The Canal Boat Café Christmas: Port Out. Cressida McLaughlin

‘What happened to Lisa was tragic, but it had nothing to do with their married status. She wouldn’t have been saved if they’d only been partners, boyfriend and girlfriend. It’s usually divorce that makes people reluctant to go through it again, or Hugh Grant in Four Weddings and Funeral – having all that bad luck with his friend’s weddings.’

      Harry’s words made perfect sense, and she wasn’t finished.

      ‘He was reluctant to get involved again, to open himself up to love, but he cared about you enough to risk his heart. That was the hard part for him, and it’s proof that he wants to be with you, that what you’re doing, planning, is wonderful and exciting, and is the right call. You love him, you want to be with him for the rest of your life, and I’m sure he feels the same. Do you ever talk about Lisa?’

      ‘Sometimes,’ Summer said. ‘He’s become better at talking about her, about their life together, before she died. He’s started to accept the happy memories without being clouded by the terrible ones. But I’ve never spoken to him about re-marrying. We talk about the future – what we’ll do when we’re in our sixties, whether our bones will creak as much as the tiller on Celeste when we’re cruising, or if we’ll still be able to work the locks without help. But it’s always flippant.’

      Harry was nodding, her expression patient and understanding. Summer wondered why she hadn’t talked to her before now, why she had been reluctant to tell her about her plans, and the worries that came with them.

      ‘So maybe,’ Harry said, ‘you need to have a chat with him, a more serious one. Try and gauge his thoughts before you pop the question – if you’re concerned, which I don’t think you need to be.’

      ‘I’m not sure I could get away with it. How do you do that subtly when your whole mind is focused on not giving away the secret? It’s like trying to avoid a bunker on a golf course, and all you’re thinking about is avoiding the bunker. Inevitably you end up in the sand.’

      ‘There’ll be a conversation, one day, when you realize you can change direction slightly, slip it in.’

      ‘You sound very confident about that, Mrs Poole.’

      ‘I have faith in you, because you’re brilliant and determined; when you want something you go for it.’

      ‘I think you’ve confused me with someone else,’ Summer said, laughing. ‘Think how long I dillydallied over taking over Mum’s café, how long it took me to realize my feelings for a certain, curly-haired nature photographer.’

      ‘OK, but when you decided you wanted the café, you made a huge success of it – you’ve just hosted a cruising engagement Halloween party for God’s sake, who else can say they’ve done that? And with Mason, it was complicated. For both of you. You got there in the end, and you’ve not had a moment of doubt since. Go for it, Summer. You’ll soon have a wedding to plan on top of everything else.’

      Summer’s shoulders relaxed, the tension ebbing out of her. ‘You’re the brilliant one, Harry. What would I do without you?’

      ‘I don’t know, but you’re temporarily going to find out, because I have to get back to my boys and see what chaos they’ve caused. Normal time in the café tomorrow?’

      ‘Come in after lunch,’ Summer said. ‘The morning rush isn’t quite as rushy now it’s getting colder, so I’ll be fine on my own.’

      ‘You’ve worked late too,’ Harry said, standing and shrugging on her coat.

      ‘Yes, but it’s my business. Besides, it’s not like I have the same commute as you. Take the morning off.’

      ‘Thank you.’ They hugged, Harry’s squeeze a little tighter than usual. ‘And don’t worry. Mason loves you, he wants to be with you, and you need to focus all your energy on planning the perfect proposal rather than fretting about his past. But if you want reassurance, try to subtly sound him out first. I don’t think you need to, but it’s an option. Now, go and find him.’

      Summer assured her friend she was going to do just that, and after they said goodbye and Harry hurried to her car, Summer strolled with Latte down the path that cut through the grass in front of the Black Swan, back to the towpath. She thought of everything her friend had said, that Mason’s commitment to her was enough, that he was unlikely to be against marrying her because his first marriage had ended so tragically. Could she be sure that was the truth, or if not, could she talk seriously to him about it without him getting suspicious? She was going to have to come down on one side or the other soon, or she would derail her own proposal plans before she’d even got out of the starting blocks.

      She opened the door of The Sandpiper and was met with a familiar scene. Beyond the galley kitchen, with its black, marble-effect worktops and curved wooden cupboards, the open-plan living area held two figures. One, Archie, lay stretched out along a sofa, and the other had his back to her, leaning forward and peering at the screen of a large desktop computer, set up on a tiny desk squashed into the far end of the space. She had fleeting thoughts about creeping up on him, making him jump, but Latte had already bounded forward, greeting her doggy companion first, and then looking for Mason’s affection. He turned at the sound, reached a hand down towards Latte but looked straight at Summer, his face breaking out into one of the smiles that made her heart beat faster.

      ‘How did it go?’ He abandoned his computer and wrapped his arms around her.

      She accepted the embrace willingly, smiling into his soft jumper, the firmness of his chest beneath. ‘It was great,’ she said, ‘better than I could have hoped.’

      ‘And no weirdness, with the celebratory terror crossover?’

      ‘None,’ Summer laughed. ‘And I bought you a present.’ She nodded towards the kitchen counter where she had put Mason’s wolf pumpkin, still flickering with electric light.

      ‘To remind me of my crap handiwork? Couldn’t you have brought Norman’s instead?’

      ‘I’m not having that monstrosity in a place of rest and relaxation. How’s the article?’

      ‘OK. I’ve been working on the photos to accompany it. Here – come and have a look. It’s for the run-up to Christmas, and everyone thinks that robins are cute on their Christmas cards, but not many people know a lot about them. I didn’t even need the zoom for these – that’s how tame it was.’

      Summer followed him to the computer and he pulled her onto his lap, then scrolled through the photographs. They were spectacular, as his photos so often were, the feather detail, the beadiness of the bird’s eye, captured in perfect clarity. She felt a swell of love for him, for the way he got excited about the everyday wildlife surrounding them, his tenderness towards each creature, whether rare or mundane. She kissed the top of his head, inhaled the lemon scent of his shampoo, turned her attention away from proposals and her niggling worries, and gave it all to Mason and the festive robin redbreast on his computer.

      The following morning, as they lay under the duvet in Mason’s cabin, she wondered if they’d reached the point where he could read her mind.

      ‘What do you want to do this Christmas?’ he asked. ‘It’s now officially November, so it’s not that far away.’ It was after midnight, all the souls of the dead would have hopefully been appeased, so it was time to start thinking about the next celebration.

      I’m planning to propose to you, she thought; so stop trying to catch me out. ‘Oh God, you’re worse than the supermarkets. It’s still two months away, one-sixth of a year. As much as Sainsbury’s would have you believe, we don’t need to start our Christmas shopping now. The John Lewis advert hasn’t even aired yet, and you legitimately don’t need to worry about anything Christmas-related until that point.’

      ‘All right,’ he chuckled, stroking her hair. ‘Have I hit a sore spot? Do you want to leave everything until Christmas Eve this time? I remember you were uber-organized last year.’

      ‘That’s because it was my