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First published in Great Britain in ebook format in 2017 by HarperCollinsPublishers

Copyright © Cressida McLaughlin 2017

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017

Cover illustration © Alice Stevenson

Cressida McLaughlin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © December 2017 ISBN: 9780008273361

Version: 2018-09-24

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Part Two: Starboard Home

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

About the Author

Keep Reading …

Also by Cressida McLaughlin

About the Publisher

Part Two

Chapter One

The atmosphere at the table inside the Riverside Inn was almost as frosty as the early December night. Summer sipped her pint, trying to stay calm, feeling the tension radiating off Claire, sitting beside her. As much as she tried, she couldn’t help glancing at her phone, calculating the minutes that Mason and Tania had been gone.

Mason and Tania.

Summer had never expected Tania to come back into Mason’s life. Until today, she had been a figure rooted firmly in the past, a woman of almost mythical status. She forced herself to move her phone away from her, unable to stop the sigh from escaping.

Claire put her hand over Summer’s. Summer felt a flash of anger but pushed it back down.

‘I am so, so sorry, Sum,’ Claire said. ‘I didn’t realize she’d be here. She assured me, when she organized the moorings for us, that she would be gone for the whole month. She said specifically that she didn’t want to cause an atmosphere, so I have no idea what she’s playing at!’

The remorse on Claire’s usually cheerful face changed it completely, and Summer’s anger began to fade, replaced by worry at the thought that Tania had misled Claire on purpose. ‘I know it’s not your fault,’ she said quietly. ‘But that doesn’t make it any easier.’

Claire took a sip of wine. ‘Of course it doesn’t. God, I had such high hopes for this trip. When I found out we had the opportunity to come to Little Venice for a week, so close to Christmas, and that there would be enough visitor moorings for all of us, I jumped at the chance. And I couldn’t imagine being here without you and the canal boat café. I know it’s been over a year since we were roving together, and that I manage fine with my band of brothers, but this was too special to miss. And I was going to tell you that Tania had sorted out the moorings for us, but as she’d promised she wouldn’t be here, I didn’t think it mattered. Especially when you told me Mason was reluctant to come – I didn’t want to put him off either.’

They’d spent the last fortnight travelling the British waterways from Willowbeck, Summer and Mason’s picturesque fenland village home, after Claire had invited them to join in with the impromptu festive market in London, three weeks before Christmas. Mason had been thrown by the short notice, but after a day or so he’d relented, and Summer had been delighted that she’d have him, and their dogs Latte and Archie, on board her café boat Madeleine for five whole weeks. Their excitement upon arriving in Little Venice earlier that day had turned to shock when Tania had been waiting to greet them in the pub.

‘I’m sure they won’t be gone long,’ Summer said, trying to reassure herself more than anyone. Mason had told Tania he was happy to speak to her, and Tania had suggested a late-night coffee shop around the corner. They’d been gone fourteen minutes. ‘When did you catch up with her again?’

Claire sighed. ‘We lost touch, years ago, after the whole Mason thing happened. But we were down here this spring, just for an overnight, and she came on my boat. She’d recognized it from before, of course, told me she was living here now, had a permanent mooring in Little Venice – I remember thinking she must have sold her soul to be able to afford it. It was a shock to see her, I can tell you.’

‘You and me both,’ Summer murmured, taking a slow sip of her beer.

‘We went for a drink in this very pub,’ Claire continued. ‘I said that I knew where Mason was, and I told her what he’d told me, that when they met he hadn’t long been a liveaboard, and was grieving for his wife; he’d lost everything and was starting again from scratch. I explained that he’d come to realize it was far too soon for him to be in a new relationship, and that he’d decided the best thing for both of them was to walk away. She knows how sorry he is, about how he treated her. I also told her that he was happy now, that he was with you.’

Summer swallowed. ‘What did she say?’

