Page 12 of Barging In

Clem found herself nodding, offering her parents the reassurance they seemed to need — that they’d made the right choice all those years ago. And they had. She couldn’t imagine growing up aboard Florence, the three of them crammed into such a tiny space.

Still, part of her ached at what they’d given up for her. Although she couldn’t remember much of that time, looking through the old photographs made her realise there had been a kind of magic to those early years.

“The kitchen is perfect,” her mum said, breaking the silence as she inspected everything.

“Well, I had a little help on the layout,” Clem said, giving her mum a nudge. “Thanks for the suggestions. The appliances do work best being on one side, just like you said.”

Her mum opened a small cupboard that separated the hot and cold appliances and peered inside. “Galleys happen to be my forte,” she added with a smile. “I’ve spent enough years in them. Keeping doors that you open regularly to one side works wonders for efficiency.”

She stepped inside the bathroom next. “What’s this?” she asked, poking at the sopping sweater in the sink.

“I was hoping you could help me bring it back to life,” Clem admitted sheepishly. “It kind of fell in the canal. I’ve rinsed it several times and left it to soak. I wasn’t sure what to do to get the smell out.”

Screwing her face up, her mum plunged her hands into the sink, feeling the jumper. “Not letting it soak for too long would be a start. This is cashmere.” She drained the basin, then pressed the jumper gently to squeeze the excess water out. “I’ll see what I can do with it.”

“Thanks,” Clem said, relieved it was one less item on her to-do list.

“Now let me see the rest,” her mum said, drying her hands on a towel.

Clem led them down to the bedroom.

Her mum pointed to the bed. “We used to have a sofa there, facing this stove.” Her fingers traced along the appliance, stopping and circling an area on its top. “That’s definitely the original stove. I recognise this dent. Your dad dropped a hammer on it.”

“That’s right,” he said, a smile forming at the memory. “It just missed my foot.”

“It was Florence that brought us together,” her mum said, smiling at her dad. “You came out to fix her engine for me.”

“Yes, and I only charged you for parts because you were upset at your boss getting handsy.”

“Mmm. It came with the territory as a secretary in those days.”

“Probably still does.” Clem groaned.

“But your dad turned the day around for me.” She rubbed her hands together and then squeezed Clem’s cheeks. “I’m so glad you’ve brought her home. I can’t believe you managed to keep it from me all this time.”

Clem couldn’t help feeling a little smug at how well her plan had come together.

“I’m not you, Mum, and it’s only been six months.

To be honest, it didn’t feel real until I moored her at Gram’s.

When I collected her, it felt like I was hiring her for a couple of weeks, and then someone would demand I return her. ”

Her mum wiped her cheeks. “Oh, get me a tissue for my eyes and a bag for that jumper, will you? It’s time I got dinner in the oven.”

Clem looked to her dad, who was still grinning. They both knew her mum well enough to know she couldn’t cope with anything too soppy and didn’t like to show emotion very often — if ever.

After a dinner of exquisite lasagna aboard The Kingfisher’s Rest , Clem insisted on helping her mum with clearing up the galley, mainly as an excuse to question her about their impending retirement.

“Are you sure you’re ready to hang up your apron and sell up?” she asked.

“It makes sense,” her mum said with a shrug. “Everything has happened at the right time, at least for your father. I’m not sure I’m as ready as he is. I just feel like I’m losing a part of myself, along with my home. What am I going to do all day if I don’t have the Kingfisher ?”

“Find a hobby?” Clem suggested, then added, “It is retirement. It’s supposed to have a different pace. You could take up gardening, grow some veg.”

“Gardening?” Her mum scoffed. “I never had much luck making anything grow except you when we lived on land.”

“There’s a golf course near here. You could try that. You might even meet some local people, make some friends.”

“Golf! I don’t think so. The clothes would be terrible for my figure.”

Clem sniffed out a laugh. “All right. What about a job?”

“Who would hire me at my age? ”

Clem prayed she wasn’t looking for an answer and busied herself with packing the dishwasher.

“Anyway,” her mum went on, much to Clem’s relief, “most women my age are busy with their grandchildren.”

Well. There went her short-lived relief.

“I can only apologise for not having had children to keep you busy in your old age. How remiss of me,” Clem said sharply.

Her mum pulled a face. “You know what I mean. Your life is what it is. I accept that. If children aren’t on the cards, then they aren’t on the cards.”

“I’ve never said they weren’t.”

Her mum pulled a face. “It would be a bit of a challenge, wouldn’t it?”

“Because I’m a lesbian?” Clem shot back, wringing a tea towel in her hands.

“No — well, yes — but mainly because you’re single.”

“Plenty of single women have children.”

Her mum heaved a sigh. “Children are challenging enough with two parents; I wouldn’t recommend doing it alone. I assume there’s no love interest on the horizon?”

“No,” Clem groaned, bracing for the inevitable deep dive into her love life — or lack thereof.

“You’re unlikely to attract anyone living on a boat,” her mum continued, aggressively squirting the worktop with antibacterial spray.

“You managed it with Dad.”

