Page 10 of Barging In

“Great. Let’s see how good your coffee tastes, then. I’ll have an espresso. Not even a hot shower has warmed me up after that dunking.” She shivered. “I still feel cold inside.”

“One espresso, coming up,” Max said, springing into action.

Clem picked up her phone from the worktop, relieved it hadn’t been in her pocket when she’d fallen into the canal.

“I can’t get over the barefaced cheek of that woman to move my sign and then to fight me for it.”

“That was Victoria Hargreaves,” Max explained as the coffee grinder crunched through the beans. “She runs the wharf. I told you to watch out for her.”

“So did my parents,” Clem sighed. “She’s their neighbour.”

“Yikes.”

“She was sniffing around here yesterday. Came to try my coffee and cake with some chap in a rather fetching orange waistcoat. ”

“Oh, really?” Max said, the corners of his mouth curling tightly. He nodded towards the windows overlooking the wharf. “She’s probably there right now, watching you from her office and plotting your downfall.”

Clem gave a light chuckle, then wondered how much truth there might be to his words. “Have you met her before?” she asked, wandering to the window and trying to guess where Victoria’s office might be.

“No. One of the other traders warned me about her when I arrived. She’s a stickler for keeping signage off the towpath — bit of a health and safety nut, perhaps.”

“I get she doesn’t want competition, but we all need to make a living,” Clem said, her tone sharp with frustration.

Max hummed his agreement as he twisted the portafilter into place.

“Living on the water is not as cheap as people think. By the time you’ve paid for insurance, licences, mooring fees, safety certificates, not to mention fuel costs for both you and the boat, it’s a tough gig.

A private landowner controlling the towpath pushes up the costs, too. Everyone wants a piece of our pie.”

Clem let out a weary sigh of agreement as rich coffee ran from the spouts in two silky ribbons, filling the cup.

Thankfully, her dad had sorted most of the paperwork for her; he was well versed in the rules of the waterways.

She’d completed her food hygiene certificate and registered with the local council’s environmental health department, but he’d handled everything else.

She knew how much it had all cost her, though, and how much she needed to earn to break even for the year.

With most of that income coming in during the warmer months, she could ill afford to be at war with the neighbours.

Max passed her the cup. “Here.”

“Thanks,” she said, wrapping her hands around it and instinctively blowing on it before taking a sip. The liquid hit sharply, the heat and bitterness lingering on her tongue.

“That’s good,” she said, giving her neighbour a smile of approval as she placed the cup on the worktop.

“I just hope I can make enough to cover my expenses. I’m not expecting to get rich.

This was never about becoming a millionaire.

It’s a lifestyle choice. A way out of the corporate grind, of feeling stuck and?—”

“Unfulfilled?” Max suggested.

A faint smile touched her lips that he seemed to understand.

“Most of us are, aren’t we?” he continued. “All trying to find something that feels more like living?”

Clem nodded, cursing her naivety for thinking that everything would be easy.

Just because life was challenging and unfulfilling, it didn’t automatically mean change fixed everything.

New beginnings came with their own trials: uncertainty, hard graft, and moments like these where optimism felt foolish.

She’d wanted a fresh start, not a fresh set of problems dressed up as opportunity.

Victoria stood in the cobbled courtyard, cold and dripping wet. Every instinct told her to move; to act. Instead, she stood frozen by shock and disbelief. She couldn’t enter the building like this, soaked through and stinking, but what now?

People were beginning to stop and stare. She rubbed her arms as waves of shivers ran through her, only to realise her cashmere jumper was missing and likely at the bottom of the canal. It had been one of her favourites, too.

“Vic!” Jasper shouted, striding towards her. “Get in the car. ”

The lights of his white Audi blinked at the far end of the courtyard.

“Where are we going?” she asked as he reached her side.

“I’m taking you home, of course. What the hell happened? A visitor said two women had fallen in the canal. I came to your office to see if you were in yet, only to see you being dragged out of the water through the window. Who fell in with you?”

“Her,” Victoria growled.

“Her?”

Victoria wanted to reply, That infuriating, high-ponytailed woman with the strangely captivating smile who’s doing her best to put me out of business . Instead, she said, “Clem,” as she opened the passenger door.

Jasper reached behind the driver’s seat and pulled out a plastic shopping bag. “Here, sit on this.”

Victoria settled onto the rustling bag. The soggy fabric of her clothes stuck to her, sending a wave of cold through her trembling body with every movement.

Jasper flicked on the heated seat and nudged the climate control up a few degrees. “Maybe it’ll stave off hypothermia. At the very least, it might calm your nipples down.” He nodded towards Victoria’s chest as he pulled out of the car park.

They had caught Clem’s eye, too; she appeared to have been enjoying herself until Victoria felt compelled to interrupt her ogling.

If she hadn’t been dripping wet and freezing cold — and if it hadn’t been Clem — she might have enjoyed the attention herself.

It had been a long time since an attractive person had cast an eye over her like that.

A voice in Victoria’s head snapped: Oh, shut up.

She isn’t attractive. She’s infuriating.