‘She took it all in, she said she could understand the circumstances, and that it was a relief to know the real reason he’d left.’ Claire shook her head. ‘I know Mason wanted to get in touch with her, to clear the air between them, but when I mentioned the possibility to Tania she said she needed more time, that when she’d had a chance to mull it over she’d decide whether she wanted to speak to him. I was only in Little Venice that one night, I left the next day and normal life resumed. It was a while before I heard from Tania again, a few text messages, but she didn’t mention Mason and I didn’t want to push it. I thought when she was ready, she’d ask for his number – whatever. And then she let me know about the moorings, and I realized there was space for all of us. She told me she’d be going away, and I thought that was because she wasn’t ready to see him again. Somewhere in the last few weeks she’s changed her mind and hasn’t bothered to update me.’

It was this fact, more than anything else, that made Summer feel nauseous.

Why had Tania told Claire she was going to leave Little Venice and then done the opposite? She must have known the date they were arriving because she’d booked their moorings. Maybe she’d watched them all cruise up the canal, had perhaps followed Jas or Ryder to the pub, knowing Mason and Claire wouldn’t be too far behind. The fact that she hadn’t let Claire know her change of plans, so Claire, in turn, could warn Summer and Mason that she’d be there, seemed underhand.

‘Why do you think she didn’t tell you?’ Summer asked, her mouth dry.

‘I don’t know, Sum,’ Claire said, sounding equally unsure. ‘Maybe she changed her mind about wanting to see Mason, or maybe her Christmas plans simply fell through? I’m just so sorry. Do you want to – shall we go and find them?’

Summer shook her head, trying not to listen to the whispers of doubt that had started up. She trusted Mason, she knew that he had wanted the chance to speak to Tania, even if these particular circumstances weren’t ideal. She couldn’t go barging in there and split them up. She had to let it play out.

Ryder put a tray of drinks on the table and handed them out, flashing a curious glance in Summer’s direction. She wasn’t sure how much the rest of the roving traders knew about the situation, the history between Mason and Tania, but she wasn’t about to do a survey round the table.

‘He needs to do this,’ Summer said. ‘Once he’d told me about Lisa, about why things had ended so abruptly with Tania, he wanted to let her know the truth, to apologize. But not like this, not without time to get his head around seeing her again, and work out what he was going to say. It must be like a thunderbolt.’

‘God, Sum.’ Claire sighed heavily. ‘I know that. If I’d had any idea what she was going to do, I would have warned you, or tried to talk her out of it. I never meant for either of you to meet her like this.’

Summer finished her first drink, and pulled her second towards her. ‘Mason talks about Lisa sometimes, but it still isn’t easy for him. He’s started to open up about their relationship, recalling happier memories, but it’s as if he needs to, rather than wants to. I can tell he’s not comfortable doing it.’ It was easier, somehow, to talk to Claire about Mason, about how he might be feeling, than to admit how much Tania’s appearance had thrown her.

Claire winced. ‘I get that. He’s certainly a different creature to the man I knew back then, with the neat hair and meticulous routine, only just learning what it was like to live on the waterways. He was as polished and perfect as his boat, and looking back it was obviously this carefully crafted exterior with a load of shit going on underneath, but because he’s so much more relaxed these days, so together, I sometimes forget that he’s had all this to deal with.’

‘He’ll be OK,’ Summer said, but it came out as a whisper. ‘I’m going to propose to him, you know,’ she added. She didn’t know why she’d said it, perhaps the need to hold onto something positive when things were suddenly so upside down.

‘What?!’ Claire’s voice was almost a screech, and everyone at the table turned towards her.

‘What’s going on?’ Ryder asked. ‘Spill, ladies.’

‘Go and find your own gossip,’ Claire said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at him. She turned her body towards Summer, blocking out everyone else. ‘Sorry – again. Tell me! This is awesome news.’

‘I was going to do it at Christmas,’ Summer admitted. ‘But then this trip came up, and I knew I’d run out of time to get everything in place. I’m going to ask him on New Year’s Eve, hopefully, once we’re back in Willowbeck. If it’s all – if we’re OK, still, by then.’

Claire’s eyes widened. ‘Why on earth wouldn’t you be?’

Summer fidgeted, wondering whether to voice her insecurities. If Harry was here she would let everything come tumbling out, no question, but Claire knew Tania, was friends with her, despite the fact that Tania had kept her in the dark on this occasion.

