The Canal Boat Café Christmas: Port Out. Cressida McLaughlin

and with Dad and Ben coming for dinner on the boat … Everything needed to go right.’

      ‘And it did,’ he said softly. ‘So maybe it’s fine to leave things a little later this time round.’

      ‘You were the one who brought it up, said we needed to decide!’

      ‘I didn’t,’ he protested, laughing. ‘I just asked what you wanted to do. We don’t need to firm up the plan for ages, we can stay here, in bed, while it gets colder and grimmer outside the window, safe in our snug little cocoon …’ He rolled over, kissing her collarbone.

      ‘We will need to eat at some point,’ she murmured, ‘and I have to open the café.’

      ‘Right now?’

      ‘Not quite yet, but I’ll need to get started on …’ All her arguments drifted away at his touch, as they so often did. ‘Bacon sandwiches,’ she blustered, as his kisses went lower.

      ‘Do you know what?’ He looked up, his eyes bright with amusement. ‘That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.’ And he returned to the important business of kissing her.

      Valerie Brogan intercepted Summer as she was rushing to open up the café, her watch displaying 8.05. Valerie’s long red hair was flowing out behind her, her dress a shimmering green, and her approach brought with it the usual cloud of sandalwood incense, despite the icy air.

      ‘Summer,’ Valerie said. ‘Happy All Saints’ Day. I trust you’re well?’

      ‘Very well thanks, Valerie,’ Summer replied, fumbling with her keys in her haste to open up the café. She had several regulars now: Toby, who detoured along the towpath for an Americano and bacon sandwich on his way to his bus stop; Charlotte and Sammy, who had a permanent mooring further down the river, but often passed through Willowbeck and always bought a generous portion of homemade brownies; and Mrs Ramsey, who brought her Cairn terrier Destiny for a walk every morning without fail, and would be even more in need of her usual cappuccino now the weather was turning colder.

      Summer pushed open the door and raced inside, Valerie following, wafting incense, as she turned on the coffee machine.

      ‘Are you OK, Summer dear? You seem somewhat in a flap.’

      ‘I’m running a bit late this morning, that’s all.’ Summer pushed a strand of frizzy, strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. She’d had to leave it to dry naturally after the world’s quickest shower, and it was making the most of its freedom, being unruly and unhelpful. She dug in the pocket of her jeans and was disproportionately overjoyed to find a hairband nestling at the bottom. She scooped her hair up into a ponytail, checked the coffee machine was making all the right noises, and opened the hatch onto the towpath, letting in a rush of welcome cold air. How had she let herself get so flustered already?

      ‘Did your Halloween party go well last night? With that young couple?’

      ‘Yes thanks,’ Summer said, rushing into the kitchen to take yesterday’s remaining brownies out of the fridge, and the lavender and honey, fruit and cheese scones out of the purple storage tins she kept them in. She would have time to make more this morning, after the early rush which, she had to accept, would be only those few regulars and a couple of other passers-by. She had been worked off her feet throughout the summer, Harry had been a permanent help and, on several occasions, they’d even called on Mason to clear the outside tables she used in warmer weather. Now, she’d be lucky if, at any time during the day, she’d have visitors at all six of the tables inside the café.

      Once the counter looked inviting with sweet and savoury offerings, the coffee machine was heating up, and bacon was sizzling on the hob, Summer swiftly removed all last night’s pumpkins from the tables and put them in her small living space. The bunting was still up, but Summer decided she liked it, and having ghosts and bats hanging from her ceiling a few days into November wouldn’t offend anyone, surely? In a couple of weeks, she realized with excitement, she could make and put up Christmas bunting.

      ‘Valerie, I’m so sorry. Can I get you a drink? Any breakfast? I’ve just put the bacon on.’

      ‘Thank you, my dear, a latte wouldn’t go amiss. Where is the little puffball, by the way?’

      ‘Mason’s looking after her. He’s going to take her and Archie for a long walk this morning, seeing as we ran out of time before work.’

      ‘Ah. So lovely of him. He’s a keeper, that man of yours.’

      Yes, Summer thought. That’s what I’ve been thinking. ‘He’s not too bad,’ she said, smiling.

      She started to make the hot drinks, and felt a surge of relief when there was a familiar rat-tat-tat at the hatch, and she turned to find Toby standing there, his usual grin on his face, a smart navy overcoat covering his business suit. She hadn’t missed him.

      ‘Toby! How are you? Any trick-or-treaters last night?’

      He gave her a pleasantly exasperated look. ‘My wife took it upon herself to organize a Halloween party. Twelve over-excited seven-year-olds that we had to chaperone around the neighbourhood. I know fancy-dress outfits have improved a lot recently, but they were mini nightmares. I felt quite sorry for the people we passed on the street.’