Page 51 of Barging In

THREE MONTHS LATER

C lem yawned and stretched as she emerged from the wharf into the sunny, late summer morning.

Union Jack bunting swayed in the light breeze as people rushed about in the courtyard, unloading items from cars before removing them.

Having been baking in the kitchen since six a.m., she was grateful to find the weather mild. It was ideal for the day’s event.

She had been burning the candle at both ends for the last few months, and so she was quietly relieved that summer was drawing to a close.

Demand for her bakes was only growing, from the wharf and from her own customers, who were making the most of the lingering sunshine before autumn fully settled in.

Soon, she could hang up her barista apron for the cold season and focus more on the wharf.

Once today was over, the pressure would ease, though not for long.

The Christmas market needed planning next.

That was set to be bigger and better, and there was always more to a Christmas event.

A Father Christmas had to be found, a grotto created; a corner of the café might do, and her dad would fit perfectly in the starring role.

Clem pushed her ideas to the back of her mind; she needed to focus on getting through today.

Her gaze caught her mum and dad, mid-bicker over the best height to hang a banner that read Welcome to Otterford Wharf Heritage Fest. They had been tasked with hanging all the signage, and Clem couldn’t help wondering how they would cope now they had nothing to focus on but each other.

Victoria caught her eye and smiled as she directed stallholders to their spots to set up. Hopefully, their tables would manage with the uneven cobbles; that Clem couldn’t fix. Nor could she fix her aching heart.

Three months of working closely together, through lunches, dinners, and endless planning meetings, had given her the chance to watch Victoria’s confidence grow and bloom.

Clem’s love for her had only deepened. She was still waiting, hoping that one day soon Victoria might be ready to take their friendship to a new level.

She may have agreed to wait as long as she needed, but her feelings for Victoria were threatening to suffocate her.

How long did someone need to move on, to heal from their past? There was no answer to that.

Realising Victoria was making her way over, Clem instinctively swept her hair back and tried to stifle the flutter of anticipation in her chest.

“Is your mum still okay to hand out leaflets?” Victoria asked.

Clem greeted her with a smile. “Yes, she’s brimming with excitement. She loves this sort of thing. ”

“Great. Max was hoping your dad would help him in the cider barn since Jasper will be tied up with the museum.”

“I’m sure he’ll be eager to,” Clem said, wondering if her parents would last the day.

Guilt crept in that she’d roped them in at all. With all staffing costs funnelled towards the café for the day, she needed as much free labour as she could get.

“It’s going to be tough for them being on their feet all day, though.” She sighed with worry.

Victoria quirked a brow. “Aren’t they used to that?”

“Yes, but…” Clem twisted her lips.

“They’re not children, and they are volunteering,” Victoria reassured her. “I’m sure if — or when — they’ve had enough, they’ll let us know.”

Having her parents around more was going to take some getting used to, but Victoria was right. They were adults and more than capable of looking after themselves, even if her mum hadn’t stopped asking for her help with this or that since they moved into the house.

Clem nodded and crossed her arms. Her mind had already jumped to the next task, mentally sorting through everything that she needed to do and in what order.

Victoria rubbed her forearm briefly. “What else is troubling you?” she said gently.

“A few nerves,” Clem admitted. “I hope everything comes together and brings the results we need.”

This wasn’t just the culmination of months of work. It reflected her ability, her performance. It would show Victoria whether she could trust Clem to deliver.

“It will, I’m sure. You’ve worked so hard. It won’t be for nothing.”

“I hope you’re right,” Clem said, letting out a breath.

She was nervous, but underlying her performance anxiety, she was mostly excited.

“And just think: When today is over, we get to start all over again with Christmas.” She chuckled at herself.

“If we’re making a weekend of it, it’s going to be harder work than this.

At least Max won’t need so much of my time.

He’s really starting to grasp the whole marketing thing now. ”

“Good for him.” Victoria frowned at her with friendly concern. “Have you thought any more about your schedule? The offer’s always open to work full-time or increase your hours. You’re more than paying for yourself. You’ve already made a difference, and today’s going to prove that.”

Clem sighed. She had thought about it. In fact, it was all she’d been thinking about, sweating through coffee orders and cake slices in the sauna Florence had become during the summer months. She opened her mouth to reply, then shut it again.