‘Tania’s so beautiful,’ she said to Claire. ‘So … composed.’

‘Oh God,’ Claire said. ‘Summer, you have nothing to worry about.’ She grabbed both Summer’s hands. ‘I know this is a shock, and that Tania’s appeared out of the blue, but she’s in the process of starting her own business, she’s settled down here. I don’t know if she’s seeing anyone because we’ve not had that discussion, but she’s not interested in getting back with Mason. The only possible reason that she’s here, tonight, is that she wants to clear the air.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ Summer’s voice was small. She hated herself for sounding so pathetic, but this had knocked her for six.

‘Because … because she’s not, OK? And even if she was, Mason hasn’t got eyes for anyone else. That’s a hundred per cent, bona fide fact.’

‘She said: “I’ve never forgotten him.”’

‘What?’

‘That’s what Tania said. When Mason had walked out and she told me she wanted to talk to him.’

‘She might not have forgotten him, but that doesn’t mean she wants to pick up where they left off. Mason’s so different now, and I’m sure she is. Even if there was the will from either of them – which there isn’t – it’s just not possible.’

‘You sound very confident,’ Summer said, trying a chuckle. It sounded rusty.

‘That’s because I am, Sum. You have absolutely no reason to be concerned. We’ll give them another ten minutes and if they haven’t reappeared, we’ll find them and force them back to the festivities.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ Summer said quietly. ‘I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. Finally facing this … figment, this woman I’ve only ever heard about. I wasn’t ready, Claire, and certainly not for her to be so … so …’

‘You can stop that now. Don’t you dare lose your confidence, Summer Freeman. You’re funny and warm and beautiful, and Mason loves you. That’s all you need to know. I’m so, so bloody sorry that I wasn’t able to prevent this mess, that I’ve let this week get off to a shitty start. As soon as you come up with a way for me to make it up to you, tell me what it is. But in the meantime, I want to know everything about this proposal. I want to know exactly how you’re planning on popping the question, and what your dream wedding looks like.’

As Summer told her, her nerves began to settle. Claire loved the idea of the banner hanging from Willowbeck’s bridge, and asked Summer what Mason’s favourite songs were, suggesting that she put together a playlist that Madeleine could have going on in the background, and offered to lend her some external speakers and help her set them up.

Summer laughed, as she always did when she was with Claire, her friend’s enthusiasm infectious, despite the circumstances. Her glances towards her phone became less frequent – they had been gone thirty-five minutes now – and Summer tried not to picture them leaning towards each other over a table in the café, the windows opaque with condensation, sparks of attraction reigniting between them, like fireflies glowing in the dusk.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Harry, asking if they’d arrived safely. She smiled wryly, picturing her friend’s face when she updated her on all that had happened.

She had started to reply when a hand landed gently on her shoulder, fingers tickling her neck. Summer closed her eyes, surprised at the emotion the touch brought, realizing how tense she’d been.

‘Mason.’ She swivelled round in her chair and then stood. ‘Are you OK?’

He nodded. He looked tired, dark shadows under his eyes. ‘I’m sorry I was so long,’ he said. ‘I might head back. Do you want to stay, or …’

‘I’ll come with you,’ she said quickly. She couldn’t see Tania, and wondered whether she hadn’t come back with Mason, but then spotted her long dark hair slipping through the crowd towards the Ladies.

Summer gave Claire a brief hug and waved goodbye to the others, promising the first round the next evening would be hers, a sentiment that was met with applause, and light heckling from Ryder. She pulled her coat on and did it up, Mason helping her with the stiff top button.

‘Do you mind if we don’t go back to the boat yet?’ Mason asked. ‘I could do with clearing my head, and we’ll still have time to take Archie and Latte for a walk before bed.’

‘If they aren’t conked out on the sofa already,’ Summer said, smiling gently. ‘Do you want me to come, or would you rather be on your own?’

They stepped out into the night. The cold was biting and soothing all at once.

Mason faced her. ‘I’d like you to come, unless you’re too tired. I want to tell you how it went. I don’t want to keep anything from you.’ His Adam’s apple bobbed, a day’s worth of stubble making him look even wearier.

