Summer and Mason arrived back in Little Venice after lunch. The sky was still clear, the air still freezing. They stopped for a moment, looking down at the canal, all the boats exactly as they had been a couple of days ago, most now twinkling with Christmas lights and decorations. The river remained a frozen plateau, though Summer thought, if she looked carefully, she could see cracks starting to appear. The beautiful blue bridge looked serene, arching over everything, shimmering in its frosty jacket.
‘How long do you think it’s going to last?’ Summer asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ Mason said. ‘I’ve never experienced anything like this, apart from the odd, brief frozen patch when I was cruising. But that never lasted more than twenty-four hours. It can’t go on for much longer, but even a day or so more, and we’ll be travelling on Christmas Day. Not to mention that the disruption here will put the whole canal network off kilter for a while.’ He sighed.
‘So we’re not going to make it back to Willowbeck for Christmas, whatever happens?’
‘Not unless we leave Madeleine here and get the train back, and I don’t think we want to do that, do we?’
Summer shook her head. ‘I couldn’t leave her down here. It wouldn’t feel right, even if Claire and Jas were looking after her. In Willowbeck it’s different, we know The Sandpiper is safe there.’
‘Do you want to go and see how they’ve got on?’
‘Yes,’ she said, pushing away her trepidation. It had only been a few hours, what could have happened?
The first thing she noticed as she opened the café door was that Latte and Archie were sitting on chairs at one of the tables, licking clean the plates that had been left there. Other than that, the café was empty. Empty, but only recently. Every table was a mass of dirty crockery, and there was a distinct smell of burning coming from the kitchen. The coffee machine was steaming angrily and part of the Christmas bunting had been pulled down from above the counter. Summer stared at Mason, and his wide-eyed expression reflected her shock back at her.
‘Hello?’ she called tentatively. ‘Claire, Jas?’
‘Oh my God,’ came the instant response. ‘You have to save us!’ Claire appeared in the doorway, her dark hair pushed back from her sweating, red-cheeked face, her apron – Summer’s apron – looking like she had massacred a whole tray of chocolate muffins. ‘What’s happened?’ Summer couldn’t be angry. Claire and Jas had been doing her a huge favour, while she went running all over London after Mason and his bird of prey.
‘What hasn’t happened?’ Claire said, huffing. ‘First, a whole team of rugby players came in, demanding cream teas. And then a busload of school children, and then, would you believe, these aliens came down in their spaceship …’ She shook her head, exasperated.
‘What Claire’s trying to say,’ Jas said from behind her, oven glove over one arm, wiping sweat off his forehead with the other, ‘is that neither of us have any idea how to run a café, and it’s been a bit full on.’
Claire nodded, her expression forlorn. ‘Yes. Exactly that. And your dog, Mason,’ she jabbed him in the ribs as she spoke.
‘Ouch!’
‘Too right. He’s a bloody nightmare! Gets into everything. Doesn’t behave at all. What method are you using, the Inbetweeners dog handling manual?’
‘He’s mischievous,’ Mason said defensively.
‘Summer, it’s been crazy busy. I hope we’ve not ruined the reputation of your café permanently, I think we served most customers what they asked for, and were relatively cheery, at least at the beginning. Give me music nerds searching for the forty-fifth-anniversary gold vinyl of Ziggy Stardust any day.’
Summer laughed, hugging her friend. She smelt of coffee and sugar, her perfume musky underneath. ‘Thank you for looking after it, and the dogs. I appreciate it, and there’s no lasting damage.’
‘I think there might be to this batch of scones,’ Jas said, pointing at the blackened hulks sitting on the tray he was holding.
‘You too, Jas,’ Summer said. ‘We can get this place shipshape in no time.’
‘You’re sure?’ Claire’s sigh was one of pure relief.
‘You go. I’ll sort it out.’
‘And me,’ Mason added.
‘Nope. You have an article to write about the great hen harrier of Battersea Park.’
‘All of this is my fault,’ he said, sweeping his arms wide. ‘I’m not leaving you to do it alone.’
‘You found it then,’ Jas said, grinning.
‘I did.’ He ran his hand through his curls, and they fell back haphazardly around his face. Summer thought he looked tired, but that was unsurprising considering how early he’d got up, and how many hours he’d spent sitting motionless in the cold. ‘Not sure I went about it the right way, though.’ He flicked a glance at Summer.
‘Everything’s good,’ Summer confirmed. ‘Really good.’
