Page 25 of Barging In

V ictoria checked her watch for the umpteenth time. Where the hell was Drew? Her phone buzzed on the arm of her chair, and she lunged for it.

Running late, meet you there.

She threw it back down. Not even an apology or so much as a ‘happy birthday’. Arsehole . How much effort did it take to at least pretend you gave a shit? Not that pretending would make her feel any better, but it would have been better than ignoring her.

What was she supposed to do now? Walk in heels? Call a taxi? That would take forever on a Saturday night. She could drive and get a lift back with Drew… if he ever showed up.

Her eye landed on Florence next door. Victoria had noticed the narrowboat still moored in her trading spot just before she left the wharf, so she’d assumed Clem would stay there for the party. Now that she saw the boat just beyond her back garden, she wondered — Could she catch a ride with Clem?

The thought struck then that Clem might have decided against going.

It hit Victoria harder than she liked. She realised she was counting on seeing Clem again.

Spending most of the day with her didn’t feel like enough.

She was light and funny — the complete opposite of how heavy and serious everything else in Victoria’s life had felt lately.

Maybe Clem had left Florence and walked to the wharf.

In which case, there’d be no chance at a lift.

Victoria rolled her eyes at all the possibilities buzzing around in her head.

There was only one way to find out. She picked her phone back up and slipped it into her purse.

Giving one last glance at the mirror to check her hair and makeup, she headed next door, where she took the side path of the neighbouring house through the garden and out the gate at the bottom, which led onto the jetty.

“Clem! Are you there?” she called towards the narrowboat

A bang, followed by a “Fuck!” gave Victoria her answer.

Clem emerged onto Florence’s stern, clutching her head. Her eyes widened immediately. “Wow! You look… stunning.”

Victoria looked down at her black, knee-length sheath dress and tightened her champagne-coloured blazer around it. She had bought the outfit especially for tonight.

“Thank you. So do you,” Victoria replied, taking in Clem’s white maxi dress and denim jacket. Having only seen her in jeans and jumpers, it threw her for a moment. The feminine look suited her. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live. Whether on a narrowboat or not, time will tell. I’m not very spatially aware,” Clem said with a rueful smile as she rubbed her head. “It’s nothing that won’t mend — like the rest of my bumps and bruises.”

Victoria gave her a sympathetic smile. “Are you heading to the wharf? ”

“Yes. You invited me to a party, remember?”

“Oh, yes… I just meant?—”

“You thought I’d change my mind?” Clem asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Ha,” Victoria replied, recalling those as Clem’s exact words from earlier, when she’d been fretting she wouldn’t show up to help. She should start trusting the woman a little more. “I find myself in need of a lift.”

“Then climb aboard. I was about to leave.”

Victoria took the hand Clem offered and stepped onto the boat.

“How come I have the pleasure of escorting you?” Clem asked.

“Drew was due to pick me up. He’s travelling from London today, but he’s running late.”

Clem huffed. “It’s your birthday. Your fiftieth. I wouldn’t let you out of my sight all day if you were married to me.”

The comment caught Victoria off guard. Clem wasn’t married to her, but it felt like she hadn’t let her out of her sight all day. She flashed an appreciative smile and decided it was best to change the subject.

“I keep meaning to apologise for being rude about your boat, though I stand by what I said.”

“You apologise but stand by your words? Bold move,” Clem said, her lips thinning into a sardonic smile even as she gave a gentle nod.

“She is garish,” Victoria said with a shrug, “but I could have put it more politely.”

Clem smiled. “She’s not my favourite colour, but I wanted to restore her to the original. She used to belong to my mum. I was born inside her.”

“Oh — wow. I wasn’t expecting that. ”

“They sold her years ago, and I managed to find her. So yes, be mindful of what you say. She’s family.”

Victoria laughed. “I will.”

“Now, we should get a move on. We don’t want Cinderella to be late for her ball.”

“I’m already late,” Victoria sighed. “Anyway, isn’t it fashionable to arrive a little late to your own party?”

Clem checked her watch and started Florence’s engine. “Perhaps not half an hour late. Sit inside if you like. Make yourself at home.”

“I’d much rather be out here—” Victoria cut herself off before with you could slip out.