She nodded, relief coursing through her. Maybe there were no fireflies, no sparks. They turned away from the river, along residential streets lined with cars. The air was full of city sounds: shouts, laughter, a distant siren, the underlying hum of traffic. They walked hand in hand, silent except for the occasional direction from Mason.

‘I hope you’re keeping track of where we’re going,’ Summer said jokingly, but she meant it. After everything else, she didn’t want to get lost on their first night.

‘We’ll be fine,’ Mason murmured. ‘Here it is.’

He’d stopped in front of a narrow building squeezed between two others, with a blue awning that looked more suited to a newsagent’s than a bar or pub. The windows glowed invitingly beneath a sign that read Benji’s, a mesh of coloured, twinkling lights covering one of the large panes of glass. Summer followed Mason inside.

It was the smallest, snuggest bar she’d ever been in. It had blue, velvety booths squashed close together and bright mosaics on the walls, the low hum of unobtrusive music in the background. The bar was wide enough for three men standing abreast, and there was a pure white cat sitting at its base, licking its front paw intently.

‘How did you know about this place?’ Summer asked.

‘My editor told me about it,’ Mason said, gesturing towards an unoccupied booth in the corner. ‘He said it was close to Little Venice, and a bit out of the ordinary. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find it, but …’ He shrugged, took off his coat and went to the bar.

Summer settled into the comfortable booth and stared at her new surroundings, thinking how surreal the evening had become after the jubilant, busy afternoon serving in the café. To think she had felt threatened by the flirtatious woman in the sparkly hat.

‘Here.’ Mason slid in opposite her, clinking his wine glass against hers before taking a sip. He was wearing a loose-fitting khaki shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Summer caught a whiff of his usual citrus and vanilla scent. He was so familiar to her now, and yet, at this moment, she had no idea what he was about to tell her.

‘How did it go?’ she asked. ‘Are you all right?’

His smile was tired. He reached his hand out and she held it, resting her arm on the table.

‘I’m OK,’ he said. ‘It hasn’t been the easiest evening, but I’m glad I spoke to her.’ He sipped his wine.

‘Did you tell her everything?’ Summer asked. ‘About Lisa, about becoming a liveaboard?’

He nodded. ‘Claire paved the way when they ran into each other a few months ago, so she had some idea. But I wanted her to hear it from me, how I never meant to treat her badly and thought I was doing the opposite when I disappeared, believing it would be best for both of us. That’s how screwed up I was.’ He sighed. ‘I owed it to her to be honest about it all.’

Summer nodded, holding back the question she most wanted to ask. ‘And how did she take it?’

‘Well. Better than I thought she would, though of course she’s had a while to think about it.’

‘She forgave you?’

‘She said it was water under the bridge.’ He laughed gently.

‘And how do you feel, now that you’ve cleared the air? Was it weird, seeing her again?’ She drummed her fingers on her knee under the table, hoping Mason wouldn’t see how nervous she was.

‘Very weird,’ he said. ‘Good. But … it’s been so long. And when we were together, I was numb, really. I did care about her, but … I’ve blocked a lot of it out, or my mind has simply refused to let me remember the details. So it felt unbalanced, somehow. As if she’d held a lot more store in our relationship than I had. And tonight, she wanted to hear how things were now, what I’d been up to. She told me about living in Little Venice too, and asked about you, Claire and the other traders.’ He looked at the table, his brows knitting together. ‘I didn’t mean to be so long, but I didn’t feel like I could leave.’

‘Of course, Mason, it’s fine,’ Summer said. ‘Claire’s sorry it turned out this way – apparently Tania had planned to go away for the whole of December. She hadn’t expected her to be here.’

Mason looked up at her. ‘Tania said she needed to change her plans, that she can’t go and see her family until closer to Christmas. She apologized for springing herself on me – on us, like this.’

Summer nodded, wondering if she believed her. She wanted to, but there was something about Tania’s smooth smile, the way she had glided easily towards them through the pub, the look she had given Mason, that was putting her on edge. ‘Are you sure you’re OK with this?’ she asked. ‘Do you want to go back to Willowbeck? I’ll do whatever’s best for you.’

