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 the 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.
Summer caught Claire’s eye and she grinned, her eyes bright, and shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what had just happened. Summer would have to find time for a private debrief with her before they started the journey back to Willowbeck tomorrow. She skipped into the kitchen, checked on the Christmas puddings in the oven, and gave Latte and Archie, who had followed her, a pig in a blanket each out of sheer delight.
She was marrying Mason, Claire and Ryder were finally admitting their feelings for each other, and after a glorious, eventful few weeks in London, they would be heading back to Willowbeck tomorrow. They would be reunited with Valerie and Norman, Dennis and Jenny; Madeleine would be back in her rightful place next to The Sandpiper — Summer serving her regulars, getting bacon from Adam in the butcher’s — there would be moments of utter stillness where the sun glinted off the water, and the only sound was a blackbird singing.
She stopped for a moment in the café doorway, watching her friends as they chatted and laughed; Doug rubbing his stomach as if trying to make room for dessert after their gargantuan main course, Jas stroking Chester, his Irish Wolfhound, under the chin while surreptitiously feeding him his last sprout. Harry and Greg putting their Christmas hats on top of Tommy’s, so that he had a tower of them on his head, Claire and Ryder linking hands under the table, out of sight of everyone except Summer.
Mason looked up, catching her eye, and she felt the butterflies dance inside her. She was marrying this man; he was going to be at her side for the rest of their lives, whatever fate dealt them. She could open her café every morning safe in the knowledge that he would appear for his bacon sandwich, that when she finished she would find him on the deck of The Sandpiper, scribbling an article in his indecipherable handwriting or taking a photo of the heron that sometimes fished from the riverbank, Archie at his feet, waiting for the next opportunity to cause mischief.
Winter in Willowbeck, Paris in spring, and perhaps a summer wedding, rose petals drifting down the river, an archway of peonies and sweet peas on the brick bridge. Was it possible to get married on a narrowboat? Summer would have to start researching. She couldn’t wait.
Mason stood slowly, his gaze still holding hers, and banged his spoon against the side of his glass. The café quietened, everyone turning towards him, and he suddenly looked nervous, clearing his throat and adjusting his paper hat.
‘Firstly,’ he started, ‘well – Happy Christmas. I think I can safely say that this is turning into one of the best I’ve ever had, and I wanted to say how lucky I am to have been able to celebrate – last night, as well as today – with all of you. The last few weeks have been …’ he searched for the word, and everyone tried to help him out.
‘Awful?’ Doug asked.
‘Freezing,’ Ralph tried.
‘Superb,’ Ryder said, lazily.
Mason laughed. ‘Ryder’s closest to the truth, despite a few complications along the way. I know some of you thought that I was reluctant to come on this trip to begin with, but that was only because I’d been planning to propose to Summer in Willowbeck, and it forced me to start again from scratch. But it couldn’t have turned out any better, and that is, in large part, down to all of you. So thank you, for accepting me into your group, and for helping me to make yesterday as perfect as I had imagined it, but far better than I believed it would actually be. I know that’s due as much to your love for Summer, as it is your kindness to me.’
He swallowed, gave them a lopsided smile, and raised his glass. ‘To good friends, safe journeys, no more frozen canals and, I know you’ve indulged me already, but just one more, I promise – to my fiancée Summer Freeman, who has brought us all together, and who has made me happier than I thought possible.’
Everyone raised their glasses as Summer walked back to the table, lifting her own.
‘To good friends, safe journeys, no more frozen canals and Summer Freeman!’ They stood, clinked their glasses together and drank, Summer grinning self-consciously.
‘A Merry Christmas to us all,’ Ryder said. Everyone echoed his words, which Summer had a suspicion were straight out of A Christmas Carol, and another toast was made.
‘What happens now?’ Tommy asked.
‘Pudding will be ready in about half an hour,’ Summer said.
‘And after that,’ Ryder leaned across the table towards Tommy, ‘it’s storytelling time. We turn all the lights off and tell each other spooky tales in the dark.’