“Well, if you insist.” Clem opened a cupboard just inside the door and extracted a blanket. “Here. It will keep the chill off as we move.”

Victoria accepted it gratefully. The cool evening air was swirling around her bare ankles, and her thin blazer was doing little to help. Wrapping herself up, she leaned against the railing and watched as Clem expertly guided Florence down the canal.

This certainly wasn’t how she’d envisioned arriving at her fiftieth birthday party. It couldn’t have been further from the plan. And yet, deep down, it felt oddly perfect despite her complicated feelings about canal boats.

She watched the wind tug at Clem’s dress, then catch her hair, sending it streaming behind her like something from an old movie.

It was nice to just be in her presence, peacefully and without tension.

Most of their encounters so far had been full of chaos — arguments, accidents, unexpected collisions.

For the first time, Victoria had the space to see Clem.

On the surface, she was unremarkable — average height, average build — but nothing about her was forgettable.

She carried herself with quiet resilience, stood her ground without arrogance, and offered help instinctively, all without making a performance of it.

Victoria had always felt there was something undeniably attractive about the shape of a woman, so understated compared to the blunt geometry of men.

Feminine allure came from a subtle, authentic grace that didn’t demand attention; it simply deserved it.

It held power the way some women did: naturally, without effort, without apology.

Realising the boat was slowing, Victoria looked up to see the wharf ahead. Where had the time gone? She’d been so deep in thought she could barely recall any of the journey. She only hoped she hadn’t been staring at Clem the whole time, lost as she was in her own world.

They disembarked and walked quietly together over the bridge, which was lit by a string of hanging bulbs.

The cascading light gave off a romantic hue.

Part of her wanted to stop Clem, return to the boat, sit on the bow wrapped in blankets, and pass the time.

She didn’t want to face a waiting crowd of people she hardly knew and be reminded of how few friends she had.

She knew it was the quality that counted, though, not the number.

Over the years, she’d come to realise that most people were, generally, overrated.

The cobbles reminded her she was wearing heels, her ankles wobbling as she focused on picking her way up the path. It must have shown as Clem linked her arm through Victoria’s, steadying her as they continued to the main entrance. As they entered, Victoria gently pulled away.

“Thank you for getting me here in one piece,” she said.

Clem beamed. “Anytime.”

There it was again — anytime . Victoria wondered whether Clem said it to everyone or just to her. She wanted to believe the latter but knew it was probably the former. Letting the thought go, she headed into the café.

The room was pulsing — a blur of voices, echoes, and low background music. Gold and silver balloons hung from the steel beams while guests mingled in loose clusters beneath them. As Victoria passed the café counter, heads turned and applause followed, heating her cheeks in an instant.

A thought struck her: She was making an entrance with Clem, not her husband. Would that look strange? Most of the people here were his contacts, his acquaintances. Did it matter? She and Clem were just friends.

The thought sat inside her — a warmth blooming in her chest accompanied by a twist of nausea in her stomach.

The truth was, what she felt towards Clem, she’d never felt towards someone she considered just a friend before.

She couldn’t recall feeling it as deeply as this with Drew — not even when they first met.

A hand on her back urged her forward. It was Clem’s, reassuring and encouraging. With a deep breath and a forced smile, she pushed herself onwards.

As the clapping subsided, Jasper emerged from the crowd holding two glasses of champagne. He handed one to her and air-kissed both cheeks.

“Happy first birthday to us.” He clinked his glass against hers, then stepped back. “Vic, you look stunning.” He turned to Clem. “As… do… you!”

The two exchanged a warm smile. Then, returning his attention to Victoria, Jasper took her free hand and gave it a playful tug, coaxing her into a twirl.

She spun, half laughing, and caught the way Clem’s eyes followed her — a look that sent her stomach into a dizzying somersault.

As she came to a stop, she looked Jasper over .

“You’re looking dapper as always. Is that another new waistcoat?”

With a dramatic flourish, Jasper slipped his suit jacket off one shoulder to reveal a crisp, white waistcoat. The back was in the style of a corset, with black satin ribbon laced through silver-rimmed eyelets.

“I brought it back from London — Liberty’s, in fact. It’s part of the new range I’m working on with them. The idea is to blend the elegance of corsetry into contemporary menswear.”