‘What’s best,’ he said, leaning across the table towards her, ‘is that we put this behind us now, and enjoy London. I’m not spending two weeks travelling all this way only to turn straight around. I need a few more days at least before we have to tackle all those locks again.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘I’m sure, Summer. It’s you, me, Madeleine and the dogs against London’s Christmas revellers. I’ve been looking forward to it, and I’m not going to let this put us off course. It wasn’t how I’d pictured our first night here, but I’m fine. I’ve wanted to talk to Tania for a long time. It was a conversation I needed to have, and now it’s done. But –’ He held her gaze, his dark eyes clouded with concern. ‘Are you OK? You’ve been so supportive tonight, looking out for me, giving me time with Tania. But after hearing so much about her, about the history we have, it can’t have been easy for you, either.’

Summer swallowed. ‘I’m fine,’ she said breezily. ‘Of course I am. I was worried – angry, on your behalf, but that’s all.’

He sighed, let go of her hand and in a moment was round at her side of the table.

‘Budge up.’ He forced her to scoot along the banquette and sat next to her, his eyes fixing on hers. They had a spark in them, and it was as if he’d come back to life, as if he’d shut the best parts of himself away while he dealt with Tania, and was only now letting them out again. ‘Don’t worry about Tania,’ he said, stroking her hair away from her forehead. ‘We’ve said all that we needed to. We’ve put the past officially behind us, and if she’s there at any point this week – and she told me she might be, while Claire’s here – then we’ll just get on with it. But I don’t want you to worry, about me, or about me with Tania. She is part of my past, and you, Summer, are my future.’

He kissed her. It was soft but passionate, and she pulled him closer, holding onto him tightly. She didn’t want to admit to herself – and definitely not to Mason – how much seeing Tania had scared her, how ungrounded she’d felt while the other woman had Mason’s full attention. His kiss and his touch were bringing her back to life, too.

‘Shall we go and see how Archie and Latte are getting on?’ she asked, once the kiss had ended, their faces close, the snug bar seeming to shrink around them. She had a lot of baking to do between now and opening time, but that seemed unimportant now that she’d got Mason back. She hadn’t lost him, not literally, but for a couple of hours her whole world had shifted, and she needed to right it again. Mason was the best way of doing that. Luckily, he seemed to agree with her.

‘Yes,’ he murmured. His fingers traced a line slowly and deliciously down her neck, making her tingle, then he scooted backwards, out of the booth, and held his hand out for her to take. ‘Let’s go home.’

Chapter Two

Summer dragged herself out of bed before dawn, her limbs stiff and weary after the previous day’s cold journey, followed by an afternoon working in the café. Mason was asleep, his curls in disarray on the pillow. She was reminded of Ryder’s dig at him, which she’d seen as a compliment. She was more than happy with his Byronic curls, could understand why he’d been propositioned at the hatch yesterday, and why someone like Tania would have been attracted to him. Who wouldn’t?

Even their local boatbuilder in Willowbeck, a huge, burly man called Mick, had fuelled Summer’s doubts when she was first getting to know Mason by referring to him as Lothario. When she’d got the explanation out of him, it was because everyone – even unapologetically heterosexual men like Mick – could see he was a catch, not because he spent his nights taking scores of different women to bed.

She left Mason sleeping, took the handful of clothes she’d left out the night before, and snuck out of the cabin. She couldn’t spend her day ogling her boyfriend; she had to put her focus into the café. It wouldn’t be long before the punters started banging on the door for coffee and bacon sandwiches.

She dressed hurriedly, prepared breakfast for Archie and Latte, who were still blinking awake on the sofa, and boiled the kettle. With an instant coffee slowly waking her up, she got to work. She took some of Harry’s chocolate and mince pie twists out of the freezer, and prepared the mix for a batch of Christmas brownies with chunks of hazelnut and glacé cherries, and three trays of her festive-flavoured macarons. She’d bought a batch of floury baps from a bakery at their last stop before Little Venice, but would need to find a new supplier while they were here, so she could continue to make bacon rolls.

