Chapter 30
Bunty stood on the deck breathing in the fresh air while Perry steered the boat.
‘Ah, doesn’t half lift the spirits!’ she exclaimed, taking in the canal-side scenery.
‘It does. You can’t beat a good trip on The Merry Perry.
It’s good for the soul,’ agreed Perry. He missed taking himself off on his boat, having previously lived in it.
The nomadic lifestyle had suited him well when he’d been single.
He admitted it wasn’t ideal for everybody though, and certainly saw the advantages of living in a cottage now that he was getting older.
Perry had been pleased with the way Bunty had taken to the narrowboat, like a duck to water, however only in small doses.
It was pretty strenuous handling the locks and just jumping on and off onto dry land could be tiring.
Not to mention having to stop and refuel or replenish the water tank.
And as for emptying the cassette toilet, well, that was well and truly his job!
But once all the chores were complete and they could relax, chugging along the peaceful waterways was heaven.
After a few hours, they pulled into a mooring point on Skipton marina and tied the boat up to a post.
‘Where shall we go first?’ asked Bunty with gusto.
That’s what Perry loved about her, the way she threw herself into things, lock, stock and barrel.
She may be getting older, but was still very much young at heart.
They both were. He cast his mind back to years ago, when they were in their early twenties, and not a lot had changed.
Bunty was still as beautiful to him now as she was then.
‘How about the castle?’ he suggested, smiling affectionately at her.
‘Good idea!’
After calling for a coffee first, they headed in the direction of Skipton Castle.
They climbed up the slope and through the grand gated entrance where they were met by a tour guide, who informed them that, ‘Skipton Castle is one of the most complete and well-preserved castles in England.’ They were guided through its stone walls holding memories of the past, from medieval times to the civil war.
They viewed the banqueting hall, kitchens, bedchambers and privies; climbed from the depths of the dungeon to the top storey of the watchtower.
‘It’s tiring work, this,’ puffed Perry. It made narrowboat life seem easy work.
‘I know,’ replied Bunty, whose feet were aching.
After the castle tour they went for a well-deserved sit down and lunch.
‘Oh, look, the church has a tearoom,’ said Bunty, pointing to a sign in the churchyard. ‘Let’s try it.’
‘Very quaint,’ remarked Perry as they entered the hall. A piano was playing, and good ladies of the parish attended on red gingham-clothed tables.
‘Isn’t it?’ cooed Bunty with glee, glad of the find. She was even more pleased upon seeing the display of homemade cakes, as was Perry.
‘Your usual?’ he asked with a grin, spotting the coffee and walnut creation.
Bunty nodded. ‘Absolutely. Let’s have a sandwich first though.’
‘Tuna mayonnaise?’ he replied, reading her like a book.
‘Right again,’ she laughed.
Bunty sat back and watched Perry order the food, sharing banter with the ladies behind the counter.
He still had it, she thought fondly. Today he was wearing his favourite paisley waistcoat and jaunty neckerchief.
She admired his thick grey hair and the way he moved so fluidly; no bent back or creaking knees with him.
Perry Scholar was very much still in his prime she concluded.
Later, they mulled amongst the market stalls on the high street and finished up at the Town Hall. A programme of events was advertised at the entrance, showing the performances it hosted.
‘Oh, look, there’s a play on tonight,’ said Bunty, pointing to the poster.
It was some kind of spoof detective drama, judging by the picture depicting a couple of actors.
One was wearing a deerstalker hat and smoking a pipe, the other holding a china cup and saucer, waving a biscuit. It was entitled Who Dunk it?
‘Let’s go,’ chuckled Perry, immediately relating with the slapstick humour it promised.
‘Let’s!’ gushed Bunty.
As they walked back to the marina they passed several artisan shops; from locally made wicker baskets to cast iron wood burners, the place sold many unique, handcrafted wares. Bunty couldn’t resist stopping at a toy shop.
‘We must buy something for the twins,’ she said, directing them inside.
They were spoilt for choice. It was an Aladdin’s cave of every toy imaginable. In the end, Bunty plumped for a soft Peter Rabbit and Flopsy Bunny.
In the evening they decided to have a late supper after the play.
‘It’s obviously popular,’ remarked Bunty as she and Perry entered the Town Hall along with the gathering crowd. They were quietly ushered to their seats and waited with bated breath for the performance to commence.
As Perry suspected, the play was a huge success, with the gut-busting, relentlessly funny two-hander that the audience loved. Bunty couldn’t stop giggling all the way through it. After a rapturous applause from the theatre, they trundled out onto the high street again.
‘Where do you fancy eating?’ asked Perry, glancing across the road at the many eateries.
‘Italian?’ replied Bunty, noticing a rather charming restaurant lit up invitingly on the corner.
‘The Italian Bistro. That looks cosy.’ They crossed the road to enter it.
After pizza and a bottle of wine, they decided to call a taxi to drive them back to the marina. It was getting dark and they didn’t fancy the walk back. It had been a lovely, eventful day, but they were now tired and in need of a sleep. Their floating bedchamber was calling.
Bunty made them cocoa before snuggling into bed. As night fell, a calmness surrounded the still water of the canal, while all the boats gently rocked their occupants into a deep slumber.
Tara was not sleeping well. The following day would bring the court hearing.
Her mind spun with every scenario imaginable.
What would the District Judge decide? How would Richard react?
Anxiety was starting to build, making her chest tighten.
She knew the stress symptoms well, having suffered with them for some time, thanks to her ex-husband.
Forcing herself to take deep, steady breaths, Tara willed her body to regulate naturally.
God help her at the hearing if she was in this state now, she thought with dread.
Then she remembered Claire’s words of assurance, telling her she was by her side, fighting her corner.
Of course she was – and nobody better than Claire to do so.
If anyone was capable of representing her and gaining what she was owed, it had to be the best friend who knew every trick in the book and loophole Richard may contrive.
Why had she not listened to her in the first place?
Because she’d been too weak and weary, that’s why.
Not any more. Although wary of the repercussions, Tara was absolutely staunch in her quest to seek what was rightfully hers and Calum’s.
She had Jack as moral support too. It was a comfort to know he’d be there and she didn’t have to arrive at court alone. In fact, Jack had offered to drive and promised her lunch afterwards, in an attempt to make the day less daunting.
Thinking about Jack helped calm her down.
He was proving to be a real rock. He was also bonding with Calum, which she had mixed feelings over.
Whilst glad the two liked each other, it also worried Tara that Calum may become too attached.
What if it all went disastrously wrong? But, alternatively, what was she supposed to do? Never see anyone and live like a nun?
Thinking about moral support, she wondered if Richard would be coming to court with Melissa, or if he was going to show up solo.
Tara was actually beginning to doubt if Melissa even knew about the court case.
She wouldn’t put it past him to keep shtum in the vain hope of sorting it all out quietly without her knowledge.
He was a fool if so, because if Claire managed to get what they were applying for, Melissa would most definitely have to be put in the picture.
It would mean a change in her and Richard’s lifestyle for sure.
She looked at the bedside clock. It was well past midnight. Sighing, she rolled over and closed her eyes, desperate to get some sleep.