Claire gave them a weary smile. ‘Excellent news. Sorted. Right, I’m going to go and have a small, sugar-infused breakdown, and I’ll see you later.’
‘Bye, guys.’ Jas waved a laconic hand and handed Summer the oven glove on the way out.
‘Thank you again, I owe you.’
Once they were gone, Summer and Mason surveyed the café, and then burst out laughing.
‘No rest for the wicked,’ Mason said ruefully.
The weather stayed at a consistent below-freezing for the next few days. Summer put all thoughts of getting back to Willowbeck aside, knowing they were entirely in the hands of the winter gods and that there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She focused on the café, put back together in a couple of hours by her and Mason after Claire and Jas’s very kind, but somewhat haphazard, intervention, and on her boyfriend and their pets. They took Archie and Latte to Regent’s Park and further afield, one of them taking the longer, daytime walks while the other worked in the café, and then both of them rugging up in the evenings, once darkness had fallen and London was a blur of noise and cheer, taxi lights and Christmas trees in windows, to walk them together.
Summer felt so much happier since her mad dash to find Mason, her confession about her doubts around Tania, his heartfelt reassurance and apology. She had noticed small changes in him, too. How he couldn’t walk past her without kissing her, how she would find him looking at her when she was distracted, smiling when she caught his eye, his fingers pressed thoughtfully to his lips. He seemed more attentive but also slightly nervous somehow, as if he thought he’d had a close call, had almost lost her. That was so far from the truth, but the whole episode had brought about a subtle change in their relationship. She felt even closer to him, if that was possible.
‘The weather looks like it’s going to break in the next couple of days,’ he said, scrolling through his phone as she emerged from the shower on Tuesday evening, after a full-on day in the café. She was thankful that Mason had been thoughtful enough to keep his shower quick, and leave her enough hot water. Claire had invited them out, saying that Ryder had found them somewhere a little different for the evening’s entertainment. Of course it was going to be different – it was Ryder, after all – but Summer prayed that it wasn’t more karaoke.
‘That’s good.’ Summer watched as droplets of water fell from his damp hair onto the collar of his navy shirt. ‘But we’re too late to make it back to Willowbeck, aren’t we?’
‘I think so. It’s less than two weeks until Christmas, and I have no idea how easy it’s going to be to travel after days of the boats being displaced by the ice. I wonder if—’ he stopped.
‘If what?’
‘If we should stay here until after Christmas, start the journey to Willowbeck on Boxing Day? Otherwise, who knows where we’ll end up. We could be in a position where there are no moorings available close by, and we have to spend Christmas Day cruising. What do you think? I know it’s not ideal, but it’s probably best to make the decision now.’
Summer sat beside him on the bed. ‘You’re probably right,’ she said. ‘But is that even possible? We’ve already well outstayed our seven-day mooring here.’
‘I spoke to Claire. Because this is so unprecedented, they’ve left our spots open for the time being.’
‘What about the people who were due to have them after us?’
Mason shrugged. ‘The whole canal system is so up in the air, nothing can be guaranteed. The local river trust says that because of that, we can stay here until the river’s thawed and someone else arrives to take our place. I suggest we take that offer, and if nobody else needs the mooring, start back home after Christmas Day in Little Venice.’ He put his hand on her knee. ‘But what do you think? I know how much you want to see Valerie again, and Dennis and Jenny.’
‘There’s always Skype,’ Summer said. ‘But you can’t Skype The Sandpiper.’
Mason laughed. ‘True. But Valerie’s keeping an eye on her for me. It’s not what we planned, but would you be happy with that?’
Summer smiled. ‘There are worse places to be on Christmas Day than Little Venice, and as long as I’ve got you and Archie and Latte, and we’re not stuck in some temporary mooring next to a waste disposal—’
‘Which could very well happen.’
‘Then I think you’re right. Christmas in London it is!’
‘Sure?’
‘Sure.’ She hoped it wasn’t a sign, someone up high telling her that proposing to Mason was a bad idea. They wouldn’t be back in Willowbeck until after the New Year now, so it would have to be delayed yet again. Since the events of a few days ago, Summer was even more sure that she wanted to marry him. Maybe she’d still do it, wherever they were on New Year’s Eve, whichever part of the Grand Union Canal they had reached. It didn’t have to be a big, flashy occasion, and she had the ring now. What was stopping her?
‘Good.’ Mason’s voice was loud, bringing her back to the moment. ‘Christmas in Little Venice. It’s settled.’ He gave her a grin that could have melted the ice – why hadn’t she thought of that before? – then left her to get dressed while he went to give Archie and Latte their dinner.