She opened the door into the café, letting the luxurious smells waft inside, and switched on the coffee machine. The towpath lamps glowed, but the canal was dark. At this hour, even Claire’s boat had no lights on, no wintry soundtrack drifting out of the speakers.

Summer stood, clutching her coffee mug, and soaked it all up. There was something mesmerizing about the early morning, the water a black nothing, lapping gently against the sides of the boat. She switched the Christmas tree lights on and they punctuated the dark with soft, rainbow colours. Latte and Archie, fed and watered, pattered into the café, exploring it, checking for any new smells that had appeared since the day before. Summer crouched and stroked her Bichon Frise, and Latte let out a squeak of delight.

‘This wasn’t a mistake, was it?’ she asked her dog. Tania, and the effect the encounter had had on both her and Mason, played on her mind. He had said that it wouldn’t ruin their trip, and it was up to her to put it aside, to make the most of being in Little Venice. But Tania was going to socialize with them, and she couldn’t imagine there wouldn’t be any lingering awkwardness.

Latte looked up at her adoringly, and Summer smiled. ‘You’re right,’ she said, with more conviction than she felt. ‘Everything’s going to be fine.’

She returned to the kitchen and checked on her bakes. She lined up the next lot of trays, cleared up and filled the dishwasher. Daylight made a slow, sleepy appearance, a streak of lighter sky showing above the buildings, the landscape of Little Venice being revealed as if from behind a theatre curtain. It was cold, the bow deck sparkling with a thick frost, and Summer was relieved to see the water wasn’t frozen, however much Mason had told her it would never happen. A man in an orange fluorescent work-suit was gritting the towpath, his breath clouding into the air like smoke.

By the time Mason emerged, Summer had unlocked the hatch and written her menu of Christmas specials on the blackboard.

‘You should have woken me,’ he said, putting his arms around her. His hair was damp from the shower and water droplets landed on her shoulder.

‘You needed the sleep. Now, what do you think – bacon roll and a coffee or tea, three pounds. That’s still a bargain in London, isn’t it?’

‘It’s a steal,’ Mason said. ‘What can I do?’

‘Cut open and butter the rolls. You could put the bacon on too, if you like.’

Mason gave her a cheeky smile. ‘Have you had any breakfast? Shall we sample them first?’

Summer narrowed her eyes. ‘There must be a monumental health risk to having bacon every day.’

‘I don’t have it every day,’ Mason protested. Summer stared at him, and his cheeks coloured. ‘I’ll get started.’ He rubbed his hands and disappeared into the kitchen.

She could hear him singing softly to himself as he prepared the rolls, something by Frank Turner, and she felt a stab of guilt that she had been worrying about Tania. She had to remember that, while the circumstances hadn’t been ideal, talking to Tania and getting her forgiveness would have lifted a weight off his shoulders. There was nothing, now, stopping them focusing on their future. Summer’s heart skipped as she thought of New Year’s Eve, the ideas that were swirling around in her head, even more excited now that Claire was on board and was helping her firm them up.

Mason’s voice was drowned out as the first chords of ‘Don’t You Worry’ by Lucy Rose drifted out of Claire’s speakers, the lights of Water Music flicking on. Mason’s singing immediately changed to match it, and he popped his head around the kitchen door.

‘Your favourite song,’ he said. ‘It’s almost as if Claire’s done it specially for you.’

‘It’s just coincidence. I don’t think she knows this is my favourite.’

‘But I do,’ Mason said. ‘I’ve heard it so often, I could probably recite the lyrics backwards. Don’t you worry, I’m staying here,’ he whispered, and Summer realized how apt the words were right at that moment. She started singing along to crush the lump in her throat, and Mason joined back in, although Lucy Rose’s voice was much too high for him, and they quickly descended into laughter. She stopped when she noticed two men in their forties, dressed in smart coats and suit trousers despite it being Sunday, walking towards them on the towpath.

‘Coffee and a bacon roll three pounds this morning, if you’re interested?’ she called. They were, and Summer waved them towards the hatch.

