have to change that. It’s only five weeks, Mason. An adventure.’
He fixed her with the dark, intense look that still captivated her. ‘I know all that,’ he said softly.
‘And even though we didn’t know each other very well when I left, I spent so much time wishing you were there to share it with me, to go on those weird storytelling evenings, to explore the different villages. And now we have that chance.’
He took her hand. His fingers were warm, and he threaded them through hers absentmindedly.
‘And,’ she said, swallowing, ‘you showed me Haddenham’s lake yesterday, told me how it had helped you, reminded you of the good times you’d had with Lisa. In some ways, those months I had with Claire helped me sort out my feelings, too; what had happened with my mum, how I felt about Willowbeck, how I felt about you. It was a defining time, and it would be wonderful to recapture that, but this time with you at my side.’ She hoped he could see that she wasn’t trying to emotionally blackmail him, she just wanted to be as honest with him as he’d been with her.
‘Let me think about it. There are a couple of things I have to sort out.’ He looked away, frowning at something over her shoulder. ‘I’ll check with the reserve, and my editor. I can’t promise, but if it’s possible then I’ll come with you.’
‘OK,’ she said quietly. She could see from his hunched shoulders, the uncharacteristic edge to his voice, that he wasn’t convinced, and she wondered whether it was just that it was unexpected, or if there was something more significant that was bothering him, making him reluctant to go. She tried hard not to think what that could be.
Monday morning was cold and grey, a fine mist of drizzle casting Willowbeck in a melancholy pall that meant hardly anyone ventured onto the towpath, though Summer and Harry did a good trade in hot drinks to passing helmsmen and -women. They spent most of the morning baking; Harry worked on a gooey salted caramel cake that would make even the coldest punters feel cheered, and Summer conjured up cinnamon and almond flavour macarons. She had never attempted macarons before she’d taken over The Canal Boat Café, but they were now one of her favourite things to make, eat and sell. They were dainty portions of loveliness, the flavour possibilities endless, and were good as treats or gifts. Mason was her chief flavour-taster, a job she knew he relished.
The slow custom also gave Summer the chance to talk over her latest concerns with Harry.
‘So let me get this straight,’ Harry said, her lips twitching, ‘you’re now entirely confident that Mason wants to spend the rest of his life with you and will accept your marriage proposal, but you’re worried that he doesn’t want to come to London with you on Claire’s mega Little Venice river trip?’
‘Yup,’ Summer said, recalling Mason’s frown. It wasn’t that he didn’t ever frown, but that his frowns were mostly in puzzlement rather than genuine unhappiness, and the darkness of his expression when she’d told him, along with the sharpness of his voice, wasn’t sitting right with her.
‘And you think it’s more than the initial surprise of having it sprung on him?’
‘It could be,’ Summer said. ‘I was wondering if there might still be some tension between him and Claire, though whenever she’s visited Willowbeck, and since he told her about Lisa, they’ve seemed fine together, so I don’t think it can be that. But what else is there?’
‘You’ve just got yourself in a spin about the proposal, and it’s seeping into everything else like spilt red wine. It’s a fantastic opportunity,’ Harry added, ruefully.
‘I’d love you to come, if you could get away. But with the boys …’
‘It’s not practical, I know. Greg’s got work tidying up people’s gardens before the frosts start to hit, and of course there’s school for Tommy. I can’t leave them to fend for themselves for five whole weeks, the horror doesn’t even bear contemplating. You’ll have to send me endless photos, and Skype me every night.’
‘And I’ll still pay you,’ Summer said. ‘It’s an unusual situation, the business owner denying her employee hours because she can’t get to her place of work any more.’
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Harry said.
‘Yes I do, and I will. Anyway, you can still do some baking for me. I won’t get much of a chance to cook while we’re travelling, so you could make sure there’s enough stock for when we’re back in Willowbeck.’
‘And what about when you’re in London? Do you want me to do some batch baking over the next couple of weeks so you have cakes stored in the freezer for while you’re there?’
‘That,’ Summer said, ‘would be perfect.’
Harry laughed and tried her cake batter, closing her eyes in ecstasy so that Summer was tempted to do the same.
‘Oh God, that’s good.’ Summer dipped a fresh teaspoon in for a second taste. ‘Why are you laughing?’
‘I just wish you could be as forthright about the rest of your life as you are about your café,’ Harry said. ‘You have a great business head on your shoulders, making this café the glorious hideaway that it is, planning those private parties which are really beginning to take off—’
‘Don’t you mean cruise off?’ Summer asked. ‘Anyway, I’ll have to cancel a couple of those now, which isn’t good for business. I’m going to offer them freebies in the New Year to make up for it.’
‘It’s one time, extenuating circumstances. They’ll understand – especially when you tell them how you’re making it up to them. You’re so in control with Madeleine now, isn’t it time you did the same with Mason? The guy is head over heels for you. If he seemed reluctant about travelling to Little Venice then it’s understandable – it would be an upheaval at any time, but it’s the run-up to Christmas, and everyone gets an extra, irrational layer of panic at this time of year. He’s probably wondering when he’s going to pick up your Christmas present.’
‘We’ll be in London,’ Summer reminded her. ‘He’ll have much more choice than either a pound of bacon from the butcher’s or a furry doorstop from Carole’s gift shop.’
‘Fair point,’ Harry said. ‘But it’s irrational panic, remember? When will I get a chance to cook the pigs in blankets, do I need to get a different type of chair in because of Auntie Ethel’s hip, will the Christmas tree from the garden centre be too big for the living room, or the Homebase one be too scruffy? Even if you don’t have an Auntie Ethel, or in your case a living room, these fears go through everyone’s mind.’
‘You, Harriet, are a wise woman. Mason’s probably just worried about keeping on top of his articles. It’ll be a busy few weeks.’
‘You’ve settled into life here, so five weeks out sounds like a long time. But personally, I think it’ll be good for you both. Settled is lovely, but so is a change of scenery. Go, explore the world with your gorgeous man, Summer.’
‘That’s what I’m trying to do! I need to give him a bit more time, that’s all. I’m sure you’re right.’
‘And think of all the wonderful inspiration you’ll find in London for your proposal. Are you going to delay it until you get back, or do it while you’re down there?’
‘I was thinking about New Year’s Eve, which in some ways is even more special than Christmas. We can ring in the New Year with fireworks, champagne and – hopefully – an “I will”.’
She looked up from her macaron mix to find Harry grinning like the Cheshire Cat. ‘It sounds perfect.’
‘I hope so.’ Summer could picture it: the glitter of fireworks shattering the darkness, reflecting on the river, Mason’s arms around her after he’d uttered those life-changing words. It would be the icing on the top of the Christmas cake, only a few days later. But first they had another challenge to navigate, a Christmas fair in Little Venice with the roving traders, and the excitement and trepidation of four weeks cruising along Britain’s waterways. The thought sent a thrill of excitement through her, memories of torch-lit nights in the woods, homemade wine and busy, bustling days, new villages to cruise through, different faces at the door of her café.
She wanted to do it so much, to spend time with her friends and show Mason a little bit of what she’d experienced. She just hoped that – on this occasion as well – Mason would say yes.