That evening, Summer found herself standing, along with the others, outside an old, abandoned-looking warehouse. It was tall and made of dirty red bricks, with small windows like hundreds of piggy little eyes. Ryder led them to the side of the building, down a dark alleyway. Summer could picture it in the opening scenes of a serial killer film, and wondered how close they were to the haunts of Jack the Ripper.
‘Where the fuck is he taking us?’ Mason whispered, his usual consternation at Ryder’s antics for once not making her laugh.
‘To be slowly tortured and killed?’
‘Quite possibly.’
Ryder started climbing a black metal fire escape stuck to the outside of the building, and there was an obvious pause from everyone below.
‘Oh, come on, guys,’ he said. ‘This is legit, I promise!’ She couldn’t see them in the dull light of the alleyway, but Summer knew his eyes would be twinkling.
Ralph was first to ascend, followed by Doug and Claire, then Summer dragging Mason, and Jas taking up the rear. Once through the heavy metal door, they followed Ryder along several corridors with black walls, until they emerged into a huge room that, in complete contrast, was painted white – the walls and ceiling, even the floorboards. The lighting was low, there were benches around the edge of the room and a few modern-looking curved armchairs. Large cushions in red, blue and yellow were dotted about on the floor, which still left an expansive, empty space in the middle of the room. They were the only ones in there, apart from a tall woman with red curls standing behind a well-stocked bar.
‘What is this place?’ Jas asked.
‘It’s all ours for the night,’ Ryder said, walking backwards, arms wide. ‘Our own space in London. What do you think?’
‘Have you kidnapped it?’ Doug asked. ‘Why did we come up the fire escape?’
Ryder laughed, tapping the side of his nose. ‘It’s incredible, right?’
Uncertainty seemed to be the overriding emotion as everyone gazed around them, unsure why this few people needed such a big space to themselves. Summer wouldn’t be dancing, that was for sure – there would be absolutely nowhere to hide.
‘Drinks, people.’ Ryder clapped his hands impatiently. ‘And then … storytelling. I’ve missed our sessions, pubs and clubs are far too loud. This place is perfect.’
Once they all had a drink – Mason overjoyed to discover that there was ale on tap – they settled themselves in a makeshift circle around a small table, and from somewhere, the lights were turned down even lower, the room plunged into an approximation of a séance setting.
‘Who’s going to start us off?’ Ryder asked, leaning back on his cushion.
Summer stayed quiet. When she’d taken part before, all those months ago, the crowd had been much bigger, full of people she didn’t know, and so it had felt more anonymous. She was strangely embarrassed at the thought of spinning a yarn about ghosts – or anything else for that matter – in front of a small group of close friends.
‘I’ll go,’ Jas said. ‘I’ve got a goody.’
‘Jas, my man. Start us off.’
Jas settled himself on his seat, opened his mouth and then paused, his eyes lingering on each of them in turn. It built the anticipation, Summer knew. She was already itching to hear what he had to say.
He started speaking, his voice smooth and steady. ‘Imagine if someone you thought you knew turned out to be hiding a dark secret. Imagine if they’d been lying to you about who they were the entire time. A beautiful woman with long dark hair, milky skin, deep, chocolate eyes. She’s confident and fun, sometimes a little flirty.’ He raised an eyebrow, glancing at Ryder and then Mason. ‘She encourages a friend of hers to make a trip, to travel across country and to bring all her friends, make a week of it. It’s nearly Christmas, the canal looks stunning at this time of year and no, there’s absolutely no chance of it freezing over, trapping them all.’
There was a smattering of laughter at this, and Summer could see that everyone – mostly everyone – was enjoying this bizarre tale. Claire, however, looked on edge. Summer tried to catch her eye, but her friend ignored her.
Jas continued.
‘It all seems innocent enough. She joins them for drinks, visits their boats, maybe even buys some of the gifts they’re selling. She’s friendly – perhaps a little too friendly in some cases, but it’s nice to reconnect with old friends, especially at this time of year. There are some photos taken in a club one night. A blogger puts them on his blog, talks about his trip to London, the latest adventures of a man, his boat and his dog. Lots of the comments he’s read before, followers checking in, recounting their own stories, it’s standard stuff. But then one person notices the woman, comments that he’s seen her before somewhere, and asks what the blogger knows about her. The blogger knows very little. He says as much, and the matter is dropped for a day or two.