Sunday in Little Venice was as busy as the Saturday afternoon had been, but Summer thought that everything was moving at a slightly slower pace. The trees that overhung the canal, almost as if they were eavesdropping on the conversations of the liveaboards, were skeletons, the thinnest branches shivering in a light breeze. But the winter scene could never look anything other than festive, because of the brightly coloured narrowboats. Even first thing, there was a couple wrapped in blankets having a loud conversation on their deck, their laughter drifting down the canal. A woman dressed in dark jeans, knee-high burgundy boots and a taupe, woollen coat that looked impossibly soft, walked two miniature schnauzers and a pug down the towpath, her strides long and purposeful, her pets scurrying to keep up.

Behind the trees were large, cream houses, so big that Summer thought many must have been converted into flats, and then beyond them, in the distance, was the shining glass of towering office blocks, the skyline of a more familiar London. Summer could never imagine this towpath being deserted, like it often was in Willowbeck, but today there were strollers rather than rushers, and more laughter, despite the cold that made people stamp their feet in the queue for the hatch, and rub their hands in relief as they opened the bow doors and stepped into the café. Summer always made sure it was either heated or ventilated, depending on the weather.

‘Jeez, it’s freezing out there,’ said a man in a leather jacket with slicked-back hair, looking like he was straight out of a production of Grease. He was followed into the café by a woman wearing white jeans and a purple puffa jacket, and two small girls wrapped up like Christmas presents, their scarves and hats bright red against royal blue coats and wellington boots. ‘Can we sit at one of these, love?’ he asked, pointing at the tables.

‘Of course. Have a seat and I’ll be over in a moment to take your order.’ She watched the family choose a table on the canal side of the boat and dismantle their outdoor apparel, the girls mesmerized by the water and what they could see in it. ‘Duck,’ ‘leaf,’ ‘boat,’ they shouted, pointing things out in turn.

‘Now girls, what have I said about sound levels?’ the mum asked.

‘Ssshhhhh,’ said the younger girl, pressing her finger to her lips.

‘Exactly. When we’re out with other people, they don’t always want to hear our conversations.’

‘But what if they’re fun?’ asked the older girl.

‘They might be having their own fun conversations. Let’s have a look at the menu, see what cakes they do.’

This seemed to placate them and Summer popped her head into the kitchen, where Mason was lining up more rolls, buttering them and laying them on a tray, his movements methodical. The crackle and smell of bacon was overwhelming, and Summer put her hand on her stomach.

Mason looked up. ‘I told you to have one. Did you get any breakfast?’

She shook her head. ‘We’ve got a family in the café now.’

‘You see to them, and I’ll prepare you a deluxe bacon sandwich. A Mason Causey speciality.’

‘What makes it so special?’

He looked at her aghast, as if the answer was obvious. ‘I’m making it!’

Laughing, she left him to it.

The busyness continued, the café filled and emptied, filled and emptied, and by the end of the day the floor was a mass of muddy footprints, exacerbated by a short, sharp rain shower that had darkened the skies around three o’clock and acted as a precursor for nightfall. The crowds dispersed noticeably earlier than they had the day before, and Summer made the decision to close at four o’clock, allowing her time to replenish her stock before whatever evening activity Claire had organized for them all.

She got a text confirming that plans were to go back to the Riverside Inn, and Summer was good to her word, getting the first round in. There was no sign of Tania, and for that she was thankful. The conversation was much more relaxed, and she sat between Mason and Jas on a long bench upholstered in maroon fabric, her back to the wall.

There were no wooded copses with fairy lights – an unlikely find in London and far too cold at this time of year anyway – and Summer was comforted by how straightforward it felt. But then, halfway through the evening, the door burst open and all conversation was drowned out by a rendition of ‘We Three Kings’ as a group of men and women, dressed as elves in red and green costumes, and hats with bells on the end, bustled into the pub. They stood in the middle of the space, forcing the drinking customers to move back around the edges, and continued to sing their carol with gusto.

‘Oh good Lord,’ Ralph said, leaning in closer so Summer could hear him. ‘What a way to ruin a quiet Sunday drink.’

Summer laughed. ‘It’s Christmas! And I think they’re quite good, don’t you?’

‘Collecting for some charity no doubt,’ Doug added.