‘On Christmas?’ Tommy asked. ‘Isn’t that for Halloween?’
‘What you need to realize, young man,’ Ryder said, ‘is that we’re not predictable. As we’re all together, it would be remiss not to spend at least a small amount of time regaling each other with stories. But Tommy, you don’t need to think of something scary, in fact, Christmas is full of magic and mystery when you think about it. None more so than the fact that this beautiful woman,’ he said, glancing at Claire, ‘returned my kiss. It seems on Christmas Day, even the slimiest of frogs can be princes. What’s your favourite part of the festivities?’ he asked Tommy, while the rest of the table was stunned into silence by his frankness. Claire was open-mouthed, her eyes shining.
‘My favourite bit is—’
Tommy was cut off by the door opening and a loud voice shouting ‘Ho ho ho!’
Everyone stared as Santa Claus walked into the café in his red and white suit and hat complete with fur trim, and with a sack slung over his shoulder.
‘Is there a Tommy Poole in the room?’ he boomed, and Tommy gasped, his hand shooting to the ceiling as if it was rocket-propelled.
As Alan walked over to him, he gave Summer a quick wink, and she returned it.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘I’ve not forgotten the rest of you. I can see that despite the wrinkles, the attempts at running businesses and trying to be proper adults, you’re all still children at heart. You’ll all get your gifts. But I must say,’ he said, bending over at the waist, feigning extreme weariness, ‘one of your delicious mince pies wouldn’t go amiss on this, my busiest day of the year.’
‘Coming right up, Santa,’ Summer said, grateful for a reason to disappear into the kitchen so she could hide her amusement at the reaction to Alan’s appearance.
He had cornered her in the pub to congratulate her on her engagement, and she had ended up telling him her ludicrous suspicions about who he was. He had laughed in a very Santa Claus-like way, and had said that he’d love to pop in on Christmas Day and see them all before they left London. Summer hadn’t been counting on him going to this much effort, but she wasn’t entirely shocked that this was how he’d chosen to say goodbye to them. She wasn’t sure anything about Little Venice could surprise her any more.
By the time everyone had received their presents, said goodbye to Santa and left Madeleine to return to their boats and hotels, it was close to six o’clock. Summer and Mason stood on the bow deck, his arm around her, their breath misting in the cold, dark evening. The snow had gone, and the sky was a crisp, midnight canvas, the first stars beginning to wink and sparkle, reminding Summer of countless nights she and Mason had watched them from the roof of The Sandpiper.
Little Venice was quiet, most people snug in their houses and flats, or on their boats, resting after overdosing on roast potatoes at lunch, warming up after a bracing walk, or just sitting round the table to start Christmas dinner. Summer loved to think of them, of fellow liveaboards and the hundreds of people who had graced her café over the last few weeks, all safely inside, the happiness and cheer, children playing with new presents, a box of fancy chocolates being passed around.
‘Shall we take Archie and Latte for a walk, fiancé of mine?’ she asked, turning to whisper in his ear.
‘I suppose we should,’ he replied. ‘Except after eating all that Christmas dinner they’re probably as keen to snooze as I am.’
‘All the more reason to take them. And is it really snoozing that you’re interested in?’
Mason pretended to think about it. ‘Well, maybe not snoozing exactly, though that second helping of Christmas pudding is making me feel a bit lethargic.’
‘A walk would do us all good, then. We can take the dogs up the towpath, see the sights of Little Venice one last time, and then, when we get back – who knows? The kitchen’s all tidied thanks to Claire, Jas and Ryder, so the evening is our oyster.’
‘Claire and Ryder,’ Mason said, shaking his head, wrapping his arms tightly around Summer so that she could feel the firmness of his torso through his thin jumper. ‘Who’d have thought it?’
Summer laughed. ‘Everyone thought it, forever, but nobody believed it would actually happen.’
‘Christmas magic,’ Mason said.
‘Or Ryder being infected by your wonderful, romantic proposal, and realizing that life’s too short not to tell people how you feel about them.’
