Page 44 of Barging In

C lem kicked off her Vans and slumped onto the bed with a guttural huff.

Her feet ached almost as much as her heart.

It had been almost a week since dinner at Victoria’s house and she hadn’t seen her since.

Unless she counted lunchtime today, when she’d caught a glimpse of her in her office.

She was sure Victoria had caught her staring and spun her chair back around before Clem could look away.

They hadn’t exactly left things on a bad note — well, unless you called that kiss bad, which Clem didn’t.

Victoria might, but she had kissed her. Not that Clem hadn’t been dying to do it since the moment Victoria opened the front door that night.

She had looked so elegant in a sleeveless, knee-length, black dress that Clem’s insides had fluttered.

Victoria’s lips against her own had surprised and excited her so much that she kissed her back like it were their last moment on earth.

It felt like it lasted forever: wrapped in each other’s arms, tongues searching, fingers tingling as they explored.

Victoria’s guard had slipped just enough to let Clem into a world she kept to herself, and she longed to return to it.

She wasn’t even sure if Victoria was ignoring her or if she was the one doing the ignoring.

She wanted to give the other woman some space, a few days to process what had happened, and once she had, she hoped Victoria might reach out.

But she hadn’t. No visit; not even a text.

Now she wondered if she should have gone to see her already, but it felt like it had been too long for it not to feel awkward.

At least she knew for certain Victoria had feelings for her, but what was she supposed to do?

Step back? Step forward? She didn’t want to pressure her.

She already felt a twinge of guilt for the harmless flirtations she’d indulged in, knowing full well Victoria wasn’t free.

But she hadn’t forced Victoria to do anything, and it wasn’t Clem’s fault if Victoria was struggling with feelings she hadn’t expected.

The way Victoria had hit her chest with her fist and admitted it was more than just a kiss still sent tingles through Clem’s body.

She wondered whether the job offer still stood.

Had that encounter ruined any chance of friendship, let alone working together beyond her supplying cakes?

If so, she regretted it. Not because it wasn’t wonderful — it was, possibly the most memorable kiss of her life — but because as much as she longed for her, she wanted Victoria in her life more.

“What do you think I should do, Florence? Any ideas?” She paused as though waiting to hear from the narrowboat. “No? Of course not; you’re an inanimate object with no feelings or opinions, and yet here I am shaping my entire life around you.”

Then there was the money she’d invested, sinking almost everything she had into her new venture.

What was she thinking? Victoria hadn’t offered her a full-time job, so Florence and the café weren’t going anywhere.

Unless she set up a marketing consultancy and touted herself for more work — that was an idea.

But she’d still be living and working out of a narrowboat parked at the bottom of her parents’ garden.

Maybe one day she could move to the marina where Max was.

She groaned and pulled a pillow over her face. There was so much to think about, and her brain was mushy, scrambled by her feelings for Victoria, which prevented any clarity or rational thought.

That night came to mind again. Victoria’s house was so warm, cosy, and inviting that she’d felt strangely at home, curled up in that armchair, gazing out over the manicured garden and the canal beyond.

If she were lucky, she’d inherit Gram’s old house from her parents sometime in the future; not that she wanted to think about that time.

She had to think about the now. Right now, she was forty, with little to her name but a narrowboat she couldn’t even sell — unless she wanted to crush her mum’s spirits.

Clem leaned back against her headboard and sighed.

She picked up her notepad and scanned the list of ideas she’d been jotting down for the wharf.

She missed marketing — the spark of excitement when a concept landed, the buzz of a strategy falling into place, and the satisfaction of nailing the message.

Logging coffees and cake sales on a spreadsheet wasn’t quite comparable to measuring the results of a national campaign.

As she turned the page, the stark reality of her schedule confronted her.

She’d mapped out every hour of the day, searching for pockets of time.

Her mornings began at six, with baking continuing for herself and the wharf until she opened at ten.

Then she sold until three, packed down, and returned to the jetty by four, when she would be able to squeeze in a couple of hours’ work for Victoria before making dinner at six.