“He was a single man with a boat, too. The chances of meeting another single lesbian living the narrowboat life are slim, I’d assume.”

“There’s more to it than coming across another lesbian with a boat, Mum,” Clem grumbled. “There is such a thing as chemistry. We don’t simply shack up with the nearest one, you know. ”

Her dad appeared in the doorway suddenly, much to Clem’s relief. “Have you met that woman from next door yet?”

“Victoria Hargreaves? Yes,” Clem groaned. “I had a bit of a run-in with her, which resulted in the pair of us ending up in the canal.”

Her mum recoiled in horror. “What?”

“The jumper is hers. She lost it in the canal, and I fished it out.”

“I just hand-washed that woman’s jumper?” her mum screeched.

“Yes.”

Her mouth opened and closed several times before finally managing, “Why?”

Clem wasn’t entirely sure she had an answer. It felt like the right thing to do. Neighbourly. “I feel responsible for her ending up there. The least I can do is return her jumper.”

If they were going to be seeing each other regularly, in one location or another, Clem figured they might as well try to get along.

One thing she couldn’t stand was animosity; it was far too uncomfortable for her liking.

And, if she was honest, a part of her wanted to see Victoria again — if only to apologise, of course.

“You should’ve left it there,” her mum said, folding her arms. “Along with her.”

“That’s a bit harsh,” Clem replied.

“Gram often complained to us about her. It took a year to renovate that house next door — noise morning, noon, and night. Now it’s our turn. I told Billy not to worry about the disruption. I said there was no one living next door.”

“Mum! I can’t believe?— ”

“How exactly did you end up in the canal?” her dad butted in.

“She runs the wharf opposite. She wasn’t happy with me competing against their café. We ended up having a bit of a disagreement over a sign, and in we went.”

“Ha!” Her mum chuckled. “You give her a run for her money.”

Clem had to grin at that. “I intend to.”

“Which days are you working?” her dad asked.

“Every day at the moment.”

He nodded in understanding but added, “Don’t you work yourself into the ground. You need a couple of days off a week.”

“I’m not sure I can afford to, not now that I work for myself.”

“If you will quit a well-paid job,” her mum sniped.

“Well paid but not fulfilling, Mum. I keep telling you that,” Clem said through gritted teeth.

“Money isn’t everything,” her dad added.

“Exactly, but enough to cover my bills would be nice.” The week had been relentless.

Clem felt the tiredness in her bones, but the exhilaration kept her going, canal dunking aside.

“Anyway, I need to get a feel for the footfall, work out which days are busier and when I can afford to close. I’ve learnt today that opening on rainy days is best avoided. ”

“Well, you have to make a success of it now,” her mum said matter-of-factly.

“Why?”

“I can’t have you selling Florence. Not when we’ve just got her back.”

“No pressure then,” Clem mumbled to herself, fully aware there was no turning back .

“Even more reason now, if it upsets that woman,” her mum added.

Clem took this as her cue. “I’d best head off. It looks like the sun will be back out tomorrow, so I’ve got a lot of baking to do. Thanks for dinner, Mum.”

Thrusting a container at her, her mum said, “Don’t forget the leftovers, and this .

” She put the jumper on top. She then allowed herself to break into a momentary smile.

“I’m so pleased you’ve got Florence, Clem.

Next time we see you, we’ll have to go for a jaunt in her, see if she still feels the same. ”

Heading up the garden a few minutes later, Clem felt a tightness gripping her chest. A worry had been building inside her all week, making her question her choices.

Was this all a huge mistake? She’d thrown everything into this new life, but the uncertainty was gnawing at her.

What if I made the wrong decision? What if I can’t make it work? What then?

A light flicked off in the downstairs window next door, catching her attention and dragging her thoughts back to Victoria. There was something about her, something Clem couldn’t put her finger on, that had lingered since their clash.

As Clem reached the lane, an upstairs light in the house came on, illuminating the darkness.

A man, presumably Victoria’s husband — Clem hadn’t missed the ring Victoria was wearing when she’d gripped the A-board — stood at the window.

His arm reached out to draw the curtain, but a second figure appeared beside him.

Clem was about to turn away when she noticed the woman’s hair was short, like it was styled in a pixie cut. She wasn’t well versed in Victoria’s shape, but the last time she’d seen her, she’d had shoulder-length hair. The mystery woman leaned in and kissed the man’s neck as he closed the curtains.

As the light dimmed, Clem glanced at the driveway.

The green Jaguar E-Type she’d spotted Victoria leaving in early that morning when her groceries had arrived was gone.

In its place sat a black Porsche 911 GT3.

A shiver ran through her. Whether from the cold air or whatever domestic infidelity she was witnessing, she wasn’t sure.

What exactly was she supposed to do with this information? Keep it to herself? Tell Victoria? First, she needed to be sure Victoria hadn’t had a drastic haircut.

Reaching Florence, Clem pondered keeping her nose out of her neighbour’s business. After all, no good deed went unpunished. But something inside pressed on her, and she knew she would have to tell her. She didn’t have anything to lose; only Victoria did — if she hadn’t already lost it.