‘But then this person comments again, saying they can’t ignore it any longer. They’re a liveaboard too, though in a different part of the country. He knows who this woman is, in fact she got to know a friend of his, made out she was interested in him and then accused him of selling stolen goods. She took his friend’s boat apart, then called in the police, who arrested him. She is, he suggests, working undercover on England’s waterways, and that any close acquaintance with her should not be taken at face value.
‘The blogger is unnerved, but not entirely convinced. He doesn’t know this commenter personally, and it could be a case of sour grapes, of bitterness from this man whose friend was targeted, or someone simply winding him up. He trusts his friends, but wonders if they really know that much about the woman that has appeared in their lives quite suddenly, inviting them down to London, turning up when she was supposed to be visiting family elsewhere. The blogger wonders what he should do; he is unsure. Who is weaving him the story? This woman, who he has spent evenings with, or the follower, one of thousands who comment on his blog, who he doesn’t know from Adam? And if this man’s story is true, and his friend was arrested, doesn’t that mean he must have been guilty of selling stolen goods? It’s a quandary, and one he has no idea how to solve.’
Jas sat back, taking a long, slow sip of his drink.
Nobody applauded.
Summer felt a shudder run down her spine. She looked at Mason. He was frowning, his fingers pressed to his lips.
Ryder grinned, unable to hide his delight at the turn of events. ‘Well, well, well,’ he said, his voice thick with smugness.
‘Jas,’ Claire said, ‘what the fuck? You’re talking about Tania, right? This is all true?’
Jas shrugged, looking suddenly sheepish. ‘I don’t know, that’s the thing. But that’s what someone on my blog said. That his friend was investigated by her last year, that she’s undercover, looking for anything illegal on the waterways. He could be stirring, could just be causing trouble, but I – what do you think? You’ve known her longer than any of us.’
Claire opened her mouth, glanced at Mason. ‘God, I – I don’t know. She worked for the Canal and River Trust when I first knew her a few years ago, but as a licensing officer, nothing like this. Since we’ve been reacquainted, she hasn’t mentioned anything. Come to think of it, when I asked her what she did she dodged the question, said something vague about starting up her own business.’
‘You think she’d have a better cover story if she was undercover,’ Ralph said.
‘So she’s been investigating us?’ Doug asked. ‘What on earth for?’
Claire turned to Mason. ‘She’s not said anything to you, has she?’
Mason rubbed his forehead. ‘No, nothing that would tie in to what Jas is saying. She mentioned this new business, like you said, but only told me it was at the very early stages, and didn’t go into any detail. I honestly had no idea, but then, until we arrived here, I hadn’t seen her for years either.’
‘Why would she be investigating us, though?’ Doug asked again. ‘And was it just opportunistic, because we were here, or was it planned?’
There were noncommittal murmurs round the room, and Ryder went to replenish everyone’s drinks. Summer knew he’d be loving this, everyone getting tied up in knots. She tried to recall the conversations she’d had with Tania, and remembered telling her about selling Norman’s carvings. The profit Norman made on them would be tiny, and she’d never spoken to him about registering with the tax office, leaving it up to him how he ran that side of things. But would tax issues fall into her remit? Were those the kind of illegalities Tania was worried about? She realized she was chewing her fingernail and sat on her hands to stop herself.
‘She invited us down here,’ Claire said, her voice unusually small. ‘She phoned me up and suggested we could have a week selling our stuff in Little Venice. She’d already booked us the moorings. At the time I thought she was just being enthusiastic, happy that she could help. She said she wouldn’t be here herself this week; that she’d be in Oxford for the whole of December. Then she turned up on that first night, but I didn’t see anything suspicious in it. I just assumed her plans had changed, or that she’d decided she wanted to see Mason again after all.’ She shook her head. ‘God, what a fool I am.’
‘We don’t know that this is true. As Jas says, his reader could be stirring the pot.’ Ralph put his palms flat on the table.
‘But now I think about it, it seems weird,’ Claire said. ‘And the first time I saw her again, when she appeared on my boat in the spring, she was happy to see me, sure, but she asked a lot about all you guys, the other boats I was travelling with.’
Ryder sauntered over from the bar, putting drinks on the table. ‘She invited herself back to my boat the other night. When the canal froze over.’
Everyone stared at him.
He shrugged. ‘She said she’d love to see it, even though I told her the best she’d get was a sleeping bag on the floor.’