Realistically, she’d have to work while eating, which wasn’t a problem, but with the next bake needing to finish before bed at ten, she estimated she could give Victoria ten hours a week, if she worked five days.

It would be slow progress at that rate, but progress. Victoria had said she would take whatever Clem could offer — assuming the offer still stood. She wouldn’t be petty enough to sideline the wharf’s progress simply to avoid her… would she?

Clem knew that once she began working on her ideas for the wharf each day, it would be difficult to stop.

She baked automatically, so she didn’t need her brain for that.

There were also lulls during opening hours and those rainy days giving her quiet spells.

Would she start to resent her own business — if she wasn't already?

Should she simply move on? There must be other towpaths to trade from.

She could forget all about the wharf and Victoria and let her slip back into her perfectly miserable life.

That felt like the easy option, to untie the rope and drift away, but it was the last thing she wanted.

She understood Victoria’s position, why she had stagnated for years in a marriage like that to keep her world intact.

Clem couldn’t blame her for patching over the cracks to hold everything together.

Still, it didn’t stop her hoping Victoria would boot her shitty husband in the balls and tell him to do one.

Not because Clem wanted Victoria to take a risk for her, but because she wanted Victoria to take one for herself.

Clem had always thought of herself as decisive.

Recent events had shown her that some decisions weren’t so easy to make, let alone act on.

Once you had, you had to wait for your choice to either implode or work out the way you hoped.

When she’d quit her job and bought Florence, it was resentment that had pushed her, years of frustration at work and the lure of finally owning something, even if it was a boat.

But the grass wasn’t always greener on the other side, and dreams didn’t always turn into the reality you imagined. She knew that now.

The small bedroom suddenly felt devoid of air. Casting the notepad aside, Clem got up and opened the bow doors, filling her lungs with cool, fresh air as she stepped out.

She spotted Max passing on the towpath.

“Off to see Jasper?” she teased.

“I’m going to see Victoria, actually,” Max replied with a tight grin. “But I might pop in on him.”

“What are you seeing her for?” Clem asked, jealousy biting at her as she did.

“I’m going to ask her about that barn. I talked it over with Jasper, and he thinks it’s a great idea. So did my parents.”

“Tell her I sent you,” Clem said, hoping to win herself a few brownie points, “and suggest a couple of months rent-free. I’m sure she’ll be open to it.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on their side?” Max asked with a smirk.

“Currently, I’m on no side,” Clem replied with a loud sigh — loud enough, apparently, for Max to climb aboard, concern etched across his face.

“What’s up?”

Clem couldn’t help it. She launched right in. “I went round for dinner last week… and we kissed.”

“Wowsers!” Max staggered back, leaning dramatically against the gunwale. “I did not see that one coming — and certainly not that glum face because of it.”

“Mmm.” Clem gave a noncommittal hum. “We haven’t spoken since that night. She’s clearly avoiding me, so I’m doing what I can to avoid her.”

“Well, that always works out well,” he teased. “What happened?”

“She’s married, remember? I think it hit her hard after we kissed — that she broke a vow, I mean. She said I complicated things.”

“Well… haven’t you?” Max said gently. “Her marriage might be far from perfect — Jasper filled me in on a few things — but she was probably happily ignoring that until you came along and kissed her.”

Clem’s jaw loosened. “She kissed me!”

“I bet she couldn’t resist you.”

Clem sniffed out a laugh, too tired to argue. “She’s got these rules she lives by. Rules she sets herself for this sort of open marriage she has.”

“Open marriage?” Max questioned. “Jasper thought Drew was having an affair.”

Clem shook her head, realising she might have said too much.

“Some people need rules,” Max said. “And if that’s how she’s coped through a shitty marriage, I don’t think you can blame her. But hang on — if it’s an open marriage, doesn’t that mean she could see you?”

“It’s a very one-sided open marriage, from what I can gather.”

“Oh. Right.” He frowned. “She can’t love him, surely? He’s awful.”

Clem shook her head again. “No, love doesn’t come into it anymore. But they’re financially tied, and Victoria doesn’t want to be financially untied.”

Max looked up at the wharf. “Oh. Darn.”

“Yep.”