Worse still, Clem threatened to bring about her downfall if something wasn’t done about her competing business, and soon.

“Thanks for rescuing me,” Victoria said to Jasper as they idled at a crossing. “I was at a loss for what to do back there.”

“I noticed. So, what happened?”

“She copied our café offer and put her sign in front of ours.”

“And how did that end up with you both going for a swim in the canal?”

“I moved her sign, and we sort of tussled over it,” Victoria muttered with an exasperated sigh. “She lost her balance and grabbed my arm to steady herself, pulling me in with her.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Jasper’s mouth. “You… tussled ?”

Victoria pursed her lips, unsure where the amusement lay in what she’d just endured.

“Did you push her?” Jasper asked.

Victoria’s stomach lurched. Had she pushed Clem?

She didn’t think so, but everything had happened so fast, she couldn’t be sure.

All she could remember was that final moment, when they’d lost to gravity and Clem’s eyes had locked with hers in a mutual panic.

They were a deep brown, matching the colour of her hair, and the way they’d fixed on her with such a strange intensity made Victoria’s stomach twist.

“Why didn’t you just move our sign elsewhere?”

“I didn’t really get the chance; plus, that’s the best spot. We can’t obstruct the path with signage, and I couldn’t move it further forward as hers was almost on the towpath,” Victoria replied firmly, recalling the strict rules Mr Armitage enforced to allow them access across the bridge .

“Well, it might’ve saved me from taking you home reeking of canal water,” Jasper muttered, rolling down the window.

“I could have walked.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

He was right. Her brain had stopped working properly, what with the shock and cold setting in.

“What was our sign doing there, anyway, to make her want to block it?” Jasper demanded.

Victoria stared at the hedgerows whizzing by, trying to think of a way to get out of explaining. She couldn’t.

“I told Christine to put a sign out,” she admitted.

She’d hoped Clem would realise she couldn’t compete and leave. To find her still there, and the wharf’s sign blocked with one offering an identical deal, had boiled her blood and, apparently, her brain.

“I didn’t tell her to put it near Clem’s sign. That was all Christine’s doing,” she quickly clarified.

Jasper shook his head. His silence was more unsettling than anything he could have said.

A few minutes later, they pulled into the driveway of Victoria’s house.

“Did your handbag get wet?” Jasper asked as they stepped out of the car.

“No, thankfully I dropped it,” Victoria replied, grateful for small mercies as she fumbled through her bag for her keys.

“In the tussle?” Jasper asked dryly, covering his smirking lips with his hand.

“Yes,” Victoria hissed, not bothering to meet his gaze as she pushed open the front door.

“Well, if a shower doesn’t get the smell out, at least the spa tomorrow will help clean your pores — if they let you in. I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks, and I’m prepared to go in alone, even if it is your birthday present.”

Victoria glared at Jasper as he made his way inside.

“You’d do the same,” he teased, grinning back at her.

“Make yourself useful and fix me something hot to drink,” Victoria instructed as she slipped out of her wet trainers, leaving them on the doorstep.

“Tea, I think,” Jasper said, disappearing into the kitchen.

Victoria gave a hum of agreement as she made her way to the boot room. Stripping off everything but her underwear, she shoved it all in the washing machine, trying not to gag at the stench.

Fifteen minutes later, washed and clothed, she joined Jasper by the large conservatory window, collecting a mug of tea from beside the kettle.

“Better?” Jasper asked.

“Much,” she replied, taking a sip of the warm liquid before noticing a sweet taste. Jasper must have added sugar for the shock.

“Have I told you how much I adore the view from here?” he said as he gazed out at her garden.

“Wait until this afternoon when an orange boat turns up to ruin it.” Victoria groaned.

Jasper turned sharply to look at her. “Seriously? Clem’s boat?”

“The one and only. Her parents own the house next door.”

His jaw worked silently for a few seconds. “Can you just moor a narrowboat at the end of your garden?”

“Yes,” Victoria confirmed with a nod. “It’s a private mooring.

You need permission, but plenty of people have them.

Apparently, she’s not content with mooring outside my office window; I must tolerate it at home, too.

It’s beyond the pale.” She huffed and then gulped the rest of her tea. “We should get back.”

By the time they returned to the wharf, the news had already spread amongst the staff. Christine was the first to appear in her office.

“Did you block Clem’s sign with ours?” Victoria immediately demanded.

Christine’s eyes darted around the room. “How was I to know it would start World War III?”

“What did you think would happen? I asked you to come up with an offer and put a board on the towpath. Not block the competition,” Victoria snapped.

“It kind of worked,” Christine reasoned. “We were busy early on, but then it died off.”

“Because she retaliated and did the same to us,” Victoria shot back. “We have no legal standing to move her. Assuming she has the correct permits, then she has every right to be there. We need to come up with some other tactics to win back business.”

Christine’s eyes lit up. “Leave it with me. I might have an idea.”

“It had better be an improvement on your last one!” Victoria yelled.

It didn’t matter. Her catering manager had already waltzed from the office.