‘Or a four-star hotel room,’ Jas said, resurrecting the joke that while Ryder claimed to live a simple, uncomplicated life there were rumours that he didn’t actually sleep on board cabin-less The Wanderer’s Rest at all, but found a luxurious hotel every night. This time, nobody laughed.
‘She still went with you?’ Doug asked.
‘Yeah, she did. And then the moment we were on the boat, she became as coy as you like, despite some world-class flirting in the bar. She wandered round, saying it was such an unusual boat, asking me about my business, what kind of things I sold.’
‘And what did you tell her?’ Summer asked. Ryder’s business had never been easy to pin down, and she’d always thought he was opportunistic, selling whatever was going, whatever he thought he could make a profit on. She had no idea if that stretched to illegal goods, though.
‘I told her the truth,’ Ryder said. ‘That I trade in anything and everything. Whatever comes my way, and seems right at the time. I don’t hold a lot of stock, and my sources are varied, depending on where along the waterways we happen to be. She left soon after that, the air no longer charged with sex.’ He raised a laconic eyebrow. ‘Now everything’s beginning to make sense. Asking how much profit I make and what I spend it on didn’t seem like great foreplay at the time. She wanted to find out if my merchandise was dodgy, and left frustrated in more than one sense.’
‘Holy shit,’ Claire spat. ‘What a sneaky, sneaky cow. Drawing us in like that, inviting us down here, making total fools of us while she checked out how above board we are. Like a viper.’
‘Steady on,’ Doug said.
‘It could all be a misunderstanding,’ Ralph agreed.
‘It does feel like it’s all slotting into place, though,’ Jas said quietly. Summer felt sorry for him, for the fact that he’d unleashed this on them all, but it was the right thing to do. She wondered how Mason felt, discovering that Tania had been tricking them. He was keeping quiet, sipping his drink, watching the drama unfold.
‘So, begs the question,’ Ryder said, leaning back on one elbow. ‘What are we going to do about it?’
‘Confront her,’ Claire replied immediately. ‘Tomorrow night, at the pub. Find out the truth. Nobody’s been challenged, so she clearly hasn’t found out anything bad about any of us – not that there’s anything to find.’
‘Maybe she’s biding her time?’ Doug suggested.
‘Not any longer.’ Claire shook her head. ‘Not now we know what she’s up to.’
The storytelling session limped on for a while, but it was clear nobody was in the mood and they finished early. When Jas started walking towards the fire escape, Ryder called him back.
‘Come on, we can go out via the main stairs. This way.’
‘What?’ Summer asked. ‘What do you mean “main stairs”? What about the crazy fire escape you brought us up earlier?’
‘Oh that,’ Ryder dismissed her confused look with a wave. ‘This is their function room; I hired it out for us tonight. Technically we shouldn’t have been using the fire escape – it was just to add a sense of drama to proceedings.’
‘Yeah well,’ Ralph said, patting Ryder on the shoulder. ‘I think it was Jas who managed that on this occasion, don’t you?’
‘What are you thinking?’ Summer asked Mason as they took Archie and Latte for a quick walk before bed. The towpath was glittering once more, the break in the weather Mason had predicted showing no signs of materializing, and the dogs yipped and snuffled at lampposts and hedges, the scents of other animals harder to pick up in the cold.
‘I’m thinking that I don’t know Tania well enough to be surprised. I want to know why she’s been investigating us, if she’s found anything illegal in any of the businesses, though from the indignation tonight, it doesn’t sound like anyone’s worried. Not even Ryder seemed bothered, but maybe that’s because he thinks he’s invincible.’
‘So you don’t feel let down by her?’
‘I don’t feel enough for her to be let down by her. We’ve laid our demons to rest. If she’s making a living this way then good for her. But I wish she hadn’t targeted our friends, I’m angry on Claire’s behalf because she thought Tania was trying to build bridges, and to use their old relationship as a way to get closer to an investigation is cynical.’
‘What about her flirting with you, though? The way she behaved in the café? Maybe that was part of it, pretending to still have feelings for you as an excuse for hanging around. That – as well as her friendship with Claire, it just all seems so false.’
Mason put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. ‘It looks like she’s going to get her comeuppance though. Maybe we should get some popcorn in for the boxing match tomorrow night?’ He grimaced. ‘I was lucky that by the time Claire knew I’d walked out on Tania all those years ago, me and The Sandpiper were far, far away. I wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of her anger, that’s for sure.’
‘No,’ Summer agreed. Genuine, white-hot anger from Claire would not be pretty. ‘Neither would I.’