“Be honest,” Victoria chided. “We agreed on open communication, remember?”

Clem did remember.

“I think… I want to give up the business.”

“Oh. Okay.” Victoria nodded.

“I’m just…”

“Having a bit of trouble letting go?” Victoria finished for her.

Clem nodded, knowing she would understand.

“The weather is already beginning to change,” Victoria observed, glancing up at the sky. “The air’s crisper, and the leaves are turning yellow. Transition at your own pace; it doesn’t have to happen overnight. Give yourself time to adjust.”

Clem nodded again. She knew it made sense. She really did .

“Florence will always be your home, and you’ll still be supplying cakes for the café.”

That was true, and baking was something she never wanted to give up.

“If I’m not trading, though, I can’t moor up in Florence. There’s a clause in the agreement.”

Victoria shrugged. “Use the kitchen here. Walk to work — or I can give you a lift.”

Clem gave her a tentative smile. “That would be great. Thanks.”

Having become quite familiar with the wharf’s kitchen by now, she found the space really worked for her. It had most things she needed, and the rest she would borrow from Florence. A twinge of betrayal caught her at closing the narrowboat café, but beneath it lay more excitement.

The last three months had been relentless, juggling the two jobs.

There was no harm in trialling working full-time for the wharf over the winter, she told herself.

She was simply adapting to her environment; that was all.

The bonus was that she’d get to spend every day with her favourite person.

If it didn’t work out, she could go back to her business in the spring.

“We’ll make it work,” Victoria said, patting Clem’s shoulder.

We . Clem flashed her a soft smile, but it faltered. When would they be a we in every way? Would they ever be?

Her mum and dad joined them, having agreed on the banner height — or, as Clem thought more likely, one of them had given in. Her dad, no doubt.

“It’s a great place you have here, Victoria,” he said, looking up at the wharf. “I can see why Clem was so keen to work here.”

“We were reading the information boards in reception about your family history,” her mum added. “I didn’t realise your ancestors built it.”

Victoria nodded. “Yes. I consider myself very lucky to have it and to have Clem to help me. She’s a real asset.”

Clem rolled her eyes playfully at Victoria as her parents beamed with pride.

“The signage is all up,” her mum said. “So, what’s next?”

Clem was grateful for her parents’ enthusiasm — for however long it lasted.

“Dad, you’re helping Max in the cider barn today, if that’s okay.”

Her dad’s eyes lit up with delight. “More than okay.”

“Mum, I’ll take you to meet Max’s mum. She’s helping you hand out leaflets.”

“Thank you both,” Victoria said warmly. “I really appreciate you coming to help.”

“We wouldn’t miss out,” her mum said with a smile. “It’s all Clem talks about.”

A group of people in historic costumes were making their way around from the car park and into the courtyard. Clem nodded in their direction. “I’ll leave you to deal with them, Victoria.”

“Oh, wonderful, I was beginning to worry they weren’t coming.” She gave Clem’s arm one last pat. “I’ll see you later.”

“Who are they?” Clem’s mum asked as the three of them strode off across the cobbles.

“They’re a local theatre company. Victoria invited them to perform some re-enactments of people who worked at the wharf.”

Clem recalled how enthusiastic she’d been when Victoria first suggested the idea.

The troupe looked impressive all dressed up.

She hoped they’d bring an old-world charm to the wharf, telling stories of the lives once lived here.

Some were fictionalised, but others Victoria had unearthed from original records held in the town archives.

She led her parents to the barn with its recently installed sign above the doors: Otterford Cider Barn .

The large, wooden doors were wide open, revealing a transformed space. Assorted stainless steel equipment and benches filled the floor, along with what looked like a small bottling machine. The air was so rich with the sweet, sharp tang of fermenting fruit that Clem’s mouth watered.

“Hey, Clem,” Max said from behind a table lined with beautifully presented bottles and filled gift boxes. An older couple stood beside him. “Meet my parents?—”

“Graham and Helen Frost,” his dad said, stepping forward.

“Nice to meet you both, and these are mine, Tom and Barbara Wentworth.”

Everyone exchanged nods and warm smiles.

“Clem has the boat moored next to mine,” Max said to his parents.

“The fabulous cake maker!” Helen said. “We’ve heard plenty about you. I’m hoping to taste one later.”