Summer rolled her eyes. ‘What’s wrong with that? It’s the season of giving and goodwill, and that doesn’t just mean buying your friends and family expensive presents that they don’t really want. This,’ she said, gesturing towards the group, ‘is what Christmas is – or should be – all about.’

She gave a triumphant smile which faded when she realized one of the elves had noticed her pointing, and was waggling her finger, beckoning her forwards, her cheeks rosy in the warmth of the pub and her fur-lined jacket.

Summer shook her head and sipped her drink, but as the carol singers came to the end of their current song, the beckoning elf approached her. ‘Come and join us for a few,’ she said. ‘The more the merrier.’

‘Oh nooooo,’ Summer said, laughing nervously. ‘I can’t sing. You don’t want me.’

‘No discrimination here, not even for the vocally challenged. Come on, everyone knows the words to “Jingle Bells.”’

The other elves were moving through the pub, trying to encourage other reluctant punters into the impromptu singsong. She saw the tall, bearded man behind the bar shrug his shoulders genially and lift the hatch.

‘Yeah, go on, Summer,’ Ryder said, giving her a wicked grin. ‘Join in.’

‘I’m not—’

‘What was that you were saying about it being the season of giving and goodwill?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘You can’t be a spoilsport now.’

‘I can,’ she said, then realized how petulant that sounded. ‘Mason, tell them. Nobody wants to hear me sing.’

Mason gave her a soft, quick kiss. ‘You’ll be wonderful,’ he said. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

‘Mason!’ she squeaked, watching as he tried not to descend into laughter. ‘You traitor.’

‘I’ve heard you singing in the shower,’ he said. ‘Have confidence in yourself.’

Summer thought about folding her arms and refusing to budge, but the female elf was still standing next to their table, watching her expectantly, and she didn’t want to be the bah humbug member of the party. She sighed and hauled herself to her feet.

‘I’m Milly,’ the elf said.

‘I’m Summer. It’s … lovely to meet you. Do you do this kind of thing often?’

Milly chuckled. ‘We’re actually part of the cast of the pantomime that’s playing in the Canal Café Theatre. The run starts tomorrow night – we’ve just had our final dress rehearsal and thought we’d come out and do a bit of publicity.’

‘Which pantomime are you doing?’ Summer glanced at the other elves, still encouraging members of the pub crowd to join them. She counted them – there were seven. ‘Ah,’ she said. ‘So you’re not actually elves, you’re dwarves. Which one are you?’

‘I’m Happy, and tonight, at least, we’re a bit of a hybrid. These outfits are Christmas elves – the director would have a fit if we brought our performance costumes to the pub the night before opening.’

‘That’s very sensible,’ Summer said. ‘You don’t want to meet Snow White tomorrow smelling of beer.’ She grinned, and was pulled into the huddle in the middle of the pub. Milly was standing next to her on one side, and a very tall, burly man wearing a rugby shirt was on the other.

A male elf with a loud, tenor voice, called out: ‘“Away in a Manger”. Three, two, one,’ and they launched into the first line of the carol.

Summer felt her cheeks redden, and focused on her Converse sneakers and the floorboards beneath them. When she did glance up, she saw that her friends were grinning at her, Claire’s face pinched as she tried to hold in her laughter, Jas swaying side to side in time to the music. Ryder gave her an over-enthusiastic thumbs up, and when she caught Mason’s eye, he mouthed ‘I love you’.

After that, Summer let herself loosen up, and once she and the group of motley Christmas elves had been through ‘Jingle Bells’, ‘Silent Night’ and a very raucous version of ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’ which had far too much emphasis – as always – on the “wish”, the pub was filled with enthusiastic clapping.

Summer gave an awkward bow, and shook Milly’s hand. ‘Good luck with the pantomime.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It was lovely to sing with you, Summer.’

‘You too,’ she replied honestly. ‘And Merry Christmas!’

She raced back to her table where her friends gave her an extra, embarrassingly long round of applause, and Ryder pushed a fresh drink in front of her.

‘Here you go, Dopey, you’ve earned it.’

‘Ha ha,’ Summer said dryly, accepting the drink.

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

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.

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