‘So Mason magic, then?’ he asked, looking innocently down at her.
Summer sighed laboriously. ‘Are you going to claim that’s a thing now? That you’re the new Cupid?’
He grinned, making her insides shimmy, her body yearn to be even closer to him. ‘Nope,’ he said. ‘My work is done. I only ever had one person in my sights, and she said yes. I still can’t quite believe it, that I could be so lucky, but I have everything I want right here.’ He cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek, and brought his lips down to hers.
Their kiss was long and lingering, and by the time they broke apart, Summer wondered whether she would have the willpower to keep her hands off him long enough to take the dogs for even a short walk.
They went inside the café, which was pristine once again, ready for the next day of trading, wherever they had time to open for a few hours on their long journey back to Willowbeck. The only sign of the party was a row of the café’s mugs lined up on the counter, the paper hats from all their crackers sitting round them so that it looked like a line of colourful crowns. Tommy’s doing, Summer assumed, though with Ryder, Claire and Jas around, she couldn’t be sure.
She followed Mason through the kitchen and into the living space, and peered over his shoulder at Archie and Latte, lying spread-eagled on the sofa, bellies exposed, legs akimbo, Archie snoring softly.
‘Should we wake them?’ he asked. She could hear the answer, and his reluctance to admit it, in his voice.
‘If we don’t take them now, we’ll only have to do it later, and I might not want to move later.’
‘Especially after we’ve finished the bottle of champagne I hid at the back of the fridge. And the box of chocolates Santa gave us.’
‘Mason! You hid one of the bottles of fizz?’
He shrugged. ‘We didn’t run out this afternoon, did we? It all went swimmingly, and besides, I’ve been thinking about tonight. You and me, celebrating our engagement, just the two of us. We need champagne for that and, the way I’ve been imagining it,’ he leaned in, his voice low, ‘not that many clothes.’
Summer shivered. ‘That sounds … OK,’ she said lightly. ‘Quite an impressive follow-on from yesterday’s efforts.’ She looked at her ring for about the millionth time, the beautiful sapphire glinting in the light.
Mason raised an eyebrow. ‘Glad you think so. But first, so we can enjoy our champagne without being interrupted by these two fur-balls, we should take them out. They’ll thank us for waking them, I’m sure.’
Summer looked down at their pets, the mischievous terrier and diva Bichon Frise that – for the moment at least – completed their wonderful little family. ‘The things we do for those dogs, eh?’
‘Yup,’ Mason said, handing her Latte’s lead, crouching in front of Archie, stroking the fur between his ears to wake him. ‘If only they appreciated it more.’
Once they had pulled on their coats and gloves and attached the leads to their dogs’ collars, they stepped out onto Madeleine’s bow deck. The sky was full of stars now, twinkling down on them like festive glitter. A narrowboat moored on the opposite side of the canal had a full sized Christmas tree on its deck, its coloured lights pulsing gently in the dark, and somewhere nearby, someone was playing ‘Silent Night,’ its familiar tune drifting through the still, cold air.
Little Venice was settling into a quiet, contented Christmas evening, and Summer felt a swell of joy, of excitement, of gratitude for all that had happened, and for what her future would hold with her soon-to-be husband, their two dogs, Madeleine and The Sandpiper. At that moment, she thought she must be the happiest person in the world.
‘Summer,’ Mason said, his voice low as if not wanting to disturb the peacefulness of the scene.
‘Yes?’ she asked, looking into his dark eyes.
‘I love you.’
He handed her Archie’s lead, and took something out of his pocket. Summer frowned, and then realization hit her when he pulled it firmly down onto her head, the snug warmth immediately comforting against the cold.
The polar bear hat.
He stood back to admire his handiwork, and then kissed her. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Perfect.’
Summer rolled her eyes, but as Mason hopped down onto the towpath, took Archie’s lead and then held out his hand and wrapped his fingers around hers, the pale of his skin visible through the ever-growing hole in his glove, she realized that, actually, he was right. And if perfect included a white, fluffy hat with polar bear ears, then who was she to argue?