The Canal Boat Café Christmas: Starboard Home. Cressida McLaughlin

the flirtation in it. She wondered how Tania had the nerve to be so forward in front of her, what she thought she would achieve by telling Summer that she and Mason still had a connection.

      Summer smiled at the old couple, but it was through gritted teeth.

      ‘Hi, Tania, how are you?’ Mason asked.

      ‘Good thanks, great. How’s it going in the café? Have you had a chance to see the sights of London yet?’

      ‘The café’s been busy, so we’ve not been out and about that much, but we’ve taken Archie and Latte to Regent’s Park and Primrose Hill. The views from there are stunning.’

      ‘Oh yes, your Bichon Frise. She sounds adorable.’

      ‘She’s Summer’s dog,’ Mason said. ‘Though that means they’re both ours, really, which I know Summer’s delighted about. Archie can be a bit on the disobedient side.’

      Summer gave the old couple their drinks and their change, and turned away from the hatch. ‘Archie’s only badly behaved with you, he’s a sweetheart with me.’

      Mason inhaled sharply. ‘That’s not true. Last week he almost drowned himself under your watch!’

      ‘That’s because you were opening the lock, and I was steering. He was trying to get to you! And I seem to remember it was you who’d tied them onto the deck, your knots that didn’t prevent him jumping in the canal.’

      Mason folded his arms, his stern expression failing against a grin. ‘You could have checked them.’

      ‘I didn’t think I needed to.’ She paused. ‘OK, I suppose I should have realized that nothing’s foolproof where you and Archie are concerned.’

      Their eyes locked, and Summer returned his smile.

      ‘I need to get going,’ Tania said, frowning at her phone and shoving it deep into her pocket. She put her plate and mug on the counter and gave Summer a smile that could have frozen the canal. ‘See you soon, I hope?’ As she passed Mason she reached her hand out and brushed her fingers against his, her words directed only at him.

      ‘Bye,’ Summer said to Tania’s retreating back, glad she hadn’t pointed out the mistletoe the two of them had been standing beneath. Her heart sank as Mason stared incredulously at Tania, then ran his hand through his hair as if shaking off her touch. He looked disconcerted, and Summer could already feel the exhaustion at having to deal with her own insecurities – her constant wavering between worrying his ex was after him again, and reminding herself that Mason would never be unfaithful to her, however hard Tania tried.

      ‘I had a look at the Winter Wonderland website,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘It allows dogs, but they say that it isn’t the best place for them, because it’s so busy and noisy, so I think we should take them for a long walk before we go tomorrow. I don’t want to risk Latte or Archie getting squashed, or lost when they somehow manage to slip their leads.’

      ‘Unfair,’ he said, but the word didn’t have any weight behind it. ‘Lunchtime’s coming up, do you want me to stay out here?’

      She did, but the café was still quiet. ‘That article won’t write itself. I’ll call you if I need you.’

      ‘Now this,’ Summer said the following evening, staring up at the attractions, the lights and whooshes and screams invading her senses, ‘is what London at Christmas is all about!’

      ‘I feel twenty years too old,’ Mason shouted, as they stood in front of waltzers adorned with a light system that was more frantic than festive.

      ‘Me too,’ Summer said. ‘Let’s wind the years back.’

      She waved to Claire and Jas; they’d arranged to meet up in the Belgian Bar in a couple of hours, and her friends were soon lost in the crowds.

      She dragged Mason into one of the seats, waited until the security bar was brought down over them, and then snuggled into him, closing her eyes as the music ramped up, its rhythm getting faster and faster in time with the ride. It was years since she’d been to an amusement park, so long since she’d smelt the overwhelmingly sweet scent of candy floss and butter popcorn mingled together. She felt giddy, reckless, and leaned over to kiss Mason despite the pull of the ride stealing control of her body. She got his chin and he laughed, burying his head into her neck, his nose squashed against her as the direction changed again.

      They went on the Ferris Wheel, drinking in the view, the city twinkling in the darkness, the gold and red of headlights and taillights marking the larger roads, the cold air numbing their lips. Mason bought her a white fluffy hat with pink-tinged ears from one of the market stalls, and they drank mulled wine and shared a bag of roasted chestnuts. When they approached the ice rink, it was Mason’s turn to pull her forward. Summer laughed, until she realized he was serious.

      ‘Come on, polar bear,’ he said, tugging the ears of her hat, ‘it’ll be fun.’

      ‘Can you skate?’ It had never crossed her mind to ask him before now.

      ‘A bit,’ he admitted, sheepishly. ‘We lived close to an ice rink when I was younger, and I went there with friends quite often, not just at Christmas.’

      ‘OK then,’ Summer said. She could put aside her fear of falling over and having her fingers sliced off for him. They finished their chestnuts as they stood in the queue, and then were given the heavy, solid boots with lethal-looking blades on the bottoms. They changed into them on benches that weren’t quite dry, the laces rough against her cold hands. She remembered going skating with Ben as a child, the way he had zoomed fearlessly around the rink while she had clung onto the edge for dear life, her brother completing about twenty laps to every one of hers.

      They walked over the thick rubber matting together, and then Mason stepped onto the ice and turned, the movement quick and expert. Summer’s mouth fell open. ‘How often did you say you went?’

      ‘Come on,’ he said softly, holding out his hands. She ached to be able to cling onto the wall, to have at least half of her body pressed against it so if she did lose her footing she could simply slide down to the compact ice, away from the other skaters. But Mason wasn’t having any of it. She took his hands, squeezing them tightly, and stepped out onto the ice, feeling the immediate loss of grip, so that her foot slid forwards and Mason’s arms were around her in a flash, holding her firmly.

      ‘I can’t,’ she murmured into his shoulder.

      ‘Yes, you can.’ He put his hands on her waist this time, and skated slowly backwards, his movements small and controlled, allowing Summer to test out her legs on the ice. She was sure she looked like a baby giraffe taking its first steps, but with Mason’s hands to steady her, the warmth in his eyes, she began to feel more confident. As they made their way slowly around the rink, she held onto his elbows, and then his hands, so he was no longer supporting her waist, so she was further from him, more independent. He was still skating backwards, and she shook her head, smiling.

      ‘You’re a pro.’

      ‘Far from it. But it’s like riding a bike, it all comes back to you.’

      ‘I wish it didn’t for me,’ Summer said. ‘I remember clutching onto the sides and flinching whenever someone whooshed past me.’

      ‘And look at you now. But we can stop any time you want.’

      ‘No, I want to do this.’ And she did.

      She wanted to be here, the air thick with a cold, clean freshness that wasn’t due just to the ice; the dark of the winter’s night high above, the rides flashing, whizzing and blaring around them, trapping them in a festive cocoon. There was a giant Christmas tree at one end of the rink, its lights white against decorations in gold, pink, blue and silver. It was glitzy but tasteful, and being there, on the ice, made Summer feel like she was in a Christmas film. Elf, or Serendipity. Oh, how she loved the ending of Serendipity, the deserted ice rink, the snow, the glove floating down to land on John